Vol2 Chapter 43: Jörmungandr
“That doesn’t sound like something Xia Mi would say,” Bai Ci chuckled softly. “It’s kind of out of character.”
“I’m not Xia Mi. I’m Jörmungandr, the Dragon King Jörmungandr,” she said with a smile. “Any servant who dares to challenge my majesty will pay the price!”
Bai Ci sighed, her bones crackling faintly, like a lion hidden within her roaring its return. The long-dormant power stirred, her suppressed dragon blood unleashed, surging violently through her veins as if squeezing out every ounce of strength, leaving nothing behind.
A potent force coursed through her, her body instantly covered in thin white scales. Her knuckles swelled, her facial bones sharpened, her golden pupils blazing like fire, her scales rippling open and shut.
“Dragonizing so intensely—aren’t you afraid of becoming a Deadpool?” Jörmungandr laughed lightly.
“Before that happens, I’ll beat you back into Xia Mi.”
Bai Ci drew her alchemical katana, pointing it straight at Jörmungandr.
Xia Mi froze for a second, then laughed, her eyes ice-cold, her arrogance unmasked.
“Sorry, dragons never feel for humans. You’re just servants—not even food.”
Her dragon-like reverse-jointed knees erupted with unnatural force, and Jörmungandr’s figure vanished in a blur of high-speed motion, impossible for any human. She was the Dragon King, Jörmungandr.
Bai Ci exhaled softly, slashing her katana through the air. A harsh sensation jolted her hand as Jörmungandr, descending from above, pinned the blade with her claws. Sparks flew as she slid down the blade, the clash of dragon claws against alchemical steel sending a shock through Bai Ci’s grip, nearly splitting her palm.
“Not bad reflexes,” Jörmungandr said with a hint of amusement, lowering her head, her golden pupils glinting darkly. “You’ve gotten stronger, Senior Sister.”
Before her words faded, Jörmungandr’s form blurred again. Her claws, reeking of blood, lunged for Bai Ci’s throat but were met mid-strike at her abdomen by a flash of silver-white blade. The massive momentum sent them crashing together, tumbling as if in an embrace. The S-rank alchemical weapon was sharp enough to cut dragon scales, but Jörmungandr didn’t take it head-on. She clamped the blade with her claws mid-roll. Unlike the flawless Seven Deadly Sins—forged by Norton, who killed the metal’s essence before reshaping it into perfect, unblemished blades—this human-made weapon, no matter how refined, was mere fragments in Jörmungandr’s eyes.
She flipped over, straddling Bai Ci, her fearsome wings unfurling, claws pinning Bai Ci’s arms as she let out a proud roar.
Bai Ci’s body went numb under her dragon’s aura, but she felt an urge to laugh, unafraid. Xia Mi’s face was right there, dusted with yellowish scales, faint and delicate, two pairs of horns—one small, one large—bristling fiercely. Her sharpened tiger teeth elongated, as if struggling to assert her Dragon King’s majesty, or perhaps in anger.
But… it really hurt, Xia Mi.
And you broke my sword.
Bai Ci’s claws dug into her palms, blood seeping, its scent filling the air.
Word Spirit: Dustless Land.
The air solidified into a transparent spherical barrier. Jörmungandr, caught off guard, was flung backward at an unnatural speed, smashing the load-bearing wall into dust.
Her golden pupils contracted sharply. The Dragon King instinctively summoned her Word Spirit, but the air currents in the domain repelled her at three thousand rotations per second. This wasn’t just a defensive Word Spirit—behind Bai Ci, a faint, glassy halo shimmered, and repelled matter crystallized at the force field’s edge, like a frozen meteor shower.
“Glazed Brahma City…”
Xia Mi murmured, gazing at the countless crystals falling from the sky.
When she snapped back, Bai Ci had slipped from beneath her. Her wings vibrated, her dragonized body covered in blade-like scales, stark white.
“You burst your blood again, Senior Sister. So eager to become a Deadpool?” Jörmungandr laughed. “Word Spirit: Glazed Brahma City, third blood burst. Impressive, Senior Sister—dying to beat me? But it’s not enough. A human trying to match my speed with a broken alchemical blade—how can you win?”
She eyed Bai Ci, enveloped by crystalline shards, her skin coated in soft-gleaming white scales, like polished jade. Her swollen knuckles and elongated fingers were razor-sharp, her face sharper, her massive dragon wings faintly spread, their scales glinting like blades ready to tear through anything.
Jörmungandr studied her like a fine piece of art, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Senior Sister, you’re so talented. Give you more time, and I might not stand a chance,” she said with a trace of regret. “But you’re just mimicking a true dragon. I’m a real Dragon King. Your power comes from lowly human-inherited blood, while mine is innate, unshakable.”
Senior Sister, fighting isn’t that simple. Like Joan of Arc—beautiful, full of passion, but facing merciless judgment. On the battlefield, only the victor matters. No matter how dazzling your moves, they’re useless.
Jörmungandr clenched her claws into fists, charging with blistering speed. Bai Ci felt the overwhelming force—the might of the King of Earth and Mountains.
Gritting her teeth, Bai Ci blocked with her right hand, her left fist slamming into Jörmungandr’s cheek with full force. The Dragon King’s burning golden pupils dimmed, as if snuffed out, her body crumpling like a kite with a cut string, tracing a perfect arc through the air before crashing onto the tracks.
“ROAR!!!”
The trapped dragon bellowed, its massive fangs rattling eardrums with pain.
Agony shot from Bai Ci’s arm to her brain, nearly shredding her nerves. Blocking Jörmungandr’s attack had wrecked her—blood seeped from the fine scales grown through her blood burst, the “eyes” on her arm seemingly destroyed. Her right hand was immobile.
Her block lasted only a moment; her bones felt nearly pulverized.
Jörmungandr, dazed from the punch, her eyes dimmed, staggered to her feet, touching her cheek where scales had fallen.
Ouch… that hurt…
A few more hits like that, and I might not take it…
Senior Sister, you didn’t mention your third blood burst made you this strong. Knocked off my scales with one punch.
She looked at the silent Bai Ci, frowning, then hid behind Fenrir, speaking flatly, “Brother, knock her out.”
She might be the weakest of the four monarchs, but she had Fenrir. If he got serious, he could tear apart Nibelungen, dragging the entire city outside with it.
She said it was just a game—but if she couldn’t win, she never said she wouldn’t cheat.
