Floating Island - Triple S Talent - Chapter 566

Chapter 566: Battle of the Mid-Rank King
And Silus’s head was severed.

His body fell, slowly, then disintegrated into spiritual dust—vanishing into the debris of a collapsing dimension.

No last words.

No curses.

No vengeance.

Only silence.

But Lein knew—

This wasn’t the end.

Cracks began to spread.

Not just through the platform where they fought—but across the entire structure of Hanur Space.

Dimensional stability crumbled.

Gravity vanished.

Reality shattered like glass hurled from the heavens.

Unstable spatial waves surged through the air, stripping away the last traces of natural law. The platforms began to collapse one by one. Vortices of void tore wide open, devouring everything in their path.

Lein let out a quiet breath.

Then, he raised a scroll—

The Starshifter Scroll.

His only exit before complete dimensional collapse.

***

The void around them was already in ruins—shredded, twisted, barely even a space anymore. In the midst of the chaos, Dragnar’s massive body was hurled through the wreckage, smashing through floating platforms too slow to evade. Cracks split across his scaled skin, and dragon blood sprayed into the air—evaporating before it could touch anything.

His body spun midair, staggering without control. His breathing was labored. One of his wings was broken.

“Damn it… I didn’t even get to move…” Dragnar muttered through clenched fangs, trying to stabilize himself before he was flung deeper into the void.

Suddenly—

A young man appeared beside him.

Calm expression. Almost casual, as if watching a play.

“Old man, wake up. Don’t sleep too long.”

The voice was light, teasing—but not truly hostile.

Dragnar turned his eyes. He recognized the youth immediately.

Lein’s clone.

A full replica of Lein, but with a slightly different energy. Lighter. Not entirely real—but definitely not an illusion.

Dragnar snorted, saying nothing. He knew the clone was just a fragment, but it was smart enough to understand the danger that loomed.

He forced himself upright. His remaining wing flared wide, sending shockwaves through the shattered zone. His eyes locked on the figure slowly approaching in the distance.

A man in white robes.

Even from afar, the man’s aura pressed down like an iron plate against the sky—calm, steady… and deadly.

“Get ready, old man. He’s gonna knock you out again,” Clone Lein said, his tone playful—but his eyes were deadly serious.

Dragnar clenched his jaw, lips twitching. Heat surged through his body. He knew he had no choice but to hold the line. Which meant—burning everything.

“He’s coming!” he roared.

The atmosphere shifted.

From the void above, a colossal fist descended—massive, forged from intertwined laws of dimension and time. The air around it slowed, dragging the world into a crawl as it neared Dragnar and Clone Lein’s position.

Everything froze.

The air became molten glass. Light twisted. Sound vanished.

But Lein did not remain still.

He raised a hand—and summoned the Sword Prison.

Four towering golden swords burst into place, slamming into the corners of an invisible box. They connected, forming a radiant cube barrier. Holy light surged along their edges, sealing him and Dragnar in a tight spatial field.

Meanwhile, Dragnar’s jaw clenched tighter. His body ignited from within, scales steaming with crimson vapor. His breath was shallow. His blood began to boil.

“Arghhh…”

A choked growl tore from his throat. He forced his body to absorb more energy—faster than it should. Every second became a gamble between power… and self-destruction.

Clone Lein looked up at the sky—at the divine fist inching closer.

“I’m not dying until I master the laws like you, old man…” he said, voice loud, steady, unshaken.

Then—

Thousands of golden swords manifested around him—floating like an army of automata, glowing with sacred light, synchronized to his will.

“Attack.”

A single word. And the sky ruptured.

The swords launched forward, growing larger with each passing second, slamming into the descending fist with divine force.

Explosion after explosion shattered the air.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOOOM.

But the fist did not stop.

Every sword that struck it detonated into light—yet the hand kept pushing forward, piercing through light and sound like an executioner sent by the heavens.

Dragnar’s eyes widened with growing dread.

He hadn’t finished gathering energy—

And now, time had run out.

“Arghh…!”

Glowing red blood burst from his pores. His draconic aura warped violently, spinning out of control.

But—

It was already too late.

Dragnar’s eyes widened.

The massive hand accelerated, piercing through the storm of explosions and shattering every golden sword in its path. With one final push, it reached the golden prison—their last defense.

Crack.

The sound was soft… but it echoed deep through the void.

The cube, once a fortress of divine radiance, crumbled like glass. It shattered into a thousand glowing shards and vanished without a trace.

Clone Lein turned to Dragnar.

“Old man—NOW!” he shouted. And in an instant, his form flickered and vanished, like a shadow swept away by wind.

Dragnar didn’t hesitate.

It was time… to burn everything.

With a thunderous surge of aura, his body expanded tenfold. His crimson-gold scales reflected the twisted light of the void. Wings beat once—shaking the very fabric of the dimension. Flames erupted from between his scales, outlining the silhouette of a long-forgotten ancient dragon.

“AARGHHH!”

His roar tore through the void. The sound pierced layers of space, reaching into the very laws of dimension itself.

From his maw came a stream of Judgement Fire—a molten river of radiant magma, like divine lava designed to purge reality itself. The flames struck the descending hand, which had nearly crushed them moments ago.

FSSSSHHHH.

The massive hand melted. Its aura split apart. Its momentum vanished. The colossal fingers evaporated, like butter hurled into the mouth of a volcano, vanishing completely under the onslaught of dragonfire.

Dragnar took a long breath.

“Ahh… It’s been so long,” he murmured, his deep voice laced with both relief and fury long buried.

His eyes blazed—not just with rage, but with a rekindled spirit. A will to fight that had once gone cold.

Once, I was a king feared by all. The oldest dragon from the Eastern Abyss. But after being hunted, sealed, and enslaved by dragon hunters, my strength became a shadow of what it was.

And now… just to survive, I’ve burned even my own blood essence.

His body began to crack from within—not from wounds, but because his life force was being consumed too quickly.

But Dragnar did not regret it.

Not this time.

“Thank you, Master…” he whispered.

His mind returned to Lein—the young man who had broken his slave contract, freeing him from centuries of humiliation. At least this time, he could fight as himself. As a king.

His gaze locked onto the man in white robes floating in the distance. That figure hadn’t moved. Hadn’t flinched. Eyes sharp, calculating… always watching.

“Too confident,” Dragnar growled.

Then he roared—and launched himself like a burning meteor toward his foe.

His massive body slammed through the air, leaving shockwaves in his wake.

BOOOM.

His claws came down from above, from the sides, from below—again and again. Each strike like a heavenly pillar crashing down on reality itself. Every swipe tore open the void. Every growl shook the laws of the realm.

But the man in white was no ordinary opponent.

With each incoming strike, he shifted time around him. Dragnar’s movements slowed. Dimensions twisted. And in those slivers of distorted space, the man countered.

SWWIING.

A spatial portal opened—firing beams of Holy Light, a fusion of temporal law and eternal illusion. Each blast nearly pierced through Dragnar’s burning scales.

The clash between two King-level entities was nothing short of cataclysmic.

Dimensions collapsed. Platforms were reduced to dust. The void itself cracked and splintered like a mirror hurled from the heavens.

Far away, Clone Lein stood atop a fragment of broken space, silently watching the battle unfold.

There’s no way I can interfere…

Even getting close would mean death before I could speak.

His lips curled faintly. He wasn’t afraid to die—after all, he was just a clone.