I winced instinctively, my body remembering too well what that kind of force felt like.

Yeah… that's definitely an internal-organ-twisting level of pain.

A part of me had been worried—what if, somehow, that man managed to defeat the dragon? But seeing him flattened like that in a single hit was strangely comforting.

If he went down that easily, I had nothing to worry about.

I turned slightly and gestured toward the window, signaling Anna to move.

The dragon's attention was still fixed on the battered man, its nostrils flaring with heat. The perfect distraction.

If we were going to get out of here, now was the time.

But—

"Cough…! …Where do you think you're going?"

The voice, hoarse and trembling, came from behind.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned my head—and there he was.

The man was standing.

His body was a mess of blood and torn fabric, his armor dented beyond repair. Yet somehow, impossibly, he was still on his feet.

Even after taking a direct hit from a dragon.

My lips twitched beneath the helmet. "You've got to be kidding me…"

I couldn't tell what kept him going—hatred, duty, obsession—but whatever it was, it burned fiercely enough to drag him back from the edge of death.

"...Stop right there… Princess…" he rasped, his voice hollow, his eyes unfocused as if caught between consciousness and delirium.

Anna turned sharply, her tone cutting through the air like a blade.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded, her voice laced with anger and disbelief. "Why are you trying to kidnap me? Twice now—you've risked your life for this madness. Why?"

The man's head tilted slightly, and a faint, eerie smile tugged at his bloodied lips.

"This is…" he muttered, barely holding himself upright, "…all for the change of this world."

His words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling.

Even the dragon seemed to pause, its golden eyes narrowing at the broken man who dared to stand before it.

"Change of the world? What does that even—"

"You… You wouldn't understand."

"What is it that I don't understand—"

"Someone like you!!!"

The man's voice cracked as he screamed, his words dripping with hatred. Veins bulged across his temple, and his eyes turned bloodshot, spiderwebbed with broken capillaries.

"Born noble, served well your entire life!!"

His voice shook, trembling between rage and despair.

"People like you—looking down on commoners like us as if we're insects! Ignoring us, oppressing us, smiling with that fake kindness while trampling us underfoot!"

Each word came out like venom, aimed directly at Anna.

"You act like some merciful saint, but it's all lies! Hypocrisy!! And the fools who believe you—those idiots who cling to your fake compassion—they're the reason this world will never change!"

The room fell silent for a moment, except for the faint hum of mana in the air.

His anger wasn't just blind hatred—it was something deeper. Wounded pride. Powerlessness. The kind that festers until it eats a man alive.

In this world, such resentment wasn't rare.

Those born into nobility ruled effortlessly from birth.

Those born into poverty could spend their whole lives clawing at the mud, only to die there.

It was cruel. Unfair.

But it was how this world worked.

Even if a genius commoner appeared once in a generation, nothing really changed. The structure remained the same—the weak stayed weak.

But the man in front of us… he wasn't satisfied with that.

"I'll change it," he growled, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Even if it costs me my life… I'll change this world. And to do that—" His gaze snapped to Anna, glowing with twisted conviction. "—I'll take you from here!"

"…He's lost it," I muttered under my breath.

Something about the way he spoke—his words, his tone—it reminded me too much of those unhinged villains from every fantasy game or novel I'd ever read.

'He's acting like a mid-boss entering phase two…'

Sure enough—

The man staggered forward, fumbling something from his pocket. His hands trembled as he brought a small black vial to his lips.

"Don't tell me…"

Before I could stop him—

Gulp.

He swallowed it.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then—

The air around him snapped.

A violent surge of mana exploded outward, shaking the ground. His veins turned black, spreading like ink under his skin. His body convulsed, cracking, reshaping.

His skin split open like old leather, peeling away as a new, darker layer took its place.

A twisted, guttural growl escaped his throat as horns began to push through his forehead. His eyes turned crimson, pupils thinning into slits.

"Ah, great…" I muttered, taking a step back. "It is phase two."

The temperature dropped instantly. The stench of blood and corruption filled the air, sharp and suffocating.

Anna's eyes widened, her hand instinctively moving toward her staff, but before she could act, I pulled something from my storage space—a smooth, spherical object that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

The Orb of Illusion.

No time to hesitate.

I surged forward, mana flaring around my legs as I dashed straight toward the transforming man.

There's an unspoken rule among mages and monsters alike—once a transformation begins, you're supposed to wait until it's complete before attacking.

A sign of respect, or maybe just common sense.

But honestly?

What a stupid rule.

'As if such a thing actually matters,' I thought, my lips curving faintly beneath the helmet.

The moment the man's body started to twist and bulge, his skin cracking with that familiar surge of dark mana, I moved.

Crackle—

Blue sparks danced across my fingertips, electricity weaving through my veins like a living thing. The air hummed, thick with tension.

I didn't hesitate.

With mana surging into my arm, I clenched my fist tight—so tight I could feel the static crawling up my forearm.

And then I swung.

Thun—

Ah. Wait. That didn't sound dramatic enough.

"Lightning Strike."

BOOOOM!

The impact was explosive. My fist, wreathed in blinding arcs of lightning, slammed into the man's chest with a crack that split the air.

For an instant, the entire mansion lit up in white-blue brilliance, followed by a deafening thunderclap that rattled the walls and sent dust cascading from the ceiling.

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