An Extra's POV-Chapter 952: Heart Of The Zone

~BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!~

The assault on the Production Zone began with a thunderous roar.

Explosions rocked the area as the Resistance launched their first wave, tearing through the Dragon Emperor's defenses. The advance triggered the facility's security systems, and soon the skies darkened with the shapes of Dragonoids—hundreds of them—descending upon the Resistance like a storm.

Rey, at the forefront, cracked his knuckles. "Let's see how tough they are this time."

The first wave of Dragonoids came screeching toward them, their claws glinting and energy weapons charging. But Rey was already in motion, a blur of speed as he leaped into the fray.

With one swing of his blade, three Dragonoids fell, their metallic forms crumpling to the ground.

More surged forward, but Rey didn't flinch.

He activated his fire-infused Skill, [Infernal Barrage], unleashing a torrent of flames that tore through the enemy ranks. Explosions and roars echoed around him as he cut down the Dragonoid Leaders, their supposedly advanced tactics crumbling under his relentless onslaught.

Behind him, Seraph hovered gracefully, her radiant form glowing with golden light.

"They're getting stronger," she noted.

"Doesn't matter," Rey replied, dodging an attack with ease and countering with a devastating uppercut that shattered his foe.

"Then let's even the odds," Seraph said, raising her hand. Her golden aura expanded outward, bathing the Dragonoids in radiant energy. But instead of healing or aiding them, it debuffedtheir abilities.

The Dragonoids roared louder, however their speed and strength had reduced exponentially.

The Resistance fighters braced themselves for a fight, but Rey smirked.

"Don't bother." He said. "I'll take care of them myself."

The battle became an all-out war as Rey tore through the weakened Dragonoids like a tempest. His Skills, sharpened from weeks of grinding, flowed seamlessly together. He transitioned from precise blade strikes to wide-ranging elemental attacks, his stamina barely dipping despite the relentless pace.

It didn't take long before the Resistance broke through the outer walls of the Production Zone.

The defenses crumbled under their combined assault, and the massive gates groaned as they swung open.

The sprawling industrial complex lay before them, a labyrinth of steel and fire.

As the Resistance charged in, Seraph descended beside Rey. Her glow dimmed slightly as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll protect the others and keep their morale high," she said, her voice soft yet commanding. "But you—your fight is deeper inside. Are you ready to go alone?"

Rey met her gaze and nodded. "I've got this. Just make sure they don't get overwhelmed."

"Good luck, Rey," she said with a faint smile before turning back to support the Resistance fighters.

Rey sprinted ahead, weaving through corridors and smashing any remaining Dragonoids that crossed his path. He cut through squads of enemies as though they were paper, his focus narrowing with every step.

The sound of battle faded behind him as he ventured deeper into the facility.

Finally, he reached the heart of the Production Zone.

Or what should have been its heart.

The vast chamber he stepped into was eerily silent, the hum of machinery conspicuously absent. Rows of empty platforms stretched into the distance, their surfaces scratched and scuffed, as though something massive had been removed recently.

Rey frowned, his eyes scanning the area. "What the hell...?"

The emptiness felt wrong.

This place was supposed to be a vital hub of the Dragon Emperor's operations, a factory producing countless weapons and troops. Yet there was nothing—only silence and a gnawing sense of unease.

Before Rey could make sense of it, the air in front of him shimmered. A swirling portal tore open in the center of the room, its edges crackling with dark energy.

~ZZTTZZZ!~

Rey instinctively dropped into a defensive stance, his hand tightening around his weapon. His eyes narrowed as a figure stepped through the portal.

And then, everything went still.

The figure who stepped through the portal appeared almost serene, his presence radiating an unsettling calm. His long white hair cascaded down his back, and he was dressed in an immaculate white robe that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light of the chamber. Despite the obvious tension in the air, his eyes remained closed, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

Rey tightened his grip on his blade, his instincts screaming that this man was no ordinary foe.

The man tilted his head slightly as if studying Rey, then spoke, his voice smooth and composed.

"Greetings, Rey. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Philemon, one of the Archbishops of the Dragon Emperor's New World Order."

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Rey's brows furrowed instantly.

'How does he know my name? Is it because of the Resistance's mole?' Despite these thoughts, Rey made sure to maintain a relatively flippant attitude.

"Archbishop, huh? Sounds pretentious."

Philemon chuckled lightly, his demeanor unshaken.

"Perhaps. But titles aside, I have come here with a singular purpose: to address the... inconvenience you have become for the Order." His smile widened ever so slightly. "And by address, I mean to purge you permanently."

Rey rolled his shoulders, a smirk forming on his lips. "You're welcome to try. I've dealt with your kind before."

Without warning, Philemon extended a hand, and the air around them warped.

Space itself seemed to ripple, and Rey barely had time to leap aside as a section of the floor beneath him disintegrated into nothingness.

"Not bad…" Rey muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Philemon didn't respond.

Instead, he raised his other hand, and the room seemed to stretch and twist. Rey stumbled briefly as gravity shifted, pulling him to the side. He adjusted quickly, planting his feet firmly on the distorted floor.

The first blow came without warning. Philemon appeared behind Rey, his closed eyes still serene, as he delivered a sharp strike to Rey's side. Rey winced but spun around quickly, swinging his blade in a wide arc.

It passed through empty air—Philemon was already gone.

"You are resourceful," Philemon remarked, his voice echoing strangely in the warped space. "But you are woefully outmatched."

"Keep talking," Rey growled, focusing his energy.

He launched a fiery projectile toward the Archbishop, but the attack vanished mid-flight, swallowed by a swirling vortex that Philemon conjured with a casual flick of his wrist.

Philemon reappeared several paces away, holding his hand up as the space around Rey seemed to compress. Rey felt the pressure bearing down on him, his movements slowing as though he were underwater.

"You see, Rey," Philemon continued, his tone almost apologetic, "this is not a battle you can win. My power allows me to bend space and time to my will. Every step you take, every attack you launch—it is futile."

Rey gritted his teeth, forcing his body to move through the crushing force.

He activated his own Skill, [Elemental Surge], creating a burst of energy that shattered the distorted field around him.

"Futile, huh?" Rey said, smirking as he lunged forward, his blade aimed directly at Philemon.

But the Archbishop was already gone.

He reappeared behind Rey again, striking him with a concentrated blast of energy that sent him skidding across the floor.

Rey groaned, pushing himself up. He wasn't badly hurt, but it was clear that Philemon's attacks weren't meant to overwhelm him immediately—they were calculated, precise, designed to wear him down.

For several minutes, the battle continued in this pattern.

Philemon's spatial manipulation kept Rey on the defensive, forcing him to dodge and counterattack in a constantly shifting environment. Though Rey landed a few hits, they seemed to have little effect. Meanwhile, Philemon's strikes, though not devastating, were beginning to add up.

Finally, Rey saw his opening.

Philemon, confident in his control of the battlefield, launched himself forward, his hand glowing with concentrated energy.

"Die," he said calmly, aiming for Rey's chest.

But Rey was ready.

He sidestepped at the last moment, grabbing Philemon's outstretched arm and twisting it sharply. Philemon's calm demeanor faltered as Rey pulled him close, a fierce grin on his face.

"My turn."