"Get ready to witness the power of Godslayer's Plan B!" Madman cackled with devilish glee.
"This is it—the Godslayer secret weapon for boss hunting!" Stewart yelled excitedly.
Daloré was on the verge of a meltdown. Black pellets rained down onto his majestic head, dragging his thousand-year reputation through the mud like roadkill.
"What the hell... is this even real!?"
Orson stood frozen in place, eyes wide. He'd always known Madman was shameless—but this?
It was a level of shamelessness that shattered the moral floor.
He seriously considered hopping on Crimson Lizard King and kicking them both off mid-air.
There were lines you just didn't cross.
But then Orson paused, sighed, and muttered, "Thank god he's just a magical creature... I might've logged out from second-hand embarrassment otherwise."
Blank turned, cheeks flushed. "Can I just ask... other than pissing him off, what's the point of this?!"
She was completely speechless.
She had joined up with Godslayer thinking she might witness a hidden tactic—some legendary battle strat.
Instead? This was... this.
Without a second thought, she shut off her recording feature. There was no way she was going to be seen in a replay next to these clowns.
"Of course it has a point. You're just too noob to see it." Madman shrugged.
Blank shot him a cold glare. Not worth arguing.
"I'll crush you all! You filthy insects! You cursed vermin!"
Daloré's enraged roar echoed across the Garden of Ten Thousand Flowers.
A massive six-pointed star ignited in the sky, pulsing with violet fury in sync with the dragon king's wrath.
Dragon Curse: Heavenly Wisteria!
Glittering amethyst vines erupted from the spell, intertwining and covering the skies in a dome of sparkling doom—
An entire divine palace of crystal bearing down on them from above!
He was ready to pulverize these ants into cosmic dust.
"Baaaaa~~!!"
An innocent bleat rang out—cheerful and unbothered.
It was... louder than the thunder of the curse.
"Baaa! Baaaaaaa~~!!"
Orson's jaw dropped.
All eyes turned to the small lamb perched atop Daloré's head.
Its golden vertical pupils gleamed as it looked longingly at the approaching crystal palace.
Stewart pointed up, thrilled: "Dinner time, tiny dude!"
The lamb opened its mouth—far wider than physically possible—stretching unnaturally into a jagged 90-degree arc.
That once-harmless, cuddly appearance warped into something unnervingly grotesque.
Stewart whooped. "He eats anything and everything! All you can feed, all you can eat!"
Devour the Heavens!
In the blink of an eye, a black cyclone—hundreds of meters wide—formed above the palace.
Orson almost collapsed.
"What the hell is that thing?! This is some next-level broken nonsense!"
Daloré's S-tier Dragon Curse was being dragged—helplessly—into the lamb's vortex mouth.
It wasn't even resisting.
"How... how is this happening?"
Daloré's voice trembled.
He'd lost control. His spell—his S-tier spell—was being swallowed whole by a sheep.
A sheep.
Burp.
The lamb let out a soft belch.
It didn't sound dangerous, but Orson felt like he'd just taken a critical hit worth a billion damage.
"That's... that's what 'Devour the Heavens' does? It just... eats Forbidden Curses?"
The lamb began to grow.
Within seconds, it had ballooned to over ten meters tall, now sporting two fluffy white wings flapping lazily in the air.
Blank stared in horror.
"That's your... your pet? That's a King-tier beast?!" she gasped.
"What pet?" Stewart looked dead serious. "That's my guy."
He nodded solemnly. "Big bro saved my sorry life more times than I can count. I just keep him full, and he does the rest."
Blank's eye twitched.
Calling a neutral creature "my guy"... that was just peak Godslayer logic.
But that "guy" didn't just have stupidly high HP.
He was literally the Shepherd of Devastation.
He just ate a Dragon King's Forbidden Curse like it was breakfast.
And somehow... Stewart was his milk-dad.
As the storm of arcane energy faded, it was as if nothing had ever happened.
+30 million HP.
Orson's vocabulary failed him.
The lamb not only devoured the spell but grew stronger, its size now easily dwarfing the Purple-Gold Dragon King.
It looked like a giant floating marshmallow.
"This... this isn't how the game works, right?"
Orson began to doubt his entire understanding of Infinite Dimensions.
But he also noticed—
Despite the terrifying power, the lamb hadn't attacked anything.
It was clearly only drawn to magic—and its enormous body seemed to be composed entirely of elemental energy.
"Baaa~~ baaa~~"
Even its once-adorable bleats now felt deeply unsettling.
"Face me if you dare!!"
Daloré, utterly incensed, roared at the lamb.
But a neutral entity obviously wouldn't answer.
It just blinked with wide, innocent eyes... waiting for another snack.
Orson almost burst into laughter.
This thing was... incredible.
"You insolent pest! Get off my head!"
Daloré finally had enough. He took off, wings beating furiously, charging toward Blank and the others.
"He took the bait!" Stewart howled with glee. "Time for the main course—suck his mana dry!"
The giant lamb floated after Daloré, deceptively slow—then suddenly accelerated.
It leapt onto the dragon king's back like a goofy dog.
The Purple-Gold Dragon King—soaring sovereign of the skies for a millennium—
Just got mounted by a sheep.
Mounted.
By.
A.
Sheep.
Daloré's eyes bulged with fury.
He couldn't feel any weight, yet the mere presence made his spine lock.
The lamb began to melt—its wool dissolving into sticky white threads that adhered to his scales.
Daloré's vast mana pool started draining.
All nearby spells collapsed into nothingness.
"This is insane. That thing's a Forbidden Magic predator..."
Orson muttered, watching in disbelief.
It didn't just eat spells.
It devoured mana itself.
It could drain the caster dry.
"GET OFF OF ME!"
Daloré finally snapped, activating a mana-free innate skill:
Amethyst Dragon Form!
His body crystallized, forcibly ejecting the sticky lamb.
Roar!!
He whipped his claws forward in a brutal counterattack—
Dragon's Talon!
Crippling Strike - 3 million!
The lamb's fluffy body was ripped open, flung into the earth and smashing through buildings.
"You dare mock the Dragon King?!"
Daloré ignored the others and dove down like a falling star, landing atop the lamb and biting down mercilessly.
Devour!
Crippling Strike - 4 million!
Fatal Strike - 15 million!
Over and over, he tore into the creature.
"Oh no! He figured it out!"
Stewart panicked, running in circles.
The lamb's HP dropped nearly 100 million in seconds. It was going to die at this rate.
Blank frowned. "Why isn't it fighting back? Is it... mocking the dragon king?"
Stewart gasped.
"No! He's just... hungry. He doesn't fight. He's a good boy!"
Blank almost fainted.
It was a monster beyond monsters—
It could eat magic, drain spells, and tank the strongest bosses...
And it didn't even know how to hit back.