**The Kingdom of Termia**

  Termia was known for its unique architecture.

  Towers, mansions, and buildings rose in polished wood, reflecting the artisanal tradition of its people.

  Commerce and craftsmanship were the nation’s heart — but now, that heart pulsed in the cold of war.

  **Capital City.**

  **Madeirana.**

  The event hall was covered in ice.

  The atmosphere was frigid, suffocating.

  The banners trembled, frozen in the air.

  Souta faced the figure before him.

  A teenage-looking girl, dressed in a blend of medieval European and shinobi attire.

  Golden eyes, intense as the sun.

  Pale skin.

  Blue-white hair reflecting the frozen torchlight.

  — **A Celestial General…** Souta murmured, thrilled by the battle.

  The girl raised her short sword, the blade trembling with draconic energy.

  — **They call me Pikonota Pragma. Remember it well… because you’ll die here.**

  Souta sharpened his smile.

  — Pukonota, was it?

  — **It’s not Puko, it’s Piko!** she snapped, losing composure.

  — “Idiot!”

  — “Same thing. Puko, Piko… after I kill you, I won’t even remember your face.”

  — **Whaaat?!** Pikonota blushed, furious.

  — “For your information, I’m considered beautiful in many lands of Magnapis! How could you forget my face, you fool?!”

  Souta laughed, mocking.

  — “You’re really a General? These Celestials aren’t much of a bi—”

  **Shiing!**

  A cutting breeze sliced through the hall.

  The upper ceiling shattered with a crash.

  Souta was hurled into the debris, but landed on his feet, focused.

  — “Clean cut… effortless. She’s strong.”

  He smirked, recalling something.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  — “Your technique reminds me of that anime from my world… demon hunters.

  So, Magnapis has katanas too?”

  Pikonota frowned.

  — “Katana? This isn’t a katana. It’s a **Yakana**.

  A yokai blade, inspired by the Katana Hero’s weapon.

  Forged to seal spirits. Only ten exist in the world.”

  — “Interesting…” Souta commented, stepping down from the rubble.

  — “But it doesn’t matter. Tell me: why did the Demon King ally with Termia and start this war?”

  — **Revenge.** Pikonota answered without hesitation.

  — “You killed my master, Garra, the Red Scale!”

  Pikonota dashed forward.

  Her Yakana gleamed.

  — **Draconic Magic: Acid Snowstorm!**

  The hall froze in an instant.

  Icy dust covered everything.

  But when the mist cleared… Souta stood unharmed.

  — “That’s all?” he taunted.

  Pikonota recoiled, shocked.

  — *He resisted the strike?!*

  Souta called mentally:

  — “Creamy, you there?”

  — “Always, sir,” the voice echoed.

  — “Why don’t her attacks work?”

  — “Did you forget? You hold the title **Dragon Slayer**.

  Any ability or magic of draconic origin has no effect on you.

  Dragonoids are practically dragons.”

  Souta sighed, disappointed.

  — “So it’s useless… feels like an adult bullying a child.”

  Pikonota bristled.

  — “What’s with that look?! Don’t underestimate me, you jerk!”

  Souta crossed his arms.

  — “Buzz off, kid. One thing is hitting women, another is hitting a child.”

  — “I’m practically the same age as you!” she retorted.

  — “I’m an invoked one. I’m nearly 40.

  And don’t pull that cliché of the ‘thousand-year-old loli.’ This is your real body.”

  — “You bastard!” Pikonota shouted.

  — “I am Pikonota Pragma, the **Pragmatic Blizzard**!

  I am the Ninth Celestial General! I’ve swallowed entire cities! Who do you think you’re calling a kid?!—I’m over three thousand years old!”

  Souta raised an eyebrow.

  — “Ninth? Then you’re the weakest.”

  Creamy confirmed:

  — “Yes, sir. She doesn’t even rank among the Right Hand or the Left Hand. She’s weaker than a Left Hand.”

  Souta sighed, disappointed.

  — “Aashh… too weak for me. Why even bother coming?”

  **Instant Step.**

  He appeared before her.

  A simple finger tap to her forehead.

  **BOOM!**

  Pikonota was hurled into a broken pillar.

  — “Buzz off. You’re no match, Pukonota.”

  She staggered up, trembling.

  — “Don’t call me that, idiot!” She tried to step forward, stumbled, fell, then rose again.

  Souta laughed loudly.

  Pikonota, red with embarrassment, laughed nervously to cover it.

  — “Hahaha! Just wait… you’re only cocky because I’m alone.

  When my partner arrives, you’ll see.

  She’s tough. **Pantox**, the Demon King’s Seventh General.

  She’ll crush you!”

  Souta narrowed his eyes.

  — “Pantox? You mean Pantox the Ripper?”

  — “That’s right!” Pikonota smiled, confident.

  — “She’ll slice you to pieces!”

  Souta sighed, almost bored.

  — “Sorry to disappoint you, kid… but I already dealt with your friend this morning.”

  Pikonota froze.

  — “…Huh?”