School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start

Chapter 9: One Punch, That's All It Takes

Owen struggled to raise his hand to defend, but it was already too late.

Malcolm's dragon claw, sharp as a blade, pierced through Owen's defense as easily as through paper, plunging into his chest.

The combination of strength and speed was flawless, devoid of any flamboyant technique, only a simple and direct act of killing.

Owen's body offered almost no resistance at the moment of contact with the dragon claw, as if struck by a heavy hammer.

His bones seemed to cry out in protest.

A look of disbelief flashed in his eyes, which then dulled.

His body, like a puppet drained of strength, slowly collapsed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

The Great Elder sighed quietly and exchanged a knowing glance with a female elder.

Green light sparkled in her hands, and vibrant arcanergy enveloped Owen's body.

The wound in Owen's chest began to heal at a visibly rapid pace.

The scene halted there, and Owen snapped back to reality.

"Are you ready, saint?" Malcolm's challenging howl reached Owen.

Owen nodded slightly.

Just like in the prophecy, Malcolm attacked without warning, lunging towards Owen.

However, Owen's eyes sparkled with an unusual light.

His heart was calm, forewarned by the vision he had seen.

He seemed to see through the cracks of time, anticipating every move, every ounce of force Malcolm exerted.

At the very moment Malcolm's dragon claw was about to pierce his chest, Owen's body twisted at an incredible angle, as fluid as water, effortlessly dodging the lethal strike.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Owen's right fist, charged with all his strength, was already aimed and ready.

Malcolm's moment of vulnerability was minuscule, almost imperceptible, occurring just after his all-out strike.

But for Owen, it was as clear as the brightest star in the night sky.

Owen's fist cut through the air, carrying a thunderous roar, and struck squarely at Malcolm's ribs.

This punch was devoid of any flamboyance, a mere release of raw power, yet it harbored a destructive force.

The moment Owen's fist made contact with Malcolm's body, the air seemed to twist and warp around them.

A massive shockwave emanated from the point of impact, whipping up a fierce wind.

A flash of terror crossed Malcolm's eyes.

Without any defense, and even if there was time, it would have been futile.

The gap between them was no more than a fist's length.

Malcolm's body was sent flying like a weightless leaf in the wind, mercilessly knocked away by Owen's formidable power.

He traced a pitiful arc in the air before crashing heavily to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

At that moment, the atmosphere on the field froze.

All sounds ceased, leaving only the faint noise of Malcolm's body hitting the ground.

The gold-tier warrior was defeated in one punch, instantly knocked unconscious, under the watchful eyes of all.

Owen's fist remained in its striking pose, his breathing calm, as if the entire event was a mere triviality for him.

The surrounding clansmen erupted in astonished exclamations after a moment of stunned silence.

"He won, the saint actually defeated Malcolm."

"With just one punch, incredible!"

"Malcolm is a gold-tier fighter, and the saint just beat him."

"By the dragons above, am I seeing this right?"

"If Malcolm's body wasn't so tough, any regular gold-tier fighter would have been obliterated by that punch."

"Terrifying... Is this the true power of the saint?"

"..."

Admiring exclamations echoed around, and the elders also turned their gazes towards Owen.

Having retracted his fist, Owen stood with an expressionless face, embodying the demeanor of a mighty warrior.

"Great Elder, the saint is indeed as prophesied, capable of leading our dragons out of the curse," a elder communicated telepathically to the Great Elder.

"Indeed, this is what a saint should be!" another elder expressed excitedly through telepathy.

"Without any formal training, the saint has already defeated a gold-tier warrior with mere combat instinct. Once he begins his training, he will be an unstoppable war god, sweeping across all clans," another elder shared his thoughts with the Great Elder.

"..."

The elders discussed animatedly, and the Great Elder nodded continuously.

He wanted to raise his arms and shout, affirming that the resources spent to bless the saint were well worth it.

All eyes were now focused on this young hero.

Not only had he defeated a formidable opponent with his own strength, but he had also demonstrated extraordinary prophetic abilities and unmatched combat talent.

For a long time, the people of Dragon Echo Valley had yearned for a saint who could lead them to glory.

Now, it seemed they had found such a person.

The Great Elder, a revered figure in the clan, his eyes filled with approval and amazement.

He slowly stepped forward from the crowd, his silver beard gently swaying with his steps.

His face bore an excitement not seen for decades.

Under the astonished gazes of the clan, the Great Elder knelt on one knee without hesitation.

His deep, solemn voice echoed through Dragon Echo Valley, "Saint!"

This word, like a beam of holy light, illuminated the faith in the hearts of the clansmen.

One by one, the young warriors and the wise elders, touched by the Great Elder's action, knelt down in a solemn ritual.

The air filled with devotion and respect. Their voices merged into a powerful force, shaking everyone's soul:

"Saint! Saint!!"

Their call was like a dragon's roar, piercing the clouds and resounding throughout the valley.

At that moment, Owen had not only won a battle but also garnered the recognition and adoration of his entire clan.

He stood there, sweeping his gaze over the kneeling clansmen, feeling an inner flame being ignited.

He knew that from this moment on, he had firmly established himself in Dragon Echo Valley as the true saint in the hearts of his people.

"I will lead you to an even more glorious future," Owen proclaimed with all his strength.

This wasn't just rhetoric; it was a commitment he had made in his heart.

The Great Elder, looking at Owen's haloed figure, was deeply moved, calling out 'saint' with even more vigor.

.....

Half a month passed, and Dragon Echo Valley returned to its usual tranquility.

The elders had entered their deep slumber.

Barlo informed Owen that it was unprecedented for the elders to bestow a double blessing of the power of sun and stellar.

This time, Owen's dual blessings were exchanged with the essence blood of the elders.

Owen was deeply touched and became even more determined to work hard as a way of repaying the elders' kindness.

He vowed to himself to make the dragons' name resound throughout the entire Novalia continent once more.

In the half-month that followed, Owen devoted all his time to learning.

He gained new insights into the basic magic of dragons, which differed from what he had learned before, incorporating ancient dragon wisdom and a profound understanding of the strength of nature.

Whether it was controlling flames or manipulating storms, Owen displayed astonishing talent and learning ability.

In just half a month, he mastered the basic dragon magic, including Dragon's Breath Flame, Dragon Scale Shield, Frost Art, Rock Art, and more.

Among these, the most crucial was Dragonheart Mastery, which appeared to be a basic spell.

In reality, for subdragons or even species carrying some dragon bloodline, this magic could be considered their nemesis.

Mastering this spell made Owen the bane of subdragons and those with dragon bloodline.

In addition to magic, tactics and skills of dragons were also a focal point of Owen's learning.

In practical drills, he learned how to move and attack like a dragon warrior.

He put his all into every practice session, drawing lessons from each failure.

He had proficiently mastered the basic dragon combat techniques: Dragon Wing Slash, Dragon Claw Tear, Dragon Tail Hammer, and others.

At night, while the rest of Dragon Echo Valley slept, Owen persisted in training under the moonlight.

His silhouette danced in the ancient training ground, as if engaged in a silent conversation with the moon.

His sweat dropped onto the land, resonating with the earth, as if voicing his inner oath: to become stronger, not only to repay the elders' kindness but also to showcase the divine might of dragons.

Seeing Owen's relentless efforts, Barlo softly called out, "Saint, take a rest for today. The 'Race Transformation' ceremony is about to begin."

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