The Deadly Assassin Robin novel Chapter 1236

The moment Robin unleashed the power of the Dragonblood Stone, the air trembled with raw, unrelenting force. It was as if the very atmosphere itself had been torn asunder.

Within seconds, a crushing pressure descended upon everything within a hundred meters, suffocating the life out of the land itself.

Gustov, Tanqueria's legendary God of War, felt the shockwave hit him. His officers behind him staggered, their legs unsteady, barely able to keep their ground.

Some of the older men, frail and weak, crumpled to the ground, gasping for air, their only lifeline the oxygen tanks they clung to.

Even Gustov, standing at the peak of martial power, felt his legs tremble, struggling to withstand the immense force. The energy was too much, too overpowering.

Behind Robin, Alexander, Jane, and Anthony were thrown backward, sent sprawling several meters away, struggling to steady themselves.

But the most astonishing sight was the snow. Thick, dense snow within a ten-yard radius of Robin simply vanished—disintegrated in an instant, as if it had never been.

The cold northern winds that had screamed toward them suddenly stopped, as though struck by an invisible wall.

It felt like the world had fractured, and in that broken space, Robin stood, a towering force of destruction.

His body radiated power, each movement, each breath, exuding the force of a war god.

For a brief, suffocating moment, everything stilled. The earth held its breath.

Gustov, his heart pounding, fought to steady himself. Bloodlust surged within him, a tide of fury and fear that he struggled to suppress.

He focused, narrowing his eyes at Robin, seeing him not through stories or images, but in the flesh. The so-called Divine-level the one known as Divine Drakebane.

He had studied Robin's feats—the wars, the battles, the vengeance—and yet, even in all his knowledge, he had never truly grasped the scale of it.

The battle at Sakurania, the fight at Mount Fuoco, the vengeance he exacted on the Rivers family, the killing of Dubh, Elaria's top grandmaster, and more.

Now, he took down Tanqueria Northwest Defense Base all by himself.

The videos, the photos—they were just glimpses of a legend, distant and abstract.

To Gustov, legends were not threats.

He had stood alongside the fiercest warriors, the mightiest fighters.

Dragon Slayer, Elijah, Dubh, the Four Warlords—names that had shaped his era. To him, these were the true giants.

They were not interested in newbies like Divine Drakebane.

Yet, now, standing face to face with Divine Drakebane, Gustov felt a shift.

A tremor deep within him, a feeling he had never experienced before: a cold, creeping dread.

His instincts screamed that Robin's power was something beyond comprehension, beyond even the greatest of his time.

Divine Drakebane was not a myth, a tale to be dismissed.

He was a force of nature—unstoppable, incomprehensible, and utterly terrifying.

The power that radiated from Robin was so intense, it crushed the air itself. It seeped into every corner, a force so overwhelming it froze Gustov's heart.

In martial arts, fear was the deadliest enemy.

If a warrior's heart wavered, even for a moment, he was already lost.

Gustov's old eyes tried to cut through Robin's exterior, searching for any sign of weakness.

But there was nothing. Nothing but cold, unyielding death.

The killing intent that surged from Robin was vast, swallowing everything in its path. It was an all-consuming rage, indifferent to everything around it.

This was Divine Drakebane—the embodiment of dominance in the World of Darkness.

His power wasn't just in his strength. It was in his absolute certainty, his disregard for all things.

The purest force in the world was fearlessness. Courage with no flaw. No hesitation. No doubt.

With such a force, anything was possible.

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