Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Endless Sea, Vophal Dragon Domain

“The moon? Nausil’s moon seems to have shattered?”

A silver dragon looked up at the sky, its expression alarmed.

It wasn’t just this one silver dragon. Every metallic dragon who noticed the scene couldn’t help but lift their heads and gaze at the sky.

That was Nausil’s elves’ moon.

It had hung in that distant, cold, and silent void long before many dragons were even born.

It radiated a bright, clear light, sometimes even brighter than the true moon, illuminating countless nights and shining over the growth of countless dragons.

The dragons all knew it was a weapon.

One powerful enough to gravely wound an Immortal.

But over the long years, they had also grown accustomed to its existence, just as they had grown accustomed to the wind, the rain, and the ebb and flow of the tides.

But now, it was shattered.

“Shattered... it was really shattered.”

“The existence that could destroy this moon... it must be at least a Saint.”

“The intensity of the war on Arotala has escalated again.”

The dragons murmured amongst themselves.

What did the shattering of the elves’ moon mean? Was the war on the Arotala Continent about to end, or would the world’s chaos increase further, with the storms growing more violent?

No one could give a definite answer.

Right in the middle of this clamorous discussion.

Riiip!

The sky was torn open once more.

A massive rift appeared in the heavens, as if an invisible giant hand had ripped a hole right down the middle of the sky’s curtain.

A great dragon emerged from within.

His entire body radiated a dazzling golden light, like the blazing sun. His dragon might was vast and imposing, covering the sky and the earth, causing the very space around him to freeze.

But.

When he came into view of the assembled metallic dragons, after the initial shock, everyone quickly found it unremarkable.

“Gabriel, it’s your father. He’s come over again.”

A brass dragon used its wing to nudge the gold dragon beside it.

At that moment, Gabriel was on a hilltop.

He lifted his head, gazing into the distance at the shining dragon suspended in the sky. Around him were several other young metallic dragons who had also stopped their earlier chatting and were now looking up.

“See? We told you, the Scarlet Emperor Cangxing is definitely a metallic dragon, with noble gold dragon blood flowing in his veins.”

“Look at his appearance now. Who would dare say he’s a five-colored dragon or an iron hybrid dragon?”

The metallic dragons said.

Hearing this, a look of doubt appeared in Gabriel’s eyes.

He wasn’t as certain as the other metallic dragons.

In fact, the matter of his father’s bloodline had always been somewhat controversial in the Vophal Dragon Domain. But in the end, he just blinked and said nothing.

After all, his father could not only enter and leave the Vophal Dragon Domain freely, but he was also favored by the Silver Dragon King.

Besides, right now, his father was shining all over with golden radiance, completely devoid of any of the fierce, menacing aura of an evil dragon. Instead, it had been replaced by an air of nobility, sanctity, loftiness, and majesty.

The Golden Dragon King of the Everbright Dragon Domain might be no more than this in terms of majesty.

“But, why has father come this time?”

Gabriel muttered, a hint of confusion in his voice.

He recalled his father’s previous visits.

The first time, it was said he killed a Giant King on the Arotala Continent and even clashed with a Saint.

The second time, he captured an Ancient Chrome Dragon of the Mandate of Heaven level alive.

Each time had caused quite a stir, sparking discussions among the dragons of the Vophal Dragon Domain.

What about this time?

Suddenly.

He looked up at the shattered elves’ moon, then turned his gaze to the shining dragon suspended in the sky, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. His jaws slowly began to drop.

Had his father participated in the war that shattered the elves’ moon?

He wondered to himself.

It couldn’t be helped; the moon had just shattered, and the shining dragon had just torn through the void to arrive.

The timing was far too coincidental.

On the other side.

Garoth breathed deeply, his lungs expanding, contracting, then expanding again.

The light on his body gradually receded, the blazing radiance enveloping him slowly fading away, revealing the solid scales beneath.

The feeling of weakness that followed the end of the Radiant State came over him.

“Not being able to revive multiple times like before really does make me feel less secure.”

He felt his own condition and thought to himself.

In reality, given Garoth’s current state, against an enemy that could push him this far, even if his old resurrection mechanism could be used several more times, it wouldn’t change the outcome much.

And at least now, he had room to fight back, even a chance to turn the tables and kill his target.

This was countless times stronger than before.

But, dragons were always somewhat greedy, and Garoth was no exception.

He wasn’t satisfied when he should be, and wanted more when he should be content.

“Maybe I’ll be able to mutate or evolve a new type of resurrection ability later, and keep the Radiant Dragon Pearl unchanged.”

Garoth wanted both this and that in his heart, fantasizing about having it both ways.

Just then, the Silver Dragon King’s whisper reached his ears.

“It seems you’ve gotten yourself into another considerable amount of trouble. Come on.”

Her tone held a hint of helplessness.

Garoth didn’t stand on ceremony. He flapped his wings, lifted his body, and flew towards the domain’s airspace. His destination was the Cold Sacred Spring. He had been there before, so he knew the way.

Furthermore, all five of the Great Dragon Domains, including Vophal, had special protective barriers.

They not only provided physical defense but also set up numerous obstacles on a spatial level.

It was very difficult for outsiders to accurately pinpoint a location within the dragon domains from a spatial perspective, and they couldn’t directly tear through space to enter.

So, every time Garoth came to the Vophal Dragon Domain, he could only tear through space to reach its periphery first, then fly in. He couldn’t go directly inside.

And it wasn’t just the dragon domains.

Major cities in both Nausil and the Halden Empire also had similar spatial seals to prevent enemies from using spatial magic for surprise attacks during war.

He hadn’t flown far when a call came from behind.

“Father!”

Gabriel caught up from the rear, his wings beating against the air with force.

When Garoth stopped, the gold dragon circled him once, his gaze filled with admiration and awe.

“Father, your appearance just now... it was absolutely breathtaking.”

Gabriel said sincerely, “Noble gold, sacred radiance, majestic and inviolable. I even feel that even if the Golden Dragon King from the Everbright Dragon Domain came in person, he would be no more than this.”

“The entire Vophal Dragon Domain is talking about your heroic bearing.”

There was a hint of pride in his voice.

The red iron dragon glanced at him and said bluntly, “What do you want to say? Save the flattery for later. I don’t have time for chit-chat right now.”

He knew his offspring well.

If he came running to him, it certainly wasn’t just to compliment him. He definitely had another motive.

Gabriel laughed slyly but didn’t deny it.

He slid sideways, nimbly dodged to block his father’s path, then quickly leaned in a bit closer.

“I just wanted to ask, what exactly happened just now?”

He sneaked a glance at the shattered moon in the sky, then quickly looked back. “Nausil’s moon shattered. This scene must have been witnessed by all the intelligent races on the entire planet Bernardo, right? And you just happened to arrive... the timing is a bit too coincidental.”

The red iron dragon lightly flapped his wings, flying forward at a leisurely pace.

Seeing that his father hadn’t refused, Gabriel’s heart swelled with joy, and he grew a bit bolder.

He flew sideways next to him and said, “I aspire to be a Dragon King, so I need to have some impressive credentials.”

“If I know the news later than everyone else, that would be too embarrassing.”

“You know how it is, the dragons here are always curious about what’s happening outside, especially the big events. As a future Dragon King, I can’t be completely unaware of major world changes. It would be so embarrassing if I had to keep saying I don’t know anything.”

“If I could bring back some exclusive breaking news from you...”

“You’ve really come up in the world, haven’t you?”

Garoth interrupted him.

The gold dragon wasn’t annoyed; he just grinned cheekily and shamelessly said, “Father, I’m just learning from you.”

He adjusted his flying posture, trying to appear more sincere: “If you want to be a Dragon King, you can’t rely solely on fighting and killing.”

“Prestige, image, connections... don’t all these need to be cultivated?”

“Even if I’m not as good as you, I still need to learn the ropes, right?”

Garoth shot a sideways glance at the gold dragon but said nothing.

*I’m not this thick-skinned.*

He thought to himself.

The gold dragon cleared his throat and wisely changed the subject. “Anyway, father, just give me a quick rundown, alright? What happened? How did the moon shatter? You must know something. Just tell me.”

He looked at the red iron dragon with eager eyes.

Under the gold dragon’s expectant gaze, Garoth finally spoke.

“In the empire war on Arotala, a divine avatar descended.”

He said it casually.

But the gold dragon’s pupils abruptly contracted.

A divine avatar?

His mouth opened and closed. His wings forgot to beat, and his body plunged sharply downward in mid-air before he quickly came to his senses, beating his wings a few times to steady himself.

This was huge news.

Gabriel listened intently.

“The god worshiped by the Kantum Empire used the body of a fallen Saint as a vessel to descend his avatar.”

The red iron dragon said calmly, “That avatar destroyed Nausil’s elves’ moon.”

*So that’s it.*

*The moon was destroyed by a divine avatar.*

The gold dragon swallowed his saliva and said, “A divine avatar descends, the elves’ moon is destroyed... Doesn’t this mean Nausil has suffered a total defeat?”

“This isn’t good news.”

The orcs didn’t engage in production; they lived by plundering and frequently made sacrifices to their gods.

Wherever they passed, they were like a plague of locusts, completely draining the resources of the territory, leaving almost nothing growing. If they defeated Nausil and finished ravaging Arotala, they would certainly continue their conquests elsewhere.

Then, as if remembering something, his gaze fell back on the red iron dragon.

“Father, I remember you stood with the Nausil camp for the sake of justice and order.”

“With a divine avatar descending and the elves’ moon shattering, did you see the situation turning bad and escape... I mean, temporarily avoid the main force and retreat to the dragon domain?”

The red iron dragon shook his head slightly.

“The elves’ moon was destroyed, but the divine avatar of Kantum also fell. Their faith foundation was cracked. You can’t really say either side won or lost. Both suffered major losses.”

Gabriel’s breathing became a little heavier.

His brain was racing, trying to digest this shocking news.

“Who?” he pressed. “Who killed the divine avatar? One of Nausil’s Immortals?”

The corners of the red iron dragon’s mouth lifted slightly, curving into an arc.

“You’ll find out about this very soon.”

He said, his tone meaningful.

The moment he finished speaking, Garoth flapped his wings fiercely, instantly accelerating, putting distance between himself and the gold dragon.

“Father!”

Gabriel called out behind him, “Don’t you know? Saying half and leaving the other half unsaid is worse than saying nothing at all!”

*Of course I know.*

*I’m doing it on purpose.*

The red iron dragon ignored him, continuing to accelerate, his figure growing more and more distant.

Gabriel was beside himself, itching to chase after his father and stop him, but he knew he couldn’t catch up. He could only watch helplessly as the figure grew smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared from view.

Just then, the brass dragon and several other young metallic dragons flew over.

They swarmed around him, chattering and questioning.

“Well? What did your father say?”

“Who shattered the moon?”

“Did he take part in it?”

“Come on, tell us what happened!”

Surrounded by the dragons, Gabriel immediately composed himself.

He cleared his throat, lifted his chin slightly, put on a mysterious and profound expression, and said slowly, “You’ll never guess what really happened on Arotala...”

On the other side.

Garoth arrived at the Cold Sacred Spring.

The Silver Dragon King was already waiting there.

She was currently in her human form, with long silver-white hair falling to her waist, looking cool and elegant.

When she saw the red iron dragon appear, she let out a helpless sigh.

“Do you realize I’ve shown myself more in these recent years than I have in the previous hundred years combined?”

“And all of this, I owe to you.”

The red iron dragon folded his wings and landed at the edge of the sacred spring.

Facing the Silver Dragon King, he shamelessly said, “No need to thank me. This is a good thing for you too, Dragon King. Showing yourself more often, being more active, helps fight the twilight stage.”

He said it with righteous confidence, as if the Silver Dragon King really should be thanking him.

The Silver Dragon King looked at him, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

However, she didn’t continue to dwell on the topic.

She looked up at the sky.

Nausil’s moon, once like a jade disc, was now completely shattered. In its place was a field of broken, arcing light, like a smashed mirror hanging in the heavens.

“Speak.”

She withdrew her gaze and looked at Garoth. “What happened on Arotala?”

Garoth considered his words, then roughly narrated the sequence of events.

After hearing him out, the Silver Dragon King was silent for a long time.

Her expression didn’t change much, still maintaining that cool and composed look, but her gaze flickered, like an undercurrent flowing beneath the surface of a lake.

Clearly, even for an experienced Dragon King, this moment required time to digest the news.

“Are you saying...”

She spoke slowly. “You killed a divine avatar?”

Garoth met her gaze and nodded without pretense. “With the help of the power from Nausil’s blood moon, yes.”

“Against a fully-powered divine avatar, I would definitely have had to run and hide.”

“That’s an existence I couldn’t handle. A head-on collision would be suicide.”

“But if he was being suppressed by an empire’s heavy weapon, already covered in wounds, his body caught between destruction and regeneration... that was a different story.”

The Silver Dragon King slowly exhaled.

“You really...”

“Always know how to create surprises for me.”

Garoth nodded slightly, accepting the evaluation.

The Silver Dragon King continued, “Making such a big commotion on Arotala this time, I’m afraid it’s not just the Kantum orcs who will remember you.”

“Let them remember.”

Garoth replied. “It’s not like it’s the first time.”

He said it lightly, but internally, he was growing anxious.

*Too weak.*

*I am still too weak.*

This thought stuck in his heart like a thorn, impossible to pull out.

Even killing a divine avatar couldn’t change the fact that he was still incapable of contending with those Saints and Immortals. When faced with those truly powerful beings, his only option was to retreat.

He hated this feeling.

If he hid and laid low, maybe he wouldn’t appear so quickly on the radar of these powerhouses, but that would mean sheathing all his claws and enduring a slow pace of growth.

Being weak was the greatest risk.

Instead of that, it was better to advance with a roar, outpacing danger and disaster with a speed of growth that defied logic.

So, he had to break through to the Mandate of Heaven as fast as possible!

He had the mutated meteorite, and the kingdom’s resources were substantial. Next, he needed to focus on training and growing.

Once he became a Mandate of Heaven level, even if he couldn’t defeat a Saint or an Immortal in a head-on fight, he would at least have the means to protect himself, the qualifications to fight one. No more having to avoid the main conflict every time.

Just then, the Silver Dragon King’s gaze fell back on him, looking him up and down.

She could sense that beneath Garoth’s seemingly unharmed exterior, his life force was already extremely weak.

“Don’t be so stubborn.”

“It looks like you paid a considerable price. You need to recover now. Go soak in the sacred spring for a while. We can talk about other things after you’ve recovered.”

Garoth nodded without refusing.

Whether it was his body’s weakness or the depletion of power within him, he indeed needed to recover.

He turned and walked towards the center of the Cold Sacred Spring.

The Silver Dragon King stood by the spring, watching him slowly lower his body and submerge himself completely in the spring water.

“By the way.”

The Silver Dragon King seemed to remember something and said, “I expect that by the time you’ve mostly recovered, Claudia will also wake up. You might want to think about how you plan to deal with this Deep Freeze Tyrant.”

“His mental issues won’t recover along with his body.”

Hearing this, Garoth made a joke.

He said, “In this day and age, who doesn’t have some deep-seated mental issues?”

Upon hearing this, the Silver Dragon King shot him a deep look, but didn’t say anything else.

Meanwhile.

Lower Plane, the Arenas of Strife.

This was a plane whose essence was conflict and war.

To some extent, it was the physical embodiment of chaos and slaughter, a place formed from the condensation of the war cries and the clashing of swords and blades from countless battlefields.

The Arenas of Strife had four layers total.

The Plains of Chaos, the Labyrinth of Remnants, the Grey Stone Layer, and the Dark Layer of Ice Shards.

Each layer floated independently in the void.

Within them, countless iron cubes, sized like giant islands, continents, or even complete material planes, drifted slowly along certain trajectories in the void.

When the cubes collided, they made a thunderous noise, mingling with the earth-shaking clash of swords and blades from the armies within.

It echoed long and loud throughout the plane.

And on the first layer, the Plains of Chaos, the orc divine realm, [The Land of Nishak], was located on top of an iron cube as vast as a world.

Inside dwelled the orcish gods and their Apostles.

It was worth mentioning that in the orcish language, there was no word for harmony.

They only had one guttural curse word, whose rough meaning was a temporary cessation of conflict, usually used in the brief interval between the end of one battle and the start of the next.

Similarly, the relationship between the orcish gods could hardly be called harmonious.

They took pleasure in war and plunder, constantly waging war within the Land of Nishak, attacking and looting each other. Today you invade my divine realm; tomorrow I steal your believers. Grievances and grudges never ceased.

However, all the orcish gods were under the iron-fisted rule of the Conqueror.

No matter how fierce the conflict of faith, as soon as the great Ge’ush issued a divine oracle, the entire orcish pantheon would instantly coalesce and carry out the will of this head god.

No one dared to defy Ge’ush’s commands.

The consequences of defiance were something no one could bear.

Within the orc divine realm.

Bag, the Beast of Might, possessed no profound wisdom; he was practically synonymous with savage brutality.

His mind didn’t hold many complex thoughts, but he possessed incredible, immense power. He was the dumb but terrifying son of the orcish head god, and his eternally loyal lieutenant.

The war cries of the Land of Nishak never stopped.

At the heart of this orc divine realm, Bag’s Temple of Might stood atop a peak of black rock that would never erode.

The mountain itself was carved into the shape of a crouching giant beast.

The belly of the beast was the great hall of the divine realm.

Inside the hall, Bag sat upon a divine throne.

It was a chair made of iron and bone, its back inlaid with hundreds of heads from different races: giants, dragons, elves, and orcs.

Bag’s true body was far larger than his avatar.

His skin was a deep, iron-grey, covered in muscles that were knotted almost to the point of deformity.

His horns were thicker and longer than his avatar’s, the forked tips piercing into the shadows, as if the entire hall was hung upon his horns.

This god was in the middle of a meal.

A demon lord was nailed to a torture rack in the center of the hall. Its limbs and torso were pinned by thick iron spikes, unable to move, its blood flowing down the rack and pooling into a dark red puddle on the ground.

Every so often, Bag would reach out a hand, tear a piece of flesh from the demon lord, toss it into his mouth, and chew it slowly and deliberately.

His movements were unhurried, as if enjoying an ordinary dinner.

Then, a change occurred.

Bag’s movements came to an abrupt halt.

His eyes flew wide open, his pupils contracting into two vertical slits, as if pierced from within by something. He felt a burning sensation, then a splitting headache, followed by a crack appearing in his divine essence.

He clutched his head and let out a roar.

In an instant, cracks spread across the ground, and lava erupted from the fissures.

The sky was immediately covered by dark clouds, with lightning and thunder mixed with rain of blood, falling upon the Plains of Chaos, drenching the armies that were in the middle of battle.

One of his avatars had died.

In the Material Plane, on Bernardo, turned to ash by the breath of a mere mortal dragon.

War involved victories and defeats; the path of conquest was never smooth sailing.

Bag could accept defeat.

But for an avatar to be completely killed, and by a mortal dragon that wasn’t even an Immortal, the nature of this matter was completely different.

If this news spread widely, the foundation of his faith would inevitably be shaken.

Bag stood up.

His gaze pierced through the dome of his divine realm and the many layers of planar barriers, landing on the blue-green planet floating in the sea of stars.

He could see the smoke of gunpowder that had not yet dispersed over the South Foothill Plain. He could see the mortal dragon who had dared to bare its fangs at him, now hiding in a gathering place for metallic dragons.

Bag’s fists clenched.

He needed only one step.

One step, and his true body would descend, and he would crush this insect.

He was Bag, the Beast of Might, the Conqueror’s lieutenant, a god who trampled the weak with his great power. His doctrine was written on his divine throne: the strong must oppress the weak, and the weak must submit to the strong.

He could not allow such a provocation to go unanswered.

If he didn’t respond, it was weakness.

If he was weak, then he was not Bag.

But at that very moment, as he fixed his gaze on Bernardo.

Five pairs of dragon pupils, invisible to the naked eye, appeared in his perception, watching him coldly.

“My blood and bone must not be touched. Anyone who does will have their soul destroyed.”

A voice of warning directly resounded in his mind.

It was immensely evil, majestically aloof, and inviolable.

Clearly, that powerful evil god coiled within Avernus Hell was also silently watching this material plane named Bernardo, considering it a forbidden zone, and not allowing the true body of any deity to set foot there.

Bag’s movements stopped.

He stood before his throne, his fists still clenched.

But under the watchful eyes of the five dragon pupils, his foot did not step forward.

Bag’s doctrine was carved into his throne, and it was also his guiding principle for action.

But for a god, doctrine was more than just a guide for action.

A god was strengthened by faith, and also constrained by it.

How your believers perceive you influences how you perceive yourself. Over time, a god’s style of conduct gradually aligns with their believers’ perception of them.

Simply put, a god also acts according to his own doctrine, because, strictly speaking, it was his essence.

The strong must oppress the weak; the weak must submit to the strong.

This was Bag’s iron rule, the ancient teaching followed by the Church of Bag, and the creed instilled in every Kantum orc warrior from birth.

And it was precisely this iron rule that had brought him to where he was today.

In the orcish pantheon, where power was the only metric, Bag had carved out his own position with his fists.

He never relied on schemes or political balancing. He only had one principle: whoever is strongest gets the final say.

Now, this same iron rule was staring back at him.

Now, he was the weaker one.

Bag fell silent.

After struggling for a time, his leg slowly withdrew, and his already-standing body slowly sank back down onto his divine throne. But his fists remained tightly clenched.