Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

The night sky was clear, with not a single cloud for miles.

Garoth’s massive body crouched on the dragon court platform. His dark-black scales gleamed with a metallic luster under the moonlight, while crimson textures spread along the lines of his muscles, like molten lava flowing slowly beneath cracked earth.

He had finished eating and rested long enough.

Now, his condition had peaked.

The great dragon raised his head, gazing at the sky.

"Only one moon left in the night sky... that looks strange."

He thought to himself.

After the battle on the South Foothill Plain, Nausil's moon had shattered. The crack in the sky had yet to heal, with fragments scattered across the orbit, occasionally visible as faint streaks of light crossing the heavens.

Now, only this one remained.

In the hundreds of years since his birth, he had long grown accustomed to the twin moons sharing the sky.

Two moons hanging above, rising and setting in turns, had formed the unchanging backdrop of his entire life.

Now, whenever he looked up at the night sky, he always felt something was missing. The hollow sensation wasn't overwhelming, but it lingered.

"Nausil might be able to rebuild one, but it would cost a terrible price, and it can't be done in a short time."

"Otherwise, there wouldn't be only one moon left."

Garoth mused.

A weapon capable of crippling an Immortal existence and suppressing a divine incarnation could hardly be created easily.

The red iron dragon tilted his massive head slightly, gazing toward the western side of Atlan, the distant clouds reflected in his eyes.

*Crack!*

Suddenly, a pillar of light descended from the sky.

Soft golden light, bordered by sacred silver-white, pushed back the surrounding night by dozens of meters.

The pillar landed on the platform without a sound, and when the light dissipated, a figure emerged.

Humanoid, radiating a faint glow.

Shire wore a set of silver-white knight’s light armor, with golden patterns flowing across its surface. He had no helmet, revealing a handsome, youthful face. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, his brows relaxed, as if he had just emerged from a triumphant victory.

He glanced at the dragon crouching on the platform, then bowed respectfully.

"Your Majesty."

"Your glory rivals the sun and moon. Your deeds of returning from Arotala and ending the divine incarnation have already spread throughout the Sanctuary. Every Heroic Spirit sings your name."

Garoth lowered his head, looking at this Heroic Spirit.

"I summoned you from the Sanctuary not to listen to meaningless praise."

He said.

Shire's smile didn't fade. He said solemnly, "Your Majesty, how could that be meaningless?"

"I admire you from the bottom of my heart, and only by saying it to your face can you feel how genuine my admiration is. Every Heroic Spirit in the Sanctuary knows I'm the worst at hiding my emotions."

If it were any other subject, they probably wouldn't speak to the emperor like this.

Most people, when facing this red iron dragon, would instinctively restrain themselves and obediently agree.

But Shire, a veteran who had given his life for the emperor, was a different matter.

He had stood by the emperor's side even before Aola was founded, and he had died for Garoth, died clean and neat. That past earned him some favor and tolerance from the emperor.

Garoth didn't dwell on the matter.

He asked directly, "What's the Lord of Thunder up to?"

Shire followed his gaze toward the western horizon, then turned back, his expression turning serious.

"The Sanctuary hangs high above the heavens, and the west is our primary monitoring zone."

"But the Lord of Thunder's territory is perpetually shrouded in thick clouds, and those clouds aren't natural. Our observations are heavily obstructed; most of the time, we can only catch glimpses leaking through the gaps in the clouds."

He paused, shifting his tone slightly.

"However, even with just those fragments, one thing is certain: the Lord of Thunder is extremely active right now."

"How active?"

Garoth asked.

"Day and night, without rest."

Shire replied. "He personally shuttles across the western regions, spreading the glory of the Chromatic Queen, collecting the blood tax, and executing resisters. Based on our recorded traces, he has hardly stopped."

"He flies from one area to another, with only brief pauses in between."

A ruler-level dragon rarely handled things so personally.

Garoth himself was like that, and Lamorein used to be the same.

But now, Lamorein had changed.

He seemed impatient, as if something was urging him, driving him, leaving him no peace.

The dragon's eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting the faint lightning in the western night sky.

"Can the Sanctuary lock onto the locations of his temples?"

He asked.

Shire nodded slightly. "Yes. Those temples have extremely distinct features and unique energy reactions."

"Even if the clouds block the view, they stand out like bonfires in the dark night under the Sanctuary's observation. We can lock onto the coordinates of every single temple."

"Good."

Garoth inclined his head slightly. "After the war with the west begins, the Sanctuary warriors must prioritize destroying the enemy's temples."

A temple is not just a place for worshipping a deity.

For a deity, a temple is an anchor, a beacon.

The more temples established in the Material Plane, and the grander their scale, the less cost a deity pays to exert influence on the Material Plane—such as blessing their apostles or directly punishing some profaner.

Therefore.

Eliminating temples reduces the possibility of deities meddling in this war.

The problem was, this act was essentially tearing off all pretense with the gods, inevitably inviting greater malice. However, Garoth no longer cared about that issue.

Shire lowered his head solemnly.

"Your Majesty, in the name of the Sanctuary, I give you my word."

He said gravely, "When the war horn sounds, the Storm Dragon's temples will be uprooted, falling one after another. The priests inside won't have a chance to finish a single prayer. I give you my word on this."

Just then, a figure swept down from high altitude, moving at incredible speed, rapidly approaching.

Garoth raised his head, locking his gaze onto the approaching figure.

Under the same night sky.

At the highest altitude, above the clouds.

The Bronze Dragon King lowered his eyes, his gaze piercing through the night and the thunderclouds, landing on the distant temple's spire.

"The Chromatic Queen's temple cannot be allowed to exist."

He thought.

In Atlan, aside from the demon threat, there were two evil dragons he targeted.

One was the Red Calamity, the other was the Storm Evil Dragon.

In the Bronze Dragon King's eyes, the former was highly skilled at disguise, even able to fool the Metal Dragons from other dragon domains. Those Metal Dragons had been deceived by him, treating him as a worthy companion of their kind.

Moreover, this Red Calamity, despite being at crown-level, had strength rivaling Mandate.

In theory, he was more dangerous.

However, the Bronze Dragon King had also noticed something.

The creatures living under the Red Calamity, though deceived and fooled, revering this evil dragon like a deity, nonetheless lived quiet, peaceful lives under his rule.

There was no death or unending fear.

The Bronze Dragon King knew this was only temporary.

Once the Red Calamity grew stronger, tore off his disguise, and bared his fangs, he would become a terrifying disaster sweeping across all of Bernardo, unstoppable by anyone.

Still, he decided to target the Storm Dragon first.

The Storm Dragon was pure, naked evil.

His sins were too many, too heavy. Every extra day he existed meant more innocents bleeding.

The Bronze Dragon King could not accept this.

In comparison, the Red Calamity was at least still whitewashing peace, not trampling on innocent lives.

As for being more dangerous in the future...

That depended on whether he survived to see that future.

The Bronze Dragon King's gaze was icy cold as he continued flying forward.

Behind him, the line of legendary dragons stretched across the night sky like a winding arc, silently gliding through the darkness. Clouds tore apart around them and closed back in their wake.

Their arrival naturally caught the attention of the Helmod Dragonflight.

The Five-colored Dragons rose from various regions, converging toward the sky.

Among them, Blue Dragons were the most numerous, their scales ranging from light blue to sky blue and indigo, covering nearly every shade of blue. Electric light flickered in every pair of eyes, arcs occasionally slipping between their teeth, even their breath carrying the taste of lightning.

At the same time.

Dark clouds began to churn, actively converging from all directions, as if an invisible hand was twisting them into a massive vortex. They shifted from gray-white to lead-gray, from lead-gray to ink-black.

Continuous rumbling merged into one, shaking the air itself.

Then, lightning struck down from the vortex's center.

One bolt, ten bolts, a hundred bolts, countless bolts... Those bolts coalesced into a gigantic pillar of thunder, crashing straight down before the formation of Metal Dragons, illuminating the night sky as bright as day.

And when the light faded, a dragon emerged.

The Lord of Thunder, Mandate Storm Dragon, Lamorein.

His body outline was recognizable as a Blue Dragon, but he was unlike any other Blue Dragon.

His scales were deep blue, nearly black, like the color frozen in the deepest midnight. The edges of every scale were singed a scorched white by electrical arcs, as if burned by thunder-fire. The horns on his head branched distinctly, shaped like withered trees struck by lightning, entwined with fine sparks, crackling audibly.

The Bronze Dragon King halted.

He stared at the dragon before him, hovering mid-air, his wings fully spread, maintaining a posture of overlooking everything. The dragons of the Raging Tides Dragon Domain spread out behind him, forming a line in mid-air, confronting the gathered evil dragon horde from a distance.

The air froze.

*Boom! Rumble!*

Thunder rolled continuously. Wind passed between the two dragons, and rain poured like a waterfall. In an instant, the celestial phenomena underwent a violent transformation.

Lamorein raised his dragon head, looking up at the Bronze Dragon King in mid-air.

He paused slightly, then parted his snout slightly, a spark arcing between his fangs, as if he was amused rather than alarmed.

"So it's the Bronze Dragon King who's come."

He sneered lazily, "Ha, the Lord of the Raging Tides, the self-righteous mad dog."

"What's the matter? Did you get tired of guarding the deep-sea abyss? Or have you finally lost patience, ready to show your true, vicious face?"

The Helmod Dragonflight and the Raging Tides Dragon Domain had a long-standing grudge.

Even before the Lord of Thunder had established his kingdom on land, he had been waging guerrilla warfare with the Raging Tides Dragon Domain in the sea for years, with significant losses on both sides.

Both sides remembered those old scores clearly.

"The rift has vanished."

The Bronze Dragon King said, "My oath is fulfilled. Now, Lamorein, I have come to end another matter."

Dragon Breath intertwined. The light of the explosion tore the night sky into countless fragments. From a distance, the sky seemed to be burning, clouds burned through hole after hole, revealing the deep night beyond.

Within the light, dragon shadows flickered and intersected.

Some collided head-on, some brushed past each other, some locked in combat, tumbling and falling together.

Dragon roars spread in all directions, high-pitched and low, angry and pained, all mixed together, impossible to tell which side they belonged to.

The dragons vented their fury upon each other, showing no regard for kinship.

The battle entered a white-hot phase almost instantly.

On the other side.

Red Emperor Capital.

Under Garoth's gaze, the figure's silhouette emerged in the moonlight.

Human, with a tall, straight build.

He wore a sharply tailored deep-gray long coat, with tightly cinched collar and cuffs, like some kind of military uniform. He wore no armor, carried no weapons, his attire simple to the extreme. His face looked around forty, with dark brown short hair combed immaculately. Faint lines marked his forehead and the corners of his eyes.

He landed opposite the dragon with clean, efficient movements.

He glanced at Shire first, then turned to Garoth, giving a slight bow.

He introduced himself, "Halden Empire, Seventh Airspace Executive, Marcus Vader. I represent the Imperial Central Command, extending greetings to the sovereign of the Aola Kingdom."

Garoth looked at him.

A Mandate of Halden... he had never dealt with one before, but the Mandate aura on this man was unmistakable.

"An executive of Halden."

The red iron dragon asked, "Arriving suddenly in the dead of night—what business do you have?"

Marcus straightened up, meeting the dragon's vertical pupils with a frank gaze.

"The Empire hopes, like with Nausil, to commission you to fight for the Empire. To go to the siphoning roots and aid the Imperial legions in their war against the demons on the front lines."

The scales above the dragon's brow lifted slightly.

"Oh? Did you hear about my deeds in Arotala and come to commission me?"

He asked.

Halden's Mandate nodded.

"Yes."

"Your achievements on the South Foothill Plain have given the Empire a new perspective on you. Our previous assessment of you may have been flawed. Now, after correction, we believe you are more suited for combat at the siphoning roots."

Garoth did not immediately agree.

He thought for a moment, then inquired, "Where exactly are these 'siphoning roots' you speak of? What kind of place is it?"

Marcus organized his words and replied, "Within the Abyss's layers, the place where the Skysoar Engines are rooted. It is also the passage the demons seek to conquer; they want to charge into the Material Plane through the siphoning roots."

Inside the Abyss?

Garoth's gaze flickered slightly.

"In order to commission you, the Empire is willing to pay—" Marcus began to continue.

"Enough."

Garoth raised a foreclaw, interrupting him.

"I'm not interested."

The human's brow furrowed slightly.

He was somewhat displeased at being cut off, but he didn't lash out. He simply said in a low voice, "Please at least hear our terms. The price the Empire is willing to pay may exceed your expectations."

Garoth shook his head.

"I believe your terms are generous, but I decline the commission."

Marcus stared directly into the dragon's eyes and said,

"The siphoning roots are not just the Empire's battlefield. If they fall, the Abyssal Rifts will spread, and demons will flood into our world. When that happens, the Aola Kingdom will not be able to stand aloof."

"This is not just Halden's affair."

Trying to guilt-trip me?

Garoth remained unmoved, saying, "Don't forget the origin of the demon threat."

"I've already cleaned up quite a few of the messes you made in the Material Plane. As for the Abyss, you solve the calamity you brought upon yourselves."

The human Mandate frowned again.

Willing to accept Nausil's commission, to help another continent share its burdens, yet refusing Halden's?

He opened his mouth, wanting to say more.

Just then.

A chaotic wind blew in from the west, like a gale carrying the scent of lightning and blood.

Garoth's gaze sharpened. He abruptly raised his dragon head, looking toward the western sky.

Though the distance was vast, he could still clearly see the western night sky burning.

Massive, searing thunderclouds churned, collided, and tore apart. Lightning was no longer occasional branching; it had become a continuous network of blazing white currents, interwoven, illuminating the sky a ghastly white.

Dragons.

Legendary dragons were engaged in battle.

And among them was a Mandate-level dragon.

"The Lord of Thunder and... the Bronze Dragon King?"

Garoth's expression turned grave.

His True Eye fully activated in that moment, his vision piercing through the vast distance and dense clouds, faintly glimpsing two massive figures locked in combat amidst the thunderclouds.

The Storm Dragon and the Bronze Dragon.

Two Mandate-level dragons.

Without a doubt, things had become complicated.

He had already prepared to campaign against the Storm Dragon. But the Bronze Dragon King, who had long lurked in the deep sea, had returned, launching an attack on the Storm Dragon before he could.