Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

The Convergence Lands, southwest region.

It was deep night, with one true and one illusory moon hanging in the velvet-black sky, casting a hazy glow over the land.

Whoosh!

A fierce gale blew.

A black-red dragon soared through the sky, its wings shattering countless moonbeams like a comet streaking across the heavens.

Soon, the 'comet' arrived at the Fertile Plains.

The iron dragon Sorog, the red dragon Samantha, the white dragon Trixie, along with the half-blooded centaur Elvy, and the sorcerers and shamans of the Warhost of the Destroying Eye, were all gathered on the plains observing something.

As the black-red dragon approached,

they simultaneously raised their heads to gaze at the now more majestic and formidable red iron dragon who seemed both familiar and unfamiliar.

Garoth folded his wings, slowed his descent, and landed steadily on the ground.

"Garoth, the three Ignas brothers are reunited at last. With your awakening, we no longer need to endure and hide in silence."

The iron dragon Sorog grinned as he spoke.

His voice wasn't loud, but carried a soul-piercing quality, conveying a joy that could be universally understood.

Garoth's gaze shifted slightly toward Sorog.

The four-years-older iron dragon had grown somewhat in size compared to before, his body expanding severalfold—though still no match for Garoth. Each of his scales bore a metallic luster, hard and resilient. But most striking were Sorog's eyes now—piercing and bright, capable of seeing through souls, completely different from before.

These were the eyes of a Mind Sorcerer.

Iron Dragon Sorog had now officially become a Mind Sorcerer.

Thanks to their innate bloodline advantage, dragons were naturally suited for most sorcerer professions.

Sorcerers didn't need to understand magical principles—they simply needed to be able to wield them, much like fish didn't need to know why they could swim; they just could. Exploring the underlying principles was the job of arcane casters.

"You should visit the Sulfur Hills,"

the red dragon Samantha said proudly. "Inspired by you, I rebuilt the alchemy workshop. After years of development, its production capacity has greatly increased—and this is just the beginning. It'll become even more impressive."

Garoth nodded. "I look forward to seeing it."

The red dragon Samantha had also grown considerably. She had entered dragon sleep after Garoth, passing through her juvenile stage, with both her size and life level increasing significantly.

Blessed with the red dragon's naturally robust physique, she was the closest to Garoth in terms of pure strength.

But the gap remained vast—unbridgeable.

If comparing to human physiques, while Samantha would be considered reasonably fit, Garoth would be the Schwarzenegger of dragonkind—his towering, muscular frame making a strong visual impact even among dragons.

As for White Scales... the white dragon... in other dragons' eyes, she was practically a stunted runt.

Garoth glanced at the white dragon Trixie.

Now over 190 years old, fully adult and approaching prime age, Trixie's size still paled compared to Garoth's.

After ten years, her body had barely changed, growing just an imperceptible amount.

Though both measured sixteen meters in length now, Trixie's waist was thinner than Garoth's arm. Standing together, she looked like a withered twig next to him—gaunt and skeletal, almost painful to behold.

Garoth's gaze displeased the white dragon.

She wanted to bare her fangs in protest, but when her eyes fell upon Garoth's steel-forged, towering frame, the words died in her throat.

A decade ago when they first met, she could still 'trade blows' with the red iron dragon.

But now? She'd probably be subdued in moments.

To surpass her in size in just ten years—what had this monster been eating? The thought terrified her.

Could the black oil stimulate physical growth?

Having seen Garoth guzzle the black oil, Trixie wondered if she should try it too.

"What happened here?"

Garoth asked Sorog. "Does it involve the Four Great Tribes?"

Sorog shook his head. "We had minor conflicts with the goblin tribes. Never expected those wretched creatures could develop powerful tribes in the Convergence Lands... but it's resolved now. The situation on the Fertile Plains is an unexpected anomaly, unrelated to the Four Tribes."

Gesturing for the surrounding sorcerers and shamans—who had been conducting some mysterious ritual—to disperse,

the iron dragon pointed at the exposed ground. "Look, it's this."

Garoth focused his gaze.

When he saw the target, his pupils contracted slightly, his mind unsettled.

Upon the night-shrouded earth lay a black-purple fissure about ten meters long—slender, twisted, and sinister like a giant centipede or a scar upon the land.

Thick waves of evil energy emanated from it, unsettling the mind.

Without even approaching, just smelling its odor made Garoth feel surges of violence, bloodlust, and cruelty rising within, veins of red appearing in his eyes.

"How did this appear on the Fertile Plains?"

The red iron dragon suppressed these dark impulses with iron willpower, his expression grave.

Because this black-purple fissure wasn't merely a crack in the ground.

It had another, more infamous name:

—The Abyssal Rift.

Its fissure-like appearance was merely its manifestation in the material plane. In essence, it was a spatial bridge connecting the material world to the Abyssal Plane—a passageway for demonic invasion.

As for the Abyssal Plane, its full name was the Bottomless Abyss.

Among all planes of existence, it represented chaos and evil. Not even the gods knew how deep the Abyss truly was, nor how many terrifying demons dwelled within.

On Bernardo's central continent, within the borders of the Halden Empire, existed the largest known Abyssal Rift.

To prevent its expansion and purge the demons emerging from it,

the supreme golem Holy Flame Arbiter had been designed specifically to guard the Abyssal Rift.

Besides the Arbiter, multiple legendary beings were permanently stationed there. The rift consumed vast amounts of Halden's manpower and resources, yet remained impossible to eradicate—a perpetual thorn in the empire's side.

Yet it also provided Halden with rare Abyssal materials unavailable in the material world.

This ten-meter rift before them was insignificant compared to Halden's. Any dragon present could completely cover it with their body.

But it couldn't be underestimated.

Because these things grow.

Left unchecked, the rift would slowly expand on its own. Worse, if demons emerged and ran rampant, their inherent Abyssal energy would rapidly corrupt the surrounding land, accelerating the rift's growth exponentially.

"Why would an Abyssal Rift appear here?"

The red iron dragon's brow furrowed.

Staring at the rift's location, sudden realization dawned in his eyes.

A decade of changes had erased most traces of his epic battle with the Bloodhoof Chieftain here.

But dragons never forgot. Garoth still remembered—this exact spot was where he and the chieftain had clashed, where Bal Bloodhoof had met his end.

Recalling how Bal Bloodhoof's body had burned with demonic blood and hellish flames,

it wasn't hard to connect his death with the rift's appearance.

Did the death of a demon-blooded descendant cause Abyssal Rifts to form?

There were no clear records of this in draconic lore.

The truth likely lay deeper.

But regardless of the cause—now wasn't the time for investigation. The immediate concern was dealing with the rift.

"We've tried sealing it, but failed repeatedly,"

Sorog explained. "No demons have emerged yet, and its scale remains small—but it's like a thorn lodged in our territory."

The Warhost's sorcerers and shamans, the young adult dragons, even Trixie—

all had tried various methods to no avail.

Samantha's fiery breath had only made things worse, expanding the rift from nine to ten meters.

Understandable—most present creatures had some evil alignment. If outsiders saw them gathered around the rift, they'd be lucky not to be accused of creating it.

"Has Elvy tried?"

Garoth turned to the half-blooded centaur.

Specialization mattered. Elvy carried the blood of celestial pegasi—holy creatures from Mount Celestia, naturally antithetical to evil.

In theory, she could suppress or even eliminate the rift.

"My lord, I've failed you. The rift is beyond my power,"

Elvy hung her head in shame.

Despite her mixed elven blood slowing her growth, her life level had risen from 9 to 12 over the decade.

But not being a purebred pegasus, her diluted celestial energy couldn't dispel the rift.

Her attempts to concentrate pegasus power against the rift showed some effect—stalling its natural expansion—but couldn't destroy it.

For now,

Dragon Valley lacked the means to eliminate the Abyssal Rift.

"A ten-meter rift won't spawn powerful demons—just low-level ones we can easily handle,"

the red iron dragon said calmly.

"Besides, Abyssal materials are valuable. If utilized properly, this might prove beneficial."

The rift's appearance had caught Garoth off-guard.

Had he known, he'd have gladly dumped Bal Bloodhoof's corpse at Raymond Duchy's border—letting those troublesome humans reap what they'd sown.

But time only flowed forward.

The pressing question now was how to manage this—perhaps even turn it into a resource.

Danger and opportunity often came hand-in-hand.

While the rift's threats were undeniable, it could also become a precious source of Abyssal materials.

Demons were nightmares to countless creatures—but dragons weren't among them. Dragonkind feared no demons.

Even within the Abyss existed powerful Dimensional Dragons like the Abyssal Dragons—demon-eaters surpassing even Gold Dragons in might.

As Dragon Valley's leader, Garoth's composure quickly steadied his followers.

"Well said,"

Sorog nodded. "Halden guards their massive rift alone, refusing foreign aid—clearly profiting greatly. With proper control, this small rift might bring unexpected gains."