Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

"The Deer King's territory and the Beholder's territory are neither too close nor too far apart."

"Not long ago, scouts discovered small-scale skirmishes erupting between them. Now the Deer King has personally led a contingent to launch a full-scale assault on the No-Light Forest. The two sides are locked in fierce combat, fighting without respite."

The red iron dragon listened quietly to the information Sorog relayed.

He fell silent, weighed the situation for a few seconds, then his massive head tilted slightly as he made a decision.

"Summon the legion and prepare for battle."

"However, this operation values quality over quantity. We need speed. No large-scale mobilization or extravagance."

His will passed through the mental link: "Select a truly elite force, personally led by the dragon cluster, target the No-Light Forest, advance at full speed."

"Strive for a swift victory. When the two sides are badly wounded, avoid immediately deciding the outcome!"

He paused briefly, then added, "At the same time, send word to Ennus."

"Have him personally lead a unit. From Lionheart Plain, pick the fiercest and most agile lion-beast elite to operate in tandem with the Molten Iron Legion. Let him prove his worth in real battle."

The map of the Ser Wilderness was vast.

Under Garoth's original strategy, the approach was steady and methodical: consolidate positions, expand the tribe's territory step by step, then push other Map Kings aside. That plan was reliable but would consume vast time and resources.

Now luck favored him. A rare opportunity had appeared.

Two strong Map Kings had begun fighting to the death, and intelligence suggested neither could quickly prevail over the other.

This was exactly a clam-and-fish struggle—perfect for a fisherman's gain.

Although Garoth's nature tended toward steady, cautious development, when a chance to gain tremendous results at minimal cost presented itself, he would never hesitate. He would seize it with thunderous methods.

If he could use this opportunity to eliminate both Map Kings at once and absorb their domains and remnants, the Molten Iron Tribe's expansion would get a qualitative leap. For a time they could forego other wars and focus on harvesting the wilderness' resources.

"Understood, Bai!"

Iron dragon Sorog's voice rang with undisguised excitement and battle fervor as he responded.

At the same time, Garoth halted his daily training.

He stretched his vast body; with a light flap of his wings he generated a powerful gust and rose into the sky, ascending beneath the storm clouds to prepare for the upcoming raid.

Thick, heavy clouds like solid lead pressed low over the endless wilderness.

Time passed, neither hurried nor slow, carried by the roaring wind and rain.

Some time later.

No-Light Forest.

The sky here was gloomier than in other parts of the wilderness, as if light itself were being devoured by this greedy land.

Thick rain lashes flogged every charred, twisted leaf in the forest, and every inch of the churned, blood-soaked earth.

But the crisp sound of rain striking leaves was completely drowned by an even crueller symphony of death.

The agonized cries of dying beasts tore through the heavy curtain of rain; collisions of elemental energies caused explosions that made towering trees shiver.

The dull thuds of claws tearing flesh and smashing bone made one’s teeth ache with dread.

A brutal battle played out in this forest.

The Deer King's natural legion roared.

Griffin-bears rose to their hind legs, bundled with crushing power; their talons could easily shred several gnoll warriors—enslaved by the Beholder's mind—into scraps. Herds of savage war-oxen, like uncontrolled battering rams, struck the ground with iron hooves, sending mud and splattered entrails flying. Packs of vicious wolves whirled like silver-gray death tornadoes along the battlefield edges, each lightning-fast pounce able to sever a lone prey's throat.

Yet their enemy was equally formidable.

On the other side of the battleground, a repulsive spherical creature hovered low above the forest like a rotten fruit.

Its massive, globular body was covered in deep folds, seeping a slippery, viscous ooze.

Centered on its bulk was a huge main eye taking up nearly half its form; around it sprouted a dozen thick eye-stems each ending in an eyeball, writhing and sweeping in the storm like vile tentacles with independent malice.

Its great central eye was like a whirlpool. Merely locking gaze with it could instantly shatter the will of any creature lacking firm mental resolve, leaving it mentally scattered.

Its legion was bizarre and varied, not composed solely of wilderness beasts or magical creatures. Many were intelligent warriors enslaved by the Beholder's powerful spiritual energy.

Only the lust for killing remained in mercenary humans; dwarf warriors with bloodshot eyes swung axes in madness; ogres charged roaring, devoid of reason.

They had once been free beings; now they were the Beholder's most loyal and pitiful cannon fodder.

Further out were more twisted fiends.

Summoned from lower planes by the Beholder's dark lore, these minions were chaotic by nature, worshippers of destruction.

"Fiends from another dimension! How dare you corrupt and enslave the children of nature, desecrating the will to live!"

"A righteous death awaits you today!"

A clear, authoritative voice cut through the clamor from the heart of the battlefield.

The voice belonged to the Deer King. It lifted its long, graceful neck and raised its head.

Although female, atop her crown sprouted a pair of magnificent antlers like branches of an ancient tree, twisting skyward in exquisite form. The antlers gleamed with a warm, sacred white light, more radiant than the soft glow flowing from her body.

Around her, that sacred light spread as if solid.

Beasts and fiends bathed in her radiance saw their battle wounds heal visibly and rapidly.

This was a holy spirit deer.

A naturally divine creature with intelligence surpassing humans, she could naturally wield and command pure holy energy.

By nature, the lifespans and growth ceilings of spirit deer did not match true dragons; they would not naturally become legendary simply by aging.

Still, they were not weak. Any spirit deer that matured properly could easily reach life level 16, and some steadily crossed into level 20.

Exceptional individuals might even become legendary.

Such creatures ranked just beneath dragons among the realm's top-tier monsters.

The Deer King understood that most of the Beholder's forces were enslaved by spiritual energy and not true followers.

If they could decapitate the Beholder—the control core—the war would end quickly, and those miserable creatures would be freed.

Crunch!

A surge of intense holy energy rapidly converged and flashed between the Deer King's great antlers, finally coalescing into a pure white streak that tore through the gloom. In the blink of an eye it cleaved the downpour, sweeping toward the Beholder with a purifying, unyielding force.

"Foolish material-plane beings! Yield to my spiritual will; it is your only fate!"

The Beholder's massive body warped strangely and abruptly became illusory.

In an instant it teleported dozens of meters away, evading the holy streak. Its voice, like an icy needle, pierced directly into the Deer King's mind, scrambling her thoughts.

The Deer King's movement stiffened, her gaze going blank and unfocused for a moment.

Seizing the chance, the Beholder's huge central eye flared with eerie light.

A gray-white disintegration beam shot out, aimed at the Deer King slowed by mental interference.

Before being hit, the Deer King fought off the mental intrusion with powerful will.

Flames of pure white erupted from her hooves; she leaped with astonishing agility and elegance, seeming to defy gravity as she darted through the air, narrowly skirting the disintegration beam's edge.

The attack missed; the Beholder's main eye blinked.

The disintegration ray vanished.

The Beholder's gaze shifted, locking on a large griffon in the sky.

The griffon's body froze, a struggle flashing in its eyes, then madness seized it completely.

With a shriek, it abandoned its current foes and, flapping mighty wings, launched a suicidal charge from the side at the Deer King.

The Deer King leapt lightly upward, her right forehoof stamping on the griffon's skull.

Like a rock smashed by a catapult, the griffon wailed; its huge body hurtled to the ground like a cannonball, sending a wave of mud spraying outward.

At the same time the Deer King turned her head, antlers flashing light.

Countless concentrated light blades sprang into existence at speeds too fast for human eyes to follow, raining down like a sudden storm toward the Beholder.

The Beholder used its trick again—spirit flicker—to evade, but because the Deer King's assault this time was faster and more ferocious, it was half a beat too slow.

Several light blades grazed the edge of the sphere, leaving charred black streaks smoking faintly.

Thick body fluid oozed out slowly.

The Beholder did not fly into a rage over this flesh wound. Instead it opened its main eye wide and, in its deep pupil, countless fine, uncanny runes surfaced as it stared dead at the Deer King.

—Weakness Curse!

As it cast this spell, its idle eye-stems rotated, tracking likely dodge trajectories of the Deer King.

Ice rays, searing rays, petrification rays... a variety of magical beams with different natures fired like a lethal laser net toward the Deer King's airspace, carving deep furrows in the ground. A few grazed the fast-moving Deer King, leaving scorch marks, frost, and petrified patches across her snowy pelt.

Despite the fierce spectacle and the flashing clashes of energy, neither could gain the upper hand for the moment.

Usually, close-quarters combat decides matters faster.

But both the spirit deer and the Beholder excelled at mid-to-long-range attack and control.

One wielded holy energy: agile, but not specialized in brawling. The other relied on spiritual power and dark spells; close combat was an absolute weakness.

The Deer King wanted to end the Beholder with a decapitating strike, but she lacked an instant explosive move to seal it.

The Beholder sought to seize or kill the Deer King's mind quickly, but her strong will and divine resistance foiled it.

Their powers were evenly matched; the fight could not be resolved quickly.

It would come down to whose foundation ran deeper and who could endure longer.

Their armies had likewise descended into a brutal war of attrition. Blood stained the mud, pooling into shocking red basins that the rain immediately washed into countless tiny crimson streams that seeped underground.

As time mercilessly flowed, the vicious tug-of-war continued; both sides clenched teeth and persisted.

After more time passed, the Beholder's condition worsened significantly.

Its spherical body was covered with dense charred marks and corrosive pits. Several eye-stems had been broken, hanging uselessly. Even the great central eye continually oozed murky blood, injuries accumulating as battle wore on.

On the other side, the spirit deer appeared far better on the surface.

Her snow-white pelt remained pristine; only a few minor wounds marred her body, and holy light still cloaked her.

Screech!

Another searing ray narrowly grazed the Deer King's right side, leaving a blackened streak.

But in an instant the wound knit and vanished at a visually perceptible speed under the Deer King's circulating holy energy, as if it had never existed.

In truth she had sustained many hits and damage, but she possessed an extraordinarily powerful healing talent.

This is why parts like the horns, blood, and heart of spirit deer were indispensable ingredients in the continent's top-tier restorative potions.

Though she appeared in good shape, she knew all too well that continuous high-intensity fighting—especially resisting the Beholder's mental invasions—was steadily draining her spirit.

Against the Beholder's relentless mind skills, the worse her mental state became, the harder resistance would be.

She might, by relying on her mighty healing, outlast and wear down the already-battered Beholder.

Or, her spirit could first fall into a critical weakness, and the Beholder would slip in to complete mental domination, turning her into a tragic slave.

Withdraw while ahead and retreat decisively?

Or gamble everything and keep fighting until one side fell completely?

Faced with the same balance of pros and cons, both the Deer King and the Beholder wavered at nearly the same moment, each pondering the identical dilemma.

But before either could reach a final decision,

an anomaly suddenly occurred.

Sharp, urgent wingbeats and shrill cries of eagles, hawks, and birds rose from the distant sky, quickly approaching and growing deafening.

A dark, dense flock swept across from the left, like a breached flood, so massive it resembled a darker, livelier cloud that momentarily obscured storm and rain.

Amid the mass of raptors, the most eye-catching was a gigantic firebird with a wingspan of many tens of meters, composed entirely of pure, blazing elemental flames.

Its form was majestic, its long tail feathers ornate.

Each feather seemed fashioned from dancing flames, producing a vision both overwhelmingly powerful and dazzlingly beautiful.

A phoenix?!

Both the Deer King and the Beholder halted in astonishment, hearts violently shaken.

They were not ordinary monsters or fiends; both were learned, powerful beings who recognized the legendary species almost instantly.

An extremely rare, near-mythical creature in the Material Plane: the phoenix!

"Spirit deer... your looks are acceptable, not bad at all."

The phoenix lowered its blazing head and looked down at the Deer King from on high.

"I could make an exception and allow you to follow me, to sing my beauty and power day and night."

"This would be your supreme honor."

Its voice was bright, crisp, and pleasant, tinged with an innate and undisguised pride.

As a species comparable to dragons in renown and scarcity, the phoenix indeed had grounds for arrogance bordering on haughtiness.

The phoenix's burning gaze then turned to the Beholder below.

With a single glance of contempt, it immediately averted its elegant head, as if beholding something utterly filthy.

"Ugh... as for you, Beholder, you look like a rotting fruit someone stepped on and left to ferment in the mud."

Its voice dripped with undisguised disgust and disdain.

"Something so hideous does not deserve to live and pollutes my sight. End yourself; I do not wish to dirty my feathers and talons with your foul blood."

The Beholder's round body stiffened noticeably.

Ugly?

How was it ugly?

Its main eye was large and bright, full of spirit; its folds were deep and numerous, bearing the marks of age and wisdom; the slick mucus it secreted was thick—a sign of health; its eye-stems were numerous, sturdy, and strong.

These traits in Beholder kin were prized and attractive, symbols of handsome vigor!

"You arrogant, ignorant phoenix! What do you know of aesthetics?!"

The Beholder shot back: "In my brood I am popular; suitors line up from the main eye to the eye-stems."

"A bird like you, all flame and lacking true feathers or a proper body, is the definition of unparalleled ugliness."

"Repulsive!"

At the same time, its intact eye-stems covertly scanned the surroundings. Spiritual energy rippled as it calculated the best escape routes and methods.

Facing an overbearing phoenix and a troublesome spirit deer as well, the situation had become extremely disadvantageous.

These two might combine forces.

In the sky, provoked by the Beholder's blatant and vicious mental insult, the phoenix had been thoroughly enraged.

Flames around its body leapt several meters higher, and with a piercing cry it prepared to dive, using pure flame to burn the hideous Beholder to ash.

But at that moment,

whoosh—boom!

From another part of the sky, a violent gust of wind suddenly tore the rain aside.

Almost simultaneously, the ground began to rumble with heavy, rhythmic thuds—the vibrations of many heavy units and clustered beasts charging.

From far to near, it sounded as if a massive war machine were rapidly approaching at full speed.

Map Kings who had been engaged or scheming now felt the tremor and turned their eyes toward the source of the vibrations.

Under the other patches of gloomy sky, silhouettes of huge dragons grew clearer and more imposing, led by a red iron giant whose bulk cut the heavens like a moving mountain.

On the ground, dust and rain-mist exploded upward.

A powerful force was rapidly encircling the No-Light Forest battlefield.

It was the Ignas Dragon Cluster, and its sharpest claws had arrived at this crucial moment.