Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

The fortress’s northern wall shield, riddled with cracks, hovered before the Abyssal Rift.

A three-headed, six-armed black-red great dragon clung to it, his majestic body almost blotting out the demons’ entire field of view. He looked down at the ant-sized demon legions below, his ferocity blotting out the sky.

Then he raised a dragon claw.

The talons’ tips were like pure crystal. As the claw lifted, countless fine black cracks began to tear the surrounding space.

Those fissures spread like a spiderweb, emitting faint, splintering sounds.

Garoth’s target was the fortress shield.

If he could shatter that barrier, the demon fortress would be exposed to the legion’s firepower, exposed beneath him.

But just as the claw was about to come down.

Gurgle… gurgle…

A swallowing sound came from beneath the other claw Garoth had pressed against the shield.

The sound was soft, yet to the dragon’s keen hearing it was sharp and clear.

Garoth’s light condensed slightly.

Beneath that claw was the berserker demon general he had just smashed onto the shield with the might of the Falling Star.

More than half of the demon’s body had been crushed.

Bones were shattered, organs exposed, black blood and shattered flesh mixed into a glob smeared across the shield’s surface.

It had taken Garoth’s full impact head-on.

If it were a human, even a crown-level one, it would be dead by now.

But it still moved.

Not only that, the berserker demon general’s remaining right arm clutched that dark-red great axe, the blade buried deep into the fine outer scales of the dragon claw, tearing a wound several meters long.

Dragon blood flowed from the wound, and the instant it left the claw it flamed into roaring bloodfire.

Sizzle, sizzle…

The bloodflame scorched the demon’s body.

But oddly, the demon’s flesh did not blacken or melt; instead, its body was regenerating at an accelerated rate. The edges of the destroyed tissues sprouted new flesh, writhing and growing madly.

At the same time, the berserker’s maw opened, continually swallowing the bloodfire.

Glug… glug…

With each swallow, its vigor strengthened.

Broken bones were forcibly rejoined beneath the skin with crisp, crackling sounds; missing flesh grew at a speed visible to the eye,

and the charred, damaged skin flaked away to reveal newly formed muscles beneath.

Those new layers bore extremely faint, rough, mottled patterns, but they already possessed the texture and shaping of dragon scales.

This was the berserker demon general’s primary trait:

Bloodlust.

Each time you deal damage or touch any form of an opponent’s “blood,” you steal the target’s life force while increasing your own base attributes. The heavier the wounds, the higher the life-steal ratio and the stronger the stat boosts.

“My bloodflame has become its nourishment.”

Garoth realized.

Demons, a race that could terrify beings across many planes, naturally had formidable aspects.

This high-ranking demon general’s performance was startling but not unbelievable.

After all, which creature that clawed its way up from the Abyss’s depths didn’t have some desperate tricks hidden away?

“Ah… such a wonderful feeling…”

The berserker demon gave an excited low roar.

It lifted its head; those bloodshot eyes burned with a frenzied hunger.

The vast energy contained in the Red Iron Dragon’s blood thrilled it.

After absorbing that life energy, in nearly the blink of an eye, its status recovered by half. The shattered bones had mostly mended; the exposed organs had retracted back into its abdomen.

At the same time, its breath was far stronger than at the start.

Large patches of blood-colored patterns surfaced on its skin; they writhed like living things and emitted a dark red glow—

a Blood Damage State.

When your life is massively depleted, life-steal maximization and self-enhancement-type skills or traits achieve peak effectiveness.

Beings at crown level are no weaklings.

Especially demons, who crawled up from endless slaughter at the Abyss’s bottom, rising by devouring kin and foreign souls; they naturally developed potent traits or domains.

Just as Garoth constructed a combat system around his own resurrection mechanism,

the berserker demon general had, over a long war career, built a combat system based on the powerful Bloodlust trait.

Such systems do not form easily.

Normally, at least a crown-level being needs countless battles and life-or-death trials and deep insight into their power’s nature to gradually form one.

And usually, only those highly experienced crown-level veterans have the chance.

However, once you obtain your own combat system…

its strength and the combat boost it provides can exceed what ordinary legendaries imagine.

“How reckless.”

Garoth’s gaze remained cold.

At that moment, the scattered bloodflames seemed to be called back and began to reverse into his body.

The wound on the dragon claw quickly stopped bleeding, the torn scales’ edges began to heal, and one claw flashed out again like lightning, covering the area where the berserker demon stood.

Instead of retreating, the berserker advanced.

It stomped on the shield beneath it, its body launching like a cannonball toward the dragon’s claw center. The abyssal great axe carved a dark-red arc through the air and slammed down—

Rip!

The great axe dug deep into the dragon claw, wedging into bone.

The blade cut through scales, ripped muscle, embedded in bone; the force made Garoth wince.

Crack!

At the same instant, the dragon’s claw snapped shut.

More than half of the berserker demon’s body was caught in the grip.

The crushing pressure shattered its ribs; organs ruptured; black blood squeezed out between the dragon’s talons like burst berries.

But the berserker’s eyes held only madness and ecstasy.

Hah!

It drew a deep breath.

The dragon blood was being drawn by some force, flowing in roaring torrents from the torn wound.

The blood seemed alive, gushing from the claw’s wound and splashing over the berserker, soaking its entire body.

The bloodflame reignited.

But as before, the fire could not burn the demon; instead, it fused into its flesh.

Garoth furrowed the scales on his brow, then relaxed them.

He could sense the berserker’s attacks carried traits like armor-breaking, tearing, and bleeding—certainly more than one.

This creature was likewise strong in traits, resembling the dragon’s nature, not adept at domains like humans.

“After Star Path awakening, dragonqi-formed bodies have flesh and can extend inherent traits, but in this case, it’s difficult to control this demon.”

“It can’t keep draining me like this.”

Garoth judged quickly.

He pried the berserker demon from his claw and hurled it toward a dense patch of demons on the ground.

At the same time, his upper pair of dragon arms rose high, dragonqi in the claws wildly condensing into a dragonqi orb.

Boom!

The ground shook violently.

The berserker smashed into the demon horde, creating a huge deep pit; demons unable to flee were turned into pulp, black blood splattering.

Then, a sun-bright sphere fell from the sky.

The dragonqi orb struck the pit, unleashing a blinding heat that blanketed the area.

The light was so intense that nearby fighters and demons had to shut their eyes; heatwaves struck, and the air filled with the smell of scorch.

The dragonqi orb was built quickly and lasted briefly.

When the light and heat dissipated and dust settled,

the berserker lay embedded in the pit’s bottom; its skin was charred, flesh indistinguishable, looking like roasted meat.

Yet it rose again.

The blackened skin cracked, revealing new flesh underneath.

It lifted its head, looked at the Red Iron Dragon in the sky, and grinned, baring rows of sharp teeth.

“I like powerful enemies.”

Its voice was hoarse but pumped with excitement. “Because your blood will forge the rungs of my ascent to greater strength.”

The berserker lowed.

Its body began to swell slowly.

Muscles bulged, bones lengthened, claws and fangs sharpened.

Bone spines sprouted along the spine, piercing the skin and exposing themselves to the air. Large patches of charred skin fell away, revealing black-red scale armor.

Those were Garoth’s scales.

The pattern, color, and texture matched the Red Iron Dragon’s armor exactly.

And they weren’t mere imitations.

The berserker’s form changed, growing taller and more massive; its limbs gained enormous power.

This posture, this momentum…

Garoth recognized the transformation well.

“Colossus Stance? It has a trait similar to mine?”

He thought quickly.

“No, it stole my trait from my body. Should be temporary, not permanent.”

Garoth’s guess was correct.

Blood Echo.

When you siphon an enemy’s life, you can gain part of their physical attributes and have a chance to steal one of their traits for a short time in battle.

Now, the berserker on the surface had become a form more than thirty meters tall.

Though still far smaller than the Red Iron Dragon, it was truly a gigantic beast.

It looked at its body and then at the newly formed claws on its fingertips with a satisfied low roar.

Then, it tossed aside the ill-fitting great axe.

That weapon now seemed too small for its new frame.

The demon lifted its head, eyes burning, fixed on the dragon above.

Whoosh!

The demon in the pit suddenly launched upward.

From its back unfolded a pair of fleshy wings, veined like blood vessels, beating violently and whipping up gale winds.

It soared straight into the heavens.

Garoth did not retreat.

He beat his wings and met it.

Boom!

Dragon and demon collided in the sky.

Shockwaves rippled outward, tearing the clouds apart.

The sky became their battlefield.

The berserker was repeatedly grievously wounded. It slammed into the ground and made deep craters, then was blasted back into the sky, tumbling in the clouds, yet each time it roared and lunged back like a festering sore.

New wounds kept appearing on its body.

But those wounds healed faster than they were inflicted.

Garoth’s life force was simply too immense.

Any time it could drink a portion of dragon blood in counterattacks—even just a few splashes from a graze—it could recover dramatically.

And as time passed, its Blood Echo kept triggering.

Each trigger made its dragonizing features incrementally stronger.

First scales, then bone spines, then muscle textures, then an almost imperceptible dragon might.

Its breath grew more powerful.

“Strengthened by strength?”

Garoth observed his opponent while fighting.

He could feel his own body also slowly evolving in the battle.

Ripped wounds healed into tougher new scales; consumed energy circulated more smoothly inside him.

“Heh, soon its tearing and bleeding traits will be ineffective against me.”

He could clearly sense his body adapting to those attacks.

He quickly scanned the battlefield.

Other fronts also roared with fierce fighting—the battles between crown-levels and demon generals had entered a white-hot stage; every second countless beings died.

The demon bodies piled high on the northern front, but allied casualties were equally heavy.

“Normally I could toy with it, probe its limits.”

“But for now… end the fight first.”

Garoth thought.

He did not want being addicted to battle to cause a major problem with the rift, and he already understood the berserker’s combat system sufficiently; there was no need to further entangle and test it.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

The Red Iron Dragon raised his arm, claws curled.

Dragonqi and golden lightning surged from all sides, converging in his claws.

Crack! Sizzle!

Golden arcs leapt, snapping with piercing detonations.

In an instant, six thunderflame spears, each over a hundred meters long, condensed in Garoth’s claws. Their shafts were made of highly compressed dragonqi; black-red in color, slender golden lightning wound the surfaces, crawling along the shafts and sparking brilliant flares.

Across from him, the berserker had dramatically changed.

Its body was covered in thick black-red plates; half-dragon, half-demon, it radiated chaotic dragon might and Abyssal aura, far stronger than at the start.

Yet it still smelled danger.

It felt as if… the Red Iron Dragon had finally gotten serious.

But the berserker race had always been famed for ferocious courage. Feeling the power within itself only deepened its lust for the dragon’s blood.

If it could grind down this giant and devour its blood…

Perhaps it could leap to become a great demon of the Abyss.

It roared and charged again.

Garoth chuckled low, baring sharp teeth.

“Dance, demon.”

In the next instant, six thunderflame spears stabbed out simultaneously.

They attacked from different angles, with differing rhythms, instantly weaving into an impenetrable net that completely shrouded the berserker.

Thunk!

One spear pierced its thigh.

The tip drove through flesh and out the other side; thunderfire energy erupted in the wound and detonated from within, blowing a massive hole of blood; black blood and charred fragments splattered.

Boom!

Another spear sliced across a rib.

Though not a pierce, its high-speed pass tore away a large swath of charred scale and flesh, exposing ribs blackened by scorch marks.

The demon roared.

It dodged and weaved desperately.

It tried to surge in and close distance, but met denser spear shadows—those spears seemed alive, always sealing its path.

It tried to take the damage and close the gap to Garoth.

Garoth’s six eyes narrowed.

The air around the berserker instantly froze, then bursts of dragonqi flame blossomed from nothing, detonating on the demon. Flames surged from all directions and consumed it.

It was blasted flying with no chance to approach.

The sky had become a cage.

Spear shadows crisscrossed, thunder serpents writhed, extinguishing flames burned.

The berserker was tightly suppressed in a single area; charred wounds multiplied, dark red scales peeled off like falling leaves, and its breath visibly faded.

Its life-dependant Bloodlust had no battlefield now.

It could not touch its foe.

When the Red Iron Dragon got serious, the true gap emerged.

The berserker’s system was powerful but extreme, and its reliance on close-quarters combat left it lacking mid- and long-range options—a glaring weakness.

Garoth also excelled at melee.

But his skills were more complete, with mid- and long-range abilities that were overwhelmingly potent.

He had almost no weak points.

Soon the demon gave a resentful roar.

It realized the distance between them, but could not accept it.

So the last shred of reason was devoured by madness.

Whoosh!

Purple demonic flames flared from within it.

The flames burned from the inside out, igniting all the absorbed dragon blood and its own demonic blood.

“Roaaar!!!”

Its body writhed and swelled in the flame.

Muscles bulged until skin tore, bones lengthened until they pierced flesh; its size surged beyond previous limits, reaching a dangerous peak.

At the same time, the dragonized features on its surface were swiftly consumed by the flames.

The stolen scales, spines, and muscle textures melted and returned to pure demonic form—

but in an unprecedentedly berserk manner.

The demon became a mass of burning purple fire, radiating a suffocating, frenzied aura.

Facing its crazed charge, Garoth’s thoughts moved like lightning; he judged quickly.

Close combat might risk wasting a life…

There was no need.

He chose not to clash head-on.

His dragon wings flicked; his massive body swept back to keep distance while the thunderflame spears increased their assault, targeting the demon’s limb joints and vital points.

Screech! Hiss!!

Spear tips tore the air with sharp whistles.

The demon roared and swiped to block.

Now its strength had shot up; it could forcibly snap the incoming spears.

But without the binding of the Spell-Extinguishing Claws, the broken spear fragments detonated. Those shattered dragonqi, mixed with lightning and flame, skated across the demon’s body, turning strips of flesh to charcoal.

Meanwhile, as dragonqi surged, the fractured spears repaired in an instant.

The dragon’s face hardened like iron.

The thunderflame spears moved as if extensions of his arms, at times stabbing to lock it down, at times dispersing to harry.

One spear attacked the front to force a block, while another silently struck the knee. The demon twisted to avoid a sweeping waist strike, only to be trapped by three more spears from different angles.

Garoth had never stopped improving.

He trained to make himself flawless, without weak points; after mastering dragonqi shaping and weapon condensation, he devoted time to honing weapon control.

Now, while not transcendent, he had reached mastery.

The demon lunged and dodged but could not close the gap.

Wounds multiplied; the magic flame dimmed visibly; the frenzied aura waned.

Finally, during a full-force pounce that Garoth avoided by a sidestep,

the fleeting opening was seized.

Three spears pierced both arms and chest, fixing it tight; two spears pinned its thighs, and a final spear drove through the face from behind.

————

The sound of spear tips tearing flesh rang out at last.

The demon’s momentum stopped abruptly, nailed in midair. It struggled, trying to wrench free, but each spear sank to the marrow and held it fast.

Before it could fight again, Garoth did not hesitate and released his claws.

Boom!

All six spears shattered simultaneously.

The shafts exploded, releasing cataclysmic energy. Highly compressed dragonqi, lightning, and flame discharged at once, forming a massive explosive orb.

The demon’s body was blown apart from the inside out.

It became countless burning fragments that rained down like fire.

Then Garoth’s several heads suddenly opened wide.

Three lines of dragon breath spewed forth.

They swept across the falling remains; under the intense heat, fragments instantly vaporized—no ash remained, everything evaporated into nothingness.

The berserker demon general ceased to exist.

However, the Abyssal aura on the battlefield had intensified another degree due to the berserker’s prior presence and battle.

The auras that drifted from its body slowly blended into the surrounding air.

“Glorious His Majesty Ignas, victory!”

“With demon blood, we sacrifice for Aola!”

“For Romania! For the Red Emperor!”

Cries rose like a mountain-shaking wave.

They began in the Aola legions: Aola warriors raised weapons and cheered to the Red Iron Dragon above. The fighters from the Romania nations, after a brief restraint, were infected by the fervor and could not help but cheer too.

No matter what before,

now the Red Emperor was their glory and highest pillar.

The Northern Legion’s morale soared.

Military formations surged forward with greater speed, crushing the demons’ breath; the demons began to rout, to flee, to be chased down by allied soldiers.

At the same time, other fronts were moving toward conclusions.

West front.

The Lord of Thunder, Lamorein, circled through storm clouds.

His massive form was half-hidden in the clouds; each dive left a thick lightning strike.

His opponent was a Reaper Demon.

That demon’s body was thin, with sickle-like arms and incredible speed, but facing a genuine crown-level Ancient Dragon, it was miserable.

Its famed agility could not be used under the sky-covering thunder net.

Every attempt to surge forward was met with unending lightning that seared it until smoke rose; the tough shell was streaked with black char cracks.

When it occasionally got close, it still couldn’t match the crown-level dragon in melee.

One thunder claw would send it flying with broken shell; a sweep of the tail would leave deep wounds.

The Reaper Demon was tossed in the storm and death was only a matter of time.

South front.

The Crown of Magic, Afra, hovered atop a magic tower spire.

Her hands hovered; her expression was focused.

A huge three-dimensional array of pure holy light had been deployed, trapping a high-ranking demon general inside.

The array stacked in layers, intricate and precise; each layer slowly rotated.

Within the array countless fine runes of light flowed and shimmered like living things.

The demon slammed wildly, its body sizzling. Each contact with the array’s boundary was burned by holy light, spouting black smoke.

It could not break through.

Several Southern Domain crown-levels, cloaked in holy light and amplified by the array, contributed to the siege. They attacked from different angles with ease, each strike leaving new wounds.

Afra’s face was calm; victory was certain.

East front, Natacro.

Two Eastern Alliance crown-levels panted heavily, bearing numerous wounds but nothing severe.

Not far off, the Tri-Crowns crown-level Varta hovered surrounded by air currents.

His coat was torn, revealing an iron-like chest with a few shallow scars, not serious.

In his hand was a massive arachnid demon head.

That head was larger than he was; all eight eyes were lifeless.

Then, with a clap of the Tri-Crowns’ palm,

the arachnid head cracked open, a searing light shot from the fissure like a sun, and the remaining head and its body turned to ash, blown into the wind.

As if sensing something,

Varta suddenly turned and looked toward the northern sky.

There, the Red Iron Dragon looked down upon the battlefield.

Their gazes met.

Varta nodded to the dragon in the air.

Garoth returned the small nod.

Thus, apart from the berserker demon general Garoth had dealt with on the northern front, among the other high-ranking demon generals appearing on other fronts, one had been confirmed dead and two were on the brink.

The allied forces from four directions had come with resolve to win.

The demons were strong, but a single vanguard legion alone couldn’t hold them off.

Inside the fortress,

the six-armed serpent demon floated atop the highest tower, watching coldly without aiding her generals; she simply absorbed the growing Abyssal aura.

That aura poured from the rift, thicker and stronger.

Chaos among the demon legions increased.

Chaos and evil did not mean they lacked fear of death.

When they found themselves overwhelmed, the demons’ fear woke; they instinctively retreated toward the fortress, seeking shelter behind the seemingly solid walls.

But the fortress gates did not open for the fleeing soldiers.

Those demons pounding at the iron doors made thunderous bangs, but there was no response inside; the shield seemed to harden further, blocking them from approaching.

“Nearly ready.”

“So many lives and souls…”

The six-armed serpent murmured, eyes sharp.

One by one her arms unfurled like blooming death flowers.

Next, cries of slaughter and fighting echoed from within the fortress.

Faintly visible, the six-armed serpent’s figure flickered through the stronghold, each of her six arms bearing a weapon, mercilessly slaughtering demon soldiers.

Caught off guard, demons fell one after another.

“They’re… slaughtering their own?”

“No, it’s a sacrifice.”

Afra’s voice transmitted via a communication spell to every legendary ear. “This demon commander has likely prepared the sacrifice of kin.”

As if to confirm her words.

!!!

A glaring deep-purple light burst from the demon fortress.

A huge, complex sacrificial altar phantom flashed over the fortress, layered and covered with eerie runes and patterns.

Immediately, a massive suction centered on the altar erupted.

On the battlefield,

every dead creature’s corpse, without distinction—demon or allied soldier—quickly desiccated.

Flesh dissolved, bone weathered, becoming streams of black-purple mixed energy.

Those energy flows, like rivers converging on the sea, surged from every corner of the field toward the Abyssal Rift at the fortress center.

At the same time, the ground shook violently.

More tiny spatial fissures spread from the rift’s edge in all directions. Darkness within the rift churned and boiled, expanding at a speed hundreds of times its normal pace, visibly growing.

Not only that.

A presence issuing from the rift made even crown-levels’ hearts skip a beat—vast, chaotic, feral, bearing the Abyss’s deepest ancient malice.

“The rift is expanding rapidly! A great demon is coming through!”

Lamorein roared a warning.

“Attack the fortress! Attack the altar! It’s here.”

Afra pointed with a hand.

A mass of magical energy lit above the fortress, illuminating the area; directly beneath the light stood an inconspicuous spire hidden among other buildings.

“We can’t let a great demon descend!”

Almost simultaneously, all the free legendaries, human, dragon, and other races, sensed the gravity of the problem.

Attacks rained down on the demon fortress like a storm.

Dragon breaths, magic, arrows, sword qi… beams of light tore through the sky and smashed into the fortress shield.

The fortress shield was tough, but could not withstand concentrated fire from all directions.

Especially with their own demon generals unable to sortie and counter.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Amid continuous explosions, the Abyssal shield shuddered violently; cracks spread across its surface, more and more, denser and denser.

At last, the shield exploded and dissipated.

Attacks struck the fortress itself.

Walls collapsed, towers broke, dust and demon limbs flew. Demons still resisting inside were buried under rubble.

The altar’s light dimmed.

But it was slightly too late.

“Roaar!!!”

A roar came from the rift.

Low and resonant, it carried endless fury and hunger, and the sound alone made many allied soldiers clutch their ears and crouch in pain.

Having completed her task, the six-armed serpent did not hesitate.

She glanced once at the battlefield, then leapt back into the rift and vanished into the roiling darkness.

Immediately, two demonic claws probed from the rift.

Those claws were wrapped in dense Abyssal energy, huge as mountains; each finger thicker than an adult, with curved, razor-sharp talons.

They dug into the spatial edges of the rift with brutal force!

A great demon!

A deep-Abyss great demon had already stretched an arm out and was attempting to squeeze through the rift into the Material Plane.

The legendaries’ attacks instantly focused on that pair of massive claws.

However, the claws’ defense was beyond expectation.

Legendary-level attacks struck them, but most left only scorch marks or shallow pits; some wounds were negligible relative to the gargantuan size. A several-meter wound was merely a scrape on mountain-sized claws.

The claws endured the bombardment and did not withdraw.

The huge arm began slowly to climb upward.

First the wrist, then the forearm, then the elbow… the elbow became faintly visible, about to clear the rift.

If it succeeded in crawling out, while Halden was preoccupied, Atlantis would face a catastrophe.

A full-formed deep-Abyss great demon could sweep this place clean.

Even if united they prevailed, the casualties would be horrendous.

The legendaries knew this very well.

Their hearts trembled.

Under the great demon’s pressure, some weaker legendaries even entertained the thought of fleeing; their auras wavered, their attacks hesitated.

At that moment, a deep, majestic voice sounded.

“Hold it off. I will act.”

Before the words finished, the Red Iron Dragon flapped his wings and rose into the heavens.

His body climbed higher and higher until he became a small dot; sunlight backed him, gilding his outline.

The crown-levels spoke nothing.

Each took out their hidden strength and rained attacks on the great demon’s arm—the dragon breaths fiercer, magic more feral, arrows denser.

Other legendaries dispelled weakness and united.

They gritted teeth and poured fear into fury, unleashing it in attack.

The great demon arm was suppressed.

Dense strikes detonated on the massive claw, leaving more wounds; black Abyssal blood leaked and dripped to the ground, etching deep pits.

The arm’s climbing slowed.

At the same time,

the Red Emperor lowered his gaze, staring at the Abyssal Rift and those great demon arms.

All three of his heads inhaled deeply at once.

His chest swelled; his scales shone like hot iron, radiating scorching red light. Dragonqi surged from his body like oil on fire, igniting towering flames along his form.

Hah!

Three streams of over-limit destructive dragon breath were expelled simultaneously.

However, they were not aimed at the rift.

The Red Emperor’s six arms folded in front of his chest; his claws spread as if to cradle something. The three destructive dragon breaths were restrained at his chest, not dispersing outward but converging together.

They formed a rapidly expanding sphere.

The sphere grew and grew, brighter and brighter.

Dragonqi from his arms also converged, pouring into the orb like fuel, accelerating its expansion.

The Red Emperor gave a low roar.

He felt as if he cradled an entire world.

Its weight was unimaginably heavy, pressing his six arms to tremble slightly. Under enormous pressure, the scales along his arms began to crack inch by inch; bloodflames welled from the fissures.

But he did not release his hold.

His face remained calm as he continued to compress and condense.

As time passed, the orb he cradled became increasingly dangerous; all energy was force-compressed and condensed into a luminous sphere.

It shone blindingly, piercingly bright—so intense no one could stare.

Inside it seemed to contain countless miniaturized nebulae in birth and death; light and heat were crushed to the extreme, presenting a near-void, searing white.

Below, the great Abyssal demon seemed to sense this presence.

After a momentary pause, it ramped up its tearing of the rift.

The claws gripped the rift’s edge and pulled fiercely; the spatial fissures spread faster, larger, and more numerous. The demon’s arms trembled violently; muscles bulged and veins pulsed.

The legendaries’ faces became solemn like never before.

They poured everything into attacks to slow the climb; no one held back or hesitated.

They all understood this was a life-or-death moment.

The claws were pummeled until flesh flew, but the demon still steadfastly climbed.

Little by little, inch by inch.

Soon nearly the entire demon arm had emerged from the rift; the thick forearm was fully exposed, covered in scales and bone spines and radiating intense Abyssal aura.

Its breath grew denser, more dangerous.

The demon’s head was faintly visible, struggling in the rift to squeeze out.

But the blinding white orb before Garoth had reached its limit; the surrounding air twisted, space trembled.

If Ovis the Gold Dragon were here, he would surely shout the name of such a technique.

But Garoth was not so flamboyant.

Dragon Emperor, Interdimensional.

He whispered the name only in his mind, then his six arms pushed forward at once.

The searing white orb slipped from his grasp.

It hovered for an instant, then plummeted straight toward the Abyssal Rift.

“Scatter! Scatter!”

Even the legendaries who had not flinched at the demon arm now scrambled away.

They felt the terrifying doom of this strike; that oppressive, annihilating presence made every legendary instinctively want to flee.

The orb fell.

The next moment.

Silent expansion.

The blinding white light consumed all.

It enveloped the rift and the great arm, the entire fortress wreckage, and a broad stretch of surrounding land.

The glare was so fierce that allied soldiers far away had to close their eyes.

It did not explode like a dragonqi bomb; instead, it was deathly still.

A ring of dazzling light diffused on its surface, but inside lay deep darkness—a fully shattered spatial structure, utter nothingness.

Where the light reached, all matter was swallowed by the void.

Walls, towers, ruins, demon corpses, scraps of the great claw—everything inside that light vanished silently.

There was no explosion or thunderous crash, only total disappearance.

“I… I will return…”

A short, pained roar rang from within the whiteness.

But as soon as the sound started, it was cut off as if strangled.

Not long after, the light faded.

Everything it had enveloped was gone.

The earth bore a colossal pit.

The pit was bottomless to the eye; its edges were smooth like a mirror, as if erased clean. The rock at the bottom had vanished, leaving only pure emptiness.

In the air, broken spatial fissures remained visible.

They were like countless black threads, crisscrossing and slowly fusing back together with faint sizzling sounds.

The battlefield was deathly silent.

In the sky, the Red Emperor stood alone.

His six arms drooped; scales along his body were flaking off; bloodflames still burned. His chest heaved violently; his three heads bowed slightly—clearly greatly drained.

But he still stood, and his aura was not collapsed.

“I said before…”

“It would have been better to let the Red Emperor strike the demon fortress first, haha; then we wouldn’t have wasted effort here.”

The Lord of Thunder’s voice slowly broke the silence.

He looked up at the Red Iron Dragon and chuckled faintly, without joy in his eyes.

Other crown-levels regained composure and also looked up at the dragon suspended in heaven, silently.

Previously they feared the dragonqi orb might affect the rift, making it unstable; Garoth had never poured such intensity of energy before, so the plan was rejected.

Who could have expected the Red Emperor to obliterate both the fortress and the rift in a single blow?

Though he had built it for a long time and seemed heavily consumed, regardless… it was absurd.

Purely by destructive effect, even Mandate of Heaven legendaries would struggle to match it.

The slowly fusing spatial fissures and that utterly erased pit all testified to the strike’s power.

New Calendar 462, late spring to early summer.

To defend the Atlantis Continent, the four nations united to besiege the demon fortress.

When victory neared, a great demon appeared and threatened the allied forces. Many legendaries fought together to resist. In the end, above the heavens, the Red Emperor condensed a blazing might and with a single blow flattened the rift and repelled the great demon.

pS: Burned out, New Year asking for monthly votes.

Ah! Give me all your monthly votes! I’ll kowtow or 2!