The Golden Dragon's wings unfurled, its massive frame ascending until a colossal shadow draped over the battlefield below.
"Roar!"
Circling once in the air, the dragon opened its maw wide. This time, it wasn't a mere burst of dragon breath, but a torrent of golden fire several times thicker than before—nearly solid in its intensity. Like a divine judgment from the heavens, it descended with unerring precision, covering the densest cluster of the Naga legion.
Sizzle!
The terrifying heat instantly vaporized the swamp's toxic mists. The Nagas let out shrill, desperate wails, but they couldn't last a single breath before being reduced to ash within the golden inferno. The ground was scorched black, and even the rocks began to liquefy. With a single strike, nearly four hundred Nagas perished in the sea of flames.
Seeing this, the vertical pupil on the three-eyed Naga priest's forehead suddenly contracted. It let out a sharp hiss filled with fury and indignation. It channeled its scepter once more, and even more powerful shadow energy surged forth, attempting to halt the dragon's wanton rampage.
But the Golden Dragon didn't seem to care for this Tier 5 priest at all. It continued to circle, seeking its next opening. Every dive and every breath claimed a vast number of Naga lives. On the battlefield, the Golden Dragon was like an unshakeable God of War, while the thousands of Nagas were like desperate ants, forced to fill the bottomless abyss of slaughter with their lives.
From a distance, Leylo and Lord Luke watched, dazzled yet feeling a chill run down their spines. The Golden Dragon's strength was at the absolute peak of Tier 5; it likely wasn't far from the legendary "Calamity Class." The outcome of the battle seemed a foregone conclusion. Despite their numbers, the Nagas' struggles were futile against such absolute power.
"What do we do now?" Leylo asked, bringing Tempest alongside Luke.
Luke pondered for a moment. "We observe. This dragon seems to hold a deep grudge against the Nagas; it looks like it won't stop until every last one is slaughtered. Our mission was to purge the Nagas, and now someone is doing it for us—with... quite high efficiency."
As he spoke, the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily. This wasn't just "efficiency"; it was a one-sided massacre.
Just then, the Golden Dragon seemed to notice the two observers. Its massive head turned slightly, and its eyes—burning with golden flames—swept over them. An indescribable, terrifying pressure descended instantly. Tempest let out an uneasy low cry, his feathers bristling.
Leylo felt a shiver but immediately steadied his mind, taking care not to show any hostility. Fortunately, the dragon merely spared them a glance before refocusing on the Nagas below, seemingly indifferent to these two uninvited guests.
"It seems it has no interest in us," Luke breathed a sigh of relief. Though he was also Tier 5, he had no desire to face such a foe directly.
The battle raged on, the Naga numbers dwindling at a visible rate. The three-eyed priest continued to cast futile spells, but to a dragon with such thick hide and high magic resistance, these attacks were little more than an itch.
Leylo watched silently, a seed of doubt growing in his mind. This three-eyed priest should be "Evil Eye," one of the scions of the Nine-Headed Magic Snake. As a scion of such a legendary being, even with the dragon's power, it shouldn't be this powerless.
The golden dragonflame continued to wash over the legion like a burst dam. The swamp floor was pitted and scorched. The remaining Nagas had long since lost their nerve; ignoring all commands, they screamed and scattered in terror.
The Golden Dragon's eyes locked onto the distant mound. There, the priest "Evil Eye" waved its scepter with hollow bravado, surrounded by only a hundred of its most valiant—or perhaps most foolishly loyal—warriors, forming a tiny circular defense.
"Roar!"
The dragon roared, ignoring the deserters. With a powerful beat of its wings, its body became a golden meteor, diving straight for the hill. The dragon's majesty was like an inescapable prison. The warriors on the hill trembled uncontrollably, their weapons slipping from their hands.
Feeling the oncoming pressure, a flash of madness crossed the priest's third eye. The dragon's shadow swallowed the hill. It opened its mouth, golden light pooling in its throat, more concentrated and violent than ever before. It intended to erase the hill and everyone on it in one strike.
At that split second, the priest slammed its black crystal scepter into the ground. It raised both hands over its head and chanted a set of ancient, sinister syllables—sounds that weren't hoarse, but possessed a piercing quality that acted directly on the soul.
"Father God, descend!"
With that shrill cry, the vertical eye on the priest's forehead suddenly snapped wide open! Unlike before, it wasn't just a slit; it was a full bloom. There was no white, no pupil—only a bottomless darkness, as if connected to an unknown, horrific existence.
Behind the priest, the air distorted violently. A staggering phantom began to emerge. It stood a hundred meters tall, a blur of nine savage snake heads. Each head radiated a different evil aura: venom, curses, erosion, fear. This was a Will Projection of the Nine-Headed Magic Snake, the ruler of the Emerald Marsh!
Empowered by this will, a beam of unnamable pitch-black light, saturated with extreme negative energy and a psychic shockwave, blasted from that third eye. It ignored distance and the dragon's magic aura, striking the Golden Dragon square in the skull!
Hum!
The dragon's gathering breath hitched. For the first time, its golden eyes showed shock and agony. Its massive body shuddered violently in mid-air, as if its soul had been struck by an invisible sledgehammer. Physical and magical defenses were meaningless; the power of the black beam struck directly at its spiritual core.