Chapter 208 Territory

The stench of sulfur grew stronger, mingling with the stench of blood. Greven had almost grown numb to the pungent smell. He kicked aside the headless corpse blocking his path, and the blade, poised to continue cleaving flesh, suddenly paused. The light in the lighthouse statue's eyes flickered three times, signaling a full retreat.

...a bad feeling.

The brown-haired young man exchanged glances with the others, then gave up on the commander of the Ruskin family who was so close to him and ran to the side of the ship without hesitation.

For the past ten days, the training they had received boiled down to a single requirement: to obey orders. No objections, no questions, no personal will—they simply had to obey the cold, mechanical instructions passed down from level to level, and survive.

"Want to run? Too late!"

The deck of the Glorious suddenly shook violently, accompanied by the whine of a twisting keel and the muffled roar of some creature. Everyone on board screamed in terror. Some fell into the sea, swallowed by the waves, while others were caught off guard and fell deep into the cracks in the deck. Darren Ruskin's boot also sank deeply into the cracks, and his cigar fell from his hand, sending a shower of sparks flying.

But he was laughing, his bulging eyes filled with deep hatred, fixed on the despicable enemies who had destroyed everything he had.

As the black spine with huge spikes completely smashed through the deck, Darren Ruskin roared out a final curse: "Let's go to the abyss together!"

A pitch-black giant beast staggered towards the sky. The thick iron chains that pierced its claws and wings, which were large enough for three people to hug, had broken, and fragments of iron plates hung at the bottom.

Its wings and snout were bound by chains and magical devices, making flight extremely difficult. It even stumbled headfirst into the sea, stirring up a mountain-like wall of waves. The other two barely intact battleships were smashed down by the huge waves. Some of the people who fell into the sea were crushed to the bottom without even a chance to scream, and they were completely deprived of the right to see the sky again.

"The Ruskins have gone mad!" Greven heard Ashes yelling into the portable crystal ball. "A dragon! It's a fucking dragon!"

There are many subspecies of dragons, but the oldest, rarest, and most terrifying of them all come together under the single name "Giant Dragon." An adult giant dragon is at least a ninth-level magical beast, which, when converted to the human world, puts it only half a step away from becoming a Saint.

The ghost's voice sounded coldly in the crystal ball: "To be precise, this is a cub of the Lord of Doom."

The Lord of Doom, a notorious fire dragon, is renowned for its immense size and violent temper. The dragons described by bards as destroying cities and nations are often identified as these, and their very name signifies the approaching end of the world.

And those fools, the Ruskin family, had actually thrown a water-hating fire dragon into the sea, even if it was just a dragon cub. Sudden exposure to large amounts of seawater wouldn't "calm" or "scare" this extremely irritable creature, but it would definitely drive it—mad.

"Immediately activate the fourth plan."

Amidst the desperate panic, the man's instructions were still clear and cold, soaking everyone's panic-swollen brains in ice water: "Don't panic, just do as we practiced—this isn't a full-grown dragon, and we still have time to break free from its restraints."

...How did he do it? Even though the situation was extremely critical, Huijin couldn't help but think that no matter what happened, it was within that person's expectations - what would it take to truly cause his emotions to fluctuate?

The whaling ship was trying to quickly escape the sea where a giant dragon lurked. Suddenly, the sea began to violently bubble, large and small, as if it were boiling. Beneath the surface, a dazzling orange-red hue appeared, and the colors, like bursting flames, grew even brighter and hotter.

Finally, amidst the incapacitated battleships on the sea, a massive black dragon broke through the water, unleashing an earth-shattering roar. The edges of its scales shone a dazzling orange-red, making it resemble an active volcano spewing magma. Its ruby-like, glittering eyes held only stark hatred and utter hunger.

Starvation weakens dragons, but it can also completely drive them mad.

The Doom Lord cub chose the hateful humans who used a large number of magic tools, potions and spells to make it drowsy, trapped it in the depths of the sea, pierced its wings and claws with iron chains, and even refused to provide it with food as its primary target of revenge.

The black dragon bared its sharp fangs, and flames rolled on its wing membranes. The scorching fire waves immediately swept over the three huge ships. The dragon claws pierced by iron chains dug deeply into the broken keel, making a terrifying cracking sound.

“…Gods.”

The surviving slave soldiers reflected this apocalyptic scene deep in their eyes. They dared not linger, desperately trying to escape this deadly sea while the dragon vented its wrath. But after finally ripping the ship to shreds, the dragon cast its hateful gaze upon the ants fleeing across the sea.

It took flight, its vast wingspan covering the sky, its jaws wide open, the blazing light from its throat, reeking of death, aimed at the sea.

The black-haired young man on the lighthouse, his fingers gleaming pale as he clung to the stone wall. He clenched the portable crystal ball in his hand. "Port team, listen to my orders. Prepare—"

A long and loud dragon roar tore through the night sky, causing the Doomsday Lord to choke back the flames in his throat and subconsciously raise his head.

Everyone was stunned, except the Savior, who slowly closed his eyes. He even felt a throbbing pain in his forehead.

Another dragon materialized from deep within the clouds over Port Morris.

On the whaling ship, someone stared blankly at the sky lit by fire, muttering prayers in despair. Oh God, is Port Morris really a place of divine punishment, forsaken by the gods?

Two giant dragons - no city or country destroyed by dragons in history has ever received such treatment.

It was a giant dragon, about the same size as a Doom Lord cub, perhaps even smaller. Shaped like a giant bird, its snow-white body was as slender and smooth as a shuttle.

An extremely rare Wind Walker, with a gray prayer flag woven with intricate miraculous patterns around its neck, was swooping down towards the port.

Just when the slave army was feeling desperate, the Wind Walker aimed its sharp claws at the Lord of Doom without hesitation, and knocked the black dragon down from the sky with lightning speed, forcing it to fall into the sea.

Azra flapped her wings, screamed angrily, and without hesitation dug her claws into the black dragon's flesh, causing it to roar loudly in pain.

This city has the presence of its master; it must be his territory. It flew for a long time, lost its way for a long time, and even struggled to hide from human sight through the clouds before finally finding its way here. But now, a strange dragon has appeared!

"Intruder! Thief!" Azra flapped her wings in anger. Just because she was a generous and kind dragon, she could share her territory with the weaker creatures raised by the Natalin people of Apache Valley. But that didn't mean Azra would tolerate another dragon invading her territory, even if it was a cub!

That’s right, the master’s territory is its territory!

Still bewildered, the Doom Lord dazedly pulled his head out of the sea. Having finally dried himself with the fire, he ended up soaking wet again. This nearly drove him mad, and without hesitation, he aimed a blast of fire at his nearly adult companion.

The flames rolled over the Windrunner's white feathers, which were as tough and sharp as metal, without causing any damage, and even made them more dazzling. However, the prayer flag tied around Azra's neck was not so resistant to the high temperature and turned to ashes in an instant.

Azra: “…”

Master! Handmade! Scarf!

The white dragon, equally enraged, began to chase the black dragon and engage in a fierce fight, leaving the whaler and the people on the harbor stunned. The sky and sea were turned upside down by the two dragons. Perhaps due to its young age, hunger, and abuse, the black dragon quickly began to lose the upper hand.

By the time the professor arrived at the port to receive the returning slave army, the dragon war had already concluded. Windrunner dragged the Doom Lord, a dead dog, onto the shore, stamping on its neck with one claw. He raised his head and howled excitedly, his long dragon roar echoing throughout Port Morris.

"Mr. Chief," Greven couldn't help but ask in a low voice, "Is this also within your expectations?"

"Please tell us this is to be expected." Ash stared blankly at the swaggering Windrunner. He hoped it wasn't savoring the scent of human flesh, preparing to feast on Port Morris as a reward for victory.

"Ezra."

Ezra suddenly raised her head excitedly. The wind carried her master's voice, but she couldn't see him—it didn't matter; this was their usual game of hide-and-seek.

Praise me, I have once again defeated the evil dragon that invaded my territory! It shook the feathers on its head and waited patiently for praise from its master.

But like a bolt from the blue, the master's voice was quite stern: "I remember before I left, I told you to stay in the Asachi Valley and protect the remaining Natalin people."

All the people in Port Morris saw the Wind Walker suddenly raise its neck in anger, its feathers exploded, and it let out a rapid, sharp scream, as if it was arguing with someone across the air - then it suddenly flew up with a bang, and the air wave it created almost overturned the ships and people in the port.

Under the nervous gaze of the crowd, it circled in the sky for several times, but seemed not to get what it wanted.

Then the Windrunner turned around without looking back and rushed into the clouds, disappearing completely in an instant, leaving behind only a dying Doomsday Lord and a series of sad and angry howls.

...Gods, it actually looks a little, aggrieved?