Orson's eyes narrowed. Riding atop the Crimson Lizard King, he gave chase for over ten kilometers, but Aetrexa vanished completely after two consecutive space jumps, slipping free of Mirror of Folding's tracking.
"She disappeared? That's... unlikely." He frowned. With Mirror of Folding doubling his range, even an elite like her shouldn't have escaped this easily.
Celestial Vision—activated.
Orson swept the entire hundred-kilometer radius, only to see scattered remnants of the Empire's broken army. A massive Holy Silver Dragon had vanished into thin air, with Aetrexa on its back.
Thinking carefully, he realized this was probably the effect of the ancient divine item Usher had warned about. Otherwise, he would've gladly made sure Aetrexa never left this battlefield alive.
In Orson's eyes, any NPC who couldn't be used by Trialists was a ticking time bomb. Better to eliminate the threat than leave it festering.
Crimson Lizard King soared through the sky with Orson and Blank on its back, circling above the battlefield like a triumphant predator. Below, the Empire's NPC troops were terrified out of their minds.
The commander of the Light Dragon Empire's royal guard—their strongest Dragon Knight—had been routed by adventurers. It shook their faith to its core, as if even the gods could fall.
Drunken Dream: "Disgrace of the Silver Dragons. One day Denoka and I will wash away your filth with your severed head."
Madman: "Stop standing there slack-jawed! Time to turn up the music and burn the house down!"
With a booming shout across the local channel, Madman charged in with his proto-dragon Quarla, leading six million allied players in a full-force assault.
Demon Emperor: "Slaughter Dragon Knights, flank and encircle! Leave no one alive!"
The player alliance surged forward like an unstoppable wave. Backed by sky-darkening magic, they formed three converging fronts to crush the Imperial forces.
Though shaken, the Empire was far from helpless.
"Hold the line! Fight back!"
A weary Imperial commander roared himself hoarse, desperately rallying his troops.
But many had already lost the will to fight. Chaos spread as soldiers dropped their weapons and fled.
Then a group of robed figures appeared—the Empire's Inquisitors.
Charged with eliminating heretics and deserters alike.
They wielded strange thorn-like tools, broken off some arcane machine, channeling destructive spells akin to magical snipers or rifles.
Any soldier who tried to flee was instantly executed. Their flesh corroded and collapsed into piles of bones, their screams swallowed by death magic.
"For Emperor Bairinador! For His Holiness the Pope!"
"For unshakable faith!"
"O divine one, lead my soul to the Kingdom of Heaven—I offer it to You!"
Over forty surviving Empire Dragon Knights, suppressed by Orson's title effect, became walking heavy artillery. Mounted atop their dragons, they crawled forward under the strain, casting devastating Dragon Curse spells to cover their army's retreat.
The alliance paid dearly for every inch.
Thousands of white beams soared skyward every minute—death tolls climbing.
Still, the momentum was irreversible. Everyone roared, hoarse and wild.
Any living thing in our way shall be crushed!
Kill them all—build a new Infinite Dimensions upon the bones and blood of our enemies!
Blocked by the Imperial Dragon Knights, Bradley stood tall among the crowd, his silver hair catching the wind. Raising his hand, he commanded, "Godslayer mechs—blow them apart!"
Wild Gale: "We are Godslayer's sharpest blade. Even death cannot stay our hand. Full assault!"
All Titan Mechs not stationed at Forever City were deployed—over twenty war machines thundered into battle.
"My Moonlight Guild, watch me now!" DragonHarbinger turned and looked at Empress, seated atop a sleek wind dragon, radiant and resolute.
Empress of the Moon smiled, dimples blooming. "I'm with you."
Heaven's eyes lit up. With fists clenched, her golden staff spun above her head.
With a low hum, six Battle Spaces opened in tandem.
Everyone gasped as six dragons appeared, each radiating elemental energy. Though these were only lower-tier dragons, they were all level 70 and even stronger than Empress's Flame Dragon.
ShatteredCrown: "The hell is this—six dragons? You gotta be kidding me!"
Ultimate Sweetheart: "I don't care. I want a dragon too. Tell your sugar mama to get me a Lightning one."
ShatteredCrown rolled his eyes. "What is this, dragon shopping at a fry stand?"
Empress of the Moon laughed triumphantly. "You're done, ShatteredCrown. We've got eleven dragon mounts. Beat that."
"Yeah, yeah. You've got a stable. Doesn't mean you can win a war."
He grinned, then shouted, "Flying mages, follow me!"
Empress blinked in confusion—then her expression darkened.
Dust kicked up on the far ridge as over a thousand flying mounts appeared—each ridden by a mage. A full airborne unit.
And not just any players—they were all from The King Family.
Blank's jaw dropped. "Do they just… not know where to spend their money?"
Orson's scalp tingled. New York rich kids were terrifying.
Flying mounts weren't so rare anymore, but true aerial combat required specialized gear.
Without a saddle, most riders would be bucked off mid-air.
ShatteredCrown's unit, however, had every beast decked out with twin black-and-white banners.
If Orson remembered correctly, each Spiritbind Banner cost at least ten thousand gold to craft. You needed a hidden quest just to unlock the blueprint.
Over a thousand players—fully equipped with this high-end item?
The crafting cost alone could bankrupt most guilds.
"Damn, everyone's been hiding their cards." Orson chuckled, shaking his head.
Even without an official mentor bond, ShatteredCrown had definitely inherited his rogue nature.
With the Empire suppressed by title effects, this advantage would only grow stronger.
"Bomb the hell out of them!"
ShatteredCrown let out a feral cackle, leading the charge atop his Flame Dragon and casting A-rank ice magic—Crystal Snowfall.
"What range is that? He's a sniper now?" Empress stiffened.
Below, waves of Empire troops were impaled and frozen by falling ice spears.
The little Archmage, powered up by BlackStockings' constant pampering, now had a five-kilometer cast range—matching that of King-tier dragons.
Then, over 300 mages simultaneously cast C-rank fire spells—Touch of Fire Serpent—turning the skies crimson.
The combined firepower rivaled that of Dragon Curses.
In the fiery storm, two Empire dragons fell—blasting open heaps of loot.
Of course, The King Family paid a price: over two hundred mages were roasted alive, mounts and all.
"Master, how was that?" ShatteredCrown whooped as he soared into the clouds, blasting music and dancing midair.
"Go screw yourself." Orson barked a laugh. He was tempted to boot the idiot off his dragon.
ShatteredCrown winked and bowed toward Blank. "Hi!"
Before she could correct him, Orson calmly covered her mouth.
ShatteredCrown flashed a shit-eating grin and gave Orson a knowing eyebrow wiggle.
Every man understood what that look meant: time to prove your manhood.
"Blank!, see ya! Yaaa-hooo!"
He dive-bombed into the next Imperial formation, leading another wave of chaos.
Orson chuckled with pride. "Not bad. Growing faster than I expected. I officially recognize this unregistered disciple."
"Two dragons for that much firepower and you call it impressive?" Blank rolled her eyes, cheeks still flushed. She wasn't used to the way everyone looked at her now.
It felt like every glance was loaded with expectations—like they were all waiting for her and a certain someone to finally cross a certain line...
It sent a chill down her spine.
"Don't underestimate him. The kid's smart." Orson smirked like a fox.
He hit the point cleanly: "As long as the Spiritbind Banner doesn't drop on death, air beasts are replaceable. Losing one for two dragons? That's a win."