Empress of the Moon frowned. "Are you even capable of this, Vice Guild Master of Godslayer?"
Slaughter Spree sneered. "Quit messing around and just gut him already!"
Madman fumbled furiously through the Purple-Gold Dragon Rider's armor, but his luck had clearly run dry. Attempt after attempt failed, while the rest of the team waited, dying repeatedly to the Dragon Curse spells—only to revive again and again thanks to the blood law effect.
His face flushed a deep red as he snapped back, "For god's sake! You rich bastards only know how to fight! Do you have any idea how expensive it is to run a damn household?!"
Another failed pickpocket.
Finally, Madman gave up, waving his hand in frustration. The others pounced on the Purple-Gold Dragon Rider, swarming him like piranhas. Die, revive, swarm, repeat—it was a one-sided slaughter.
"You sinful degenerates…" the Dragon Rider bellowed in rage before Demon Emperor finally decapitated him with a single clean strike.
The remaining Imperial Dragon Knights were terrified. A fully armored level 90 Saint Lord-class Dragon Knight—stripped naked, then hacked to death like a mob monster. Was this the "glory" that adventurers granted them?
"Drop a forbidden skill or a Forbidden Magic weapon already!" Madman howled at the corpse.
A pair of gauntlets fell to the ground.
"Here's your Forbidden Magic-tier gear, Vice Guild Master," Empress teased, unable to hold back her laughter.
The others rolled their eyes—it was just a white-tier level 90 drop, barely worth a few dozen dollars. Pathetic.
Madman sighed with black lines across his forehead. He'd squeezed every bit of loot from the poor guy, which ironically tanked the drop rate for actual valuable gear.
Suddenly, a system prompt popped.
Everyone's eyes lit up as the Purple-Gold Dragon Rider's severed head reattached to his body, his skin drying and sinking into a skeletal, mummified form. A Saint Lord-class skeletal Dragon Knight stood once more.
"Heresy! This is blasphemous magic! Lord Lyard…" the remaining Imperial Dragon Knights panicked, staring in horror at their reanimated comrade.
The skeletal knight's empty eye sockets ignited with blood-red flames as he let out a chilling wail.
"Holy crap… this skill is insane! Turn enemies into allies?!" Slaughter Spree shouted.
"I can control him," Demon Emperor muttered in shock. Perhaps influenced by someone's example, the always-headstrong Demon Emperor suddenly had a spark of creativity. Instead of immediately commanding the skeletal knight to attack, he ordered him to mount his purple-gold dragon once more.
The skeleton grabbed the reins, bellowed a guttural shriek, and unleashed:
"Purple-Gold Breath!"
The dragon roared, spewing molten purple-gold energy like liquid mercury directly into its former allies.
Percentage Damage - 6,000,000!
Percentage Damage - 6,000,000!
"Jesus… Orgod, you sick freak. 'Friend of NPCs,' huh?" Madman gawked.
DragonHarbinger's eyes widened. "I get it now! The dragons don't swear loyalty to the Light Dragon Empire itself—they serve the Dragon Knights personally! As long as we kill the riders, we can control their beasts!"
Everyone froze for a second before realizing the insane potential. With Hellfire active, and infinite revives, their numbers would only snowball as the fight went on!
Slaughter Spree giggled. "So you like barbecue, huh? Let's see how you like getting roasted!"
ShatteredCrown grinned devilishly. "Take down the strongest Dragon Knights, resurrect them, and let them wipe out their own!"
They turned toward the remaining Dragon Knights like predators eyeing prey, practically drooling at the feast ahead.
Across the other sectors of Forever City, similar scenes unfolded.
Anyone within the Blood King's 10-kilometer law radius had effectively become a necromancer.
"We were enemies five minutes ago, but now we're best friends! Freeze them, my snow witch sisters!"
"Hahaha! I'm controlling an Imperial Guard Captain right now! One slash—60,000 crit damage! That's way higher than my own output!"
The players were losing it with laughter. NPCs who fell just seconds ago were now rising as undead minions, fully under player control.
And it got even better: Imperial priests couldn't keep up. Their resurrection spells required long casting times. Before they could finish channeling, the dead were already reanimated into undead under enemy control, permanently stealing units from the Imperial army.
The stalemate shattered.
With their insane buffs, the players pressed forward ferociously. The Imperial lines finally began to collapse. Defeat and retreat became inevitable.
Meanwhile, the tide turned among the remaining kings as well.
Bradley, supported by the Purple-Gold Soul Disc clone, kept up the brutal combo loop: breaking Body Domination and stacking seal effects.
Even worse, every time Bradley or Veijander inflicted a crippling injury, that scumbag Pajero pounced like a hyena, devouring the severed limbs.
By eating enemy limbs, Pajero permanently prevented those Kings from ever regenerating, leaving them crippled.
Enderoth, King of the Hill Dwarves, and the Wood Spirit King were now practically limbless husks. Even if someone managed to drag them to safety, they were permanently ruined—essentially living punching bags.
On the perimeter, Naoko, Queen Ninelra of the Beastkin, the Savage Saint Lords, and multiple factions tightened the encirclement like a giant cage.
Above Forever City, a towering pillar of purple-gold energy pierced the sky. The clouds turned a deep violet, casting the entire capital in an ominous glow.
"Divine Dragon Seal: Countdown complete."
"Do you wish to activate this Forbidden Curse?"
"You have five seconds to decide, or the scroll will self-destruct."
The prompt echoed in Orson's ear.
He slowly opened his eyes, and a divine radiance flashed within them. A storm of power rippled through the Lord's chamber.
"No one in either world can restrain him anymore," Alexander murmured bitterly.
The man before him was like a mountain with no summit. Every time Alexander thought he was near the peak, the clouds above simply thickened.
As a Lambert family prodigy, Alexander had rarely known anyone who made him feel this way.
"Only someone like him could reunite the Ten Overlords of the US," he sighed.
For centuries, the head of Radiant Shuttle had been a ceremonial role. Many tried to centralize true power, but all had failed.
Now, Alexander saw not only hope—but also despair. A word rarely found in his personal dictionary.
A body crashed through the roof, leaving a gaping hole in the dome.
Darkbo staggered to his feet, his body battered beyond recognition, barely a patch of undamaged flesh remaining.
"His quasi-divine law is called Blazing Baptism. He can revive multiple times, each time stronger than the last. My law couldn't contain him… Master, I did not lose willingly," Darkbo bowed deeply.
"You've done enough," Orson nodded with a smile.
Darkbo's skill, honed under Wild Gale, had long since surpassed NPC limits. He had slain Jenonis multiple times in rapid succession. But the War Supreme Law was absurdly broken, and with Imperial artifacts backing Jenonis, Darkbo's defeat was inevitable.
The Crimson Lizard King's ruby eyes narrowed, peering through the roof hole at the sky above.
There, wreathed in holy flames, Jenonis roared: "I will kill you!!!"
Blazing with rage, the Archangel shot toward Orson like a meteor crashing from the heavens.
"Angel's Blood Vow!!"
An unparalleled SS-tier skill tore through the sky, splitting space apart. The sheer divine might shattered mountains, boiled rivers, and vaporized all living creatures nearby.
"Is the sky… falling?" Players and NPCs alike looked up in terror.
The Archangel's host body could no longer contain the catastrophic power. His perfect face began to bleed as his skin aged rapidly.
Even as his form disintegrated into pure angelic soul essence, he swore to rip that bastard below into pieces.
Orson stared up calmly, voice flat. "Birds belong in cages. To entertain. To amuse."