Chapter 378: Power of Heresy, Charging the Array

The dragons swarming the sky did not retreat before the staggering majesty displayed by the Silver Void, Arielle. By now, they had long since relegated their own survival to a secondary—or perhaps tertiary—concern; the absolute priority was to eradicate these heretics who had dared to breach the island.

A dragon’s arsenal is not limited to mere breath and brawn. The draconic magic they command allows them to weave their individual strengths into a singular, terrifying force when they gather in such vast numbers.

Within the cloud of wings, several elder dragons converged. Their scales and pinions shimmered with magical radiance, and as they drew upon the ambient mana, the surrounding air was left utterly hollow, drained of its essence.

The resulting mana vacuum caused some of the lesser dragons to falter in their casting, but it mattered little. Those whose spells failed dove forward without hesitation, acting as living projectiles to create openings for their kin still weaving the greater arts.

"Boom!"

High above, massive meteors wreathed in flame coalesced in the firmament. Driven by gravity and arcane tethering, they began their descent, gathering speed and mass as they plummeted. The searing fire upon their surfaces transmuted the rock, hardening it into crystalline structures of impossible density.

To these falling cataclysms, the nine heretic dragons were elusive targets. They were nimble, and by comparison, minuscule; striking them with such momentum-laden projectiles seemed an impossibility.

Yet, the dragons they faced were not hundreds, nor thousands, but tens of thousands. A dense, suffocating tide of wings converged from all directions, herding the nine heretics, constricting their space, and denying them any room to maneuver.

With magic, with flesh, with breath—every resource was spent to force the heretics into the path of the meteors and the collaborative draconic spells of the elder and youth dragons following in their wake. Whether the attackers themselves would be caught in the wake of their own devastating magic was a thought that crossed no dragon’s mind.

Thunderheads rolled, blotting out the sun, as a roar like the wrath of a god shook the island. Faster than the falling meteors was a bolt of lightning, so blindingly bright it threatened to sear the vision from one’s eyes: the seventh-tier legion spell, Divine Punishment.

Nor was that all. The earth fractured, and molten rock erupted from the deep crust—a force summoned by ancient rites. A gargantuan hand, forged of living magma, reached a kilometer into the sky, poised to crush the heretics skimming the low altitudes.

The fire elemental energy concentrated within it was so intense that stone melted and vaporized; the mere heat radiating from the limb set the once-lush forests below into a raging inferno.

The mana in this region could no longer sustain further grand-scale spells, but these three manifestations—each exceeding the seventh tier and nearing the eighth—were more than enough to hammer the nine heretics into oblivion.

Yet, the heretics felt no panic at the sight of the sky-filling swarm or the three cataclysmic spells descending upon them. Their roles had been assigned long before they ever set foot on the island.

Doris, the white dragon whom Golia had called a fool, surged ahead, plunging into the mass of dragons attempting to drive them toward the earth. The power unique to her erupted like a tempest.

It was a domain of absolute blizzard and terminal cold. The power to freeze all things radiated from her, locking the surrounding dragons, the very air, the matter, the magic, and even things unknown into a stasis so profound that time itself seemed to hit a momentary pause.

Close behind, the green dragon Golia was ready. The acidic breath he had been brewing in his throat was compressed to the point of collapse.

His massive frame could supply a volume of breath dozens, if not hundreds, of times greater than his peers. When he unleashed it, a vast, sky-obscuring cloud of corrosive green vapor swallowed the entire sector.

These gases were synthesized by the green dragon’s instinct and will, tailored to his needs. If he so desired, the breath was not merely acidic—and today, it was far more.

Having lain dormant for so many years, waiting for the moment to strike back at this island, the cunning Golia had long ago conducted an exhaustive study of draconic anatomy.

His breath coiled around the frozen dragons, seeking out the microscopic fissures in their armor, worming its way inside to erode the vital structures that governed their movement.

Clearly, Golia had succeeded. His understanding of dragon physiology likely surpassed that of the dragons themselves. The frozen creatures, stripped of their ability to repel external matter, were defenseless.

His breath seeped into them with ease, dissolving their internal architecture. To any other creature, these dragons were invincible, but to Golia—who had long since transcended the legendary realm—they were fragile things indeed.

The white dragon’s frost domain, touched by the shadow of natural law, could not last long, but it had given Golia all the time he needed. The eroded dragons began to twitch and fall from the sky, slamming into the earth with a rhythmic thudding that shook the island and carved deep craters into the soil.

While the swarm was easily checked by the two heretics, the black dragon Pompey met the lightning of Divine Punishment without a hint of fear.

His body, tempered for centuries in the extreme environment of the City of Sin, had been forged into a material beyond description. This lightning, with its focused, singular target, was practically tailor-made for him.

"Bang!"

The bolt struck from the heavens, and the black dragon climbed to meet it. They collided in a roar of energy, the eighth-tier spell pouring its full fury into Pompey.

The vast majority of the force was repelled by his impossibly dense scales and muscle. Only the most piercing, high-frequency electrical elements managed to penetrate his hide, where they danced across his surface like liquid plasma.

"A bit of a sting, but still far too weak."

Pompey murmured to himself. The prickling pain was nothing compared to the agony he had endured in the City of Sin—a suffering these dragons could never comprehend. The black dragon, having intercepted the lightning single-handedly, turned his head toward the blue dragon, Susumi.

"Susumi, are you ready?"

The blue dragon did not answer, but the sudden, violent boiling of the plasma on Pompey’s skin was answer enough: Susumi had completed her task.

A grin split the black dragon’s maw. He opened his jaws toward the three elder dragons who had cast the lightning, and his breath surged forth.

The black dragon’s breath was the most unremarkable of all—simple fire, with a touch of corrosion. It lacked the heat of the red dragons and the acidity of the green. But what it lacked in elemental potency, it made up for with Pompey’s own terrifying physical power.

The lightning continued to hammer Pompey, but he absorbed it all, and Susumi’s role was to channel that overflow of electrical energy directly into his core.

Then, the black dragon unleashed it, using his unremarkable breath as a conduit to fire the lightning back at the casters.

A pillar of thunder tore through the sky. What erupted from Pompey’s throat was a beam of light even more condensed than the original bolt, moving with such speed that evasion was impossible.

Three charred fissures appeared instantly upon the bodies of the elder dragons. Then, their heads were severed from their necks, and they plummeted from the heavens, the concentrated energy having acted as a blade of absolute sharpness.

"Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom."

Above the position of the nine heretics, Caesar, the Flame King, held a dazzling, miniature sun in his palm. With a gentle push, he sent it toward the falling meteors.

These meteors were not merely fire and kinetic energy; they were imbued with the power to suppress the heretics, including the ability to lock down space. If they were not cleared, the situation would become dire.

"It's yours."

Caesar nodded to Beorlo, the bronze dragon standing ready at his side. This stable, miniature sun was meant for him.

"Don't worry, Caesar—only you could provide this. This power... it's intoxicating!"

The bronze dragon, the least biological of all his kind, possessed a body structure largely composed of unique metals, particularly where his heart should have been.

There, instead of a heart, lay a metallic cavity. Within it flowed not blood, but a torrent of pure energy.

This structure gave the bronze dragon unique weaknesses, but also a capability others lacked: the ability to absorb energy into his core and unleash a power that transcended his own limits.

He grasped the searing sun and pressed it into his open core. It was the first time he had ever actively absorbed such a vast amount of power.

Had Caesar not helped him stabilize the volatile energy, he might have imploded, but now, the power surging from his core filled him with an indescribable, heart-pounding exhilaration.

"Whew, what an incredible force."

Crimson energy bled from Beorlo’s skin, forming a translucent membrane that looked like a cloak of fire.

He exhaled, then shot upward to meet the falling meteors. The energy venting from his back pushed his speed to the absolute limit, leaving a trail of deep red afterimages in his wake.

"Bang, bang, bang, bang!"

Before the meteors could reach their terminal velocity, they were shattered into countless burning crystalline fragments by Beorlo, who was so swollen with energy he felt he might burst.

Below, the magma hand summoned by the elder dragons collided with another, equally massive claw. This one was crafted from the bones of dragons long dead, buried beneath the island.

The ancient bones granted the claw a durability more terrifying than that of any undead lord. Its summoner was the most peculiar of the nine heretics: the Death Dragon, Krogmo.

In the empty sockets of this "dead" dragon burned a boiling fire of souls. The black smoke of necromantic mana pouring from his body had forcibly exhumed the dragon skeletons to forge and drive the bone claw.

Undeniably, Krogmo’s mastery of necromancy far surpassed that of the elder dragons, but he was, in the end, only one dragon. His individual power could not possibly sustain such a massive construct.

If one looked closely, however, a tiny figure could be seen floating near Krogmo—so small that she could not even compare to the nail of his toe. She was the faerie dragon, Bichu.

Faerie dragons, the most favored by mana of all their kind, are born as archmages and reach legendary status in their youth. Their power only climbs from there, and they can even transform their bodies into pure mana when necessary.

As a heretic of her own race, Bichu could slip inside the bodies of dragons who permitted her presence, providing an absurdly massive magical amplification.

Just how massive was this boost? Let us just say that the bone claw was merely the beginning of what she could do.

The earth was violently rent asunder, and a skeletal dragon, its frame exceeding a thousand meters—a scale that defied the mere descriptor of "vast"—crawled forth from the depths. Because the remains interred beneath Dragon Island were insufficient to complete its form, the creature lacked a lower half, yet it remained formidable enough.

With a single snap of its jaws, it swallowed the dying dragon Kog'Maw, along with the faerie dragon Bichu that possessed its body, enshrining its summoner within the skull forged of dragon bone to serve as both power core and protected ward.

This entity, for now termed the Death-Bone Dragon, wrenched a molten hand—now comically diminutive in comparison—from the earth and hurled it toward the gathering swarm of dragons. In an instant, countless drakes were struck by the wide-reaching blow, sent plummeting to the ground in a tangled heap.

The path lay clear. Now, the Death-Bone Dragon served as the vanguard, surging forward with an unstoppable momentum, crushing and colliding its way toward the seat of the Dragon God.

The latest duo-illustration of Avia and the Lady of Night has been uploaded to the discussion board, along with two extra pieces of fan service; if you cannot find them, please leave a comment and let me know, anywhere will do, I will certainly see it_(:з」∠)_