The job change is a bizarre and calamity; the nation begs me to tone it down.

The next moment, the entire Ural Ridge Mountains seemed to sink a bit.

It wasn't an earthquake.

It was some kind of force field that directly pressed the mountain into the Earth's crust.

The swarm of sub-dragons still circling in the sky vanished at this moment—

It's quiet now.

The dragons that had been roaring, breathing fire, and howling as they swooped down suddenly stopped moving. Their wings remained in a gliding position, and their heads were all turned in the same direction—towards the center of the rift.

That sudden silence was more chilling than any roar.

Then--

A voice came from the depths of the crack.

There are only four characters.

"Crush them."

Just three words.

But it's these three words—

All the dragons that had fallen silent in the sky simultaneously let out a dragon roar.

That dragon roar was different from before.

The previous dragon roar was high-pitched and excited, carrying the restlessness of entering a new world for the first time.

This time, the dragon's roar was respectful.

It was as if a subject had heard the king's command.

Kolya's pupils contracted sharply.

It's not because of those dragons.

Rather, it's because—right in the center of the crack, an outline is taking shape.

That silhouette was even larger than the largest dragon in the sky.

Much larger.

Much more.

High in the sky, Andrei, who had just killed three Saint-level sub-dragons with a single punch, was now suspended in the icy blue energy light, looking up at the huge outline that was taking shape in the center of the crack.

But anyone could tell that his expression was quite strange at that moment.

His pupils were visibly shrunken to pinpoints.

His lips were slightly clenched.

A solemn expression appeared on the face illuminated by the icy blue energy.

It's not fear.

The will of a source-level being cannot be easily shaken.

But that solemnity itself speaks volumes.

Because he sensed it.

An aura emanated from the emerging outline at the center of the crack—

They are on the same level.

Source level.

Source-level within the Royal Court of the Dragon King.

Yuri Andreyevich's fist slowly clenched.

A surge of icy blue energy erupted around him as he stared intently at the increasingly clear figure in the center of the crack.

As time passed, the outline in the center of the crack became clearer and clearer.

It gives the feeling of a wall emerging from the fog.

With each step forward, a whole host of details emerge.

The first thing you see is a pair of feet.

Barefoot, stepping on the swirling fragments of space at the edge of the crack.

The dark red scale pattern is faintly visible on the instep, extending upwards from the ankle.

It's like armor growing under the skin.

Then the legs, waist, and chest.

It is humanoid.

But it's not a person.

From the moment he stepped out of the crevice, everyone saw what was on his head—two dragon horns.

It grows diagonally backward from both sides of the forehead, curving into an arc, with glittering gold patterns on the corners, reflecting a dark red hue in the firelight of the sky.

He is about five meters tall.

It's a giant among ordinary people, but compared to the group of dragons with wingspans of two hundred meters, it doesn't seem so exaggerated.

But the aura emanating from him was heavier than that of all those dragons combined.

He stood there in the very center of the crevice, barefoot, without armor, weapons, or even a decent set of clothes.

His upper body was naked, with only a piece of something resembling animal skin wrapped around his waist.

His skin was a dark, bronze-like color, and his muscle lines were so clear they looked as if they had been carved with a knife.

But what's most chilling is his eyes.

Vertical pupils.

It had genuine crimson-gold vertical pupils, with no whites in the eyes; the entire eyeball was the color of lava.

The pupil is a vertical line, like a snake, or perhaps some species much older than a snake.

He glanced down.

With just one glance, the outermost rows of soldiers on the ground immediately went weak in the knees and knelt down.

The man with dragon horns stood in the center of the crack, and the air around him began to distort.

It wasn't the distortion of a heatwave. It was flames.

The colorless flames first spread from the soles of his feet, licked the edges of the cracks, and then rapidly expanded outwards.

After the flames spread to a certain extent, the colors began to appear—dark red, orange-yellow, and finally settled on a pure white.

White flames enveloped his entire body, burning quietly.

The flames didn't crackle or leap around.

They clung to his skin, as if they were alive, as if they were part of his body.

But wherever the white flames passed, the space itself receded, as if even the void was afraid of being burned.

……

High in the sky.

Andrei looked at that face.

The seriousness on his face deepened.

It's not because we don't know each other.

It's precisely because we know each other so well.

Ignatius.

The Royal Court of the Dragon King: The Throne of Blaze.

In the Northern Alliance's top-secret files, information about the Yalong Royal Court is classified as SSS-level secret.

In this classified file, there is a page marked separately in red ink—the mark contains only one name and a line of text following that name.

"Ignatius, Throne of Blaze. First among the Seven Kings. The strongest known force in the Argonian Court. Strength assessment: Origin level. Maximum combat strength—unknown."

The leader of the Seven Kings.

It took the Northern Alliance decades to grasp the general outline of the power structure of the Yalong Royal Court.

There are seven dragon kings in the royal court, each commanding a vast dragon legion.

There is a hierarchy among the seven kings, but the specific order is little known to outsiders.

The only certainty is that Ignatius, the dragon king, is ranked first.

All known intelligence points to the same conclusion: this guy is the most troublesome one in the Dragon King's Court.

Yuri took a deep breath.

The icy blue energy around him subsided slightly before stabilizing again.

He did not back down.

The word "retreat" does not exist in the source-level dictionary.

But he did make one move – he moved his position forward by half a step.

The meaning of this half-step is very clear: come on then.

"Lord Yuri."

Just as he took a step, a voice came from behind him.

Three figures rose from the defensive line behind the mountains and hovered beside Yuri.

The Northern Alliance has three demigods stationed here.

The first to arrive was a bald, burly man with a face full of scars and a body about the size of a small mountain.

His name is Boris.

The second was a middle-aged woman named Nova, with short hair, a serious face, and a layer of light blue crystalline armor covering her body.

The third one was the youngest, looking no more than forty years old, Alyosha.

His breathing was the weakest of the three, but his gaze was the most steady.

He held a slender sword in his hand, the blade shimmering with a dark silver light.

The three people stood on either side of Yuri, spreading out in a fan shape.

With the Source-level beings holding the line, the three demigods had plenty of confidence.