Elven cultivators

North side of Holy Dragon City.

On an empty training ground.

Dark blue stone slabs covered the entire open space, with fine silver lines embedded in the gaps, outlining intricate dragon patterns. Dozens of thick stone pillars with dragon patterns stood around the perimeter.

Sefilas stood in the center of the training ground, his wings folded to his sides, and the thorns on his back slightly raised.

This is a little gesture he only makes when he's in a bad mood.

In front of him, more than fifty giant dragons sat or stood, their postures relaxed.

Some drooped their heads, their wings falling limply to the ground, as if something had drained their energy.

Some lay prone on the ground, their vertical pupils half-open and half-closed, their gaze unfocused.

An indescribable somber atmosphere permeated the entire training ground.

Sefilas watched all of this unfold, a surge of uncontrollable irritation rising in his chest.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and spoke in a low voice:

"Look at the state of you all now! Where is even a trace of the spirit of the Golden Clan?"

"I know what you're thinking."

"What are eleven spatial nodes? As long as the subspace exists, we haven't lost."

"As long as we hold out until the city lord emerges from seclusion, crushing the allied forces will be as easy as crushing a nest of ants."

"Everyone, perk up! We're heading to the Warp next, so don't let those inferior races laugh at us."

The dragons responded in unison, their voices uneven, but at least they displayed some imposing presence.

Just then, hurried footsteps suddenly came from the entrance of the drill ground.

A pure-blooded dragon rushed in, ran all the way to Sefilas's side, knelt on one knee, and bowed respectfully, saying, "Lord Sefilas, Lord Vota requests that you come to Holy Dragon Square immediately, saying that he has important matters to discuss."

Sefilas frowned.

Wota is one of the most senior royal dragons in Holy Dragon City and one of the few remaining elders of the Dragon Court.

With the city lord in seclusion, he will temporarily take charge of all affairs of Holy Dragon City.

Sefilas dared not delay in response to the summons from this royal dragon elder.

"Stay put."

He uttered a sentence to the dragons, then flapped his wings and soared into the sky, speeding towards the direction of the Holy Dragon Square.

Located in the very center of Holy Dragon City, Holy Dragon Square is the heart of the entire city and one of the most sacred places for the dragon race.

From the air, the square is a perfect circle with a diameter of over a kilometer, like a giant seal pressed onto the earth.

The ground was paved with whole pieces of dark gold stone slabs, with fine silver lines embedded in the seams between the slabs.

The silver lines outlined the patterns that converge from the edge of the square to the center, like countless rivers flowing into the sea, eventually weaving together into a complex and ancient totem in the very center of the square.

That is the emblem of the Dragon God.

Above the totem stands a majestic statue, overlooking the entire square.

That's a statue of the dragon god Aio.

Its entire body is carved from dark gold dragon blood crystal, with its wings half-spread and its dragon head slightly raised. Even when it is just standing silently, its overwhelming and domineering aura still covers the entire square as if it were a tangible thing.

However, since the dragon race and the dragon god lost contact, this statue seems to have lost some inexplicable charm.

It remains majestic and imposing, yet it inevitably gives one a sense of emptiness.

Sefilas landed at the edge of the plaza, folded its wings, and strode toward the center.

His gaze lingered on the statue for a moment, a complex feeling unconsciously rising in his heart.

The great Dragon God... what exactly happened?

Why not turn our attention to His most faithful believers and people?

Could it really be as those inferior races outside say, that the great dragon god has fallen?

Sefilas sighed, suppressing the inappropriate thoughts in his mind, and quickened his pace.

To his surprise, more than three hundred giant dragons had gathered in the square, covering a large portion of it.

There are dragons of all ranks: royalty, high-ranking officials, and low-ranking officials.

only……

Sefilas's gaze swept across the dragon horde, and a subtle doubt suddenly arose in his mind.

All the royal dragons present were, without exception, stormwing dragons like him.

The other three royal families had none of their dragons.

The thought flashed through Sephira's mind, but he didn't have time to delve into it.

He walked through the dragons and came to the base of the statue.

Wota was standing in front of the base of the dragon god statue, with his back to him.

The elderly royal elder stood tall and straight like a pine tree, his wings folded at his sides, the tips drooping slightly—the marks of time, signs of aging.

Even so, it did not diminish the aura of profound composure emanating from him.

When he turned around, the years and vicissitudes reflected in his vertical pupils still made Sefilas unconsciously tense up.

"Lord Worta."

Sefilas bowed his head slightly, his posture respectful.

Wota looked at him, a complex emotion flashing in his vertical pupils.

"Seraphis," Wota said slowly, his voice low, "From today onwards, you will remain in Holy Dragon City to guard the spatial node. I will arrange for another member of my race to take your place."

Sefilas froze, his vertical pupils revealing obvious astonishment and confusion, and subconsciously asked, "Why?"

"Because I have a more important task to entrust to you." Wota looked at him, his expression becoming more serious.

Sefilas's gaze sharpened, he remained silent for a moment, and then slowly nodded.

"Lord Wota, please give your orders."

"For the glory of the dragon race, I am willing to face death."

As Wota looked at his resolute expression, the complex emotions in his vertical pupils grew even stronger.

He didn't speak immediately, but looked up at the dragon god statue, remained silent for a while, and then slowly said, "The destruction of the warp is only a matter of time."

Sefilas's expression changed, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he was stopped by Vota's gaze.

"The coalition's offensive was more intense than we had anticipated."

"We originally thought that the subspace could sustain us for several hundred years, giving the city lord enough time to break through... but now it seems we were too optimistic."

Sephira remained silent.

Despite his passionate outburst in front of his clansmen, he was well aware that the dragon race was on the verge of extinction.

"Even if the warp is breached..." Sefilas's voice was somewhat hoarse, "we still have Holy Dragon City."

Wota did not speak.

He simply stared at Sefilas quietly, his vertical pupils devoid of any emotional fluctuation, only a chilling calmness.

That calmness was more powerful than any vehement rebuttal.

Sefilas couldn't finish his sentence.

He lowered his head and remained silent.

He understood that too.

Even the Annihilation Fortress couldn't stop the Allied Forces, and even the Warp was being gradually devoured. How could Holy Dragon City possibly stand up to them?

That once magnificent city, which symbolized the supreme majesty of the dragon race, is now nothing more than a splendid tomb.

It might be able to hold out for a while and make the coalition pay a heavy price.

But the final result is unlikely to change.

An unprecedented sense of bewilderment welled up inside Sefilas, throwing his thoughts into chaos.

Only then did he realize how vulnerable the dragon race was without the protection of the Dragon God.

Previously, it was the power of the Dragon God that gave them the right to look down on all things, making them believe that they were born to stand at the top of the pyramid.

But when that outer shell was peeled away, he discovered that dragons were no different from other races.

"Sefilas".

Wota's voice pulled him back from his chaotic thoughts.

"We need to prevent the worst-case scenario from happening."

"Even if Holy Dragon City is eventually breached, we must preserve the dragon race's bloodline so that they may have a chance to rise again in the future."

Sephira's heart skipped a beat, and he vaguely guessed what was going on.

He asked in a hoarse voice, "Lord Wota, what do you want me to do?"

Wota looked at the giant dragon in the square and said in a deep voice, "When that day comes, I want you to lead these people into the Storm Rift and break through to leave the Holy Dragon Mountains."

Sefilas was taken aback and followed his gaze, only then noticing more details.

Besides the Stormwing Dragon, there were many familiar faces among the high-ranking and low-ranking dragons present.

And the laws they master—ethereal, void, storm, tide, protection…

Including the wind elemental power of the Stormwing Dragon, these laws all share the same characteristic—they can greatly enhance survivability in the Storm Rift.

It was obvious that Lord Wota had been prepared.

Sefilas was shocked, yet he vaguely felt that... this was a reasonable choice.

There is only one road leading to the outside world in the Holy Dragon Mountains, which is the exit of the Rift where the Annihilation Fortress is located.

This is an advantage when defending against enemy attacks.

Easy to defend and difficult to attack; one man can hold the pass against ten thousand.

But if they were defeated, it would be a dead end.

Enemies were on all sides, and the only exit was blocked by the Allied forces.

They had no way out.

Once Holy Dragon City falls, the dragon race will only have two choices.

Either die in battle.

Either venture into the Storm Rift and seek a glimmer of hope in that forbidden land of death.

Sephira looked down at his claws, the claws that had torn apart countless enemies, but now they were trembling slightly.

It's not because of fear.

It was anger.

They were angry at their own powerlessness. They were angry at the dragon race's current predicament, and angry at those inferior races who had driven them to this point.

But anger solves nothing.

He raised his head and looked at Wota in front of him.

This elder, who had experienced both the most glorious years of the Dragon Clan and its fall from its peak to its current predicament, foresaw the ending earlier than anyone else and made the worst-case scenario plan.

Sefilas took a deep breath, suppressing all the emotions surging in his chest.

He lowered his head, his voice hoarse but firm: "I understand, Lord Wota."

Vota nodded, saying nothing more, but simply raised his paw and gently patted Sefilas's shoulder.

"Go."

"Prepare well. If the worst happens, I and the rest of our people will fight our way out for you."

Sefilas bowed his head and gave a deep bow to Wota, then turned and walked out of the square.