Ongstein stayed silent for a long while.

After all, the entire process described by Lann left this Great Knight of the Divine Era, who had witnessed countless storms, even helped create the Fire Age, and observed the First Flame’s initial decay, feeling disoriented.

All the forces prepared to rekindle the flame failed at each step during crucial moments.

Leading up to today’s situation.

Although the decay process of the First Flame and its irreversibility is something he has witnessed firsthand during his long life.

Yet the situation has never been this dire before.

"Underneath the Ancient Dragon’s peak... has the sun completely vanished for a long time?"

Ongstein could hardly process it, gazing at the ever-bright sunlight above.

"The skies here have always been normal; the undead have not lost control and become wandering spirits; I simply... but what about Simo? With him, how could Shalivan possibly..."

He felt absolutely nothing.

"If Simo holds military power over the Cold Valley, then naturally Shalivan cannot."

Lann narrated calmly.

"But it’s unfortunate, Shalivan is clever; he had already dismantled the Cold Valley’s military force before making moves. Those Silver Knights didn’t have a chance to regroup, as you know, right?"

Seeing Ongstein appear somewhat crestfallen, Lann’s eyes slightly narrowed.

On the Ancient Dragon’s peak, under normal weather, in normal circumstances... could the undead not even sense the decline of the First Flame?

And if this phenomenon was widespread, then this world’s humans, or life.

Do they truly need the First Flame itself, or just the stable environment it maintains?

He shook his head slightly, casting aside thoughts that delved too far.

Though delving deep into situations is a habitual mindset for Lann, the researcher.

But still, as he said, now isn’t the time.

Elderidge continues to ravage Ilyushil!

"So you’ve come over..."

Ongstein organized his thoughts, the majestic and proud lion helmet watching Lann, the apparent leader.

"to find him?"

Saying this, Ongstein tilted his head towards the direction of the giant bell lever.

Meaning that Nameless King.

"Shadow Sun could be devoured by Elderidge at any moment; you left his service, you should know his current strength dwindles compared to the past, not to mention he’s been tampered with and gravely ill."

Lann’s speech was quick, highlighting a sense of extraordinary urgency.

Yet Ongstein shook his head as though facing a difficult situation.

"He has lived alone on this Ancient Dragon’s peak for tens of thousands of years, banished from the Divine Race for thousands. Daily intensive training, tormenting his mind and body, hoping to clarify the Path of the Ancient Dragon. His will has long solidified."

"I left Ilyushil to find him. But as you’ve seen."

Ongstein reaches out, pointing to the other end of the plaza beneath the bell tower, where the Dragon Hunting Spear impales the iron gate.

"We commenced battle, and he knocked away my spear. He won’t leave that Storm Dragon, his ally, nor will he leave the Ancient Dragon’s peak. His identity within the Divine Race likely means nothing to him now."

Lann stepped forward: "We must try anyway! Otherwise, do you let Elderidge truly empty out the whole of Ilyushil?"

Honestly, Lann was quite confident about negotiation matters.

Negotiating skills are a strength among Son of the Emperor, even talents in domestic affairs and strategy viewed as remarkable by others.

Yet internally among Son of the Emperor, negotiation stands alongside swordsmanship and bioengineering, categorized as a ’talent’.

Unless there exists an irresolvable conflict of fundamental interests, or the negotiating party is entirely uncommunicable, Lann has not failed a negotiation to date.

This showcases a trait inherited from the Genetic Seed.

Lann drew You’Er Xia closer, the Half-Dragon Girl’s delicate arms and shoulders akin to a fragile porcelain doll.

"Even for You’Er Xia’s sake, the Nameless King couldn’t possibly deny a chance to converse, right?!"

With Lann’s adjusted demeanor and tone, You’Er Xia’s fragile, innocent aura was vastly amplified.

Whatever attitude the Nameless King may hold remains unknown for now, at least Ongstein had tilted his head and remained silent.

Long after, the voice carried out from beneath the golden lion helmet, tinged with helplessness and determination.

"...I’ll lead you in."

He stepped heavily towards the giant bell lever.

"If he won’t go, then I must draw my spear, descending from the Ancient Dragon peak!"

The lever was pulled, the ponderous grand bell rang out atop the Ancient Dragon peak once again.

In a blink, a vast tempest cloud formed, covering the once expansive plaza in a layer of black cloud.

The clouds were dense enough to stand upon!

The three successively jumped down from the platform, stood on the cloud, and moved towards the original plaza direction.

The sound of flapping wings emanated from the sky.

That was a member of the Dragon Race unlike ordinary flying dragons, having grown bird-like feathers.

After soaring in a full circle, it paused in the distance.

The surrounding storm and dark clouds seem to be under the control of this dragon.

Compared to mere physical enlargement, the ability to control such a vast range of forces appears far more terrifying and advanced.

It’s almost like the Ancient Dragons of the New Continent!

Yet even so, the presence of this unique dragon is far overshadowed by the man standing on its neck.

Beneath the tattered cloak, hints of once-glorious armor can be seen, with a head of white hair surrounded by a crown, rising with the storm.

Holding a massive golden sword-spear, golden thunder naturally breathes across his body and weapon.

The exposed skin nearly resembles black steel, and the fiber of his muscles is starkly prominent beneath the skin.

Solid yet withered... Ongstein was right; this is the visage of one who has undergone arduous training.

And it seems this millennia-long ordeal continues.

The figure once seen in Rosalie’s memory now spans the millennia before Lann’s eyes.

The once Dragon-Hunting War God, Eldest Son of the Sun!

It seems he senses the difference in this ringing of the bell.

Those who came to the peak of an Ancient Dragon to challenge the Nameless King are all great warriors, battling to seek improvement.

Such battles, even knowing the result is death, they would never call for assistance.

Yet now, three people have come.

The tall Nameless King descends from the storm dragon’s neck, stepping on dark clouds towards them.

Both parties halt at a distance where weapons can’t touch.

The Nameless King says little.

His face wrapped in a tattered scarf, with eyes caught between the crown atop his head.

He thoughtfully glanced at You’Er Xia, who stood last, expression calm but arms unconsciously crossed.

Then he raised the divine weapon in his hands, the [Dragon Hunting Sword Spear].

The thunder on the golden gun-blade was suppressed to the point of feeling nothing, its ancient yet still powerful blade sweeping towards Lann’s face.

You’Er Xia stood behind Lann, instinctively wanting to step forward but was held back by Lann’s hand.

Amber cat eyes confronted the disgraced divine one without any retreat.

And clearly, the Nameless King did not intend to harm Lann, as the sword-spear’s huge blade merely swept past Lann’s exquisitely and eerily beautiful face, taking only a strand of his silver hair. That’s all.

Yet a golden kiss mark briefly appeared as if resonated with power.

The King’s eyes deeply roved over the Demon Hunter and the Half-Dragon Girl, contemplating for a moment...

He lowered the Dragon Hunting Sword Spear in his hand and waved back, signaling his ally storm dragon to hold its temper.

-----------------

In the ancient ruins of Divine Capital Anorlondo, in the room most cherished by Gwendolin, the former bedchamber of his elder sister before she married.

Now it has become a filthy and muddy lair.

Defiled and desecrated. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"Foolish heretic of the reverse gods!"

Gwendolin’s voice rang out sharply and powerfully, echoing through the layers of the building.

"Believers of the Abyss, engulfed fools! In the name of the Shadow Sun Gwendolin, I swear! Elderidge, you can never seek forgiveness! You must not contaminate this place!"

Yet strangely, the deeply foul powers spread and thrived, the voice of the Dark Moon God reverberated. But the huge chamber showed no sign of their presence.

Until a sharp ’crack’ sound, like glass shattering, was heard.

In the originally untouched bedchamber, fractures suddenly appeared in the air, followed by rapidly expanding web-like cracks!

The Shadow Sun appeared abruptly, lifting a magic staff high, snake legs under the skirt frantically sliding around, finally steadying.

On the other side, a large mass of hideous, disgusting black slime also fell from midair.

The black slime, having consumed too much, now had a texture close to loose flesh.

Inside, all sorts of white bones rolled, twisted, and floated on the surface of the black slime.

Under Gwendolin’s Dark Moon Crown, his pale hair was glued to his cheeks and collarbone, sliding with his labored breaths.

He was already too tired.

Until now, he finally understood the nature of his ’sickness.’

Shalivan had presented him a golden staff-spear not long ago, both a magic staff and a weapon.

When he took hold of it, he felt the shaft was sticky.

Shalivan excused it as weapon maintenance oil, but now, having confirmed the traitor’s identity, Gwendolin had no doubt it was some secretly developed poison or curse medium.

Now, he endured the erosion of toxin or curse while stirring his last strength against the half-full Elderidge.

Elderidge was burnt by the First Flame once; that’s true. He was never a combat-savvy managerial clergy; that’s also true.

But the darkness within him is the ’shadow’ of the First Flame.

When the First Flame burns, it only burns ’fuel’—souls. But it can’t burn shadows.

Thus the Abyss commanded by Elderidge is even stronger than his past peak state!

Even Gwendolin’s best illusion technique couldn’t delay him long.