Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 1225: Six Lords

Unbeknownst to the world beyond, the great continent–The superpower of Dragonnerie was besieged by an army of its own deceased. In the blink of an eye, vile death force spread across the entirety of the floating continent, coating it in a mantle of dark, unwavering malevolence.

The heart of the living inhabitants skipped a bit–Not from the sheer terror of having Festering Death Force wash over them, but because their hearts truly did stop for a split moment. For a brief instant, they had been dead. They knew it. Had this death force not been funnelled to a precise objective, it very well could have provoked their demise on the spot.

What was worse was that the timing could not have been at a worse time–Or better, depending on which side you decided to view this situation from… Regardless, this was occurring precisely as no diplomat or anyone else was away from Dragonnerie.

All inhabitants were upon the continent–And they could not leave. A pyramidal barrier formed a moment prior to the wave of death force, keeping all of the noxious energy stuck within, not letting a sliver of it out, while the surface outside of the barrier showed a perfectly normal image of Dragonnerie…

This particular barrier was impressive even by the standards of its maker. Loimos hadn't just manifested an unfathomably enormous barrier that displayed a false image on the outside. This was work he had been planning for a very long time. From the very moment he had first approached Ariespes. All the way back then… He had already been planning a swift capture of the floating continent.

The pyramid was a wonder. The likes of which had never grazed this world before. If someone were to attempt to reach Dragonnerie right now, they wouldn't just hit a barrier, or go straight through it only to be presented with reality–Not in the least.

They would go through without even realising that a barrier was in the way, and they would reach a most peaceful, normal Dragonnerie, inhabited like normal. Where someone could have discussions, and stay, et cetera…

It was not reality, but it was not an illusion either. It was an artificial realm that Loimos had created himself. A perfect, one-to-one recreation of Dragonnerie. Of each and every one of its inhabitants. Loimos knew where every pebble was supposed to be, he had studied them. He knew everyone's name, he had studied them. He knew how all were supposed to act according to their personalities and lived experience, he had studied them…

Loimos knew everything about Dragonnerie, the only variable–The only instance of a being that had not been fully grasped by the undead, was Ronarkatast. An exalted being who had become one with his innate way of power.

It was bizarre to say that someone's essence was literally 'draconic breath', but it was the case here. Far removed from the more basic concepts of life force, death force… It wasn't even an energy on its own.

Draconic breath had no particular energy associated with it. Draconic breath was not unique to dragons. It was merely innate to many of them. They developed 'draconic' variations of the elements, but it was not required to wield this way of power at all.

Also, it remained that the atypical elements they used were still variations by the end of the day. Some could call it 'draconic mana' all they wanted, it remained mana in the end.

Yet, despite all this. Ronarkatast was a being of pure draconic breath. Putting it into words simply did not sound right…

All beings like himself were simply abnormal. Nearly incomprehensible to others.

Ronarkatast was the first and only dragon to achieve a level of mastery so high that his nature was changed… And it showed.

Instantly after Ariespes made the dead rise, the All-Draco was ambushed by the animated remains of all previous Dragonlords.

Dragons were all long-lived, and to ascend to the throne, one needed nigh absolute power. So Dragonnerie had rarely seen changes in leadership over its long history.

Nonetheless, Ronarkatast was unexpectedly surrounded by a giant wyvern, a hydra-tangle of thousands of heads, a six-winged, five-headed golden dragon, a wingless wyrm whose very presence seethed with untold toxins, and a feathered, flying serpent whose roar and breath seemed to be one and the same…

In such a situation, it would be expected for Ronarkatast to struggle. Each of his opponents had been brought back at their prime, and although their minds were not with them, it was no problem, as Loimos had made it so that they were granted a new one, crafted carefully by himself.

The current Dragonlord was, in fact, ambushed by his predecessors with all of them being at their absolute best, equipped with fast-thinking minds devoid of white noise. All of them linked and united into a perfectly coordinated team.

…Yet…

The ambush failed. Ronarkatast moved quickly, reappearing flying in the sky above the five previous rulers of Dragonnerie. Including the one he had himself slain and taken the throne from.

All dragons had names, but the names of Dragonlords were always lost to history, for when they claimed the throne. They abandoned their former names and instead went by 'Ronarkatast'.

A name they got to keep even in death.

As such, every dragon present around bore the same moniker.

"Undeads, huh… How sneaky. Where are you, Loimos? Who else but you would have the balls to lead such an attack, huh?"

Silence was the only answer.

"Fine. I'll send these pitiful, disgraced lords back to their tombs first, then"

Ronarkatast roared, his regal shout sending tremors throughout the entirety of Dragonnerie as his form twisted and contorted. Usually, he oscillated between three forms. One draconic form that he assumed when in his palace. One draconic form when outside, and one humanoid one for when he had to discuss with other, much smaller humanoids.

He assumed the first.

He was not called the 'All-Draco' for nothing, and there was also a reason why he was so interested in meeting and discovering new dragon species. Any member of his kind, even if only related by a minuscule amount, was a new form for him to take. A new way for him to learn about dragonkind. A new way for him to view draconic breath.

Thus, his preferred form when in combat was an abominable mesh of the best of the best. No particular part of his body could be attributed to just one species of dragon. This body was the result of a great effort on his part. Adding all strengths, while eliminating all weaknesses.

Naturally, what went for his body also went for his draconic breath.

Rising into the sky, the giant wyvern flapped his wings. This former Dragonlord had been the first true ruler of Dragonnerie, being the one to unite the continent under a single banner and rule it with an iron talon.

The first lord bit down onto empty air, but Ronarkatast knew that this was the great wyvern's draconic breath in action, or at least, one application of it. Rather than spewing a stream of flames or something similar, the wyvern's bite tore through space itself, biting down upon its fabric.

Such an attack ignored all defences and would basically erase anything in its path–That was, unless you could reply in kind, which Ronarkatast did. Using one of his countless heads, he bit back, causing the two identical attacks to crash into one another.

As space rumbled, the All-Draco quickly moved. Unlike the wyvern, which only had one maw, he had countless, allowing him to immediately use the same attack again, only that instead of tearing through space, he deleted an empty portion of it, causing the wyvern to seemingly be dragged right in front of Ronarkatast.

The sky ignited with an infernal explosion. Flaming bones falling from it like shooting stars.

"That's one down. Who's next?"

Everything had happened quickly. The other former dragonlords had not had the time to get past the sneaky barrier Ronarkatast had erected just after the wyvern had flown up to him.

The feathered serpent gracefully flew up at the All-Draco, its maw emitting a crushing melody that slammed into the chimeric body of Ronarkatast without dealing any visible damage.

The old feathered lord was struck by a gigantic paw, swatted away at countless streams of purifying flames, met the noxious stream from the wyrm, whilst many limbs deflected a hail of golden pillars hurled from another direction.

The absurd hydra slammed into the All-Draco, wrapping and tangling his uncountable number of heads around his target's body like they were constrictor snakes.

"If you insist on coming to me, I can only oblige"

With his mastery of dragon breath, it would be silly to assume that he was still bound by its basic restrictions. After all, who said that one had to unleash a breath from their maw?

The current ruler's body erupted with an explosion, completely eradicating all signs of the hydra.

"Two down…"

This only left the golden dragon, the wyrm, and the feathered serpent.

"...You old timers might be able to count as a warm-up"