Chapter 524: The Battle of the Dragons (Part I)

The timeline rewinds to over ten minutes ago.

Deathwing, hurled from the earth's surface by a powerful spell from Malygos, the Spellweaver, was beyond furious. As he sped backward, Deathwing's form expanded rapidly, transforming from a small, shadowy humanoid figure to a terrifying beast with a length nearing a hundred meters and wings spanning several dozens more.

Almost as soon as he appeared, the Red Dragons soaring in the sky took notice.

"Roar!" Without a moment's hesitation, every Red Dragon, disregarding the commands of the orcs on their backs, furiously descended upon Deathwing.

The Red Dragons, at heart, had never truly wished to obey these commands. Their animosity with the Black Dragonflight dated back to the ancient times, an enmity that had persisted for millennia. This deep-seated hatred had made them lose all reason.

"Fools!" Neltharion, now known as Deathwing, scoffed at the younger Red Dragons.

Numerous red silhouettes sliced through the sky, darting towards Deathwing. But before the true might of the Black Dragonflight's Apect, these younger Red Dragons were merely an annoyance.

Indeed, this was Deathwing in his full glory, a stark contrast to his earlier engagements. His increased size was accompanied by terrifying speed, reaction, strength, and vitality.

Dealing with these Red Dragons was as effortless for him as swatting mosquitoes.

A single sweep of his wing could tear a Red Dragon - one that an entire human legion couldn't handle - to shreds.

A swing of his tail could break the spine of a thirty-meter-long dragon, reducing it to dust.

In less than half a minute, the skies were devoid of any Dragon capable of flight, except for Deathwing.

Flapping his wings, Deathwing, with his left talon, grabbed a grievously wounded dragon, roaring in triumph.

Blood oozed from the deep wounds in the victim's torso. His talons bore burnt marks, the price to pay for touching the corrosive acid flowing from the fiery patterns on Deathwing's body. None had ever touched Deathwing and escaped unscathed.

"Any more fools seeking death?" Deathwing taunted in the dragon tongue.

With his roar, Deathwing intended to declare his dominance to every being, whether in the skies or on the ground. Yet the response he received was a series of roars emanating from the direction of Grim Batol.

Deathwing quickly spotted the sources of the roars. Three, to be precise. And they weren't just any foes.

The graceful green of Ysera, the dazzling blue of Malygos, and the enigmatic earthy hue of Nozdormu. These colors rekindled ancient memories for Deathwing.

It was at this moment that Deathwing realized that these dragons weren't merely launching covert attacks through the Emerald Dream; they had truly entered the fray.

"Ysera... Nozdormu, and my good friend Malygos," Deathwing sneered mockingly.

"Your recklessness must end, brother," the Dreamer, Ysera, calmly retorted.

"Brother? I've never been your brother, Ysera. Open your eyes to reality. No being can stop me now from ushering in a new era for our kin!"

"The Supreme Dragon Aspect Deathwing, is it?" Ysera responded with clear sarcasm.

Deathwing shamelessly nodded, "Indeed, a title worthy of my might. But Ysera, for the sake of your scales, perhaps you should scuttle back to your dream. And you, Nozdormu, aren't you always busy with your sands? Hahaha! Have you forgotten who truly reigns supreme here? Against the three of you, I might even spare you a claw or two!"

"You're doomed!" Nozdormu's rage was palpable. His massive, sand-constructed form shimmered with golden brilliance. His gem-like eyes emitted a blinding light, "I've changed my mind, Neltharion! I will make you part of my collection ahead of time!"

"Pathetic," Deathwing retorted, releasing a corrosive breath. "And you, Malygos? Don't you have anything to say to an old friend?"

"Azdekassda!" An ancient dragon tongue phrase spilled from Malygos, which, when translated, roughly equated to a most profane curse.

As a supplementary response, the Blue Dragon opened his maw. A stream of frost shot out, bridging the distance between them to caress Deathwing's form.

But it wasn't Malygos' precision; Deathwing simply didn't bother to dodge.

The frost, upon contact, transformed into millions of tiny, crab-like parasites, desperately trying to tear away the scales and flesh.

"Snort."

With a contemptuous snort, acid spewed from the fiery patterns on Deathwing's body. It coated him, much like a mask, in a thick, black, corrosive layer.

"Squeals!" The parasites shrieked in agony. Almost all of them perished instantly, save for a few.

Effortlessly, Deathwing picked one off and swallowed it. He grinned at his opponents, showcasing a row of sharp teeth.

"Weak! Too weak! So weak that I'm ashamed to even associate with you."

"Weren't you behind the original plot?" Ysera coldly remarked.

"Hahaha! If you were deceived, it only proves your stupidity! Well then, since you all are as fragile as insects, you will share their fate..."

With a deafening roar, Deathwing lunged at his adversaries.

The three Dragon Aspects gave their all.

Malygos' spells, capable of annihilating a human city, were effortlessly deflected by Deathwing.

Nozdormu's time-altering abilities did hinder Deathwing, but only marginally, perhaps by no more than 2%.

Ysera's psychic assault was the most effective, but this also meant she bore the brunt of Deathwing's wrath.

The battle was lopsided. The Dragon Aspects launched physical and magical assaults on Deathwing, but he easily countered every move.

No matter how fiercely they attacked, the brutal truth remained: due to the power they'd sacrificed to create the Dragon Soul, these Guardian Dragons were as weak as newborns compared to Deathwing.