Chapter 95: The Seven Elders of the Military Command Block the Judgment Alliance’s Ten Regiments! Tyrant Seizes the Opportunity to Relocate to Sky Island!

Chapter 95: Chapter 95: The Seven Elders of the Military Command Block the Judgment Alliance’s Ten Regiments! Tyrant Seizes the Opportunity to Relocate to Sky Island!

The players following behind were about to ask what he intended to do and whether one hour would really be enough.

But their general had already agreed without hesitation. He turned around and gave a single command.

"Move out!"

The others immediately followed.

"Screeeee——!"

The several silver-white griffins waiting at the entrance of the territory spread their wings, soared into the sky, and turned toward Judgment Alliance’s position.

...

Judgment Alliance.

All ten commanders wore tense expressions as they stared at the territory not far ahead.

Behind them was an army twice the size of the previous force.

As the Tenth Regiment Commander advanced, he cursed furiously.

"That damned brat! He made the lords under my command lose levels and equipment, and even knocked them straight off the rankings!"

"When I get my hands on him, I’ll make sure he suffers. After he dies, I’ll camp outside his Altar and keep killing him until he’s back to Level 1!"

"Shut up."

The Second Regiment Commander, a beautiful woman riding on the back of a Red Dragon, shot him a disdainful glance.

"What’s important right now is eliminating that brat. Listen to the boss later. No unnecessary chatter. Destroy his Altar and kill him outright, kicking him out of the game for good."

The group continued flying for approximately another half hour.

A hill gradually appeared on the horizon ahead.

Atop the hill, they could make out the pointed roof of a castle and the outline of its surrounding walls.

The First Regiment Commander was just about to issue an order when—

"BOOM!"

Dust billowed into the air.

"Cough! Cough! Cough!"

"What the hell is that?"

The commanders at the front cursed under their breath.

The First Regiment Commander, however, remained calm. His ground beast took two steps backward as he narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what was ahead through the dust.

Seven silhouettes had appeared.

Seven humanoid figures, standing in a row and blocking the army’s path.

As the dust slowly settled, their appearances became clear.

Seven elderly men and women stood in a straight line before Judgment Alliance.

The white-haired general at the front stared directly at them.

To his left stood an old man holding a staff. To his right was an elderly woman leaning on a bone cane. Further to either side were four other old men of varying heights and builds, all standing remarkably straight.

The First Regiment Commander sat atop his armored ground beast, staring at the old general for a long time.

Suddenly, he sneered and jumped down from the beast’s back.

"Well, look who it is. Warren Whitmore."

The Commander of the First Regiment slowly took a step forward.

"Shouldn’t you military types be enjoying your retirement on your own turf? What brings you all the way here?"

Before the old general could respond, the elderly woman seated to his right, leaning on a bone cane, let out a cold snort.

"Such an ill-mannered brat. Can’t even show the slightest respect for his elders. The Judgment Alliance is becoming more and more unruly these days."

The First Regiment Commander wore a disdainful expression, but he knew why they were here today. Starting a fight with these people now would only delay matters, and the Alliance Leader would certainly be displeased.

"All right, Fiona Quinn, General Warren Whitmore, and the rest of you... esteemed seniors."

He forced the words out reluctantly.

"This is a personal feud between our Judgment Alliance and Tyrant. All you have to do is stay out of it today."

"In the future, if the Military Command needs anything on the main continent, Judgment Alliance won’t stand idly by."

General Warren smiled and glanced back at his six old companions.

"Listen to that. They’re dangling promises in front of us."

The old man holding the staff chuckled but said nothing.

The general turned back, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and spoke in an unhurried tone.

"I understand your Alliance Leader’s intentions. But, Little Dumpling..."

The First Regiment Commander’s eyebrows twitched.

It had been many years since anyone had called him that.

"...Unfortunately, we old fellows have also been entrusted with a task, and we intend to see it through."

"We’ve already given someone our word. How about doing us a favor and letting this one go?"

The First Regiment Commander’s expression turned completely cold.

The female commander of the Second Regiment sneered.

"Boss, stop wasting time with them. Tyrant sent them here to buy time."

As she spoke, she reached out and patted the Red Dragon’s neck.

The dragon opened its jaws, revealing a mass of dark red flames glowing deep in its throat.

"Senior, then we’ll have no choice but to offend you."

The old general stared at her for two seconds before suddenly laughing and shaking his head.

He turned toward the old man holding the staff.

"See? Young people these days are so hot-tempered."

The old man shrugged.

"Then let’s fight."

The general turned around and raised one hand.

Buzz——!

Silver-white magical patterns spread outward from beneath his feet, covering half the hillside.

"Open the Legion Space!"

Seven enormous white portals, each more than ten meters tall, split open in the center of the glowing patterns.

A deep, rumbling sound of hooves emerged from within.

When the first unicorn stepped out of the portal, the Tenth Regiment Commander, standing atop a mammoth’s head, swallowed hard.

Its silver-white mane fluttered in the wind. Blue-green lightning coiled around the spiraling horn atop its head, and frost formed wherever its hooves touched the grass.

One unicorn.

Ten.

A hundred.

Unicorn cavalry poured out of the portals in orderly formations, their synchronized hoofbeats merging into a silver-white tide as they spread across both sides of the hillside.

Next came the griffin cavalry. Their griffins were noticeably larger than the seven ridden by the old men themselves, and glittering magical bombs hung beneath their wings.

Then came the Treant Guardians, Rune Dwarves, Silver-armored Paladins...

The First Regiment Commander stood motionless, watching the endless stream of troops pouring out of the seven portals.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his silver mask.

He turned around and glanced at his own army.

Half-Orc Axemen, Troll Rock Throwers, Wyvern Riders, Heavy Infantry...

The two armies were roughly evenly matched.

"Very well, then."

The First Regiment Commander raised his hand and slashed it forward.

"All troops, attack!"

...

John watched as the two sides engaged in battle, then immediately turned toward Sylvie and shouted.

"Let’s go!"

Sylvie was taken aback.

"Aren’t we going to help them?"

"No."

John pulled the Sky Island Key out of his inventory. The silver key lay in his palm, radiating a faint warmth.

"Those seniors from the Military Command can hold them off. Using this opportunity to relocate our entire territory is the greatest help we can give them."

As soon as he finished speaking, he flipped his right hand.

The key transformed into a golden beam of light before rapidly expanding.

A three-dimensional map appeared before John’s eyes.

A faint golden dot blinked on the map before finally settling at a specific location.

Beside it was a label:

[Sky Island Coordinates: Above Dark-528 · Altitude: 4,200 meters]

John froze for a moment.

This location...

Wasn’t it Misty Wasteland?

And the regional sequence number was also close to his own territory.

"I’ve explored quite a few places around here, but I’ve never seen anything resembling a floating island."

John muttered under his breath before making a decision.

"Whatever. I’ll go in and take a look first."

He turned toward Ophelia.

"Transform into your dragon form and fly northwest. Approximately four hundred kilometers."

Ophelia didn’t ask any questions.

Purple flames erupted around her as the enormous hundred-meter dragon soared into the sky.

John leaped onto her back, while Raistlin, Bladeborne, Arno, and Vira quickly followed.

"Let’s go."

The purple dragon spread its wings and skimmed along the clouds, heading northwest.

Below them, the scenery of Misty Wasteland rapidly receded.

Four hundred kilometers was only a short journey for Ophelia.

Approximately twenty minutes later, the faint golden dot on John’s system map drew closer and closer until it almost overlapped with his current position.

"We’re here. It should be right around this spot."

John patted the dragon’s neck.

"Descend. Let’s search upward from below."