Chapter 318: Throat of the Abyss

A small black sphere appeared in the path of the Metamagic Annihilation Cannon. It spun continuously, rapidly expanding into a massive black hole that sucked in the surrounding air to form a howling gale.

Forbidden Spell—Throat of the Abyss!

The Throat of the Abyss created a black hole capable of devouring everything. Whether matter or energy, anything sucked inside would be exiled into spatial turbulence, doomed to wander the endless void forever.

Standing with his back to the black hole, the orc warrior was closest to the epicenter. He immediately felt a crushing suction pulling at him and frantically braced himself with all his might.

The Ancient Gold Dragon, having received a telepathic warning from the White Dragon Lord beforehand, used the suction to rapidly close the distance. It lashed out with its long, sweeping tail.

Strike while they are down!

With the black hole dragging him backward and a deadly strike incoming from the front, the orc warrior had nowhere to dodge in midair. Driven into a corner, he activated a secret skill, his eyes flooding with a bloodthirsty scarlet.

Berserk!

The already massive muscles beneath the orc's reddish-brown skin swelled visibly. Thick veins bulged like earthworms writhing in mud, and his flared nostrils vented twin streams of white steam like a boiling kettle. But he wasn't finished.

Legendary Berserk!

If his initial Berserk merely swelled his muscles, the Legendary Berserk inflated them to monstrous proportions. Mountain-Bearer's height shot up by an entire meter right before their eyes. This was no longer just a physical transformation; it touched upon the fundamental power of laws.

"I am Parog Mountain-Bearer!!!"

Roaring his name to the heavens, the orc warrior activated a secret skill exclusive to High-Tier Legends and above—Ultimate Berserk!

Under the effects of Ultimate Berserk, Mountain-Bearer ballooned to the size of a true giant. He panted heavily, the steam pluming from his snout resembling the smoke of a train engine. The thick blood surging through his veins burned like liquid magma, turning his entire body a furious, lobster-red hue.

"Haaah!"

The massive double-bitted battleaxe now looked like a mere toy in his hands. Parog simply tossed it aside, swinging a colossal fist to intercept the sweeping dragon tail. The extreme strength brought on by multiple berserk skills was the very reason the Warrior class dared to wrestle with dragons.

All of this unfolded in the blink of an eye. The sudden emergence of the black hole had instantly reversed the battlefield's momentum. If the Ancient Gold Dragon could just knock the orc backward, Parog would be thrown into a fatal, inescapable trap.

With his retreat completely cut off, Mountain-Bearer had no choice but to bet everything on forcing his way forward, fighting tooth and nail for a sliver of survival.

But the Ancient Gold Dragon was no ordinary foe either; the orc warrior's fate hung by a thread.

In the split second before the two collided, a beam of pitch-black light plummeted from the sky and struck the Ancient Gold Dragon. The evil god priestess, Anveena, had made her move.

Curse!

Weakness, lethargy, and a sudden drain of fighting spirit—a slew of negative statuses washed over the Ancient Gold Dragon, visibly dulling its strike.

The moment the black light flared, the Cat-Woman realized the priestess's plan to buy her ally a lifeline. Vibrant green light quickly gathered at the druid's fingertips, preparing to purge the debilitating Curse from the dragon.

But that brilliant green glow of life stood out like a beacon amidst the heavy aura of death. Sugnor Gloomdagger, stalking through the shadows, immediately locked onto the Cat-Woman's position. Drawing a venom-laced throwing knife from his waist, he infused it with shadow energy and hurled it at her.

The shadow-infused blade moved with terrifying speed. If the Cat-Woman stubbornly followed through with cleansing the Ancient Gold Dragon, she risked a fatal strike to herself. Forced to defend, she dropped her magic.

Mountain-Bearer's desperate, all-out punch slammed squarely into the Ancient Gold Dragon's sweeping tail. Empowered by Triple Berserk, the orc's raw physical strength now rivaled that of a dragon.

Boom!

A thunderous shockwave erupted. The Ancient Gold Dragon let out a muffled groan as a tremendous force deflected its tail.

Even weakened by the Curse, a dragon's tail sweep was no minor blow. Parog strained every muscle to anchor himself, yet he still skidded backward toward the black hole. However, this was far better than being swatted directly into it.

Right behind him, the incoming Metamagic Annihilation Cannon finally collided with the black hole. It plunged inside, pushing the Throat of the Abyss past its energy-absorption limit, and both vanished simultaneously.

A split second later, a muffled pop echoed across the battlefield, sounding like a firecracker stuffed into a bottle. At the exact epicenter where the black hole and the Metamagic Annihilation Cannon vanished, the very fabric of space rippled like a disturbed pond.

Fortunately, the forbidden spell hadn't exploded on their native plane, and the spatial boundaries of a medium material plane were remarkably sturdy. Space merely rippled for a moment before smoothing back into total stability.

Mountain-Bearer's crisis was averted.

Concurrently, a beam of brilliant white light lanced out from the Floating Tower, washing away the Curse lingering on the Ancient Gold Dragon. The White Dragon Lord's purification magic had arrived just a step too late.

Having deflected the poisoned throwing knife, the Cat-Woman's vertical azure pupils narrowed into slits as she rapidly chanted a spell.

The thrown blade had exposed his location. Knowing he had blundered, Sugnor Gloomdagger immediately melted back into the shadows.

A mere two seconds later, the Cat-Woman finished her incantation.

Wild, savage growth erupted from the tip of her withered-vine staff. A torrential wave of vines spilled forth—spreading like ivy overtaking a wall and thrashing like a den of vipers—swarming the exact area where Sugnor Gloomdagger had vanished.

Under the White Dragon Lord's Soul Sight, Sugnor Gloomdagger had absolutely nowhere to hide.

The withered vines propagated with insane speed. It was a deeply unnatural sight, and the hairs on Sugnor Gloomdagger's neck stood on end. These vines were not fueled by vibrant life magic, but by a dense, almost tangible aura of death.

The dead vines blotted out the sky behind him, sweeping down like the skeletal fingers of the Grim Reaper. Ignoring his energy consumption, Sugnor Gloomdagger spammed Shadow Shuttle to flee in a panic, but his speed could not outpace the surging briars.

Seeing her ally about to be swallowed alive by the thicket, the evil god priestess Anveena intervened once more.

Divine Tether!

A cord of milky-white light shot out from Anveena's hands and lashed securely around Sugnor Gloomdagger's waist. Snapping back like a bungee cord, the tether of divine power yanked the rogue instantly back to safety by the priestess's side.

Landing solidly on the roof of their own Floating Tower, Sugnor Gloomdagger let out a breath of relief.

The White Dragon Lord frowned deeply, locking his eyes on Anveena atop the enemy's Floating Tower.

Although Anveena hadn't stepped foot on the front lines, her battlefield control was unmatched. She had effortlessly neutralized two devastating strikes that would have otherwise crippled her team. Right now, the White Dragon Lord found her exceptionally annoying.

His mind briefly flicked to his own priestess sister, who was probably back home sleeping in, and he shook his head.

As frustrated as the White Dragon Lord was, Ghosthand—watching from within the suspended conical Floating Tower—was thoroughly appalled. His team held a clear numerical advantage, yet they were the ones getting battered on the defensive.

Those three were no ordinary High-Tier Legends!

Ghosthand knew right then that this skirmish would end in a stalemate.

The White Dragon Lord shared the exact same sentiment. Real experts knew each other's limits after a single exchange. As long as that evil god priestess remained safely perched atop her tower, his side had zero chance of securing a decisive kill.

The only alternative was for both factions to unleash their Floating Towers' ultimate weapons and bet their lives. That level of escalation would force both leaders to summon their allies from neighboring zones, sparking an all-out war between Nordhill and Little Finger. Neither side could guarantee they would walk away from that bloodbath alive.

Furthermore, with the Cult of the Dragon lurking in the shadows, neither faction could afford to weaken themselves in an all-out war.

While both leaders recognized the stalemate, the fighting had to continue for appearances' sake. Little Finger's legendary powerhouses were still observing from afar. If Ghosthand and his three elite subordinates tucked their tails and fled now, their reputations would be permanently ruined.

Little Finger's legendary exploration squad had suffered a devastating loss earlier.

Ghosthand had to at least make a show of avenging his men. If he fought hard but simply lacked the power to kill the enemy, his subordinates would accept it. But if he lacked the courage to even try, he would instantly lose their loyalty.

A fractured team was impossible to lead. For the sake of his own pride and his faction's future stability, Ghosthand was forced to keep up the assault.

Sugnor Gloomdagger vanished back into stealth, and the evil god priestess furiously resumed her chanting. The three main casters—Ghosthand, the White Dragon Lord, and the Cat-Woman—unleashed a barrage of high-tier spells at each other, churning the sky into a chaotic maelstrom of raw magic.

Down below, the Ancient Gold Dragon clashed savagely with Mountain-Bearer, who was empowered by Triple Berserk. At the High-Tier Legend rank, a dragon's inherent physical supremacy was no longer enough to completely crush other martial classes. The two traded brutal, earth-shaking blows, fighting tooth and nail in close quarters.

However, the lethal tension from earlier was entirely gone. The flashy explosions and roars were nothing more than empty spectacle. Both sides were silently stalling, putting on an elaborate show for their respective audiences.

After roughly ten minutes of performative brawling, Ghosthand signaled his three elite companions to withdraw, and the Little Finger forces evacuated with their surviving legendary powerhouses in tow.

As Ghosthand covered his subordinates' retreat, the White Dragon Lord offered a shred of professional courtesy and didn't press the attack. Even a clay idol has three parts of temper, and pushing a cornered enemy into a suicidal frenzy was never a smart play.

Throughout the entire skirmish, the two leaders hadn't exchanged a single word. Even in retreat, after suffering a distinct disadvantage, Ghosthand didn't bother tossing out any petty threats.

The White Dragon Lord knew full well that this made Ghosthand the most dangerous type of enemy. The man wasted no breath on nonsense, but the moment he spotted a weakness, he would strike from the shadows like a coiled viper.

Back inside the Floating Tower, the legendary powerhouses who had spectated the clash were buzzing with excitement. It was incredibly rare to observe a High-Tier Legend battle up close from a position of absolute safety, and every spectator had walked away with valuable insights.

Elena felt the exact same way. She had never seen the Cat-Woman fight at full strength before. Watching the druid's combat flow had been a masterclass in applied magic. Elena was certain that once they returned home, her own druid training would advance in leaps and bounds.

With victory secured, the legendary powerhouses poured out of the tower. Some went to study the massive craters left by the magic, some scoured the battlefield for leftover loot, and others went directly to secure the very prize that had sparked this fight—the mineral vein.

As the White Dragon Lord's younger sister and the Cat-Woman's disciple, Elena naturally enjoyed a few special privileges. With two High-Tier Legends backing her, she didn't bother flying down to squabble with the others over battlefield merits. Instead, she headed straight into the Floating Tower's control room to meet with the three High-Tier Legends.

Following the intense clash, none of the three High-Tier Legends were in peak condition. The White Dragon Lord and the Cat-Woman had both burned through massive reserves of mana and mental focus.

The Ancient Gold Dragon, having acted as the primary vanguard, looked the most battered. Mountain-Bearer's desperate punch had cracked several thick scales along its tail, and while Ghosthand's magic hadn't inflicted any lasting damage, they had left the golden behemoth covered in ash and soot.

Currently, the two dragons and the Cat-Woman were resting on the floor, quietly meditating to recover their strength.

Knowing better than to interrupt them, Elena stood quietly to the side and waited. After closely observing the Cat-Woman's battle, she had reaped tremendous insights but was also left with dozens of burning questions regarding spellcraft. She had come specifically to seek the Cat-Woman's guidance.

Suddenly, Elena frowned. A chilling prickle of being watched crawled up her spine; there might still be an enemy lurking in the dark.

The implications were too serious to ignore, prompting her to interrupt her brother's meditation.

"Amos, I feel like someone is watching us."

Receiving his sister's telepathic warning, the White Dragon Lord didn't even open his eyes.

"Ignore them. It's just a pack of undead rats that can't stand the light of day."

The moment the battle began, the White Dragon Lord had detected the Cult of the Dragon's scouts observing them from afar. Their lurking presence was the primary reason both factions had tacitly decided to fake the rest of the fight. Neither side had any intention of fighting to the death only to be swept up by a third party.

Reassured, Elena relaxed and went back to waiting quietly.

The sheer magical turbulence of the battle had blown away the eternal gray clouds smothering the region. For the first time in ages, warm sunlight pierced through the gloom, shining down upon the Rodoro plane and bringing a fleeting touch of life to the freezing Necromantic Plane.

Bathed in the warm rays, the magnificent Floating Tower hovered silently in the sky as silhouettes darted in and out of its gates.

Not long after, the battlefield sweep concluded. The White Dragon Lord powered up the Floating Tower and transported everyone back to the No. 3 Mine Pit.

Once the three High-Tier Legends recovered their stamina, they immediately held a debriefing. They meticulously documented and analyzed every spell, tactic, and secret skill the enemy commanders had revealed during the clash, immediately broadcasting the intelligence to the other allies deployed across the region.

With this data, if any allied High-Tier Legends crossed paths with Ghosthand's crew in the future, they would hold a slight tactical edge.

It would only be a slight edge, however, because both sides had intentionally held back their ultimate trump cards—such as the White Dragon Lord's devastating Soul Magic.

With the intelligence dispatched, the three commanders finally settled back into their routine.

Since he had been the one to strike first and break the unspoken rules of the battlefield, the White Dragon Lord ordered his forces to pull back and consolidate their defenses. Going forward, personal safety was to be prioritized above all else.

Truthfully, the decision to ambush Little Finger's exploration squad hadn't been an impulsive act; it had been a carefully calculated move.

After weeks of intensive scouting, all the high-value mineral veins across the Rodoro plane had been charted, and the majority had already been mined clean. The valuable magical beasts had similarly been hunted to near extinction. This grand, multi-faction scramble for resources was finally drawing to a close.

Shattering the unspoken ceasefires didn't matter in the endgame. Moving forward, only two outcomes remained: either the various raiding factions would pack up their plunder and quietly return home, or the three great powers would plunge into a chaotic, all-out war for one final surge of madness.

If it was the former, the broken rules wouldn't matter. If it was the latter, the current fragile peace was utterly useless anyway.

While the actual fighting had concluded, the ripples of the skirmish were just beginning to spread. Detailed intelligence reports regarding the clash rapidly circulated among the upper echelons of every major faction.

Deep within a gloomy underground cavern, a colossal dragon skeleton wreathed in pale flames rested on the stone floor. It radiated a suffocating aura of negative energy, acting like a toxic reactor that bleached the surrounding earth and stone into a sickly, ashen gray.

The dracolich, Samiat Bone-Erosion Flame, silently read over the intelligence report detailing the White Dragon Lord's trio.

"An ancient gold dragon, a white dragon, and a silver dragon... This Nordhill plane is certainly interesting."