Chapter 774: The Might of Sky Rank
The surviving Ashen Orcs stood frozen in terror, not daring to move an inch. The sheer presence of a Sky Rank powerhouse had shattered their courage completely. If such a being made a move, all of them could be wiped out in ten seconds—at most.
The crippled Dread Dragon Warlord was shielded at the center by the Ashen Orc elite. Closest to him were a squadron of wyverns, then demon warlocks and orc wolf riders, and finally, a vast number of orc slaves forming the outermost ring.
A massive army formed an impenetrable barrier around the Dread Dragon Warlord, locking him deep within.
Then, the Grand Elder reached out and grasped the air. Instantly, it was as if a giant invisible hand had seized the Dread Dragon Warlord from the heart of his protective legion.
He was pulled toward the Grand Elder. The wyverns tried to intervene, but the moment they touched him, they were sent flying backward. No matter who tried to rescue the Dread Dragon Warlord, they were immediately repelled by the force.
Ten thousand soldiers, countless elites, yet all they could do was watch helplessly as the Dread Dragon Warlord was snatched away like a defenseless fledgling, utterly powerless to resist.
This scene left the surrounding Dark Elves in awe—such was the power of Sky Rank!
The Ashen Orcs could only look on, not even daring to utter a word of protest.
Dragged before the Grand Elder, the Dread Dragon Warlord found himself surrounded by a circle of Dark Elves, their eyes blazing with murderous intent. His face turned noticeably pale.
"What do you think you’re doing? Let me tell you, I’m one of the three Dread Dragon Warlords of the Ashen Orcs. If you dare lay a finger on me, just wait for the Ashen Orc Tribe’s army to arrive! By then, you pitiful survivors will all be slaughtered!"
"Let me go, quickly! If you release me now, there’s still room to negotiate. Otherwise, prepare for a war to the death with the Ashen Orc Tribe. Think carefully—given your current strength, if you go to war with our entire tribe, what do you think will happen to you Dark Elves?"
The Dread Dragon Warlord had lost all his magic. Facing those murderous stares, every hair on his body stood on end. And with a real Sky Rank master standing before him, if he showed any weakness, he’d die horribly. He had to act tough.
The Grand Elder glanced at the Dread Dragon Warlord and then slowly said, "Let him go."
The surrounding Dark Elves were all shocked. The Second Elder grew anxious—after all the damage the Dread Dragon Warlord had caused the Dark Elf Tribe, how could they just let him go?
Before the Second Elder could speak, the Grand Elder waved a hand, stopping him.
"I have my reasons."
The Grand Elder explained. Although the other Dark Elves were unwilling, they could only accept it. After all, the Dread Dragon Warlord was now a cripple—even if he returned, his life would be worse than death. He’d made many enemies by becoming a warlord and acting so wickedly. Now that he was powerless, plenty would seek revenge, and the other two warlords wouldn’t let him off either.
The Dread Dragon Warlord was stunned by the Grand Elder’s words. He hadn’t expected that after a few tough words, they’d actually let him go.
"You… you’re really going to let me go?"
The Dread Dragon Warlord looked utterly unconvinced.
The Grand Elder gazed coolly at the Dread Dragon Warlord. "Bring your chieftain here."
Only then did the Dread Dragon Warlord truly believe it. With his life no longer threatened, there was hope his strength might someday return. After all, the Ashen Orcs’ power came from their bloodline, and he was among the best. There was still a chance for recovery.
"Hmph, you want our chieftain to come here? Don’t think you’re so great just because you broke through to Sky Rank. I’ll have you know, our chieftain might have reached Sky Rank too!
Even before reaching Sky Rank, our chieftain was the strongest Ashen Orc, forcing your Dark Elves to barely survive. He’s not like you, only breaking through when you’re at death’s door—our chieftain is at his peak! Don’t get cocky, bullying me with your Sky Rank just because I’m a mere titled magus. If our chieftain comes himself, you’re dead for sure, and your Dark Elf Tribe will be wiped out!"
The Dread Dragon Warlord refused to back down, spitting out threats. Seeing the Dark Elves’ eyes blazing with fury, he finally huffed coldly and stalked away.
From a distance, Leon Merlin watched the scene unfold and let out a cold laugh.
That fool—stripped of his magic by a Sky Rank master, and he still thinks he’ll recover? Does he really believe Ashen Orc bloodline power makes him invincible?
Quite the opposite. When a Sky Rank personally strips away your power, it isn’t just magic lost—it’s something far harder to restore. There’s basically no chance of recovery, at least not in this era. Absolutely impossible!
The Dread Dragon Warlord talked tough, but as soon as he returned to the Ashen Orc army, he immediately urged them to leave the Dark Elf Tribe’s territory. The whole force fled like beaten dogs, desperate to escape, as if terrified the Grand Elder might change his mind.
With the Ashen Orc army gone, it was time to restore the Dark Elf Tribe. The wounded Dark Elves were mostly healed by the Grand Elder; only those who had fallen needed their bodies tended to.
Next came rebuilding the tribe’s structures and awakening all the ancient war trees that had fallen into slumber, so they could once again defend the enclave.
Leaving the Life Sigil Crystal’s pocket world, they arrived at a vast plaza in the heart of the Dark Elf Tribe.
At that moment, the plaza was packed with Dark Elves. Even the treehouses around the square were crowded with them.
In the middle of the plaza stood the Third Elder, his legs petrified and his magic sealed, utterly alone.
The Grand Elder sat in the very center, expressionless, staring at the Third Elder. The other elders and stewards of the tribe formed a circle around them.
The Third Elder stood isolated in the plaza’s center, the madness gone from his face. He understood now—the Grand Elder had reached Sky Rank, and any thought of rebellion was hopeless. All he could do was hope for a less dire outcome; as long as he survived, there was still a chance.
Scanning the plaza, the Third Elder quickly realized that only a handful of his most loyal supporters remained, watching from the fringes. The rest had been subdued. None of the Dark Elves here looked at him with kindness; every gaze burned with naked hatred.
"Brewster, you’ve disappointed me greatly."
The Grand Elder sighed softly and spoke, his words slow and heavy.
The Third Elder immediately protested, unwilling to accept his fate.
"Grand Elder, I refuse to accept this! Why are you treating me like this? None of this is my fault!"
He shouted his defense, refusing to admit any wrongdoing. Suddenly, his gaze landed on Leon Merlin, brimming with undisguised hatred.
It was that damned outsider—if not for him, I wouldn’t be in this mess. It’s all his fault!
"Grand Elder, it’s all this damned outsider’s fault! If not for him, none of this would have happened. He’s been scheming against the Dark Elf Tribe from the start. If you hadn’t woken up, his plot might have succeeded!
Ever since that outsider arrived, disaster has struck the tribe. In just a few days, we’ve lost over a thousand elite Dark Elves. And of all times, he showed up right before our hunting party was wiped out by the Ashen Orcs!
He leaked our secrets! He’s a spy!
He broke our laws, colluded with the Ashen Orcs, and caused the deaths of many Dark Elves. It’s all his fault!"
Before the Third Elder could finish, the Second Elder slammed his hand on the table, leapt to his feet, and pointed at Brewster in furious accusation.
"You’re absolutely depraved, Brewster! There’s no saving you now! Even at a time like this, you’re still trying to pin everything on Merlin!
Do you really think I know nothing? I held back for the sake of the tribe’s stability, because we were at a crisis point. But look at what you’ve done!
You blame Merlin? Ask any Dark Elf here—who believes this is all Merlin’s fault?
You claim Merlin plotted against the Dark Elves, trying to destroy our tribe. Is your brain made of magma like those filthy Ashen Orcs?
The Life Sigil Crystal’s artifact incarnation went missing. For a hundred years, we had no clues—no idea where it was.
Only a few decades remain before the Life Sigil Crystal’s pocket world collapses completely. You know better than anyone what fate awaits the Dark Elf Tribe then!
If Merlin wanted us destroyed, why bother with all this? He could’ve just stood by and watched us perish—are you insulting everyone’s intelligence?"
At these words, all the Dark Elves nodded. After so many years of disaster, more and more Dark Elves were unable to bear children, and those born were weak and lacking in talent.
Even the tribe’s environment was worsening—magic fading, food growing scarce. If someone wanted the Dark Elves wiped out, they’d only need to stand aside and let despair do the work. What could be more cruel than that?
Why would anyone come to the tribe in its final hour just to scheme?
No one believed the Third Elder’s words. He just kept running his mouth, refusing to back down and relentlessly blaming Leon Merlin.
"It’s him! If he hadn’t colluded with the Ashen Orcs, I’d never have risked contact with them. It was all part of my plan, everything I did was for the tribe. When the Life Sigil Crystal was in trouble, I went to great lengths to discover that the Dread Dragon Warlord’s artifact could help stabilize it, slowing the collapse of its pocket world."