Whoosh, whoosh—the Blackgold Dreadwing’s shimmering, golden-black wings stirred the air and tore through the clouds. That elegant yet terrifying silhouette drifted in and out of the cloud banks, casting a vast shadow below. A body this massive couldn’t possibly be held aloft by mere atmosphere alone—the magical energy swirling across those mighty wings spread out like a blanket, crushing everything beneath.
Claws, teeth, and those ferocious eyes—all together, a nightmare made flesh. Its throat and nostrils sucked in air and spat out thick, rolling smoke. This was the ultimate evil dragon from hell itself, the oldest of its kind, straight out of the pages of history. Even back in the age of the gods, this beast had its place beneath the heavens. Now, with the gods gone and their powers faded, there were hardly any creatures left that could make it hesitate.
Not even the Ringwraith’s soul could fully control it—the brand buried deep in its body was just too powerful. Even when the foul miasma tried to possess it, the dragon’s own will pushed back. For instance, once the Ringwraith merged with the dragon’s body, it could only speak in the ancient tongue of dragons; every other language was useless. The dragon’s body was both vessel and prison, locking the Ringwraith’s soul inside.
This was its greatest achievement, and no matter how many ages passed, no matter how long it lay buried deep in the earth, it could never be erased.
Blackgold Dreadwing—Ankara—a name that echoes through ancient myth. Smaug from the Hobbit movies? That so-called invincible dragon who wiped out the dwarven empire in its prime? Just a junior compared to Ankara. Everything Smaug had, Ankara had—and then some. It’s the strongest of its generation, second only to the Dragon Progenitor who’s now become the Dragon God. Ankara hunts the whole world.
Like the legendary roc riding the wind, soaring ninety thousand miles.
With a flap of its black wings, thunder and wind roared—the massive evil dragon crossed mountains and rivers at an unbelievable speed. Those amber dragon eyes were fixed on the white mountain city at the horizon.
The ancient evil dragon is coming.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves with Ankara’s rampage. Let’s switch back to White City, just a few minutes earlier. In that moment, the twins and the Prime Artifact all turned into bursts of light and shadow—three waves of impact, all in a blink, smashing right into the Mountain Giant’s front teeth. It was like lightning struck—the Mountain Giant’s teeth shattered, crumbled, and finally tumbled out of the sky, slamming into the ground and kicking up a huge cloud of dust.
The soldiers on the city walls just stared, dumbstruck. This was the power of a mythic war. Win or lose, the devastation to the nation and its people would be enormous and lasting. The plains outside White City used to be fertile fields, but now, after just one battle, it was nothing but chaotic, miserable wasteland. Who knows how long it’ll take to heal the scars and quiet the tremors of war.
But no matter what, the most important thing is to win!
As long as we win, there’s hope—everything can be fixed. If we lose, it’s all over. Forget about farming or rebuilding; none of that matters anymore.
Boom—the earth trembled, and the bricks in the walls rattled and shook. The Mountain Giant staggered back, clutching its mouth like someone who just got their front teeth punched out—doubling over in pain, shuddering. After a moment of silence, it suddenly straightened up, threw its head back, and howled in fury. Not even a cargo ship’s horn could compare to that roar—the deafening sound waves tore apart the clouds and punched a hole in the gloomy sky.
Awooo—endless gusts swept out in all directions, turning into gales that made everyone’s armor and clothes rattle. The Mountain Giant had officially lost its mind—completely berserk. Its skin glowed dark red, and the heat could scorch anything that got too close. Blind and raging, it swung its arms wildly, each massive punch missing its mark, but everyone in White City couldn’t help but shiver in fear.
From the highest point in White City, you could see gigantic fists swinging from the far left to the far right, and from bottom to top. Every punch sent shockwaves through the air, rumbling like thunder. Even the light seemed to twist—as if the Mountain Giant was punching reality itself out of shape.
Everyone knew this was the Mountain Giant’s last rampage. If one of those punches landed on White City, it’d be game over.
Everyone was praying—praying that the Mountain Giant would waste its last bit of strength on pointless flailing, and please, please, don’t let it suddenly get any bright ideas.
The magic at the top of White City was at its final stage—whether it activated or fizzled out, it just needed a tiny bit more time. Just a little! So please, please, gods above, let this big oaf keep being dumb!
But alas, things never go the way you want.
One wild swing threw the Mountain Giant off balance. Like a drunk throwing a tantrum, it toppled over in front of everyone’s eyes. Shin, knee, palm—each hit the ground in turn, and with a simple OTZ pose, it triggered a massive earthquake.
Boom! The plains outside White City were totally wrecked—a crater so deep it was hard to believe.
It hung its head, panting like a total loser. But when it looked up again, a black fire gleamed in its one remaining left eye. With the twins no longer pestering it, something suddenly seemed to click. Crunch, crunch—stones shifted as the Mountain Giant turned to look at the summit of White City, where the magic circle had become a blazing white sphere, like a tiny sun radiating endless light.
It finally remembered its mission.
So, amid the rumbling earth, the people at the very top of White City saw the Mountain Giant push off its knee and stand up again. Its massive body rose from the ground, its monstrous face climbing into view, towering into the sky—its berserk killing intent now aimed squarely at White City.
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It stepped forward, and the earth shook.
"Stop it—whatever it takes, stop it!" "Fire! Fire! Aim everything at it!" The elven archers drew their anti-magic arrows and let fly. But even with a barrage of arrows in its knees, the Mountain Giant didn’t slow down one bit.
It squared up, stretching its right arm way back, gathering strength.
"No, no, no, no!" "Hurry, stop it, quick!" The Atlas Titan Cannon boomed nonstop, firing huge shells through the air, but they barely tickled it. Bullets rattled loose a rain of stones, but those pebbles were just flakes of its skin—no big deal.
"This guy’s slow—watch me blast out its other eye!" Notman decided to copy the twins, leaping forward with his spear, shouting as he charged: "Yun Cong, get over here! Time for our combo finisher!"
"Boss mode!" Li Yun Cong burned through his bravado, charging alongside Notman for a do-or-die attack. Notman’s secret move let him recover in a flash, so if he spent all his bravado on a big finisher, it should be enough to wreck the Mountain Giant’s relatively fragile eye.
The two of them leapt high, heroes trying to turn the tide, ready for their combo debut.
Then, just as quickly, the two came flying back, crashing into the rubble of White City’s palace and groaning, unable to get up. Turns out, watching someone play a game is way easier than doing it yourself.
The Mountain Giant’s massive hand slammed down, whipping up a gale like Princess Iron Fan fanning the Monkey King—smacking the two right back where they came from. That hand blocked out the sun. The Mountain Giant poured all its magical energy into that grab, its fingers squeezing space and shaking the world.
Dark red patterns lit up across the stone surface, like lava flowing beneath its rocky skin, twisting even the air with heat. That giant hand pressed down, blotting out everything. Compared to it, the magic circle—bright as a little sun—looked like a mere ping-pong ball.
The wind pressure scattered the palace rubble, blowing walls and roofs to bits. The warriors’ faces turned red—partly from the crushing air, partly from the despair that made their hearts feel like they’d explode. The white King’s Tree burst into flames without warning, its lush leaves turning to sparks in an instant—a sign of White City’s impending doom.
Elf Queen, White-robed Wizard, Elven King, even the top-ranked Chosen Ones—before that massive hand, everyone looked tiny.
But just when everyone was about to give up hope, something strange happened to that giant hand.
"Huh?!" The Elf Queen was the first to notice—the hand suddenly went limp. It still blocked out the sky, but now, if it was a heavyweight boxer’s furious punch before, it was now more like a heart attack patient reaching for the wall.
What just happened?
Could it be...
Boom! The giant hand slammed into the top of White City, the impact tossing countless warriors into the air. They were flung about like dumplings, landing everywhere—ouch here, ouch there, nobody could get up for ages.
But that was all. This earth-shaking slap, which should’ve blown apart the whole mountain, ended up doing little more than a gentle nudge. The Mountain Giant’s right hand landed on the cliff just meters from the magic circle, then froze, like it had turned to ordinary stone. That massive arm just lay there, stretched out like a stone bridge into the distance.
The magic trio followed that stone bridge with their eyes—the black fire in the Mountain Giant’s left eye had gone out. Its monstrous stone face was frozen in an expression like a heart attack.
Teeth bared, mouth open to roar, eyes wide in death—unwilling to close.
Mountain Giant: Heart Attack.