A great crisis loomed over the Astralon planet.

…

Deep within a mountain cave on the Mossvale continent, Ice Cream was absorbing the power of the Frost Heart. Although the Azure Dragon clan’s divine gear was restored, his progress was agonizingly slow, as if he were missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

Emberon stood guard, protecting Ice Cream from any potential threats. Although Ice Cream was a third-stage Sovereign, even stronger than Emberon, any interruption during the absorption process would set him back significantly.

Every dragon felt a deep connection to their race, but their opinions on the current situation were divided.

One faction believed aligning with the World’s Heart was the only way to ensure the dragon race’s survival. The other vehemently disagreed. Both sides claimed to act in the best interests of their race, and neither wanted a civil war.

“Emberon, so it was *you* who trespassed in the Dragon God’s temple and stole the dragon treasure,” a melodious female voice echoed from the cave entrance. A slender figure, clad in white, stepped into the cave.

She was a Silver Dragon, one of those Emberon had identified as firmly aligned with the Venom Dragons.

Emberon, though wary, was relieved she wasn’t the Silver Dragon chieftain.

“Sarya,” Emberon growled, his voice filled with barely suppressed rage, “do you know they forced our Dragon God to ascend? They’re leading the dragon race to ruin!” He stood his ground. Even against a third-stage Sovereign like Sarya, he would fight to the death to protect Ice Cream, the dragon race’s last hope.

“I can’t control the other dragons’ decisions,” Sarya replied, her voice calm. “And I can’t stop him from ascending through his own talent. But stealing the dragon treasure is a capital offense.” She knew the situation, but it didn’t concern her. She chuckled softly. “Do you really think the undead race can win? You’re naive.

You haven’t seen the Angel race’s true power.”

“So, there’s nothing to discuss?” Emberon glared at her, ready to attack.

“Oh, relax,” Sarya said, her tone suddenly shifting, a playful smile gracing her lips. “I’m not here under orders. That little one behind you is an Azure Dragon. His mother once showed me kindness. I wouldn’t betray that.”

Emberon was taken aback, confused by her sudden change in demeanor.

“I’m here to tell you there’s another way to ascend to godhood, even without the Frost Heart,” Sarya continued. “It’s simple. Absorb the power of all the dragon treasures and fuse them.

The dragon race can’t avoid this war. When the pseudo-gods are deployed, they’ll have to leave their treasures behind. That’s your chance.”

She produced a transparent crystal radiating intense heat, a Fire elemental Godhead.

Indeed, if he became a pseudo-god, no Sovereign level being could stop him from obtaining all the dragon treasures while the pseudo-gods were away.

Emberon’s eyes widened in realization. “So that’s how it is!”

No wonder…

“The dragon race’s leadership is corrupt,” Sarya said, confirming his suspicions. “I despise them as much as you do. I’m here on my own accord. Don’t worry.” Despite being second-in-command to the Silver Dragon chieftain, she opposed their allegiance.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she teased. “Unless you want to make some dragon babies with me?”

“Sorry, no, thank you,” Emberon replied, his voice filled with sincere gratitude. They weren’t alone after all.

“The past is immutable. The future is not.”

Sarya left the cave, reinforcing it with spatial magic before departing. “The dragon race’s future rests on your shoulders.”

…

Meanwhile, Alex, exhausted but determined, reached the center of the Aether Isle. The invisible energy pulsed before her. Dawn broke, the red moon setting in the west as the sun rose in the east.

The Race Kings had stood guard all night. The others at the undead Imperial Capital awaited her command.

Messengers from the Sea Race and Demon race had arrived, contacting Death Spirit. The three races were preparing for a coordinated final assault.

Alex studied the energy before her. It was just an empty space, yet she knew this was the island’s center, the point where the World’s Heart’s energy was strongest.

She gasped for breath, her chest heaving. Maintaining her divine fire all night had drained her soul power.

She didn’t know how she would withstand the World’s Heart’s power once her divine fire was extinguished.

But there was no turning back.

She stepped into the center.

An immense power surged through her, threatening to tear her apart.

She gritted her teeth, suppressing a cry of pain. Her life quintessence couldn’t protect her from this.

Her divine fire flickered and died, merging back into her. Her eyes blazed with an unnatural red and blue light.

A massive shadow materialized behind her, a giant scythe appearing in both her and the shadow’s hands.

Dark energy surged through her. Even without her divine fire, she somehow withstood the World’s Heart’s power.

The island pulsed with repulsive force, attempting to expel the intruder.

…

Across the world, all seven continents trembled violently. The Endless Sea churned, alerting all races.

From a high vantage point, a terrifying sight would have been visible: all seven continents were moving, converging on the Aether Isle!

At the undead Imperial Capital, Xiao Mu surveyed the assembled undead army.

“Death Spirit,” he commanded, “inform the Sea Race and Demon race. Launch a full-scale assault on the Titans, angels, and dragons!”

…

On the Tyrangar continent, within a massive crater, an alchemy magic circle shattered, revealing a magnificent undead fortress.

A swarm of bone dragons erupted from the fortress, blotting out the sky. Gargoyles and Destroyers followed, filling the air with their destructive power.

Below, zombie titans clawed their way out of the crater, lumbering towards the distant Titan temple. Warlord Skulls and Death Knights marched behind them, while Silverscale Leviathans transported slower undead across the continent.

Elsewhere, a Death Spirit clone deployed another undead fortress.

This scene repeated itself across the Tyrangar continent.

Millions of undead swarmed the land, a tide of darkness consuming all life. They would soon join the undead empire, swelling its ranks.

Simultaneously, the Sea Race, whose numbers rivaled the undead horde, launched their attack.

While the undead swept inland, the Sea Race besieged the coastline, their numbers even greater than the undead. King, Monarch, Emperor, and Sovereign level Sea Race creatures surged forward.

The combined forces of the undead and Sea Race outnumbered the Titans by tens of thousands!

The Titan temples were the heart of the Titan race. Fifty-two such temples dotted the Tyrangar continent, each housing only a few thousand Titans.

Within the largest temple, at the continent’s center, the Titan god was awakening.

They had anticipated the undead attack, but not so soon, and not in conjunction with the Sea Race.

A blinding golden light erupted from the main temple, a beam of light piercing the sky. Fifty-one other beams followed.

Massive Titans emerged, hurtling towards the battlefield.

The Behemoths, Shadow race, and other subjugated races joined the fray.

The fifty-two temples unleashed a devastating barrage of golden light, like a meteor shower, striking the undead and Sea Race.

But they had underestimated their enemies. The undead, with their ability to resurrect and convert, and the Sea Race, with their millennia of preparation and vast numbers of powerhouses, held a decisive advantage.

The Titans, powerful but few, were outmatched.

A Titan, landing with earth-shattering force, obliterated the surrounding undead. It rose, but the zombie titans, Warlord Skulls, bone dragons, and Death Dragons were its equals in size.

This wasn’t the undead race they knew!

To its horror, the shattered undead rose again, unharmed.

Surrounded, the Titan felt both rage and fear.

Fiery runes appeared on its skin as it unleashed a torrent of flames.

A zombie titan met its attack head-on, mirroring its power.

The clashing flames sent both titans staggering back. Both King level, yet the Titan couldn’t gain an advantage!

A black dragon’s breath pierced the Titan’s chest, preventing healing.

Its eyes widened in shock as it crashed to the ground, quickly becoming a zombie titan.

This was war. The surrounding undead swarmed the fallen Titan.

King level Titans faced certain death, let alone Monarchs and Commanders.

This scene repeated itself across the Tyrangar continent. The Titans, overwhelmed, were quickly consumed.

The Behemoths and Shadow race fared no better.

The Behemoths, like the Titans, were powerful but few, specializing in close combat and regeneration.

But they couldn’t fly, and lacked soul attacks. Their regeneration was useless against the undead. A single Roaring Zombie could kill a Behemoth of equal level.

Their fate was even worse than the Titans’.

The Shadow race, with their ability to blend into shadows, had a slight advantage, but they weren’t actively fighting. In the chaos, their absence went unnoticed.

The Sea Race dominated the coasts. Despite heavy losses, their sheer numbers and powerhouses overwhelmed the Titans.

Even with a five-to-one casualty ratio, the Sea Race could grind down the Titans, especially with undead support.

The Titans were losing from the start, with no hope of recovery.

Their numbers dwindled, while the undead horde grew.

The Titans had many Sovereigns, but not as many as the Sea Race.

As long as the Sea Race Sovereigns held the line, the undead Sovereign ranks would swell, quickly closing the gap in high-end combat power.

Every fallen Sovereign became an undead. Once the undead had enough Sovereigns, the Sea Race could withdraw their elites, leaving the rest to the undead.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep