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*****
"One billion gold coins, and then hand over the big sword in your hand, and this matter will be forgotten. Otherwise, you may be able to run away, but the Barbarian King's Court cannot run away."
After hearing this, Victor took a deep breath and said with some reluctance,
"We, the Barbarian Court, cannot afford one billion gold coins. As for this legendary sword, it is the inherited weapon of the Orc Kingdom. I have a contract with the Red Blade Sword Master. This sword is just for borrowing and cannot be used for other purposes."
"Do you think this is a negotiation?"
A voice thundered from the heavens. Cold. Ancient. Drenched in boundless contempt.
High in the storm-torn skies, the Black Dragon Lord emerged from the roiling clouds, a colossal shadow blotting out the moonlight. With a wingspan stretching over 150 meters, his jet-black wings unfurled like a world-ending omen, their vast membranes streaked with glowing crimson veins that pulsed like arteries of hell. His descent turned the heavens into a nightmarish paintingâlightning danced across his scales, reflecting his titanic form onto the trembling earth below.
Then came the Dragon's Might.
An invisible pressure, ancient and soul-rending, erupted from the colossal dragon. It was not merely powerâit was dominion. It bled into every corner of the battlefield like ink dropped in water, seizing the spirits of all who heard and felt it. The effect was instant and horrifying: thousands of barbarian warriorsâboth the green and the seasonedâfroze where they stood, eyes wide, bodies trembling uncontrollably. Entire tribes of low-level barbarians collapsed to the ground, foaming at the mouth, their minds breaking under the pressure. Others began clawing at their heads, trying to rip the terror out of their own skulls.
Their thoughts fractured. Panic clawed at their hearts. Their knees gave out, not from wounds or exhaustion, but from a primitive terror their bodies could no longer suppress. It wasn't just fearâit was subjugation. It was the certainty of utter inferiority, the realization that they were not soldiers before a dragonâbut prey before a predator.
The wind died.
The rain halted mid-air, frozen in time.
And thenâ[Darkwave Surge] was unleashed.
A pulse of black energy blasted outward from the dragon's core, expanding with a velocity that mocked physicsâover a thousand kilometers blanketed in a matter of seconds. The ground quaked, craters forming where none existed, trees were flung into the air or crushed into mulch. Rain, which had fallen steadily moments ago, halted mid-drop, evaporated into nothing as the dark wave consumed the sky itself.
The surge wasn't just destructiveâit was draining. The very life force and stamina and profession energies of the barbarian warriors was sapped with every passing heartbeat. They staggered, clutched at their chests, veins turning purple and black beneath the skin. Their weapons dropped. Their armor weighed them down like coffins.
Warriors dropped their weapons and screamed as their blood boiled and their spirits drained, the vital energies inside them consumed like fuel for a dying star. Their heartbeats raced, erratic and panicked, untilâ
Silence.
Collapse.
Some truly weak barbarians exploded into geysers of black blood, others simply disintegrated into ashes and screams. Those lucky enough to be far from the center only vomited blood and collapsed unconscious. The unlucky? They died with eyes wide, staring into a void they couldn't comprehend.
But the nightmare was just beginning.
And then the killing began.
[Corrupted and Rot Domain] unfolded like a living plagueâand hell descended upon the battlefield. The aura spread faster than fire through dry leaves, and this time, there was no place to run. It was seeping into the pores of the earth and the souls of the living. The entire battlefield became a canvas of decay.
A wave of invisible rot, thick and oily, crawled over the land like a living curse, clinging to flesh and armor alike. Low-level barbarians were the first to fall.
Those with weak bloodlinesâthird, fourth, even fifth-level barbariansârotted where they stood. Flesh bubbled. Eyes burst. Bones liquefied. In mere seconds, thousands of warriors collapsed into puddles of black sludge, the last sounds escaping their lips not screams, but grotesque gurgles as their lungs dissolved from the inside out.
They didn't dieâthey decayed alive, their screams echoing across the battlefield as their bodies blackened and liquified, collapsing into puddles of steaming corruption. Bones dissolved, organs ruptured, they were twisted into grotesque statues of melting agony.
Aboveâfared no better. Their resistance only delayed the inevitable. They watched comrades melt beside them, watched blood turn to vapor, saw their own limbs begin to fester, blacken, and fall apart while still attached to their bodies.
If their strength was below the sixth order, they stood no chance. Their soulsâtainted by the rotâhowled as they were dragged into the abyss, body and essence erased from the world.
Through this abominable power, the Black Dragon Lord's control on Dragon's Might and Darkwave Surge was flawless. His loyal death knights, whose crimson runes flickered as they marched through the carnage unscathed. Cloaked in midnight armor, they looked more like avatars of death than living beings.
The moment they saw the enemy forces slowâwrithing in pain, paralyzed by decayâthey struck.
And they struck without mercy.
Heads were cleaved clean from shoulders. Ribcages shattered beneath warhammers. Axes found necks, hearts, spines. Blood fountained into the air. Screams became a symphony of slaughterânot of war, but of extermination.
Thousands of barbarians fell in mere moments. It was not a battle. It was a massacre.
The earth was now a quagmire of blood and flesh, a battlefield turned into a graveyard of bubbling decay. Even the crows and wolves fledâtheir instincts screaming that this was not natural death. This was the work of a god made manifest in death and ruin.
Above, the black dragon remained stillâa silent conductor of annihilation. Not once did it need to descend, not once did it need to breathe fire. Its domains alone tore through the ranks like invisible scythes wielded by reapers.
Then came the voice againâcalm, merciless:
"This is an order."
His voice rumbled through the bones of every man still breathing.
Victor's massive frame trembled under the weight of it allâVictor's face continued to tremble under the erosion of Dragon's Might, Darkwave Surge and Corrupted and Rot Domain. He noticed that the barbarian army below gradually began to rout. Before, the barbarian army could barely maintain their faith because of the arrival of His Majesty Victor. However, under the erosion of three domain attacks, no matter how firm they were, faith was useless.
He watched as warbands collapsed, their banners soaked in bile and blood. Saw champions torn apart like children. His generalsâdead. His frontlineâdissolved. All within seconds.
In less than a minute, more barbarian warriors had perished than in the entirety of the war thus far.
Each second, another hundred fell.
Each heartbeat, another soul was claimed.
With each passing breath, countless barbarian warriors collapsed upon the blood-soaked wasteland, their bodies succumbing beneath the crushing weight of the triple-domain onslaught. Under the suffocating pressure of Dragon's Might, their souls and bodies quivered and cracked, as if the very essence of their being was being forcibly unraveled by the dragon's gaze alone.
Their minds falteredâshattered by overwhelming dread. Their hearts beat like war drums in panic, until the Darkwave Surge siphoned away their energies with ruthless precision, leaving their limbs weak, their breaths shallow, their thoughts fractured. And then came the rot...
The Corrupted and Rot Domain surged with increasing ferocity. Its virulence spread like a sentient plague, turning skin to sludge, muscle to mush, and bone to brittle ash. Warriors who once stood at the pinnacle of strength for normal people were reduced to thrashing husksâtheir bodies liquefying into putrid black filth, their final screams drowned in bubbling decay.
The longer they endured, the worse it became. The domain grew stronger with every heartbeat, like a curse that fed upon their resistance. Even the eliteâthose of high level and top level, paragons of the barbarian tribesâwere no longer safe. Their bodies trembled with effort, as they had actively resist the three domain attack effects, but even their hardened flesh began to crack and peel under the corrosive weight of the dragon's power.
Every clash against the Black Winged soldiers became a waking nightmare. Their weapons grew heavy, their movements sluggishâas if dragging corpses through a swamp of death. All the while, Dragon's Might pressed down like a divine judgment, their souls cowering under its weight. Darkwave Surge drained every reserve of strength, while the Corrupted Domain patiently, mercilessly, devoured them from the inside out.
It was no longer a battlefield. It was the unraveling of now a graveyard, a lake of blood and rot.
Every barbarian in these domains was at a massive disadvantage, no matter their strength. It's like fighting with one hand while your opponent has four, and this was only for high-level barbarians; weaker ones didn't even have hands, while stronger ones had their eyes closed.
And even those who knew little about dragons knew this: thus, every barbarian, no matter their strength, made a run as fast as they could to try to get out of these domains. But of course, how could the black-winged army let them just escape? They followed after them.
Victor clenched his fists, but they trembled. His pride warred with his logic, but reality was undeniable.
He fell to his knees and gaspedâmore in surrender than in exhaustion.
"Enough... please, enough," Victor whispered hoarsely. "I yield. I agree. I'll concede. But... I am bound by the sacred contract with the Red Blade SwordmasterâTaylor. The gods witnessed it. I cannot break it. If you want the 'Thirst for Blood,' you'll need his consent."
The Black Dragon said nothing.
Victor swallowed."But if you do... the contract ends. And all of this..." he gestured weakly at the ruins of his army, "...will have been for nothing."
And even then, a part of Victor knew...
The dragon might not just kill Taylor.
He might erase his very existence.
"Your Alliance Army is quite interesting." The black dragon smiled jokingly. Seeing that Victor was getting a little anxious, I let out a dragon roar and ordered the family members below to stop the slaughter and pursuit.
The remaining surviving barbarian army saw that the terrifying black-winged family members behind them had finally stopped pursuing them, and quickly accelerated their escape, wishing they could grow two more legs.
"Then sign the contract." I looked at Victor, who was relieved, and said mockingly.
Victor glanced at the black dragon and hesitated for a moment, but still had no intention of resisting.
At least, he couldn't resist now.
Otherwise, the black dragon could continue to pursue and even invade the territory of the Barbarian Royal Court and let the group of black-winged relatives slaughter the barbarians wantonly.
He had to stabilize this guy first, Victor thought to himself.
If you want him to give up his 'Thirst for Blood' just like that, he would naturally be reluctant to give it up.
"Fine, sign the contract." Victor nodded while his mind was spinning.
Later, in the presence of the Platinum Dragon God, after paying a high-quality ruby, a contract was signed between one person and one dragon.
The Platinum Dragon God is also a very reputable and respected god among humans and other intelligent races, and Victor naturally had no objection to this.
The content of the contract signed by the two parties is roughly as follows: Victor will launch an attack on the Black Dragon Lord with the orc sword master in the next period of time. During the attack, Victor must not harbor murderous intentions toward the Black Dragon Lord, and the Black Dragon Lord must not kill Victor or harbor murderous intentions toward him.
This contract is a trap set by the orc sword master.
I and Victor were responsible for putting on a scene.
This does not violate the covenant between Victor and the Orc Sword Master, and the constraints of the covenant are not specific to this point.
Except for some extremely strict contracts, most contracts actually have loopholes that can be exploited. As for how to exploit them, and whether to exploit the loophole, it depends on whether you want to and whether you are willing to do it.
For example, I had several ways to exploit loopholes to break the covenant between the Black Wing Lair and the Emerald Forest.
The simplest method is to kill with a borrowed knifeâfight a powerful enemy in the sky above the green forest.
I can control my own attacks not to target the Emerald Forest, but the enemy will not control theirs. In the end, the Emerald Forest is destroyed, and it is destroyed by the enemy. I still fight with the enemy, but I cannot protect the forest elves. That's all.
There are other ways to kill with a borrowed knife.
For example, contacting some evil forces that have nothing to do with the Black Wing Lair and assigning them the task of acquiring the corpses of forest elves. Since the task does not specify that the forest elves must come from the Emerald Forest, then naturally it does not count as a breach of the covenant.
As for those evil forces who finally choose to kill the forest elves in the Emerald Forest to complete their mission, that has nothing to do with the Black Wing Lair, because this was not ordered by the Black Wing Lair, but the subjective choice of the evil forces themselves.
As an ally, when the Emerald Forest is in danger and asks for help from the Black Wing Nest, according to the covenant, the Black Wing Nest will definitely send support, but support has its own speed, right? Sometimes accidents happen.
The above operations are actually very common. The contracts made by the devils in the Nine Hells can be much more insidious than this.
Talking about the contract signed between me and Victor, both parties tacitly agreed not to sign an alliance contract or a truce contract.
I didn't bother to think about what Victor was thinking.
Anyway, I had made up my mind that the Barbarian Court would either surrender or be destroyed. Naturally, it was impossible to sign any truce contract or alliance contract with Victor.
As for setting a trap for the Orc Sword Master, I never thought that Victor could really obediently give me the legendary sword called 'Thirst for Blood' after the death of the Orc Sword Master, and the two parties did not sign a contract in this regard, and cannot sign one, because such a contract violates the contract between Victor and the Orc Sword Master.
There are two reasons why I agreed.
One is to delay some time.
Now I'm not sure about keeping the Barbarian King, but after a while, that may not be the case.
The second is that I have taken a liking to the Orc Kingdom.
The territory of the Orc Kingdom is directly north of the Dark Forest, and the straight-line distance is closer than the Barbarian Court to the Orc Kingdom.
However, the Dark Forest and the Orc Kingdom are also separated by the Dwarf Iron Castle and some other small and medium-sized forces (including humans and other intelligent races).
'By now, the strength of my soul should have already surpassed that of early-stage Legends. Once I ensnare the Orc Sword Master and bend his will to mine, the entire Orc Kingdom will fall quietly under my shadowed dominion. Just like the Kingdom of Dal, which has already begun to swell beneath my unseen handâfed by my grain, shielded by my protection. Soon, it will no longer be a mere kingdom, but a fledgling empire, born in silence and forged by my will.'
Orcs are a good source of soldiers, and apart from the death of an orc king, the foundation of the Orc Kingdom has not been weakened much. With the orc king gone, the Orc Kingdom is powerful enough to rank among the top five in the mainland.
There are hundreds of millions of orcs in the entire kingdom. Even if some strong ones died in the war with the Crimson Nest, the remaining master-level orcs definitely exceed three digits.
The population base is there!
Comparing the Barbarian Royal Court with the Orc Kingdom, it is as if the former is a baron from the countryside (Northern Territory) where supplies are scarce, and the latter is also a baron, but one from the royal city (Middle Territory), with rich territory, powerful warriors, and a large population. There is no comparison.
After the contract was signed, Victor left without looking back.
---
The northern part of the wasteland also became quiet from the previous hustle and bustle.
The strong smell of blood lingered here and could not be dissipated for a long time.
People are bound to die in war. Although Black Wing Lair won a great victory this time, there were also many casualties.
The casualties among low-level Blackwing warriors reached 30,000.
More than a thousand at the intermediate level.
Dozens at the advanced level.
Of the two masters, one was killed and the other was seriously injured. The one who died was a big goblin who had just reached the 15th order. This guy was unlucky and was taken away by a dying barbarian general before he died.
The other person who was severely injured was a 16th-order black tiger monster that had just taken refuge.
As for the barbarians?
There were more than 100,000 low-level barbarians killed or injured, tens of thousands of mid-level and high-level barbarians, and more than a dozen master-level barbarians were killed, including two barbarian generals who had reached the peak of level 19.
This was because Puck was too lazy to kill. This old rock dragon didn't like killing. If it hadn't been for the Black Dragon Lord asking him to come over to check the place and protect Skye and the others from accidents, he wouldn't have woken up from his slumber.
Black king had no idea about this.
In war, strong men with legendary strength can kill creatures below legend, but they cannot deliberately carry out large-scale massacres of those below legend. This is the mainland's default game rule. If everyone does not abide by this game rule, it would have long since become all-out chaos.
---
It is impossible for me to guard against a legendary second-level strong man coming to my territory to cause damage at all times.
The other party kills a group of my people and then leaves immediately, and I can't catch them.
In the end, it can only evolve into a boring game like: you kill my people, and I kill your people.
Three days after the warââ
Before I could reach Viktor and recruit the orc sword master, an unexpected visitor came to the Black Wing Lair.
---
Dragon Pond.
An adult female black dragon with a body length of more than 20 meters stepped into this place.
The female dragon was skinny and bony, with a pair of forward-curved gray dragon horns, dragon scales clinging to the bones of her face, thick bones all over her body, and bone spurs piercing the surface. She was domineering and ferocious but also ugly.
Lyanna walked cautiously on the road leading to the center of the dragon pond, feeling a little uneasy.
To be honest, she had never in her whole life imagined this scene today.
She never thought that she would feel so uneasy when she saw her own heir.
But there was no wayâshe couldn't continue to stay in the wasteland without seeing him again.
*****
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