Inheritance

"Roar!" The majestic draconic form of the Rebel Dragon God stretched across the night sky like the Milky Way, radiating brilliant, dazzling starlight. His manifestation caused the altars of dragon settlements across the mortal world to shudder in resonance. Even the ancient dragon burial grounds gave voice to answering roars. Once, after standing alone against multiple progenitor dragons, He had broken away from the dragon lineage, becoming the greatest rebel in dragon history. Yet as ages rolled past, the dragons of old had long since fragmented and crumbled, barely clinging to life within a handful of hidden settlements. Back then, though dragons had groveled before chief gods—even their Dragon Mother forced to offer dances—they were still a formidable race directly beneath the chief gods. Now, to nurture even a single mature higher-tier descendant, they were forced to sell themselves into servitude to the orthodox churches. And so, when this rebel of bygone eras returned, He had somehow become the dragon race's beacon of hope. His arrival brought instant exhilaration to the entire species! Except the Rebel Dragon God had never cared for such matters. He had no conventional racial loyalty in any strict sense. He had not chosen the God of Order because Order offered Him promises of gain; rather, in that era, only the God of Order could hold Him down and earn His willing respect. Even so, He had never officially entered the ranks of Order, stubbornly insisting that He and the God of Order stood as equals. In the end, He had simply joined the Church of the Burrow to secure a loose affiliation. Yet the underlying reality could never be rewritten. Otherwise, one could never explain why a branch god of the Church of the Burrow would descend alongside the branch gods of Order at such a pivotal juncture to join the battle. On this front, Karen's little Kanna shared an uncanny likeness with Him. The little bone dragon had long regarded Karen as her father and Purr as her mother; she could call Diss "Great-grandfather" without a second's hesitation, yet she insisted on calling Karen by his given name and Purr "Older Sister." No matter how honest the body was, the dragon mouth remained forever stubborn. On the steps outside the Teleportation Hall, little Kanna raised her head to look at the Rebel Dragon God draped in rainbow halos, her wide eyes brimming with envy. She herself had only collected a few scales, diamonds, and ribbons, yet Karen already frowned upon it. Meanwhile, the one up there was magnificent and flamboyant beyond all measure. Little Kanna shot an indignant glare at Karen, who stood behind the wheelchair out front. *See? The God of Order didn't complain about Him, but you're always so demanding. Humph!* Just then, the Rebel Dragon God lowered His gaze. A boundless draconic aura swept across all of Vienn and locked onto little Kanna. In a flash, an overpowering consciousness entered Kanna's body, instantly detecting the master-servant contract within her. "Roar!" A furious bellow erupted. The Rebel Dragon God could not tolerate the thought that His inheritor was someone else's servant. On Karen's side, he immediately felt a fierce backlash tearing through the master-servant bond. He had only set up that contract in the first place to help little Kanna pass security inspections and secure an official post to enjoy the Church of Order's benefits. Fortunately, Karen possessed a potent soul reinforced by the presence of his hunger addiction. Had anyone else dared enslave the little bone dragon, their soul would have been extinguished on the spot. Upon the cross, Tyrannus sent a wave of intent sweeping toward the Rebel Dragon God, carrying a stern rebuke: *Her master is here.* The Rebel Dragon God understood at once and halted His attempt to shatter the contract. Disgruntled roars still rumbled from His draconic maw, but His tail began to swish with obvious delight. Then, He gently scooped up little Kanna's consciousness, aligning her senses and perceptions with His own. "Ooh... so pretty!" It was an exclamation straight from little Kanna's heart. She had always felt her own body was far too plain. The Rebel Dragon God uncoiled His body like a teacher beginning to impart knowledge to a disciple. He threw back His head, His draconic eyes turning crimson. An immense mental domain expanded, unleashing terrifying psychic gales that crashed toward the phantoms of the distant deities. "Red dragons are covetous, endowed with the gift of bewitchment—take a red dragon's eyes and set them in!" The Dragon God thrust out a claw and tore open the space ahead, making the violent void currents between His talons feel as pliable as soft cotton. "Black dragons are mighty, endowed with the gift of flesh and blood—take a black dragon's flesh and bone to fill the form!" The Dragon God soared into the spatial rift, vanishing and reappearing through another tear in the blink of an eye. "Blue dragons are agile, endowed with the gift of movement—take a blue dragon's scales and graft them on!" "Nether Dragons..." "Frost Dragons..." Church histories had never recorded the Rebel Dragon God's specific draconic element; all descriptions of Him were either hopelessly vague or contradictory. Now, the true reason lay revealed. He had merged the traits of multiple dragon species into His own form, becoming a grand master of every dragon attribute. And now He was passing this method on to little Kanna—a bone dragon's physique was the finest vessel to receive it! The Dragon God merely overlooked one minor detail: in this era, capturing mature elemental dragons to skin them was no longer an internal moral issue for the dragon race, but a practical impossibility. After all, even someone like Augie was considered an exceptionally well-developed giant dragon by modern standards. Thankfully, the dilemma was not insurmountable. If living specimens could not be found, they could seek out the dead. Dragon burial grounds were usually forbidden zones of the highest order, but with Karen's current standing, a single word from him could launch the Church of Order into a massive archaeological expedition to protect ancient dragon heritage. Tyrannus issued a command. The Rebel Dragon God crashed into the gigantic figure ahead. The God of Crystal's form emerged, and dragon and deity collided with earth-shattering force. *Boom!* The God of Crystal began to recoil as the Rebel Dragon God pressed the pursuit, suppressing a chief god through sheer draconic might. Under this near one-sided assault, vast sheets of crystal peeled away from the ocean surface. It meant the God of Crystal had already begun terraforming the environment, intending to transform Vienn and its surrounding waters into a crystalline realm. This maneuver underscored what made this return of the gods different: they were far more organized and methodical. And their commander was the God of Principles, still concealed among the towering silhouettes of the chief gods. As the crystals shattered, apocalyptic tornadoes formed across the sea, and from their depths stepped the God of Storms. He pointed a finger forward, raising an enormous tidal wave. Before that towering wall of water, the three islands of Vienn looked like bottle caps about to capsize in a washbasin. To the local mortals of Vienn, today merely seemed to bring bizarre, extreme weather, but in truth, their nation teetered on the razor edge of utter annihilation. Through Tyrannus's eyes, Karen watched the convergence between Kanna and the Rebel Dragon God. He immediately offered a suggestion: "We shouldn't waste an opportunity for the veterans to guide the newcomers." "You are right." No sooner had the words landed than Karen's consciousness was firmly nudged out of Tyrannus's divine vessel. "Wait..." Karen found himself staring at the wheelchair before him. Looking up again, he realized he now had to actively channel the Eye of Order just to observe the divine war unfolding in the depths of the sky. The abrupt demotion from the main seat to a spectator peeking through a window was truly hard to swallow. Yet Tyrannus had taken Karen's advice to heart. On the rooftop of another building, Alfred, who had set up his easel and was furiously sketching, heard Tyrannus's summons. "Come up here. The view is broader, and composing the scene will be easier." In an instant, Alfred stood where his young master had been a moment before. Alfred asked, "So, are we commanders?" "No." Alfred smiled. "Then... are we stage announcers?" "Fitting." Nailed to the cross, having made no moves beyond speaking from the start—what else did He resemble if not a stage announcer? Yet neither Alfred nor Tyrannus felt the slightest aversion to the role. Both thoroughly relished the thrill of being masters of ceremony. The storm-driven waves surged inward. "Great Shield Knight—Mutsei." *Hum!* A divine statue encased in black armor plummeted from the heavens. Wherever He stood seemed to become the pillar of the world. Tyrannus asked, "Whom do you choose?" Alfred replied, "Muri Benda." Muri, standing in the rear, felt the world spin wildly around him as his consciousness was hauled into the high sky. When his senses stabilized, he found himself unimaginably towering. Without greetings, pleasantries, or even the simplest introduction, Mutsei extended His right hand. Below, a bronze coffer split open, and a pitted black shield soared into the air, expanding continuously until Mutsei gripped it firmly. The instant the colossal shield planted into place, the ocean waves receded, and the tempest behind them was pressed down with it. The God of Storms began to chant. An even fiercer gale coalesced into countless wind dragons that slammed downward with ferocious power. Mutsei merely leaned against the great shield, motionless. The great shield remained equally unyielding, as if, should He wish it, He could stand planted here for ten thousand years, suppressing everything beneath Him for ten thousand years. A massive black hole appeared in the heavens, from which a host of angels surged forth like the most devoted death squad, hurtling straight toward the cross. "Chanting Knight—Andeca." Alfred's mind raced through evaluations. Not every knight had a suitable newcomer to guide, and personal closeness also had to be weighed. Originally, Tyrannus could have asked the young master directly, yet He had turned to him instead. This gesture was deliberately granting Alfred the chance to do favors. They were all comrades in arms, certainly, but even among comrades, some bonds ran closer than others. "Vic." Vic was still debating whether to order the Yorktown Region into a state of emergency when, with a turn of his head, he felt as though his brains were being vacuumed out. Andeca wore flowing robes, holding a book in His left hand and a magic wand in His right. Alfred asked, puzzled, "What book is Knight Andeca holding?" Tyrannus replied, "He holds a forbidden grimoire from four eras ago." "Then why do the murals always depict Knight Andeca holding the *Light of Order*?" In every mural featuring the Chanting Knight, the venerable knight was shown holding a copy of the *Light of Order*—holding it in council, holding it in sleep, and resting it upon His lap while dining. This had led later generations of believers to assume the Chanting Knight and Tyrannus were the closest of friends, working side by side to make immense contributions toward spreading the tenets of Order. Tyrannus explained, "That was to promote the *Light of Order*, which I had just finished writing at the time." Alfred nodded with deep conviction. "And that is why one must firmly retain the rights to the murals." The Chanting Knight and Tyrannus were gods of the same era. It was like a friend who had just finished writing an unproven book—would you really walk around carrying it everywhere to advertise for him? Not that advertising mattered; your portrait rights were never in your own hands anyway. The descending angels brought a suffocating pressure, but as the Chanting Knight's recitation began, the plummeting angels fell into confusion one after another, then began slaughtering each other. Immediately after, Andeca leveled His wand toward the black hole, as if issuing a challenge. Yet the God of the Abyss within did not descend, seemingly wary of something. Across the firmament, dense arrays of summoning circles ignited, and demon gods dropped one by one from the halos, their forms withered and gaunt like famished ghosts from hell. The breeding grounds of the God of Specters had opened its gates. Legend held that during His zenith, He had reared the rarest magical beasts and demon gods in all the world. Now, it appeared that during their journey of return, they had either lacked fodder or been used as fodder themselves. In short, these demon gods seemed thoroughly depleted. Yet precisely because of that, their craving for fresh living flesh from this world was all the more ravenous, their frenzy all the more desperate. "Awakening Knight—Dierga." First Commander of the First Knight Order, branch deity of the Awakened, master of the dead. In an age when the outside world generally knew little of the God of Order's unique powers, Dierga had even been regarded as the creator of the Order's awakening arts. A female knight with flowing red hair manifested above Vienn. She wore a black mask that hid her features, but every ornament upon her carried the tone of pale bone. Alfred said, "Morindi." Although it matched her specialization, Archmage of Necromancy Morindi had never anticipated receiving such an honor, and her heart swelled with profound gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. Alfred." Dierga's necromantic arts took effect. As the demon gods continued to rain from above, another faction of demon gods rose continuously from the ocean surface, charging upward to clash and slaughter them. The God of Specters may have reared many demon gods, but the Order faction had accompanied their God across eras of war; the demon gods that had died by their hands and left spiritual imprints behind were far greater in number. A dagger materialized before Tyrannus. Just as it was about to pierce inward, a pale, pristine hand reached out and seized the blade. The assassin was the God of Assassins, and the one intercepting His strike on Tyrannus was the Phantom Knight—Hidamir. Their gazes met, complex emotions swirling within their eyes. Yet this did nothing to deter either from launching the next lethal strike at the other's body. A gaping hole burst through the God of Assassins's chest, while the Phantom Knight lost an arm. Both were deities standing at the absolute pinnacle of the laws of assassination. With their lethal techniques canceling each other out, the fight devolved into a primal, mutual butchery. Moreover, they were brothers by blood. The Phantom Knight was the younger brother of the God of Assassins. To attain the status of a chief god, the God of Assassins had performed an assassination sacrifice upon His own brother. Later, the God of Order awakened Him, restoring His place among the Twelve Knights of the Order sequence with the title of Phantom. Alfred called out, "Philomena." Philomena sensed a terrifying consciousness locking onto her. She retreated immediately and actually managed to evade the first attempt! She was the first person so far to dodge consciousness integration from one of the knight lords! Had Madam Tangli known, she would have felt immense pride in her student's brilliance—before stringing Philomena up on a cliffside to flog her for a month, roaring in the same tone she used on her husband: *What the hell are you dodging for at a time like this?!* Fortunately, before the knight lords, Philomena's evasion could only succeed once. On the second attempt, her consciousness was pulled into the Phantom Knight's body. A pinnacle duel between assassin and assassin reopened its curtain. The deep night suddenly shimmered with light. Beside the moon, a solar halo emerged. Upon the cross, Tyrannus lifted His gaze, His expression solemn. Where there were lunar deities, there were naturally solar deities. However, the lunar pantheon had been dominated by Artemis, who had devoted herself to devouring other moon deities to strengthen her own position. As for the solar pantheon... the God of Light of the previous era had shone far too brilliantly; without needing to devour rivals, He had held absolute dominion over all solar laws. Yet the solar halo now appearing in the sky signified that a new solar deity was casting exploratory senses down upon them. This one was an overlord from eras even further back! Tyrannus issued a warning: "Now is not yet the time for your descent. Of course, if you wish, you may descend directly. We... have missed our Lord as well." The God of the Abyss had merely opened the abyss, released a flock of angels, and fallen silent; The God of Principles oversaw organization, yet had not shown His face; They were all waiting, and all afraid, because the sole God of Order had not yet looked down upon the mortal world from His supreme seat beyond the eras. He was the true architect of this prison of the eras. Yet before the God of Order could make a move, a beam of light spilled across the world of men. It seemed a silent proclamation: *Your opponent is me.* The solar halo receded. Under the direct menace of that light, this former hegemon of bygone eras chose a temporary retreat. *** "Heh heh, do you submit or not?" Clad in bloodstained armor of light, Neo held his greatsword across the throat of an elderly consecrated elder of Light, demanding his surrender. While Vienn fought a war of gods, Neo was busy unifying the remnants of Light. The old priest remained fiercely unyielding. "Heretic who turned to Order, do not dream I will bow! The flames of Light will reduce you to ash!" No sooner had he spoken than a beam of pure light enveloped Neo, cloaking him in sacred, awe-inspiring majesty. It caused the surviving priests of Light still fighting and resisting to freeze in their tracks, staring in utter disbelief at Neo—this rebel who had brought the power of Order to conquer them. The trouble was, this rebel seemed almost excessively holy, making them look far more like heretics by comparison. Neo blinked in surprise. "Huh? My turn already?" Just as quickly, the beam of light vanished. Neo cursed, "Fuck! Are you messing with me?!" The old priest wore an expression of sheer absurdity, as though he had seen a ghost. In the end, he bowed his head: "I... submit." *** "Great Shield Knight—Mutsei." "Me! Me, me!" "Chanting Knight—Andeca." "I'm ready! Pick me!" "Awakening Knight—Dierga." "Over here! Me!" "Loyalty Knight—Wenluosen." "It has to be my turn! Come on!" "Judgment Knight—Kemangar." "Still not me? Why isn't it my turn yet?!" Dalivenro was so frantic his bald head seemed to gleam, yet even as Ventura and Leon beside him slipped into dazed trances, he remained wide awake and sharp as a tack. At last, the truth dawned on him. Pointing up at the sky-piercing cross, he roared: "Alfred, you're getting back at me!"