It was a brutal battle. The Ryanites had never imagined that one day they would face an entire dragon army.
The sight of dozens of colossal dragons circling the sky was utterly terrifying.
Even more unexpected to the Ryanites was that Alan—a traitor whom their emperor had just been hunting down—would leap out to aid them at this critical moment.
Watching Alan flicker and flash across the sky, scattering the red dragons in terror, the soldiers on the ground could not help thinking of their emperor.
Faced with the same red dragons, the young emperor clad in the Dragon Tyrant Armament could not put up a struggle. He had plunged into the earth in a panic, crushing a vast number of his own men to death. Alan, by contrast, wove through the heavens alone, driving the red dragons into a frantic rout.
Though harboring such thoughts bordered on treason, the contrast was simply too stark.
In truth, Alan could pull this off entirely because his legendary boon was an absolute counter to red dragons.
Alan's legendary boon was a teleportation strike. As long as he locked onto a target, he would instantly flash before it, and the sword in his hand was guaranteed to land.
Landing a hit was one thing, however; how much damage it dealt depended entirely on Alan's own capabilities.
The magebane longsword he wielded was forged specifically to counter magical effects. It was poorly suited against the durable scales of red dragons, much like stabbing a steel plate with a needle—it was guaranteed to hit, but at most it would leave a faint scratch, failing to inflict any meaningful harm.
The eyes, however, were an entirely different matter. No matter how tough a dragon's body was, its eyes were always vulnerable.
And Alan's teleportation strikes were far too swift. The red dragons had no time to dodge, leaving them no choice but to have their eyeballs burst by his blade.
It was a sheer matter of counter-capabilities, just like how Anbaixiu had easily subdued the legendary druid by kiting him.
Dreading to let Alan draw near, the red dragons began to scatter and flee. Just as Alan prepared to press his advantage and drive them all away, three massive fireballs suddenly hurtled toward him.
Alan was forced to teleport to another red dragon. This time, unable to lock onto its eyes, he landed on its tail and took a sharp blow from the thrashing appendage.
Sent tumbling through the air, Alan managed to regain his balance with his flight pack, only for a streak of lightning to meet him head-on.
This time, there was no dodging. Stricken with paralysis, he plummeted from the sky.
Just as he was about to smash into the ground, dozens of divine spells enveloped him.
Feather Fall, Bless, Healing Word, Warding Bond... The overlapping spell effects turned Alan into a glowing orb of light.
These divine spells purged his paralysis, allowing him to right himself once more.
Yet high above, a red dragon was already swooping down toward Alan, ridden by none other than the legendary Githyanki powerhouse.
He was a mighty legendary mage—the one responsible for the suffocating Acid Rain, the volley of three fireballs, and the previous bolt of lightning.
Now, he unleashed an Acid Arrow of sickly yellow-green straight at Alan.
This time, Alan was prepared. Teleporting in an instant, he appeared atop the head of the red dragon the Githyanki was riding, aiming to pierce the beast's eye.
This red dragon, however, proved somewhat different. Just as Alan's blade struck downward, it snapped its eye shut in the nick of time.
Though a dragon's eyelid was not as tough as its scales, its thickness rivaled three layers of leather armor. Just as Alan's sword penetrated the lid, the dragon whipped its head, throwing him away, and unleashed a burst of fiery breath at him in the same motion.
The sheer might of a dragon was nothing Alan could parry. Hurled into a violent spin by the immense kinetic force, he had no time to teleport before the breath weapon engulfed him.
Yet Alan felt only a flash of searing heat, suffering virtually no real harm. Down on the ground, several clerics of light shrieked in agony as their bodies were charred black.
This was the effect of Warding Bond. Not only did it bolster all resistances, but a portion of any damage taken was also transferred to the clerics who had cast it. With the damage dispersed among them, Alan safely endured the dragon's breath.
Seizing this opening, Alan teleported once more. This time, his target was the Githyanki mage.
Flashing into position in a heartbeat, Alan plunged his sword straight toward the Githyanki's chest.
A Shield spell flared to life automatically—an essential safeguard mastered by all casters, boasting unmatched defensive efficacy.
A Shield cast by a legendary mage was sturdy enough to withstand a direct hit or two from a magitech cannon. Unfortunately, he had met his exact counter.
The magebane longsword might not pierce a dragon's eyelid, but puncturing a Shield was as effortless as popping a soap bubble. Furthermore, despite the frenzied glow of defensive magic items across the Githyanki's body, nothing could halt the blade's edge.
The longsword sheared through the thin robes and plunged deep into the Githyanki's chest.
A look of pure disbelief was plastered across the alien's face. He could not comprehend why his myriad defensive spells had failed to buy him even an instant.
Seeing its master suffer a fatal strike, the red dragon mount whipped its jaws around, snapping at Alan.
Alan was forced to teleport away again, evading the dragon's bite.
As the blade pulled free, dark-crimson blood gushed from the Githyanki's wound. Clutching his chest, he frantically poured healing potions down his throat.
Though the flesh knit together swiftly, the internal trauma was not so easily mended. While the thrust had missed his heart, it had severed his spine, leaving half of his body paralyzed. Having no choice, the Githyanki rode his red dragon toward the spatial rift, swiftly retreating into the Astral Plane.
With the departure of this legendary powerhouse, the Acid Rain in the sky quickly dispersed, and several red dragons followed him back into the Astral Plane.
Even the Githyanki forces on the ground took a noticeable hit to their morale once they realized what had happened.
Just as the Ryanites thought they could seize the momentum to counterattack, they discovered that even more red dragons and vast swarms of Githyanki were pouring from the gateway.
Just how many enemies were there? Was this war doomed to end in defeat?
They had set out to crush the tieflings of the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn—how had they suddenly ended up besieged by dragons?
While the Ryanites hesitated in confusion, Alan's voice rang down from above once more: "Retreat! Fall back to Liuyan City!"
Jolted awake, the soldiers reformed their ranks and began falling back toward Liuyan City.
The Ryanite army was not inferior to the Githyanki in combat prowess. They had merely been stunned by the sudden appearance of the red dragons; never having encountered such foes or faced a large-scale aerial bombardment, they had been caught entirely unprepared.
Now, Alan grew increasingly adept in the sky, bursting the eyes of one dragon after another and driving the terrifying beasts to retreat higher into the air.
Alan tied down the bulk of the red dragons by himself, finally allowing the Ryanite army below to focus entirely on the ground-bound Githyanki.
Alan became the Ryanites' backbone, pulling everyone back from the brink of panic.
With their composure restored, the Ryanite forces finally unleashed their true fighting power. The paladin division split into multiple squadrons, their cavalry charges shattering the already scattered Githyanki formations.
The clerics of light brought their magic to bear, unleashing Fireballs, Flame Strikes, Sunbeams, and other spells against the Githyanki.
Since the enemies were humanoid after all, standard training procedures applied.
The Githyanki suddenly found that the humans who had seemed frail and helpless moments earlier had grown fearsome, inflicting heavy casualties upon them in short order.
The Ryanites executed an orderly retreat. As long as they could reach the city, the defensive magic array would activate, capable of swatting every red dragon out of the sky.
At that very moment, Anbaixiu and Mister Misfortune were watching the battlefield from afar.
Beside them stood the ethereal phantoms of Tiamat and Zariel.
Anbaixiu asked, "The Astral portal has stabilized, so our contract is considered fulfilled, isn't it?"
Tiamat produced a parchment contract—the very one they had signed. Under the lick of infernal flames, it crumbled to ashes.
Both Anbaixiu and Mister Misfortune felt an intuitive shift: the binding power that had constrained them was gone.
Though the contract was fulfilled, Tiamat did not leave. Instead, she said to Anbaixiu with a sneer, "I can guess what you want to do. Now that Ryan has been driven back, you plan to destroy this Astral portal and stop the Githyanki invasion, don't you? That way, you save the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn without becoming sinners of the world."
Anbaixiu replied without the slightest surprise, "What a sharp guess. So, do You intend to stop us? This Astral portal was only completed through mortal sacrifices; You cannot intervene in person, can You?"
Deities faced immense restrictions. Tiamat could not open the Astral portal herself and had to rely on deluded cultists to sacrifice themselves. The flesh, blood, and souls of ten thousand mortals provided the gateway's power, while Anbaixiu and Mister Misfortune used the power of fate to calibrate the coordinates as the magic array took shape.
Opening an Astral portal was not difficult, but the Astral Plane was vast beyond measure; aligning the rift precisely where Tiamat desired required the aid of divination wizards.
Throughout the entire process, Tiamat had not lifted a finger, sacrificing only the cultists She had deceived.
And now, if Anbaixiu and Mister Misfortune chose to destroy the Astral portal, Tiamat had no power to stop them—after all, the contract was already complete.
Tiamat chuckled. "I certainly won't raise a hand against you. I'm not that impulsive woman Lolth. However, I shall command these Githyanki to march upon the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn at once. Let me see... seventy to eighty thousand Githyanki have already crossed over, and with these red dragons, destroying that precarious kingdom will be effortless. Afterward, I shall drag every single soul in that realm down to Hell."
The Dragon Goddess looked at Anbaixiu with smug satisfaction and asked once more, "So, what do you plan to do now? Do you truly believe the two of you can hold back these Githyanki?"
Anbaixiu remained calm. He said to Tiamat, "The two of us certainly cannot stop such a terrible army. With dragons and legendary champions alike, fighting together wouldn't save us."
Tiamat's confident smile vanished. Glaring at Anbaixiu, She demanded, "Then what are you planning?"
Anbaixiu sighed. "What else can mere mortals like us do? Even if we stop this invasion, what about the next? The hell lords will forever covet this land and the people upon it. Since we can't win, running away is our only choice."
As soon as Anbaixiu finished speaking, Mister Misfortune soared higher into the sky.
Countless threads burst from his hands. Plucking at them like strings of a zither, his fingertips brushed across the strands.
The heavens tore open, revealing an eerie, chaotic realm.
Anbaixiu turned to Tiamat and said, "O Goddess, we're taking the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn on the run—to a place where You will never find it."
Chapter 347