The moment Anbaixiu proclaimed the resurrection of the Demonic Dragon, countless celestial phenomena manifested across the sky.
These were gods manifesting their presence from the heavens.
Thunder danced with wild abandon, embodying the maniacal laughter of Talos.
He was the greatest winner of this game—spectating from start to finish, and even winning a goddess for a wife.
Other translucent silhouettes were "guests" invited by Anbaixiu to bear witness to the game.
The God of Alchemy, the Goddess of Wealth, the Lady of Mists, the Oak Father, the Chief God of the Orcs, the High Dwarven Pantheon... Aside from the elves, every deity tied to the kingdoms of mortals had arrived.
The gods had assembled to see where this lich intended to steer the world.
And now, the outcome was settled.
The Demonic Dragon had revived; the disguise had failed.
In this instant, he became the target of all. Every race across the continent would unite to launch a joint crusade against this tyrant of old.
They would listen to no explanations, nor would they grant the Demonic Dragon a second chance.
Furthermore, everything that had just transpired had already been broadcast to the entire world through the magic mirror. Everyone now knew the Demonic Dragon's true identity.
The young Ryan Emperor... No, in this moment, he was no longer the emperor of Ryan, but the Demonic Dragon Tyrant, Artross.
Artross watched as Anbaixiu slowly descended from the sky. The lich, who had assumed human form, bore no expression of victory on his face—only a calm so detached it bordered on exquisite. Gritting his teeth, Artross demanded, "You won, and you're wearing that look?"
Anbaixiu glanced at him and didn't bother answering the question, merely remarking with cool mockery, "Conceding defeat so readily?"
Artross said with bitter resentment, "How could I not? I'm no longer the Demonic Dragon I once was. I can't rewind time for the entire world, and none of you will let me walk away."
The audience gathered here comprised more than half of the world's legendary powerhouses. Gareth, that Headless Horseman from the dream alone, displayed strength far exceeding Arthur Ryan's from the old days. Relying on his own power, victory was an utter impossibility.
Struggling was pointless, and with his plan ruined, Artross would never surpass Arthur Ryan.
Under this double blow, Artross had lost all will to fight.
"Had Arthur been placed in desperate straits, he still wouldn't have surrendered. He always harbored hope—and that is why you lost to him back then."
Anbaixiu's words ignited a blinding rage within Artross.
"Damn you to hell, you wretched lich!" Artross ground his teeth so hard they fractured, roaring through a mouthful of blood, "I should have slaughtered you right at the start! Curse Cyric—He was the one who deceived me..."
Anbaixiu acted as if he hadn't heard Artross's curses at all, looking up toward the sky instead.
Artross began to sense that something was amiss. What was the lich staring at? Was there anything more worthy of attention right now than the defeated?
High above, countless shadows faded, only for far more colossal silhouettes to take their place.
They were dragons—incomprehensibly vast, looming as if each were larger than the entire world.
"This is..."
Artross trembled all over as he felt the resonant thrum of his own bloodline.
Anbaixiu let out a sigh. "This is your hope—your final chance."
With the Demonic Dragon's identity exposed, the wager between the Dragon Gods and the Lord of the Dawn was settled.
After one thousand seven hundred years, the Demonic Dragon's plan to usurp Ryan had completely collapsed. The dragons overseas could not return; in the end, the dragon race had lost this millennial war.
The ultimate victor was the Lord of the Dawn. But regardless of what spoils the Lord of the Dawn had claimed, from this moment on, the Dragon Gods had no further need for silence.
Once the stakes were paid, the second game officially began.
Billions of golden rays cascaded from the heavens, transforming into a brilliant deluge. In midair, the shimmering rain converged into rivers, pouring directly into Artross's body.
In that breath, he threw back his head and roared at the sky. His human frame expanded wildly, swelling into a monstrous behemoth within a fraction of a second.
Flesh and mortal skin tore apart as silver-white scales burst forth... A hundred-meter-long silver dragon materialized before everyone's eyes.
Artross stared down at his own body in disbelief.
"My strength has returned... No, it's even greater! Hahaha! Even stronger!"
His colossal dragon wings unfurled. Instantly, the colosseum fell into a state of stopped time, freezing every living soul in place.
The time dragon soared into the upper sky, gazing down at the arena below. How had what should have been an absolute dead end suddenly flipped into a miraculous turnaround?
And it was far more than just a restoration of power. Following in its wake were countless blessings he had not yet had the chance to comprehend—blessings bestowed by the Dragon Gods.
He had originally been a soul coaxed from the Dragon Tyrant Armament through the nourishment of flesh and blood, his body an amalgamation of the artifact and the Ryan imperial bloodline. Though he could assume the shape of a time dragon, it hadn't been much more sophisticated than a druid's wild shape.
Yet at this very moment, every trace of human impurity had been wiped away. This body was a pure, unadulterated time dragon, far sturdier and more vigorous than he had been in his former life.
Precisely because of this, the mere unfurling of Artross's wings could freeze time for everyone present. And these were legends—eight of them on Ryan's side alone.
The power of time was like flipping the table and bashing your opponent over the head with the board when you couldn't win a game of chess; it carried the potential to break every rule and snatch victory from defeat. But every piece on that board bore weight, and the larger the board being overturned, the greater the exertion required.
Inside the dream, Artross had exercised extreme caution, only turning back the clock by several minutes when backed into a corner.
Now, however, he had effortlessly sealed all these legends in place without even feeling strained.
"Damned lich! Your end has come—hm?!"
Artross moved to seize Anbaixiu and humiliate him ruthlessly to avenge the insult from moments before.
Yet when he raised his head to look around, he discovered that Anbaixiu had already flown far away.
"How is that possible... Wait, is that a time dragon?!"
Artross saw Anbaixiu astride a small, silver-white dragon, speeding toward the colosseum's exit as fast as it could fly.
Only a time dragon could move freely within this temporal boundary. Where had that lich managed to find one?!
Reeling in shock, Artross snapped his wings and gave chase.
Without looking back, Anbaixiu hurled several fireballs toward Artross. But such minor spells were meaningless against a time dragon. The closer the fireballs drew to the dragon's body, the slower they moved, until they froze entirely in midair.
Lightning, frost, Magic Missiles... Before the power of time, all magic was treated equally, rendered entirely useless.
Even with Haste cast upon himself, Anbaixiu couldn't outrun the pursuing time dragon. Before he could even clear the perimeter of the colosseum, Artross overtook him.
The colossal time dragon loomed in Anbaixiu's path. In comparison, the small time dragon beneath Anbaixiu looked as petite as a child.
"A druid's transformation?" Artross asked, stunned. "How could a druid turn into a time dragon?"
Time dragons, prismatic dragons, and force dragons—these three legendary dragon species were legendary in the most literal sense, born into legend from the moment they hatched. That was a sovereign privilege woven into the world's very laws. Even if a druid perfected the art of wild shape, it was impossible to transform into one of the three great legendary dragons.
Yet the silver dragonling before him undeniably possessed the power of time, even if it was exceptionally faint—so weak that merely sustaining the ability to move had exhausted the creature.
Anbaixiu wasn't about to answer Artross's questions. Desperate to struggle free, he seemed intent on escaping once more.
Artross, however, was not about to give him another chance.
The power of time converged upon Anbaixiu and the slender dragon, sundering their defenses in an instant.
The druidic form shattered. Just as Naomi began to plummet and prepared to transform anew, Artross reached out and caught her in his talons.
"What an intriguing little creature. I'll take my time studying you later."
With a gentle squeeze from the Demonic Dragon, Naomi vanished into thin air.
Suspended in midair, Anbaixiu asked in a low voice, "Did you send her to another time and space?"
Artross shot him a look and scoffed, "Do you think you're still in any position to ask questions?"
Anbaixiu chuckled, replying with a question of his own. "Did you think I was ignorant of the wager between the Dragon Gods and the Lord of the Dawn? Did you think I couldn't guess that the gods would bestow their blessings upon you?"
"So what if you did?" Artross said with absolute confidence. "No one can withstand my power."
He was stronger than the Demonic Dragon Tyrant had ever been at his peak. Even if every legendary powerhouse here swarmed him together, he wouldn't feel the slightest fear.
Anbaixiu smiled. "I knew this was your nature. When you lose, you curse heaven and earth; when you win, you're swollen with arrogance. Haven't you noticed that the person you want to see most hasn't shown up yet?"
The moment Anbaixiu's words fell, a faint film of dawnlight washed over Artross.
Like the arrival of first light, the delicate radiance seemed utterly unremarkable. Yet in the very next second, the time dragon's colossal head was severed clean from its body.
Dragon blood erupted in geysers. The frozen flow of time resumed, and across the colosseum, the paralyzed powerhouses swiftly regained their ability to move.
A colossal silver mech appeared in the air, the greatsword in its hand dripping with the blood of the time dragon.
Only one person in this world could unleash such a pure Divine Smite representing pure hope. That immaculate Holy Light had completely ignored the temporal distortion, tearing through the time dragon's defensive ward, cleaving the resilient scales, and severing the Demonic Dragon's head.
Yet Arthur Ryan, having lopped off the beast's head in a single strike, showed not the slightest hint of triumph. He merely gripped his hilt, fixing his gaze upon the decapitated time dragon.
The massive bulk of the time dragon tumbled from the sky. But before it could strike the ground, the severed head reattached itself on its own. The mortal wounds mended instantly, as though the dragon had never been harmed at all.
Time was on Artross's side. No matter how fatal the injury, the time dragon could leap through time, returning to the state before the harm was inflicted. Until the dragon's power was utterly drained, a time dragon was immortal.
Artross let loose a deafening roar: "Arthur Ryan!"
The power of time swept across the entire venue once more. One after another, the heroes who had just regained their mobility vanished, their attacks cast into some unknown era before they could even brush against the dragon's scales.
In the entire colosseum, only Anbaixiu, Arthur Ryan, and the enraged dragon remained.
Chapter 511