Thunder raged endlessly across the heavens, while blossoms carpeted the earth below.
The Arena of the Storm had once been built to please Talos; the giants had fought here until death, ultimately vanishing from this plane forever.
Now, a colossal monument rose at the center of the arena, pinning down the massive silver dragon. Flowers bloomed everywhere—so long as visitors continued to come and pay their respects, these magical blooms would never wither.
The great Holy King Arthur Ryan had sacrificed himself, driving divine power through the time dragon's body to sever and annihilate its soul.
Yet the corpse of the time dragon did not rot. Instead, it flickered incessantly, hopping repeatedly between different nodes in time.
Such was the terrifying might of a time dragon. Even with its soul annihilated, formidable temporal power still lingered within its flesh, every cell instinctively manipulating time in an attempt to mend its wounds.
Back then, Arthur Ryan had crafted an artifact from the Demonic Dragon Tyrant's remains largely out of fear that the beast might resurrect.
Even if one hacked that flesh into minced pieces and burned it to cinders, safety was never guaranteed; at any moment, the ashes might flicker and regain their vitality.
This time, however, the people of Ryan had no right to handle the corpse of this even more powerful time dragon.
The catastrophe wrought by the Dragon Tyrant Armament had ultimately required their ancestor to sacrifice himself to resolve. Once word spread, the entire population of Ryan was consumed by unbearable shame, leading to a wave of guilt-driven suicides across the realm.
Even knowing that suicide meant descent into Hell, they did not care.
The sheer folly of later generations had forced the Holy King to sacrifice himself once more; such guilt could only be expiated through the torments of Hell.
Alan hurried back after the funeral; now, only he could step in to replace the disgraced Ryan royal family and stabilize the domestic turmoil.
The orc army had been poised to strike, but the Orc King's death threw their realm into disarray. They had to weigh whether to select a new king first or capitalize on Ryan's internal unrest to invade. In the end, none of the chieftains would yield to another; their deliberations devolved into brawls, and they missed their final window of opportunity to attack.
With their food supplies running dangerously low and unable to sustain further military campaigns, this war between two nations could only end with a whimper.
Ultimately, after extensive negotiations, the other kingdoms resolved not to dissect or dismantle the Demonic Dragon's remains. Instead, at immense expense of manpower and resources, they erected a colossal monument directly over the carcass. Inscribed upon it was a detailed account of the dragon-slaying campaign for future generations to honor and remember.
Furthermore, this monument served as a massive sealing circle.
At its core was another time dragon: Naomi was required to stay here for a prolonged period, using her own power to absorb and neutralize the residual temporal forces in the dragon's remains.
The process would likely take a very long time, but Naomi had proposed the idea herself. The druids simply assumed the young girl was the most devoted follower of Silvanus, willingly sacrificing her own life for the balance of the world.
Only Catherine understood: Naomi wanted to absorb the dragon's power in order to attempt to resurrect her master.
Following the battle, it was not that no one had tried to use resurrection magic.
For certain high-tier clerics, an intact body of someone recently deceased could be brought back to life through resurrection spells. As long as the soul had not fallen into the clutches of a hell lord, mighty spells like True Resurrection and Wish could even wrest souls away from hell lords.
Regrettably, neither of the two fallen heroes could be brought back through such means.
Arthur Ryan had been punished by Ao, his heroic spirit vessel thoroughly pulverized; there was no soul left to resurrect, nor even a body. As for the lich, he should originally have been able to revive through his phylactery; even if his time had been reversed to make him human again, ordinary resurrection magic should still have worked.
Yet Anbaixiu's demise had not simply been from old age or falling from a great height. The true cause was the Dragon Blood Curse the Demonic Dragon had inflicted in its dying moments.
The last person to suffer the Dragon Blood Curse was the true Arthur Ryan, whose soul had also completely dispersed in the end.
It was the same for Anbaixiu. His soul had shattered into fragments long before his physical form struck the ground. Using the curse, the dragon had transformed Anbaixiu's centuries of miserable memories into a ravenous pack of beasts, tearing and devouring his soul. In the judgment of countless experts who investigated, this hero's soul had completely dispersed.
Perhaps only Ao's personal intervention or reversing time itself could ever bring him back to life.
Regardless of how many people had ground their teeth in hatred toward the lich while he lived, after this battle, they all bowed their heads before the monument and praised his noble sacrifice.
Yet the moment they turned their backs, these very same people began scheming over how to carve up the vast fortune Lord Lich had left behind.
Everyone had seen the businesses operating out of Gold Coin Island and Silver Coin Island; "profitable" was far too modest a word—it was practically teaching gold coins how to breed.
In a brief span of time, the lich had forged a commercial empire, and his demise had barely dented its foundations. The only asset truly impacted was his cheap, efficient undead army.
However, with the nations unlikely to wage war anytime soon, that market was bound to dry up anyway.
The true goldmines were the shipping logistics, the alchemy workshops, and the regional specialties the lich had monopolized.
Materials like elven magical ingredients, the spices and high-grade equipment from the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn—these were trade channels the lich had negotiated during his lifetime. Whosoever gained control of these distribution networks would hold a goose that laid golden eggs.
While some still hesitated out of respect for the lich's recent sacrifice on behalf of the entire world, others had already begun their brazen encroachment.
On Gold Coin Island, which had been transformed into an alchemy manufacturing hub, Harvey's face was dark. Standing before him was Gustavo Fring, the guildmaster of the New Alchemy Association. And what Fring had brought was not the recently due distribution profits, but a new profit-sharing contract.
Harvey flipped through it casually, only to find the profit distribution thoroughly reworked. Where their teacher was originally supposed to receive the lion's share, this new contract allocated every last copper of profit to the Alchemy Association.
Gripping the new contract, Harvey said with a solemn tone, "Master Fring, is this the New Alchemy Association's latest decision?"
Gustavo Fring looked at Harvey impassively. His stern, unsmiling dark face exerted immense pressure on the youth; rumor had it that more than one alchemist had literally been scared to death by Fring's glare.
Harvey was nervous as well. But with their teacher gone, Harvey—who had once merely been an accountant—had become the primary person in charge of many ventures. Now, he had no choice but to brace himself and negotiate with this voracious alchemist.
"Master Fring, you know full well what this contract represents. It means you intend to swallow my teacher's business whole."
"When your teacher was alive, he swallowed the livelihoods of countless people, stoked wars, peddled arms, counterfeit potions, and more. The world is just that cruel, and it won't change simply because your teacher became a hero. Harvey, you followed that lich for so long—have you still not seen how the world works?"
Harvey sneered. "Lecturing a divination wizard on the rules of the world? Master Fring, all you see are the tacit rules of the marketplace."
Unfazed, Gustavo Fring replied, "We are only discussing business here. To put it bluntly, if you possessed even a fraction of your teacher's capability, I wouldn't have come knocking at all. Harvey, it's time you reacquaint yourself with the law of the jungle. For your teacher's sake, I could leave you a small cut of the profits, but only if you know your place."
Harvey surged to his feet, furious. "The dragon alchemy trade is a supply line my teacher controlled! Without raw materials, you can't accomplish anything. What gives you the nerve to rewrite this contract?"
"Did you think the world would stop turning in the time since your teacher died? We have already dispatched representatives overseas to make contact with the dragons. You originally promised the dragon race access to continental delicacies and luxury goods. But with your teacher gone, do you honestly believe you have what it takes to satisfy those greedy dragons?"
Harvey had not anticipated that the Alchemy Association would move so swiftly. Dispatching men across the sea to negotiate with the dragons? How had he received no wind of this?
"You may refuse this new contract, but do you have any way to protect your teacher's enterprise? Do you intend to oppose our Alchemy Association? Do you fancy yourself to be that lich who could bring about the fall of gods with nothing but his silver tongue?"
It was not that Gustavo Fring looked down on Harvey; the youth was indeed exceptionally gifted, rumored to be the divination wizard most likely to reach the realm of legend after the lich.
Yet everything depended on who you were compared against.
During the era when his teacher stirred up storms, he had trampled nearly every prodigy in the world beneath his feet. In comparison, Harvey fell so far short that he could never deter those with ravenous ambitions.
Gustavo Fring hoped Harvey would recognize reality. If possible, he even hoped Harvey would enter his service, which would make absorbing Anbaixiu's remaining assets vastly simpler.
Fring could see that Harvey was wavering. The boy was not strong-willed enough, not qualified to inherit the lich's legacy.
Fring was also thankful that their departed adversary had been a lich rather than a human noble with an expansive family; otherwise, laying hands on his estate wouldn't have been so easy.
Just as Gustavo Fring pressed his advantage, believing he had forced Harvey to bend, the young man suddenly reined in all emotion, seized the parchment bearing the new contract, and tore it in half with a sharp rip.
Scraps drifted to the floor. Harvey spoke calmly to Gustavo Fring: "You're right. Compared to my teacher, I fall terribly short. I cannot protect his business—but neither can you take it. Master Fring, I may not be good at business, but there are things I am good at.
"If you insist on doing something so shameless, I guarantee that every single person in your Alchemy Association will suffer misfortune for the next ten, the next hundred years. You will achieve nothing, accidents will plague you constantly, and you will be spurned by the world. That is what I can do. I will sacrifice everything I have to fate in exchange for the destruction of your Alchemy Association."
Gustavo Fring frowned, though he did not take the threat to heart.
Divination wizards were troublesome, yet Harvey was merely a youth who had barely moved past apprenticeship. Such a threat was nothing more than an empty bluff.
Yet just as Gustavo Fring was about to apply further pressure, he felt his body stiffen.
The surrounding air seemed to turn bitterly cold; Fring could even see his breath condensing into white mist.
A crimson figure materialized before the two of them. Graceful, opulent, and exquisitely alluring, her presence nonetheless sent a shudder through Gustavo Fring's very soul.
Why was she here?!
Harvey, on the other hand, cried out in delightful surprise!
"Lady Rose, what brought you here?!"
Chapter 514