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*****
I thrust my thick rod into her a few more times and my balls tightened before I sprayed my fluids down into her tight wet hole. Both saw sparks that only a powerful orgasm between two powerful creatures could give. Her tight pussy milked me, milked every last drop of cum out of my balls.
---
The play I had with Westbey went on for some time, the woman having some strong stamina and body on her as I played and messed around with Westbey, making sure to fill her inside plenty, driving her mad with pleasure until even she couldn't hold on and had to fall asleep.
'She looks so different now', I mused as I looked at Westbey lying on my side, hugging me tight with a smile on her face. All those bad memories and sad moments she had gone through were now gone from her mind, the only thing she has in her life now is happiness and contentment, along with the safety that I am giving her.
My gaze travelled through her body, her breasts still red from the handprints and bites I gave her, her ass cheeks red from the spanks, her lips a bit red from all the biting I did, her core still trembling from all the ploughing I gave her. The once-cut horn upon her forehead had nearly reformed, its jagged edges smoothed, regenerated over days of relentless passion and primal Lovemaking—our bodies entwined in a rhythm of raw desire and purpose. My Radiant Force Field remained constantly active, an ever-present current of divine energy focused solely on her, mending what had been broken. Each moment we spent together was not just intimacy, but a deliberate act of restoration.
However, in the end, the happy smile on her face went a long way in helping me. In the end, it wasn't just my energy that restored her. It was her happiness—pure, vulnerable, and real—that made me feel invincible.
My hands wrapped around her waist, holding her close to me while she lightly left hot breaths on my chest, a cute smile on her face as she slept. Seeing this, I focused back on the other issue at hand, my senses travelling forth through the entire place and marking the whole area, my senses picking up on all the changes taking place.
---
After a long, violent storm with Westbey, I came to the door of the hall with satisfaction.
It is said that people cannot become slaves to desires; otherwise, they will be useless.
But I am not human now, but a dragon. I have a very long life to enjoy various desires.
After all, making myself comfortable is the purpose of becoming strong. Otherwise, the kind of tasteless strength is not real strength. Maybe this is my essence!
The personality is perfectly in line with a dragon!
—
Unknown Amount of Time Later!
In an unknown underground cave, a huge black dragon slowly opened its eyes, stretching its dragon wings that were more than 130 meters wide and its strong body.
"Legend."
After reaching the pinnacle of legend, I began to think about my own path to legend.
To reach the level of legend, three major elements were needed.
1. The true meaning of legend. Or it can be called a mysterious understanding of the rules of how the world works.
This was the most important point. Without understanding the true meaning of legend, one could never step into true legend.
2. Legendary energy. Transforming one's energy into pure legendary-level energy.
This was relatively easy. As long as one understood the true meaning of legend, an energy breakthrough could be quickly achieved. Even without understanding the true meaning of legend, there were many forbidden techniques or secret techniques that could raise the energy level to legendary, but most had obvious consequences.
3. The legendary body. The transformed legendary energy would continue strengthening the body until the body itself acquired traces of energy characteristics, marking the successful transformation.
Once the body had energy characteristics, the importance of many originally fatal parts would gradually greatly diminish.
Of course, if the head and heart of a low-level legendary powerhouse were destroyed, they would still die under normal circumstances. However, as the energy characteristics of the body gradually strengthened, the head and heart would no longer be regarded as fatal parts, and there would be little difference between them and an ordinary finger.
Of the above three elements, the core is undoubtedly the true meaning of legend.
I'm still a little vague about the true meaning of the legend, but as my spiritual power becomes more and more profound, the characteristics of my spiritual power are now gradually being revealed.
I felt that I might be able to find a way to break through to the legend here.
However, even if I cannot break through in a short time, as long as I have the skill of Void Feasting, my strength will not be inferior.
The feast does not care whether there are bottlenecks or not. As long as I eat, my strength will increase.
"I don't want to think about it for the moment. I have been low-key for too long and held it in for too long. I can't bear it anymore."
I roared.
Not a cry of rage. Not a warning to the weak. No—this was a divine proclamation, a roar of supremacy that tore across dimensions and cracked the very fabric of the realms. My wings—colossal, abyss-black, and wide enough to blot out continents—shuddered with apocalyptic force. The earth groaned in agony as I surged upward. My colossal dragon form surged like a shadowy spear, piercing through a thousand meters of the bedrock, the veins of metal, the striated layers of primeval stone, and the hundreds of thousands of tons of soil and mountain above me. Everything in my path—harder than diamond, older than me—was reduced to vapor beneath my unstoppable ascent.
I didn't climb.
I tore through the earth like it was mist.
My vast form, darker than shadow, longer than rivers, surged through a thousand meters of unyielding crust in less than a blink—I shattered mountains from beneath. I erupted from the depths like a calamity unsealed, a primordial force unchained.
And then, I saw the sky.
The sun dared shine upon me. The skyes stretched far and wide—but none of it was enough to contain my fury. I roared again, and the world answered. Skies fractured. Clouds disintegrated. Storms were born and died in an instant, as my voice echoed through the planes like the toll of a divine war bell.
My draconic might swept outward, faster than light, heavier than gravity, deeper than void.
Ten kilometers.
A hundred.
Thousands.
Everything was consumed in my aura.
Birds fell from the sky. Rivers reversed their flow. Trees bowed. Magic faltered. Time itself seemed to slow down in the plane beneath the crushing presence of a dragon who had long since abandoned the limits of mortality.
Below me, the demon horde collapsed—countless, bloodthirsty, and awaved. Their twisted bodies writhed and curled into the dirt, unable to lift their heads. Kings of the lower realms quivered in silence. Warlocks forgot their chants. Even the Abyss creatures trembled.
I looked upon them like an emperor observing ants.
And without a word, I took to the sky.
I didn't fly.
I obliterated distance.
My wings cleaved through the firmament as I accelerated beyond comprehension—hundreds of times the speed of sound. The air ignited around me. The clouds parted like curtains before a god's descent. The friction seared my scales until they gleamed like molten obsidian, blazing like a falling star that defied the heavens themselves.
My destination was the frontline—the brutal clash between the Ghost Clans and the Abyss Lord's forces.
There had once been an agreement with the Green Ghost King… but what value does an unbound pact hold before a dragon who walks beyond the threshold of legends?
I had no intention of diplomacy. I came to witness the Abyss Lord's strength firsthand... and perhaps, to slaughter a few legendary demons and add their bones to my growing hoard.
The wind screamed around me like a legion of blades, clawing at my scales but never slowing me. I did not veil myself with spells. No illusions, no silence—only raw, unrestrained power I soared wantonly.
Because when you've ascended to such heights... why hide? I should be more arrogant.
This plane—capped at the second tier of legends—was a joke. A shattered playground that thought itself dangerous.
Laughable.
I won't sneak.
I won't whisper.
I'll burn it down and be done with it.
Just be reckless and be done with it.
---
Silver Moon Desert
This was no mere battlefield—it was the frontline of annihilation, where the five Ghost Clans clashed with the relentless Abyssal Legion of Black Smoke City.
Once, when night cloaked the desert in velvet shadow, the sands would shimmer beneath the moon, casting a serene silver glow. But that beauty had long since been butchered. Now, under the pale moonlight, the Silver Moon Desert bled—a cursed land soaked in death, where the dunes glistened not with light, but with blood.
The morning mist slithered across the red sands like a dying breath. Then, the sun—ancient and merciless—clawed its way above the horizon, tearing through the dawn with blinding golden fire. The desert was lit ablaze in its radiance… just as the war ignited once more.
Brutal howls tore through the air, heads were lopped from necks with sickening cracks, and the very souls of the fallen screamed as they were devoured by howling abyssal beasts.
Beneath that burning sky, the desert boiled with war. The demon army—an ocean of black, churning with endless hunger—surged across the land in infernal waves. They clashed against five walls of defiance: crimson, ivory, violet, jade, and frost-blue—the colors of the Ghost Clans, holding the line with ancient hatred.
The Red Ghost, hulking and monstrous, was a walking storm of rage. His blood-red muscles bulged like coiled serpents, and with a single swing of his cleaver, a demon was bisected—flesh, bone, and soul alike. Screams echoed, only to be silenced in blood.
The White Ghost, towering and wide as a fortress wall, bellowed a thunderous roar. He stomped down with divine weight, pulverizing demons into nothing but steaming gore. With a twist of his iron mace, he painted the battlefield with a spray of entrails and crushed bone.
Behind them stood the Purple Ghost, thin as a wraith, eyes glowing with eerie violet fire. His gaze alone broke minds—demons staggered and whimpered, dazed and vulnerable, as they were hacked apart by their blood-soaked brethren.
To the flanks, the Green Ghost summoned massive, writhing vines that speared through demon flesh, lifting the shrieking monsters high into the air before snapping their bodies in half like twigs. The Frost Ghost, cool and merciless, raised her staff. From above, ice spears fell like a divine blizzard, tearing through wings, eyes, and skulls. Every impact painted the desert in viscera.
But this was only the clash of foot soldiers.
Above them, in the darkened heavens and desolate valleys, true monsters danced—legendary warriors of the Ghost Clans battling demonic tyrants, each clash shaking the sky with sonic booms and surges of unrestrained power.
Behind the lines, deeper still, two looming storms of power rose on either side—one from the rear of the Ghost forces, one from the depths of Black Smoke City's army. The Top Legends, ancient champions radiating enough power to warp the world, glared at each other across the void, neither daring to make the first move. They held the balance, waiting for the right moment to tilt the war into annihilation.
After a year of brutal war, an unspoken rule had taken hold—only First-Level Legends were allowed to enter the battlefield. The more powerful Second-Level monsters had clashed once, and the Ghost Clans had barely come out on top, forcing the demons into retreat.
But neither side dared to go further.
The Ghost Clans feared that pushing too hard might provoke the unfinished lords of Black Smoke City… or worse, draw the attention of other Abyssal Lords.
Likewise, the Lord of Black Smoke City hesitated too. If they unleashed their true strength, they risked exposing their hidden power to rival Abyss Lords—power they weren't ready to reveal.
Now, both sides stood in a tense deadlock. Neither willing to show their full hand. Each waiting for the other to make the first mistake.
And still, the desert burned.
Tens of millions of ghosts and demons clashed, their blood flooding the sands, their screams echoing across the realm like a dirge for the damned, their blood staining the vast desert with a deep crimson hue.
One day passed.
Then two.
On the third day, as the sun began to fall and the sky wept crimson light across the wasteland, both armies began to retreat slightly, their warriors limping back, broken and bloodied.
But peace? That was a myth long buried.
The demons of Black Smoke City would never agree.
On the battlefield, blood must flow every moment!
The demons of Black Smoke City craved blood. Their war was one of attrition, a slow grind meant to shatter the foundation of the Ghost Clans until nothing remained but silence and ash. If not for the time it took to summon fresh legions from the Abyss, they would never have pulled back. Instead, they would grind until the sky cracked and the Ghost Clans were dust beneath their hooves.
However, just as both sides tacitly agreed to gradually reduce the scale of the war and wait for the next intense battle, a sudden change occurred.
And then—
It came.
A change so vast, so absolute, that it silenced the world.
Every soul in the Silver Moon Desert—demon, ghost, legend, or mortal—felt it. Their hearts clenched, their lungs froze. The air became a crushing wall of despair, like the gravity of a black hole wrapped around their very spirits. Panic, dread, awe, and raw fear surged through them in a tidal wave of annihilation.
The sky ruptured.
The blood-soaked clouds above burst apart as a colossal shadow tore through them, spiraling in the sky like the herald of the end. Wings blacker than night unfurled like the sails of apocalypse. From the heavens descended a creature born not of this world, but of dominion and wrath.
The Dragon Lord had arrived.
His presence alone shattered the clouds, his wings sweeping over the battlefield like tidal waves of death. His armor was midnight obsidian, jagged and ancient, with spikes running down his ridged spine to a tail like a black iron whip. Smoke hissed from his fanged maw, and his wings exhaled frost-laced storms with every beat.
In the eyes of millions, the Black Dragon Lord was like the final boss of an epic story, appearing before all living creatures with an unrivaled presence.
The massive black dragon roared across the sky, staring down at the densely packed ghosts, demons, and roaring abyssal creatures below. His crimson vertical eyes were filled with coldness.
Demons and ghosts alike froze, heads tilted to the heavens. And there he was—the final calamity, the end written in scale and fire. His eyes, vertical and crimson like burning hellfire, scanned the battlefield with a coldness that slows down the time itself.
He did not roar to announce his presence.
He simply existed.
And all creation trembled.
---
I lowered my head slightly—and then exhaled.
The sky split with a thunderous crack as purple lightning intertwined with seething demonic hellfire. The violent fusion erupted into a titanic pillar of roaring thunderfire, descending like divine judgment from the heavens. It carved through the battlefield below in a blaze of annihilation, vaporizing abyssal creatures and demons alike in a storm of pure destruction.
Shrieks of agony filled the air—screams so sharp and guttural they pierced the soul—while hateful curses surged upward like the last breath of the damned. Limbs were incinerated. Wings torn to ash. Skulls cracked under the pressure of the firestorm. Even the thick-skinned demon brutes melted like wax under a black sun.
Towering above the carnage, the colossal black dragon loomed like a god of wrath incarnate. Without hesitation, he plunged into the tide of abominations, wings slicing through the air like blades of death, tail whipping through the hordes with bone-shattering force. Again and again, he tore through their ranks, an avatar of ruin unleashed.
Purple lightning danced across his obsidian scales, hissing with rage. The thunderfire around him devoured the hellflames and lava conjured by the desperate demons, rendering their magic futile. The abyssal beasts, hideous in shape and terrifying in power, howled and unleashed their curses—but no matter what infernal power they summoned, it was drowned in endless waves of demonic flames. They burst like overripe boils, flooding the battlefield with steaming ichor.
The strongmen of Black Smoke City, initially thrown into chaos by the dragon's sudden appearance, now halted mid-battle. Their expressions shifted—not with fear, but with the sudden clarity of revelation.
The dragon… was not an enemy.
He fought the demons. He tore through the abyssal horrors that plagued this plane.
He… was with the ghost clan.
None knew when this terrifying beast had descended upon their plane, nor how the ghost tribe had teamed up with such a force. But none of it mattered now. Speculation was a luxury, and the demon soldiers were in no mood for thinking. Only one emotion remained in their hearts—rage. Boiling, bitter, blind rage.
"YOU BASTARD!" A voice like an erupting volcano thundered across the battlefield. "I'LL TURN OFF YOUR FAUCET!"
Behind the crumbling demon ranks, the skeleton throne of the abyss trembled. A monstrous figure rose from it—a lava demon of gargantuan stature. His molten skin flowed like living magma, his body over twenty meters tall, thick and rippling with ancient demonic muscle. With a deafening roar, he slammed his burning palm against the throne, cracking it into fragments.
Two immense lava wings—fifty meters across—unfurled like curtains of liquid fire. With a single flap, he launched into the sky like a crimson meteor, a comet of rage streaking toward the black dragon in a display of explosive fury.
*****
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