https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-810-The-Blue-Dragon-Clan-s-Decision/13677734/
Chapter 809: Tyrant in the Dunes
Within the majestic palace of the Five-Colored Dragon Queen, nestled deep in the endless sands, the Dragon Flock trembled in terror. They had felt the wrath of the Mother of Monsters, and in their panic, they plummeted from the skies. Wings folded, heads bowed, knees bending—each of them knelt upon the ground, crouching like a flock of meek sheep, utterly unlike the fearsome, ravenous Colorful Dragons they truly were.
At the foot of the throne, the most revered and favored of the ancient dragons, the Ancient Red Dragon Kaleymas, stepped forward with careful reverence. “Your Majesty,” he whispered, “what has transpired? What could have incited such fury from You?”
Beside him, the Primordial Green Dragon Samuel refused to be outshone. Pushing past Kaleymas, he declared with unwavering resolve, “Fear not, Dragon Queen. My kind—the Green Dragons—stand ready to serve. We shall eradicate the unaware wretch who has provoked Your rage, and cleanse the abode that dares harbor such insolence.”
On the throne above, Tiamat lifted her eyelids slightly. Her gaze swept over the two kneeling dragons, and a surge of fury surged from her core as memories of her failure in the Material Realm flashed through her mind. Her annoyance deepened into a boiling rage.
“Get out of my sight!”
A thunderous roar erupted from her, unleashing a force so immense it sent both dragons flying backward. They slammed into the palace walls with bone-shattering impact, their bodies torn and mangled, grievously wounded.
These two dragons, once lords of terror in the Material Realm—capable of reducing entire nations to nightmares—now lay broken and helpless, mere punching bags for the Five-Colored Dragon Queen’s fury. One single roar had left them near death.
Seeing their fate, the other dragons in the hall flinched, heads sinking lower, sweat dripping down their scales. Silence reigned, thick with fear. Any misstep, any wrong word, could be the spark that ignited her wrath.
Tiamat’s gaze pierced the horizon, as if she could see the silhouette of the four-horned Red Dragon. Her voice, low and venomous, hissed through the air.
“Erebus is dead.”
The wounded Primordial Green Dragon sprang up instantly, blood streaming down his face, eyes wide with panic. “Dead? You’re saying Erebus is dead? Impossible! He’s a Semi-God! Did Bahamut himself intervene?”
“No,” another gasped. “If Bahamut had come, our spies in Heaven’s Mountain would have sensed it. Unless… the Sun God has awakened?”
“But he was the most powerful Semi-God among us—Lord of the Putrid Marsh! How could he fall so easily?”
Chaos erupted among the Green Dragons. Shock, disbelief, and terror filled the hall. Some even began arguing with their kin. Erebus had been their greatest champion, their political anchor in the Divine Realm. His death would shake their standing to its core.
“No,” Tiamat murmured, her voice a serpent’s whisper. “It was not Bahamut. It was the arrogant rebel.”
She spat the name like poison. “Kai Xiusu Claudew Noirikexius.”
“Impossible!” roared the hall.
“He dared to slay kin? This is unforgivable!”
“Damned beast! How has that Red Dragon grown so powerful? What sorcery is this?”
The chamber erupted once more. In just a few short years, this dragon from the Material Plane had already shaken the foundations of the Divine Realm. But the murder of Erebus—the killing of a true Semi-God—was the most shocking, the most terrifying.
Samuel stared into the void, his mind racing. “This… this defies logic. That Emperor of the Ashen Flame isn’t even a Semi-God. How could he have utterly destroyed one?”
Then, a chilling thought struck him. No. Erebus was not slain by Kai Xiusu.
To the Five-Colored Dragon Queen, a body destroyed and unable to regenerate held no utilitarian value. The only worth left in Erebus was the divine essence within him—the spark of his Semi-Godhood. After Kai Xiusu defeated him, Tiamat had consumed that essence without mercy. That was the truth. That was the only explanation.
Samuel looked up at the towering, five-headed form on the throne. A shiver ran through him. The cold, calculating gaze of the Dragon Queen made his blood freeze. He dared not speak. He knew—there were others in the hall who had seen it too. But no one would voice it. Not now. Not ever.
They all understood the unspoken rule: speak the truth, and you become the next Erebus.
Tiamat’s icy gaze swept across the hall. “Yes. It was Kai Xiusu. The rebel who consorts with lowly humans. He cowardly ambushed and killed Erebus. He stole my Divine Body!”
“Dare he?” she thundered. “He must be punished! His wings shall be broken! His skin stripped! His head severed and displayed as a trophy!”
The dragons roared in unison—furious, righteous, furious. They cursed the “unaware wretch” with every ounce of venom they could muster. Even if they faked their rage, they played the part well.
“Good,” Tiamat said, her voice like steel. “So. Who among you will kill this traitor?”
Her words rang through the chamber. “Kill him, and I will grant you half a Divine Power, an Ancestral Dragon bloodline, and mountains of gold!”
The offer was intoxicating. Gold, power, legacy—everything a dragon could desire. In another time, the hall would have erupted in clamor, dragons scrambling to claim the prize.
But now? Silence.
No one moved.
No one dared.
Power and wealth meant nothing if you were dead. The Five-Colored Dragons knew this truth too well.
To assassinate Kai Xiusu? A fool’s errand. He was one of the most powerful dragons in the Material Plane—capable of battling Hell Lords, challenging Divine Avatars, and slaying a Semi-God. And he ruled a vast, rapidly expanding empire, with an army that stood unmatched.
To send them against him was to send them to their deaths.
The greedy, self-serving dragons preferred to stay close to the Dragon Queen, basking in her shadow, looting riches and preying on the weak—without risk.
Tiamat’s patience snapped. “Cowards!” she roared. “Is this how you show me loyalty?”
“We—We only—”
“I sustain you with Divine Power! Is this how you repay me? By idle talk?” Her voice cracked like thunder. “Go to the Material Plane! Destroy the Army of the Ashen Flame! Fail to complete my task, and you shall never return to the Divine Realm!”
With a single sweep of her mighty wing, Tiamat unleashed a storm of divine wrath. The chamber trembled. A hurricane of energy tore through the hall, hurling dozens of dragons from the Divine Realm. Their forms flickered, becoming translucent—pulled through the veil and cast down into the Material Plane.
“Please, Your Majesty!” one pleaded. “I don’t want to go back!”
“I beg you, Dragon Queen! Let me stay! There’s a mad Paladin hunting me in the Material Plane!”
Their cries were futile. The Queen’s fury knew no mercy.
She watched as the exiled dragons vanished into the sands below. Coldly, she spoke. “They must understand. If they enjoy the power born of their blood, they must be willing to serve. To sacrifice.”
Kaleymas stepped forward immediately, bowing low. “Your Majesty, you are wise beyond measure. If we allow this flock to run wild, they will breed more traitors like Kai Xiusu.”
“Then when will our Five-Colored Dragon race reclaim dominion over the Earth?”
He spoke not only to flatter Tiamat, but to make his allegiance clear. Though both were Red Dragons, he feared her suspicion. He needed to distance himself from the Emperor of the Ashen Flame.
But Tiamat stared at him—her gaze not just wrathful, but strangely exhilarated. Her lips curled into a fierce, twisted smile.
“Kaleymas… tonight, you shall serve me. Transform into a four-horned form. You may find it… uncomfortable.”
“Yes, yes, Your Majesty,” Kaleymas stammered, trembling, sweat pouring from his brow. His tail curled tightly between his legs. Though long past reproductive age, he had been magically revived by divine spells—yet the terror in his eyes was real. He was no longer a dragon. He was a vessel.
---
Taliro Desert.
Beneath a merciless sun, the heat shimmered in waves, warping the air. In the endless dunes, a mirage of lush greenery shimmered—just out of reach. A desperate traveler, parched and delirious, would stumble toward it… only to find nothing but sand and illusion.
Behind the phantom oasis lay a colossal ruin—ancient, broken, yet majestic. Towering spires of black stone stood amidst the shifting sands, surrounded by the eerie presence of Blue Dragons, Lion Scorpions, and desert Dragon Beasts.
This was the forgotten palace of the Gulann Empire—now the sacred stronghold of the Blue Dragon Sect within the Dragon Worship Church. The personal fortress of the “Thunder Tyrant,” Gorazdra.
Deep within the ruins, in a vast chamber of soft, sun-scorched sand, the ground was littered with glass-like structures—crystallized from lightning breath. In the dim light, they glowed with a faint blue pulse, like dying stars.
The air was deathly still. Only a low, chilling static hum filled the silence, creeping into the bones.
Then—crackling.
Electric arcs leaped through the air, snapping and popping. The scent of ozone filled the chamber. The sand trembled. The dunes shuddered, as if alive, cascading down the slopes like frightened sand.
From beneath the earth, a deep, bronze bell tolled—muffled, ancient, ominous.
Suddenly, the dunes exploded outward. The entire mound collapsed, revealing a massive, fearsome figure rising from the subterranean veins.
A colossal Blue Dragon.
Her form was sharp, angular—like a blade forged in lightning. Her scales, once vibrant cobalt or sky-blue, had darkened to a deep, metallic indigo. Worn and scarred, they bore the marks of countless battles—etched with ancient runes and embedded with crystalline protrusions.
Across her body, jagged, deep scars crisscrossed her armor-like hide—each one a testament to war.
Her eyes glowed with a pale blue light—fierce, electric, like rifts into the heart of Thunder Hell.
When she stood fully, the sight alone would make even the bravest warrior tremble with fear.
Along her spine, a row of massive, jagged bone plates—deep blue, mountain-like—rose from the nape of her neck to the tip of her tail. Each one crackled with restless, dancing lightning.
Her wings—two pairs—were vast and translucent, as if made of liquid storm. Within their depths, blue lightning surged like rivers of living energy.
But it was the aura around her that chilled the soul. Visible arcs of blue electricity danced between her scales, leaping across gaps, converging at her bone spines and horns, emitting a constant, hungry hiss.
She was not merely a dragon.
She was the Avatar of the Thunderbolt. The embodiment of desert storms.
Every movement, every breath—silent, yet speaking of primordial power. The force that could tear open the sky and crush the earth.
A legend from the dunes spoke of her awakening:
> "The Legend stirs. The sands are her bed. The thunder is her heartbeat. And mortal cities—mere dust at her tail."
This was the Thunder Tyrant—Mother of Storms and Dunes, the Unconquered King of the Taliro Desert. The Ancient Blue Dragon, Gorazdra.
But this time, her awakening was not for destruction.
It was to fulfill the command of the Five-Colored Dragon Queen.
The Ancient Blue Dragon lifted her head, gazing upward at the phantom form of the five-headed dragon in the sky. Her voice was a low, resonant rumble.
“I understand, Your Majesty. As you command, I shall destroy his army. Shatter his flesh. Let that arrogant rebel—and all mortal beings—learn the price of betrayal.”
Before she finished speaking, fine threads of lightning shot from the tip of her horns. The air crackled. The sand beneath her feet turned instantly to glass.
She raised her head and let out a long, soul-shattering roar.
Heaven and earth trembled.
Above the ruins, a stormcloud the size of a kingdom gathered, heavy with impending doom.
And in that silence, broken only by the drumming of thunder, the Blue Dragon, the Two-Headed Desert Dragon, and Lightning Elementals circled in the sky—dancing through the storm, roaring, screaming, weaving through bolts of lightning.
For a hundred miles around, every human, every dragon, every creature—felt the dread.
They knew.
The Thunder Tyrant—long buried beneath the sands—was awake.
(End of Chapter)
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