Giant Dragon Lord: Starting from Daily Intelligence

Chapter 677: Chapter 481: The Might of a Legend and the Remaining Magic Tower

To them, the approaching Giant Dragon in the sky was nothing less than a feast descending from the heavens.

Its dense aura of life and energy instantly threw the ruins below into an uproar.

Roars erupted from the ruins as dozens of black figures shot out from every corner, clambering onto crumbling walls to let out greedy bellows at the Giant Dragon in the sky.

”Endless bugs.”

Mage Wendel’s brow furrowed deeper, his irritation at being disturbed written all over his face.

He didn’t bother to look at the specific appearance or number of the Demons below. Instead, he simply swept the area with his Spiritual Power, confirming that aside from the Void Demons, no other life signatures remained.

Then, Mage Wendel raised a hand. He aimed the wide sleeve of his Mage Robe at the vast city ruins below and gave it a gentle shake.

WHOOSH!

This time, what poured from his sleeve was not a few specks of fire.

It was a roiling river of crimson Flame!

The river of Flame roared forth. The moment it left his sleeve, it split apart and swelled violently, transforming into an ocean of fire that blotted out the sky as it descended upon the city ruins below.

The ocean of Flame descended.

It was as if the world’s mute button had been pressed.

The crimson light covered the entire city ruins, staining every inch of broken wall, every street, and every shadowy corner a deep, burning red.

The Void Demons below, so arrogant and menacing just moments before, became like ice cubes tossed into a steel furnace upon contact with the Flame. They were instantly vaporized and disintegrated, unable to let out a single wail.

The entire city seemed to have been thoroughly ”cleansed” by the crimson ocean of Flame.

Mage Wendel hovered in the air, watching his ”masterpiece” with an air of indifference.

His Spiritual Power washed over the land below like an invisible tide, sweeping across every inch of earth the Flame had licked.

One second.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

”No Catastrophe Level.”

He withdrew his gaze.

With a soft beckoning gesture of his hand, the ocean of Flame that had covered the city rapidly contracted as if alive, rolling back on itself and reforming into a thin stream of fire that flowed back into his sleeve and vanished.

The entire process was fluid and effortless, as though he had performed nothing more than a simple ”dusting” of the area below.

”Let’s descend,” Mage Wendel said.

Raylo’s reverence for the word ”Legend” deepened yet again.

If incinerating the thirteen Void Hounds had demonstrated a Legendary Mage’s attack strength, then this city-wide area attack had just showcased their terrifying Magic Power and unbelievably precise control.

This was no longer simple Magic; only a ”Forbidden Spell” possessed such might. It could easily ”cleanse” half a city, turning dozens of Domain Level Void Demons to ash without the slightest ripple.

And it was a Forbidden Spell he could conjure at will.

There was a saying that every ”Legend” was a being who had pushed their own path to its absolute limit. They had either achieved the World Destruction Level, reached the peak of the Catastrophe Level, or even had one foot across the threshold to the World Destruction Level.

He gently patted Lightning’s neck.

”Let’s go down, Lightning.”

The massive Thunder Dragon let out a low roar and, with a single beat of its wings, dove toward the recently ”purified” city below.

Their landing spot was a relatively open, ruined plaza beside the half-standing Magic Tower.

Its claws made a dull, heavy THUD as they touched down on solid ground.

The group leaped from Lightning’s broad back, landing on warm Stone Slabs still radiating the residual heat from Mage Wendel’s Flame.

A faint, sulfurous, scorched smell lingered in the air, but the foul, evil presence of the Void Demons was completely gone.

From the lone, half-standing Magic Tower up ahead, a light pulsed, one moment bright, the next dim.

It was like an unyielding heart, beating stubbornly in this dead domain.

This Magic Tower was built of some unknown black rock. Despite the erosion of time and the ravages of disaster, the tower itself remained Solid, though its surface was covered in a spiderweb of cracks.

The top of the tower seemed to have been destroyed; the upper half had collapsed, and a large portion of the Magic Tower lay buried in rubble and ruins.

”The entrance should be over there,” Master Barnaby said, pointing.

In that direction, a good portion of the tower’s base was buried under boulders and debris, with only the top of a pitch-black archway visible.

He hurried over, his messy hair bobbing in the silence of the plaza.

The Potion Master held out a hand and began to chant a short Spell.

”Move!”

With his low cry, the mountain of rubble and dirt before him began to tremble violently.

Large boulders were lifted by an unseen Power, hovering slowly in mid-air before being gently moved to the side.

Soon, the buried entrance to the Magic Tower was completely revealed.

It was a stone door, half of it damaged, standing about five meters tall. It bore no decorative patterns, only a deep groove that appeared to be part of its opening mechanism.

Evidently, however, that mechanism was also broken.

Master Barnaby stepped forward and gave the door a push.

The stone door didn’t budge an inch.

”There’s a Magic Seal on it, but the energy is almost completely faded,” he said, stroking the cold stone and feeling the residual fluctuations of Magic Power on its surface.

”I’ll do it.”