Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

The dean murmured to himself.

"If we could catch it..."

Chapter 714 The Earth's Cataclysm

The only sound in the forest was its own footsteps as it ran swiftly toward the unfamiliar depths of darkness. Crushing through dry branches and low bushes, leaving claw marks in the soil, slicing through drooping vines with sharp thorns, it did nothing to slow its advance. A chilling wind howled through the gaps in the vegetation, and a stench wafted from some unknown cave.

The normally unbearable environment now brought it joy, for the filth masked its scent. Its inner turmoil subsided somewhat, and its heightened sense of smell, while disorienting it, created a false sense of security. Feeling powerless against its surroundings, it naively assumed the hunters behind it were equally helpless. The earth's power hadn't enhanced the behemoth's mind, so in the darkness, it felt only instinctive fear.

The faint sound of tearing silk disturbed the stillness of the darkness, startling the lost beast into yet another wrong move.

It turned its head, its long, curved neck allowing it to easily look behind it, while its narrowed pupils revealed a blurry shadow in the dim moonlight.

The trees swayed uneasily, and a taut, dark shadow blocked the giant beast's view between the moonlight and its sight. It possessed a swan-like, elegant and supple coat, its hem fluttering like clouds in the moonlight. But beneath this softness lay a hunter's body, gleaming in the cold light, as hard as iron, blending seamlessly with the moon's shadow.

Fear, like the swaying shadows of trees, loomed over the giant beast's heart. It recognized these new monsters as even more ferocious beasts, the death gods of all animals.

In the last second of the beast's life, the monster's sorrowful and angry roar echoed at the end of its life.

"Iron Swan!"

A sonic boom echoed through the night sky, and a headless corpse lay in the dark forest.

Its terminator, dressed in a dancer's tutu with a lace hem, had silk ribbons binding his thick wrists and ankles, and his chest was bulging with muscular cleavage. A bow was tied in his frilly, needle-like hair. He had a square face, heavy makeup, and bright red lips that seemed to silence a child's tears. He clenched his fists, his back to the moonlight, his face obscured by darkness, motionless in the silent forest, as if dead.

Soon, a cacophony erupted from the distant forest. It was a roar mixed with singing; though off-key, the singers perfectly expressed their joy. Mrs. Brandy and four muscular maids, hand in hand, formed a human wall and charged through the forest like pigs. They were no longer human; with Brandy's murderous voice, these muscular demons danced a destructive dance, crushing everything in their path like bulldozers. Trees, vines, moss, and rocks shattered under the monsters' onslaught, trampled into the earth. Behind Brandy, the muscular maids' dance troupe, following their instructor, repeatedly crushed everything, leveling the forest.

"That's right, boys. Lift your legs, kick, jump, war stomp, and another eight counts!"

Brandy was laughing, while his other dance partners maintained zombie-like faces, like an army of undead under his control. But he didn't care; they would submit willingly sooner or later. Brandy withdrew his hand and walked to the apprentice hunting alone—his trial mission.

“Honey, you did a fantastic job.” Brandy clasped his hands to his cheeks, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he looked at the mangled, headless prey, like a contented mother. Then, his gaze fell on the apprentice’s clothes, on the torn lace hem. Brandy’s smile vanished.

“Kaslan, you ruined the clothes I sewed by hand, and the part I loved the most.”

Poor Caslan trembled as Brandy approached, biting his lip and turning his back to Brandy without turning around.

“I scraped myself while climbing the tree, it’s nothing serious, I can even go back and find the missing piece, Brandy, mentor.”

Brandy's hand climbed onto his shoulder, and a sweet voice rang in Caslan's ear.

“I don’t care about the fabric, you silly girl. These laces represent your body. If this is a bloody conflict, your body will be lost.”

Kaslan's body tensed completely, and a force powerful enough to shatter the air was gathering within it, yet being suppressed.

“I am a warrior of the tribe, I am not afraid of death, and the hem of that skirt is half a meter away from my buttocks. Even if my buttocks are injured... I would rather my buttocks be injured..." His voice grew softer and softer until it was almost gone.

“I’ve taught you to master the ultimate physical form, so injuries and fatalities are not allowed. Scars are a dancer’s shame. It seems you don’t understand your own body well enough…” Brandy’s expression brightened, and he patted Caslan’s butt, giving his final assessment amidst the latter’s fearful gaze.

“You are not qualified, Kaslan. I will continue to help you improve your body. Come to my lounge tonight.”

These words jolted the entire legion of undead maids. They all looked up in unison, staring at Caslan, whose eyes were already silently weeping, as if they had seen something filthy. They tacitly moved away from the poor soul. Although Caslan had once been their glorious hunting partner, he was now tainted.

……

Tentacles entangled the branches, suspending Lyle between two adjacent trees. He crouched like a spider in its web, watching the ancient humans' recent events with a strange expression.

“Your people are having a terrible time, Al. In a few days, dignity and such will be out of reach for the Black Dragon Clan.”

Short black hair, with a few strands of red like blood tangled in it, and youthful features somewhat resembling Mr. Dragon, with an arrogant, upturned mouth that hinted at a sinister nature unlike his father's. His eyes were red, a distinct difference from the eyes of the Alcaron dragon form. The black dragon's human form was that of a burly man, but not quite as muscular as the ancient humans.

The humanoid dragon stood on a fragile tree branch, a withered twig that shouldn't have been able to support its weight.

A deep crimson aura of danger swirled around the black dragon, unlike the fiery intensity of holy light or the profound depth of shadow, yet it stung Lyle's skin. He must have been getting extra training from his dragon master recently. Lyle shuddered at the thought; how much suffering must one endure in a dragon master's accelerated warrior training program? When the dragon master taught bone summoning techniques, none of his students were completely intact, except for Lyle.

Black Dragon let out a wicked laugh, like a schemer.

“This is what they deserve. Only after being tortured to the point of madness by that pervert will these barbarians who only care about strength know how precious my blessing is. I will give them dignity, and I will become their savior.”

Lyle pursed his lips, somewhat puzzled. Was it true that anyone with "black" in their name was bound to have some of that stuff in their head?

"So you're going to beat them up in your human form? Is this how you act as a guardian dragon, as the savior of the ancient human race?"

Alcalon wagged his finger, looking at his friend provocatively.

"You know too little about them, Lyle. Only by experiencing the power of rage firsthand will they accept my blessing. Ancient humans revered strength, and if the berserker can't defeat the muscle maid, they'll continue to follow that freak's teachings even if it means abandoning their pride. Want to make a bet, Lyle? After I beat them up, they'll thank me."

“I’ve taken the gamble.” Mr. Lyle, the four-locked psychopath, Andre Nova, and the embodiment of a twisted and ominous mind, remained expressionless.

"When they realize that the force they traded their dignity or even their souls for has been defeated by you, when you have made the humiliation they have suffered over the past few weeks worthless, they will not be grateful to you."

"They're busy covering their faces and crying, for their misfortune, and then beating up Brandy."

"Humans have a much deeper memory for hatred than for gratitude."

Chapter 715 Berserker Legion

“I can’t stand him anymore.” The tall warrior squatted on the stake, shrinking into a small ball in his companion’s shadow. His face was hidden by his large hands, and he spoke dejectedly, his voice trembling with tears, through the gaps in his muscles. “I’m becoming weird, ugly, and repulsive. Before, whenever I returned home, no matter how good or bad the hunt was, my son and wife would greet me with smiles, welcoming me, the warrior who fought for them. Oh, the wilderness. I really don’t want to recall those times when I returned home in Brandy’s training clothes, and my lovely child hid behind beautiful Eloan, looking at me with the eyes of a stranger. He became taciturn, and when he spoke to his friends, he became hesitant. I think I have become his shame, a scar he must hide.”

"Therefore, I absolutely support Lord Alcalon. Even if it means fighting against that demon, no one can stop me, not even death! Or something worse..."

He raised his head, his face bruised and swollen, tears and blood mingling with his heavy makeup in a chaotic mess; at that moment, he was more monstrous than a monster.

They were once ancient human hunters, now branded muscle maids trained by Brandy, and now rebels beaten by the ferocious power of the black dragon Alcalon. They wear mud-stained dance dresses, are covered in wounds, but their hearts are full of hope.

“We do not intend to stop you, brother. The Black Dragon Priest and the Chieftain have abandoned us, and the tribe has fallen silent under Brandi’s tyranny. Our unity is especially important at this moment. We are brothers who have shared life and death, warriors who have received the Black Dragon’s blessing. We must encourage and support each other to get through this most difficult time before dawn.”

"Then let one of our best fighters go and beat Brandy to a pulp!"

The flames of rebellion chose to lie dormant. This group of ancient humans, educated by the black dragon, dragged their wounded bodies back to their tribe. Brandy saw their miserable state but did not suspect anything. He believed the ancient humans' story of being attacked by a ferocious monster, and simply did his best to help them recover and encouraged them to seek revenge.

Thus, the Berserkers spent their days hunting, receiving instruction and beatings from the Black Dragon, and their nights recuperating in Brandy's lounge. Whatever Brandy did, they accepted it like docile lambs, silently bearing the grievances they suffered.

This led Brandy to believe his training was successful. The ambitious manager of the Pure Maid Experience Shop was dreaming of recruiting new maids and opening branches. Brandy had his own agenda. The Pure Maid Shop was his ideal, but staff shortages had always been a weakness of this unique experience shop due to the excessively high skill requirements for employees. Brandy possessed excellent training abilities, but most people lacked the capacity to withstand such demands. Therefore, he accepted the invitation to the Black Dragon Tribe, also to increase manpower. He spread his Pure Maid Way among the Black Dragon Familia, using a brutal and direct method—through indescribable physical contact—to shatter the pride and shame of the ancient human warriors. Pure maids are in the service industry; naturally, they must possess a humble and submissive heart.

Now seems like the perfect time to teach these apprentices some maid massage techniques, as well as cute magic and gestures.

"Master, plop plop, it feels so good~ clang~" Brandy made a heart shape with her hands and demonstrated while maintaining a pouty expression on the platform.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the warriors, sweating profusely, clenched their trembling fists as their families and friends watched. They were finished. Regardless of the success or failure of their resistance, their lives were over. The only difference was whether they could drag that damned guy on stage down to hell with them. Hatred and rage sustained the souls of these ancient humans.

They did so.

……

One week later.

Brandy arrived at the platform as usual, holding in his hands his ancient human graduation certificate as a pure maid and his job offer letter for his shop. He was overjoyed, then received a slap in the face.

The robust Brandy lay sprawled among the scattered papers, clutching his cheek in astonishment. He was a master of physical training; his reflexes and speed should have been enough to dodge most attacks.

"Babies?"

The muscular warriors, with their bright service industry smiles and impeccable attire, stood tall and imposing like mountains, blocking Brandy's path.

Their smiles crumbled, and so did their clothes.

Muscles were unleashed, and the suppressed rage was released in an instant. The pure maids all degenerated into war demons, grinning maliciously at their mentor.

"We've finally made it to this day, Brandy. Do you know how we got through this?!"

"We'll repay you a hundredfold, a thousandfold, for the humiliation we suffered physically!!"

The raging madness assaulted Brandi's mind, as if dragging him into hell in an instant. He stood up, entered full battle mode, and faced the situation with a cold expression.

"Are you going to rebel? Boy~ You know what happens when you disobey me. It seems I have to start all over again and show you the beauty of a pure maid."

The ancient humans roared, their thunderous battle cry echoing through the deep valley like a dragon's. Frenzied energy coalesced into the phantom of a black dragon, and under Brandy's overwhelming aura, the ancient humans ascended to new heights.

"Rebellion? No, this will be a ravage. Brandy, we are the berserkers who have received the Black Dragon's blessing, the ultimate forgers of body and will. Your teachings have failed; the losers become our prey!"

Brandy, of course, wouldn't sit idly by and wait to die. He lunged forward and engaged the berserker in close-quarters combat.

"Pure Maid's Way, Massage Master, Heart-Shattering!"

"Rage erupts, revenge strikes!"

Brandy's palm struck the Berserker's heart, knocking him back two steps, but he remained stubbornly standing. Brandy was still in shock when a sudden sense of crisis erupted in his mind. The Berserker's fist, imbued with immense power, met his own, rage surging and exploding within his chest. Brandy's face flushed, and his lips turned a luscious red.

"The heart has become a non-lethal weakness?"

No one offered him an answer. The berserker roared, and the monster with divine power charged once more, like a dragon driven mad. Ancient humans, bathed in dragon blood and sharing the blessings of Arcalon, the firstborn son of war, had no fatal weaknesses. Hearts destroyed, skulls shattered, the dragon's blood granted them godlike regenerative abilities. The tireless berserker would fight forever, until his rage was exhausted and his enemies were utterly crushed.

Unmatched power, superhuman regeneration, and an inhumanly powerful physique—the Berserker's body reaches the pinnacle of inhumanity. Even more remarkable is their equally resilient spirit. When a Berserker enters a berserk state, their mind becomes a furnace of fury; no thought exists in their mind other than tearing apart their enemy. They are the ultimate brutes who transform intelligence into life force, and the Berserker has even turned this weakness into strength. Any spellcaster attempting to mentally control a Berserker will be corrupted by their madness, becoming impulsive, irritable, incapable of reasoning, and preferring physical melee attacks. To try boxing against a monster like a Berserker is a terrible idea.

A violent aura swept through the Black Dragonkin's territory. Alcaron lay on a high platform in the Sahazane Mountains, watching his warriors.

"An unparalleled legion, a war machine, this is the warrior I should be... What, are you here to punish me, my godfather, my priest, Omhead..."

The Black Dragon Priest glanced at the rioting ancient humans; the Black Dragon's plan wasn't hard to guess. The Black Dragon, in league with the Dragon King Priest, had eroded the credibility of Ormhead and High Chieftain Okangas, making the Black Dragon the ultimate victor and the final ruler of the Black Dragonflight.

Alcalon proved the Black Dragon's cunning.

"Strength is the only standard of rightness..."

Omhead's body twisted, and the black dragon transformed by the black dragon priest breathed its dragon breath at the eldest son of war.

"Fight me, Al. Let the differences between dragons be resolved through battle."

"What the hell..." The black dragon spat out turbid flames, which rolled in his chest. He spread his wings and flew into the sky, shouting excitedly, "You should have said you could do it! Why did I have to do all this secretly! You hypocritical old man."

"Become my stepping stone! You old bastard! I will climb to the top of the dragon's lair, bearing the infamy of patricide!!!"

"The world will bow down before the wings of Alcalon!!!"

Chapter 716 Old City, Old Friends

The fight between the two black dragons didn't affect Lyle, who left after confirming the plan was proceeding smoothly. The Dream Game was now the primary objective, with the Black Dragon Familia being just one part of it. The Dream Weaver's abilities had been validated, and there was an added bonus: he had entered the fourth level of the Locked Realm and gained the Phantom Clan's power. With all the hardware requirements for game development met, Lyle began designing class modules for the Dream Elves to experience.

Some negotiations, some arrangements, and some friendly cooperation all required Lyle's personal involvement.

The Scandinavian Mountains are sparsely populated and are currently trending towards becoming "sheer cliffs." Lush greenery climbs upwards, but the bald summit is already covered in ice and snow.

Lyle once again savored one of the titles of the Scholar: World Builder.

Lewesser and Deria, a land favored by kings in the Twilight of Memories, a realm of cavalry and rangers. Uncle Ralf is still the honorary protector here. A clear, winding border runs between the wilderness and the forest, and Deria's sturdy walls, elongated by the sunlight, appear even taller. Standing within the walls, one can hear the unchanging, desolate wind outside. Everything seems unchanged, but if you observe closely, you can spot more rangers among the crowds, and the quivers piled up in the corner of the weapon shop. Footsteps passing on the rooftops will elicit a scolding from the shopkeeper, but he will soon use this as an excuse to drink a large cup of fruit wine.