"This lady now belongs to me. Who approves, and who opposes?!"
“Damn undead bone dragon!!! Kill them both!!!”
The Behemoth that had been knocked over by the bone dragon let out a thunderous roar, the claws in its hands as sharp as spears as if forged through hundreds of thousands of hammer strikes by a blacksmith, gleaming with the chill of the forest as they swung.
Li De looked at the proud girl lying on the ground, who even in the face of death still lifted her chin high. The corner of his mouth curved into an inexplicable smile, his peripheral vision fixed on that hint of crimson.
After confirming it, he slightly turned his head and locked eyes with the owner of the cloak. In the girl's silver eyes at that moment flickered an indescribably complex emotion.
When Li De saw that, his heart trembled. Damn it, what’s wrong with the girls in Glory? Why does every single one look at me with that expression?
So terrifying.
By now, the surrounding beastmen had reacted and were letting out piercing roars at the bone dragon dominating the center of the battlefield.
But under the might of a dragon, even though the beastmen had mustered their courage and didn’t collapse in fear, not a single beastman warrior dared to charge directly at the bone dragon.
With nothing held back, Witherbone unleashed his dominance as an level 18 bone dragon with an invincible posture. The draconic pressure that pierced to the soul made it nearly impossible for the beastmen to breathe.
That was the might of a superior lifeform, an irresistible majesty.
This was also why dragons were both worshiped and feared across the entire world of Glory. The mere pressure from a dragon could strip even savage warriors of their fighting strength. Even a Behemoth, a powerful giant beast that was likewise part of the golden race, could not compare.
Dragons were almost the perfect species in Glory, save for their low fertility rates. They were powerful, long-lived, intelligent, and knew how to survive.
Yet the Behemoth at this moment ignored the dragon’s might. This giant beast, too, had golden blood coursing through its veins.
Although the Behemoth couldn't compare to dragons, who enjoyed immense renown across countless dimensions and planes, it was still a fearsome lifeform that no one dared to overlook.
Li De flipped and leapt down from behind the bone dragon. Bang~ the resulting shockwave lifted his mage robe slightly, the motion incomparably dashing and heroic.
He landed firmly.
He was only about seven or eight blades away from Andabella, who lay on the ground.
“Witherbone, he’s yours,” he said, casting a glance at the towering beast over ten blades tall.
“Gagaga~ Damn Behemoth! How dare you show disrespect to the great Lord Witherbone! The great Lord Witherbone shall make you taste the fear of death!!
Face the dragon’s breath!”
Even though the opponent was a Level 19 Behemoth, the Level 18 Witherbone showed no fear at all. He opened his mouth and unleashed a breath filled with deathly stillness and destructive aura.
A gray-white stream of energy blasted toward the Behemoth. The distance between them was only thirty to forty blades. The Behemoth barely had time to react when the breath was already upon him. It could only manage a slight sidestep, barely dodging the brunt of the breath, but still got caught in it.
The bone-chilling negative energy invaded wildly into its body, making the Behemoth howl in unimaginable pain.
The black fur touched by the breath instantly turned pale, and vast amounts of life force began to drain away. Although the bone dragon no longer had the elemental breath attack of a true dragon, it had instead gained a death breath imbued with negative energy, which was no less deadly.
Despite the injuries, the Behemoth didn’t retreat in the slightest. The excruciating pain only further incited the beast’s rage. Its eyes were bloodshot as it charged recklessly at the bone dragon.
Witherbone spread his wings and soared into the air from the ground, giving the Behemoth no chance to engage in melee.
After all, the Behemoth was the undisputed melee king among the golden race. Even dragons might not be able to withstand it in close combat.
A smart necromancer would never engage head-on.
With Witherbone drawing aggro, the Behemoth didn’t hesitate for a moment and tore away from this battlefield, charging toward the city in pursuit.
He would tear that damn bone dragon to pieces.
In an instant, only Li De and the barely movable Andabella remained in place, surrounded by countless beastman warriors.
The scene now was like a lamb thrown into a pack of savage wolves, with no hope of survival.
Andabella no longer had the energy to observe the beastmen around her. The girl had fixed all her attention on the figure walking step by step toward her.
Her weakened body couldn’t even muster the strength to speak. The severe backlash from overusing a legendary artifact was beginning to take its toll.
She knew her life was coming to an end. She had burned through all her vitality.
Andabella no longer hoped to survive. She only wanted to clearly see the face of the man who dared to charge through tens of thousands of beastmen to save her.
Step by step, black leather boots entered Andabella’s view. Above them, a luxurious black mage robe embroidered with dark floral patterns, robes only senior mages could wear. And above that, a handsome face with slightly furrowed brows came into sight.
"Lord Ezreal.”
Li De looked at the Andabella lying on the ground without saying much. He bent down slightly and, under her stunned gaze, scooped her into his arms.
A princess carry.
Li De lowered his head slightly, gazing at the helplessness in those silver eyes, and his lips curved into a subtle smile.
His hand secretly touched the cloak on her back. The tough texture unique to dragonhide made his grin even more radiant.
And Andabella, gazing at that smile brighter than the moon in the sky, felt her pale face quietly flushed with a faint blush.
“Miss Andabella, leave the rest to me. Everything of yours shall now be protected by me.”
Li De’s expression was solemn and serious, like a sacred vow.
Whoever dares to steal this cloak from me today, Grandpa will show you what it means to get punched with fists as big as sandbags.
And let you know how the iron shovel of justice breaks your thigh clean in half.