Chapter 775: How Will You Compensate Me?

Orion reached out, his left hand closing around the shaft of a blood-red spear. Its tines were slick with a fluid as black as ink—the abyssal ichor of Mokka. He brought the spearhead to his lips.

He licked the black blood, a coppery, alien taste flooding his senses, and swallowed.

Then, like a profane shaman, he began to chant.

"Spectre of Dragons, sleeping in endless night, hear my call! Through this blood, I offer a tribute you hunger for! Descend and claim your prize, O Ghost Dragon!"

In Mokka’s disbelieving eyes, a tempest of power—lightning, abyssal energy, and raw vital force—began to swirl within Orion’s abdomen. The energies fused, coalescing into a vortex of sanguine, ghostly mist that was both beautiful and terrifying.

It erupted from Orion’s core as a low, ancient draconic roar echoed from the depths of reality.

By now, even a fool would have known something was terribly wrong. Mokka thrashed his long tail, hurling his immense body forward in a desperate charge to break the ritual.

He was too late.

A dragon forged of blood-red ectoplasm surged from the mist. It was the Ghost Dragon. But this was not like the one Kian had once summoned; this one was more ancient, more malevolent, and infinitely more powerful.

Time itself seemed to stop.

Mokka’s charge froze mid-lunge. His body, his mind, his very soul were seized and held fast in the Ghost Dragon’s unyielding grip.

"I told you," Orion’s voice boomed, cold and resonant, "I am of the Giant tribe."

He activated his Titan Form. Power flooded him, his body swelling, muscles coiling like pythons under skin that now crawled with glowing runes, giving it the appearance of shimmering scales.

A nimbus of crimson rage enveloped him as he locked his will onto the paralyzed Archlord. He launched himself forward, crossing the distance in a single, explosive instant.

His trident plunged into the region of Mokka’s skull. Lightning, fire, and pure concussive force pumped into the helpless creature. The raw thrill of the kill twisted Orion’s face into a predatory snarl. To have an enemy of this magnitude utterly at his mercy, to unleash his full power without restraint—it was a glorious, savage ecstasy. Mokka’s body, mind, and soul crumbled and broke under the relentless, overwhelming assault.

The kill was flawless, executed with the precision of a master hunter. First, the spear barrage to draw blood. Then, the dialogue to stall for time while the blood rite was performed. Finally, the summoning of the Ghost Dragon to immobilize his prey for the slaughter. It was all according to the plan he had conceived in the heat of battle, and his enemy was annihilated for it. It was the easiest battle against an Archlord he had ever fought.

Soon, he felt Mokka’s presence wink out of existence. As the long-awaited victor’s coffer materialized in the air, Orion finally allowed himself a breath of relief.

At the same instant, with his focus lapsing, the Ghost Dragon’s summons ended. Mokka’s physical form began to decay at a visible rate, crumbling into a fine dust that scattered on the unnatural wind. He was the sacrifice. His body, his mind, his soul—all now belonged to the Ghost Dragon.

"You have cost me a faithful servant."

A voice, chilling and ancient, spoke from directly behind Orion.

"How will you compensate me for my loss?"

Every hair on Orion’s body stood on end. A cold dread, sharper than any blade, shot up his spine. He tried to move, to turn, but he was frozen solid, held fast by an unseen power.

One moment, he was the jailer. Now, he was the prisoner. The wheel of fate had turned with sickening speed.

Who? Who is this?

he screamed in his mind, but only silence answered.

He scanned his surroundings. The Wind Ward was still intact. That meant no demigod had breached it from the outside; the Deputy Commander would have warned him.

The enemy had to have come from within the ward. From the now-dead Mokka. It wasn’t Mokka himself—the victor’s coffer was proof of his death, and the Ghost Dragon had consumed his essence. That left only one possibility: a will-projection. An echo of a demigod’s consciousness, hidden within his servant.

"Heh heh... truly unbelievable," the voice mused, a sound like dry leaves skittering over gravestones. "That a lofty being like the Ghost Dragon would answer your call, that it would deign to send a phantom to bind your foe."

"If its gaze had been turned on me, perhaps I, too, would now be a sacrifice. Its power is such that I had no chance to even save my follower. So, my loss... you will repay."

Orion could not see the being, could not sense it, but he could feel his own body. A sliver of cold energy touched his back, sinking through his skin and muscle, and began to spread. It was an invasion, an attempt to seize control of him, to possess him and make him its own. He knew the feeling all too well. It was the same violation he had suffered under the Flower Goddess’s curse.

He struggled, but he was pinned, his own powers locked away. To be so utterly helpless again ignited a burning, desperate hunger for greater strength.

Wait,

a thought pierced through his panic.

The Wind Ward. The Deputy Commander set it. He must be able to sense this! He must know what’s happening!

There was still hope. He just had to endure. He had to fight until help arrived.

Elsewhere, within the folds of the Wind Ward, the Deputy Commander Edward had, moments before, been speechless. For an esteemed patron such as himself, trapping an Archlord was a simple enough matter. The difficulty lay in maintaining the integrity of the ward while doing so. But his astonishment had a different source.

Orion had killed his target even faster than Alexander. A middle-tier Archlord, even an avatar, annihilated in minutes. It was an unbelievable feat.

"This one’s battle record," Edward murmured to himself, "is already approaching the Commander’s."

It was no exaggeration. Edward had watched Arthas, Alexander, and Leonidas grow. He knew precisely what they had been capable of at the peak of the Legendary tier. The power Orion had just displayed had already surpassed them at the same stage and was closing in on the level of the Commander himself.

"When this one ascends to Archlord..." A rare smile touched Edward’s lips. "The Champions Alliance will gain another pillar of strength."

But the smile had not yet settled before it froze, his ancient eyes widening in alarm.