Lazzarus, the Half-Dragon Lord of the Eternal Well, revealed his true form from the very beginning.
The knights and maids retreated to the edges of the chamber, calm and composed. They did not interfere.
They had seen this before.
Lily didn't need protection.
Around her, over a hundred Death Lords stood guard, their auras layered like fortress walls, reinforced continuously by Mythical Liches chanting in perfect unison. Curse matrices rotated in the air, overlapping defensive arrays making her position nearly untouchable.
Breaking through her guard would require power far beyond ordinary logic.
Lazzarus inhaled.
The air screamed.
A dragon's breath—compressed annihilation—erupted forward, flooding the hall in white-hot destruction.
Before it could reach her, Death Lords stepped forward.
Black shields rose.
Void barriers stacked.
Soul-anchored wards flared.
The breath slammed into the defenses and dispersed violently, ripping apart dozens of undead—
