The Epic Dragon Titan

Compared to the Dragon Hunter, Tiamat felt she had more backbone. This coward saw only a half-blooded legendary Titan and turned into this pathetic state, too afraid to act. Back then, she had faced an Epic Titan head-on. If it weren't for her dragons holding her back, she might have already fought against the Epic Titan.

Upon hearing the chromatic dragon queen's words, the Pantheon fell silent for a moment, then more gazes turned towards the Dragon Hunter, filled with various emotions.

"Interesting, in which world did this happen? Give me the coordinates; I'd like to take a look," the Moon Goddess spoke, completely ignoring the threatening gaze from the Dragon Hunter. This newly risen little god dared to threaten her—what a joke.

"It happened in the main world, on the Deprosian subcontinent. It's easy to find, the battle is still ongoing. Anyone with time can check it out."

The dragon queen, who had partially focused her attention on this subcontinent, directly revealed the location, enjoying watching her divine enemy make a fool of himself. Even if she couldn't kill him, seeing him lose face was still satisfying.

As the dragon mother reported the location, a series of conspicuous divine power fluctuations spread out, causing Malcador to seethe with rage. While his avatar in the Pantheon remained unchanged, his true form in the divine realm was in a fury, cracks like abyssal rifts spreading throughout the realm.

The gods, focusing their gaze on the material world, quickly found the place the dragon queen mentioned and saw the ongoing legendary battle.

The Dragon Hunter sat atop the Pantheon, a position only deities of dominion level could occupy. Normally, weaker gods wouldn't even dare to glance at him, let alone anything else.

But now, everything was different. Almost every god with a projection in the Pantheon turned their attention to him, their gazes filled with various meanings, mostly of amusement.

"Bastard!" At this moment, the Dragon Hunter's hatred for the dragon queen reached its peak, while Muria, the cause of all this, was deliberately forgotten—an opponent he couldn't afford to provoke.

...

"Is this the god you summoned?" Muria looked at the Dragon Hunter before him with a strange expression, then watched as his face turned ashen and his eyes dimmed, a sense of despair emerging. It seemed as if something he'd held onto for years shattered within him.

"No, it shouldn't be like this. How could this happen? I've already sacrificed myself, and His Majesty Malcador has responded, so how could he suddenly disappear?"

The black-armored Dragon Hunter muttered to himself, his greatest spiritual pillar shattered, leaving him utterly defeated.

"That's all there is." Muria looked at this spiritually defeated legendary figure, disappointment in his eyes. Then, he turned his massive dragon body towards the other seven legends and more than twenty soul-bound beings.

"Your turn now. Will you continue to pray and sacrifice to your gods, or attack me? Hurry up, I don't have much time to waste on you."

A golden six-horned dragon, wreathed in golden thunder and spouting fiery dragon flames, spoke nonchalantly, exuding an aura of elegance and composure, like a cat toying with a group of mice.

The remaining Dragon Hunters looked at each other in confusion, unsure what to do. They had indeed seen their god descend, but after a brief confrontation with Muria, he bizarrely disappeared without a trace, leaving them baffled. This was a dragon—such a powerful dragon, yet their god ignored it.

Soon, one of the Dragon Hunters made a choice, slowly backing away. The deadly sense of crisis made him choose to abandon his companions and flee. He came to hunt dragons, not to die. Facing this dragon, he saw no hope of victory, so he chose to escape.

But just as the young Dragon Hunter began to retreat, Muria's massive body vanished from its spot and reappeared behind him, accompanied by a strong wind. With a single swipe of his claw, the Dragon Hunter, smaller than a single one of Muria's claws, was crushed into a spray of blood.

"I said, pray to your gods or attack me. There are only two choices, no third option like fleeing." Flames erupted from Muria's claws, incinerating the blood and flesh, leaving his scales spotless, gleaming with golden radiance, looking both brilliant and sacred.

"All together!" Soon, the group of legends made their decision. Having reached such heights with mortal bodies, they were all determined and decisive. Since escape was not an option, they chose to fight to the death, not letting the enemy off easily, even in death.

"Not bad, admirable courage, but that's all." Muria swung his tail, clearing a swath of strange-shaped icebergs formed by leaking cold air.

Clang! Clang! Clang... A series of clear metallic sounds rang out as seven massive ballista bolts, engraved with runes, fell to the ground, scattering shards of ice.

"More of the same attacks? Can't you try something else?" Muria clawed at the spot where he had been hit, feeling a numbness beneath the scales. He had sustained damage, with some capillaries beneath his armor shattered by the force of the impact. But it was no big deal; in an instant, the blood vessels had reconstructed.

"How can this be? These bolts are made of legendary metal, yet they can't even pierce his skin." A legend looked on in despair, these ballistae were specifically designed to hunt ancient dragons, capable of easily piercing their bodies. But against this dragon, they couldn't even break its scales—what could be more despairing than this?

"How could such a monster exist?"

"Don't be afraid, it's just that he's incorporated some legendary metal into his scales, making it impossible for us to breach them." Quickly, a legend deduced the situation with Muria's scales.