"Let’s head into the Floor of Inheritance," Max said calmly, his gaze fixed ahead as the air around him buzzed faintly with anticipation.
Without waiting for a reply, he walked toward the only visible door in the Dinsion of Lightning, his cloak rippling slightly with each step.
Tian followed behind him in silence, his glowing eyes observing Max with a sense of intrigue.
The mont Max stepped through the door, he found himself once again standing at the grand entrance of the Floor of Inheritance—a realm that never failed to impress.
The sky above was constantly flashing with streaks of violet lightning while the world around him stretched endlessly into a sea of floating islands, each one suspended midair and enclosed by shimring forcefields.
So islands radiated a ferocious aura, others a more tranquil presence, but all of them pulsed with ancient, raw elental might.
Max’s eyes scanned the thousands of islands until they were drawn toward one in particular—the closest to him—the Storm King’s Inheritance. Its island roared with raging tempests, thunderclouds swirling above it like an eternal storm given life.
Without hesitation, Max soared into the sky and streaked toward the island, weaving through the arcs of wild lightning that tried to block his path. Monts later, he landed inside the barrier of the Storm King’s island, the entire realm rumbling in response to his arrival.
As soon as he set foot on the rocky ground, he wasted no ti. Instantly, Max activated his Dragon Scales Transformation, black glowing scales spreading across his body like armor from his hands up to his neck, their surface humming with power.
And then imdiately, he tapped into the core of his strength—his 600 Draconic Essences—and let them burn within him. His body began to glow with a soft golden light, rging with the dark luster of his scales to form an ethereal glow that shimred like sunlight swallowed by a storm.
The mont his transformation completed, the world around him reacted. Winds howled violently, and lightning surged from the skies as if the Storm King himself had sensed the arrival of a challenger worthy of his legacy.
Max narrowed his eyes, steady and composed, his aura erupting in tandem with the chaotic power of the island.
On the opposite side of the storm-wracked island, nestled atop a large circular platform made of what appeared to be ancient, storm-tempered stone, a lone figure sat in silence upon the stairs.
The winds howled around him, but his presence was untouched, unbothered—as if the storm existed because of him, not despite him. His long cloud-white hair floated gently behind him, strands dancing freely in the air as if alive with the rhythm of thunder and wind.
Draped in robes that shimred faintly with flashes of red lightning, the man exuded a pressure that was both noble and wild, like a king who ruled the tempest itself.
And then, as if drawn by the invisible ripple of Max’s arrival, the man slowly turned his head, his eyes parting open for the first ti—calm, piercing orbs that glowed faintly with red lightning.
Their gazes t in midair, lightning flashing between the two, but Max didn’t flinch. He didn’t lower his gaze. He stared straight into the Storm King’s eyes, a quiet fire burning within his own.
And then, a subtle smile appeared on the Storm King’s face—a hint of amusent, approval, or perhaps curiosity. But before Max could even try to read further into it, the air scread.
In the Storm King’s hand, a red spear suddenly materialized, gleaming with divine sharpness. Its long shaft pulsed like a beating heart, and the head of the spear was jagged, like it had been carved from lightning itself.
Red bolts of lightning coiled around the blade, crackling like angry serpents hungry for destruction. The man didn’t speak, didn’t move further—he simply let the spear rest across his lap, its tip humming with raw destructive energy.
Seeing the red lightning crackling along the tip of the Storm King’s spear, Max didn’t hesitate for even a breath. He knew what was coming. The mory of his last encounter with this inheritance—the overwhelming defeat, the unstoppable might—still burned fresh in his mind.
He wasn’t going to repeat that mistake. At once, he activated the full might of his Fla Tyrant inheritance. Black flas erupted from his body like a furious storm, devouring the air around him in a swirl of chaotic heat.
Within monts, the flas reshaped themselves into solid form, layering over his body piece by piece. A blazing black chestplate ford around his torso, thick boots of molten fire encased his legs, and his arms were shielded with gauntlets of surging fla. His silhouette now resembled that of a true tyrant of war—an armored inferno standing against the storm.
But that was only the beginning. Max imdiately pushed his Dragon Scales Transformation to its peak—his skin hardened into pitch-black scales that glowed with golden glow, running across his arms, chest, neck, and even a bit of his face like living armor.
This was his strongest physical state, a fusion of raw draconic might and tyrannical fla, a form built for brutal, close-range combat. The Fla Tyrant inheritance amplified his every move, turning each attack into a catastrophe, each motion into a statent of dominion.
And then it happened—Max saw it. The sa ability that had shattered his defenses last ti. The Storm King’s eyes began to glow again. Slowly at first, like embers flickering to life, and then rapidly igniting into a storm of red lightning.
Both of his eyes were now completely engulfed in crimson lightning, as if twin lightning storms raged inside them. The very sky above responded, clouds twisting unnaturally, thunder crackling violently in sync with the rhythm of his stare.
It looked like the eyes of a demon and so was the aura from afar.
Max felt it—the sa dreadful presence. That suffocating feeling, as if nature itself had chosen a king and that king was now preparing to strike down everything before him.
And then it happened.
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