Thunder had already convinced himself that Paros was rely putting on a front.
With a sneer, he said arrogantly, "Paros, you don’t need to keep pretending."
"Out of consideration for how well you treated the Thunder Domain in the past, I’ll give you a chance. Kneel, acknowledge as your master, and promise that the dragon clan will offer half of its resources every year—along with ten eleventh-rank beast or insect cores."
"Do that, and I might spare your life."
As he finished speaking, his gaze shifted—and landed on Wen, who had just entered alongside Rory.
"The rfolk King is here too? Perfect. Saves the trouble of sending soone to your tribe."
Thunder’s grin widened, growing more brazen by the second.
"From now on, I am the ruler of the three domains. Your rfolk must present tribute every year—one million pink pearls, ten million white pearls, one hundred thousand bolts of silk, and—"
He went on and on, listing demand after demand.
Wen’s face flushed crimson with rage.
If not for the fact that Thunder was eleventh rank—far beyond his ability to defeat—he would have already lunged forward and lashed him to death with his tail.
"What ’new ruler’?" Wen’s voice was sharp with anger. "Our rfolk recognize only the Dragon Lord as our sovereign."
Had the Beast God gone mad?
To allow soone as cunning, greedy, and despicable as Thunder to reach the eleventh rank..!
Paros had ruled the three domains for years, and never once demanded tribute from any clan.
Even when the dragon clan traded with others, they paid fairly in star coins and crystals.
Yet this man—newly advanced—already sought to strip every clan bare.
If the three domains fell into his hands, it would be nothing short of a disaster.
Thunder let out a cold laugh.
"Too bad... your Dragon Lord is about to die. Right now, I am the only eleventh-rank in the three domains. If you refuse to acknowledge , then your rfolk will have no reason to exist."
With his strength, wiping out a clan without an eleventh-rank protector would be effortless.
"You dare threaten my people?!"
If Rory hadn’t grabbed him, Wen would have already charged forward.
As king of the rfolk, even if it ant mutual destruction, he would protect his people.
"Wen, calm down." Rory’s voice was steady, though anger burned beneath it.
Now was not the ti to act.
So this was what eleventh rank brought—unchecked arrogance?
Fine.
When Vincent and Xarion arrived, she would make sure they crushed Thunder where he stood.
Seeing Wen restrained by a female, Thunder’s gaze shifted to Rory, dark with intent.
"You... little female. You’re his mate, aren’t you? Not bad. You’re quite pretty. Once I kill that fish, you’ll belong to . Bear seventeen or eighteen offspring."
"I am eleventh rank now––my children will be powerful!"
"Thunder, you’re courting death." Murderous intent surged from Wen like a rising tide. "Female Master, let go. I’ll kill him."
But soone moved faster.
A streak of golden light shot forward—too fast for the eye to follow—and struck Thunder square in the chest.
There was no thunderous explosion.
Only a dull, sickening thud.
Thunder didn’t even have ti to react before he was blasted backward like a ragged sack, lifted off his feet and hurled across the hall.
Paros followed in the next instant.
"You insult my mate. Threaten the clans of my domain. Thunder—today, you die."
Sandon and Ethan rushed in, imdiately grabbing hold of Paros as Thunder struggled back to his feet.
"Dragon Lord, let us handle this! Your injuries haven’t healed—you cannot fight him!"
His ntal state had only just stabilized, his wounds not yet fully recovered. If he fought now, the consequences could be dire.
They were old—lives already long lived.
They did not fear death.
But they would not let him risk his.
Thunder wiped the blood from his lips, a twisted grin spreading across his face.
So he had been right––Paros was indeed still injured.
Otherwise, these two would never have stopped him.
"Hahaha... Paros, you really are wounded." His laughter rang with savage delight. "Then today, you all die."
Once Paros fell, the three domains would be his. "You think you can kill ?"
Paros’s gaze turned cold and dangerous as he looked at Thunder.
His hand lifted slightly... brushing against the small fruit hidden in his hair.
"Daddy... are you worried about Terry?" Terry’s soft voice echoed faintly in his mind. "Don’t worry. Terry can protect himself."
"Go, Daddy! Beat the bad beast who insulted Mommy!"
"You’re sure you can protect yourself?"
Even injured, Paros was confident he could kill Thunder.
His only concern... was the small life perched above him.
That was Rory’s child. If anything happened during the fight, Rory would be worried.
She rushed over, glancing first at his hair. Seeing that Terry remained hidden, she let out a quiet breath of relief.
Then she looked at Paros. "Find a way to stall him for ten minutes. Vincent and Xarion will be here soon."
Vincent had just sent another ssage—they were only ten minutes away.
Facing an enemy and retreating was not Paros’s way.
But for Rory—and for the child—he pressed his lips together, then nodded.
"...Understood. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. And Terry."
"I trust you."
Rory did. But she also knew he was still injured. If fighting could be avoided, it should be.
anwhile, Thunder—who had secretly taken a healing potion—felt his strength returning.
Seeing Paros and the beautiful female whispering to each other, his patience snapped.
He raised a hand, lightning gathering—
"Thunder!" Rory’s voice cut through the air. "You want to rule the three domains, don’t you? Paros agrees to it. Wen agrees to your demands."
Thunder froze mid-motion. "...You’re serious?"
Rory looked up—just as two figures appeared in the sky, one white, one crimson.
A slow smile spread across her lips. "You idiot. Of course not."
She pointed straight at Thunder. "Xarion. Vincent. Kill him."
Before Thunder could react, a massive white shadow materialized in an instant.
Jaws clamped down around his throat.
Everything happened too fast.
By the ti Rory could even process it, a towering figure already stood before her.
Vincent.
He pulled her into his arms without hesitation, holding her tightly.
"Rory... I’m sorry. I’m late."
"DOn’t worry about it." She hugged him back. "You ca at the perfect ti."
She had been prepared to stall longer—but they had arrived sooner than expected.
With a surge of lightning, Thunder forced himself free from the white wolf’s jaws.
"Xarion...?!"
The mont he recognized the massive white wolf, his pupils shrank in sheer terror.
Blood poured from his throat.
His body was scorched in places—burned by his own lightning as he struggled free.
Why was this monster here?
Panic overtook him.
He turned and fled.
The white wolf’s gaze followed him, filled with disdain.
"Pathetic."
He had expected more from an eleventh-rank.
In the next instant, Xarion shifted back into human form.
He stepped forward and walls of ice surged up from the ground, sealing Thunder in from all sides, trapping him within an inescapable frozen prison.
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