The dark clouds in the sky shifted tremendously, parting outward as if an invisible hand had torn them apart. The rain stopped falling in a wide circle above the battlefield.
The four elder dragons caught their breath, the irises of their draconic eyes shrinking into vertical lines.
Absolute chaos erupted on the platform of vines. The cultivators' faces turned pale, their entire bodies shivering as though they were staring at the apocalypse descending from the heavens. They ran outward, trampling each other and slipping on the soaked vines, desperate to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the battlefield.
"Wh-what the hell is this?" Felix murmured, falling onto his back. His burnt arm was trembling inside its plaster of petals.
Vincent's breath caught in his throat, sweat trickling down his temple. "I-is this the true power of the Dragon of Death?"
