The lava-like dragon eyes of Petersong no longer brimmed with contempt. They were replaced by gravity and fury.
In particular, the stern-faced Archmage Constance, clad in a black-and-gold robe, seemed like an insurmountable wall in its eyes.
The magic of Spatial Confinement silently sealed off the surrounding area. The air seemed to solidify, and even the temperature was twisted into scorching blades.
Petersong realized that it had been trapped in a carefully arranged hunting ground.
Fury surged from its chest as blazing flames rose along its scales, making its enormous dragon body resemble a massive chunk of red-hot iron.
It threw back its head and roared, the sound waves shaking the surroundings like a final warning before a volcanic eruption.
Augustus was the first to move.
The Epic long sword in his hand slashed fiercely. A sword aura containing fiery power and battle intent rapidly stretched through the air, like a blazing sun tearing across the sky as it cleaved toward Petersong.
The sword aura struck the Dragon Horn on Petersong's head. With a deafening clang, sparks scattered everywhere, and the sword aura shattered like glass fragments, while the Dragon Horn did not move an inch.
"Its Dragon Horn is its toughest part! Attack its belly!" Constance warned coldly.
Augustus soared into the air. The Flame Giant behind him followed like a shadow, gathering a massive sword forged from molten fire in its giant palm. Scorching flames flowed along the blade like living creatures.
The next instant, the Greatsword of Flame hacked heavily toward Petersong's belly!
Yet Petersong reacted with astonishing speed, flipping its body in midair and accurately clamping the Greatsword of Flame between its claws.
The two fiery auras collided fiercely, baking the air into rippling distortions. The Flame Giant roared and pressed down on the greatsword with