"Heavyweights? There are some, but—"
Kastrin Lanre, who had been chattering away like a parrot, suddenly fell silent. His gaze landed in the distance. Raising a hand, he patted Sigurd Dolan, who was seated across from him, and said:
"There. He's here."
"Who?" Sigurd Dolan looked baffled.
Following the direction of his finger, he suddenly understood. "Oh, that guy. No wonder. If it's him, then our chances are pretty good. We might not measure up to the Adon Nether Race, but holding onto a spot in the top ten shouldn't be a problem."
A luxurious airship slowly descended onto the airship berth at the center of the plaza. The exclusive Thunder Dragon Crest on its hull marked it as the chieftain's personal vessel.
The stairs were lowered. Two beautiful, elegant flight attendants rolled out a red carpet, while crimson dragonkin security guards set up a cordon, clearing the area for the arriving guests and directing the band to play. The scene was extravagantly elaborate.
Such a grand display immediately drew the attention of visitors from every faction. People turned their eyes toward the airship, while those unaware of the situation curiously asked who was aboard.
Yet anyone with connections had long since learned who the airship was carrying.
"Do you know who they all are?" Kastrin Lanre teased. "These are the true young talents of Boundary Abyss. Can you guess?"
"Of course. I even know the order they'll appear in. Once they get off, they'll definitely make their entrance in that exact sequence."
Sigurd Dolan lifted a glass of wine and said with a smile:
"First is the Western Devil Seed, Oprelli Dofen. A superior red dragon variant, a seven-headed, ten-horned Devil Dragon."
Tap.
A red-haired elf descended from the airship with a yawn, his face full of impatience. Beneath