The air deep within the valley began to tremble.
It was a deeper, stranger sensation, as though space itself were shaking.
The Catastrophe Dragon Lord slept a hundred meters directly beneath the valley floor. The rock strata there were cracking, the underground temperature was rising, and the stench of sulfur in the air was strong enough to make one vomit.
The thirteen members of the Black Scripture spread out across a natural platform at the bottom of the valley, facing the enormous, cracking rock wall before them in a fan-shaped formation.
Moonlight fell upon their pure white masks, reflecting an eerie glow.
The First Seat stood at the very front, his long black hair spilling from beneath the edge of his hood and fluttering lightly in the night wind.
His right hand gripped his lance tightly, ready to prevent any unforeseen incident.
Lady Kaire stood at the center of the group, her white qipao embroidered with golden dragons looking especially dazzling beneath the moonlight.
Her hands were folded before her lower abdomen as she waited for the proper distance and moment.
"It's here."
The Ninth Seat, Edgar, spoke in a low voice.
The rock wall split open.
The Catastrophe Dragon Lord.
A massive plant-type monster—a magical tree roughly a hundred meters tall, with six tentacles stretching over three hundred meters.
It had teeth and devoured other plants.
If the magical tree spread its seeds across a wide area, it could establish a command-tower-like cluster centered around itself, multiplying endlessly outward.
Through constant parasitism and infection, it could form an enormous army of treants.
An ever-expanding army like that of undead knights undoubtedly deserved the title of Catastrophe Dragon Lord.
"Lady Kaire!"
the First Seat shouted.
Lady Kaire closed her eyes.
She took a deep breath, raised both hands, and formed