Unfortunately, some Wildling Tribes happened to be directly in the path of the Army of Ghouls.
Facing this endless tide of undead, their resistance was utterly futile—they couldn't even hold on for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea before being slaughtered beneath the claws of the dead.
What was even more horrifying was that the eyes of the fallen opened once again, this time glowing with an icy blue light.
These corpses had now completely become part of the Army of Ghouls, silently following the horde as it continued to advance.
Rayder, soaring high in the sky atop his dragon, suddenly noticed that his system's energy points were rapidly increasing.
Several points were being gained every second—an abnormal situation that immediately put him on alert.
He quickly scanned his surroundings but saw nothing unusual.
Where are these points coming from? he wondered.
He looked down—and what he saw shocked him.
A black torrent surged across the land below, like hell itself descending upon the world.
Rayder instantly understood the source of the energy points.
They were generated by the Army of Ghouls slaughtering everything in their path.
"This is truly an unexpected gain…" Rayder muttered to himself.
Since that was the case, he lowered his altitude to observe the scene more clearly.
Sitting firmly on the dragon's back, he tightened his grip on the reins, feeling the powerful force of the dragon's wings pushing against the air.
As the dragon descended, the Army of Ghouls became fully visible below—rolling forward like crashing waves.
They moved with astonishing speed, heading straight for The Great Wall.
A sense of unease rose in Rayder's heart.
Had his actions caused the Cold God to begin the world-ending plan prematurely?
But this thought vanished quickly.
Not far ahead, he saw an enormous flock of undead creatures—like dark clouds blotting out the sky—flying straight toward him.
Rayder instantly realized the truth.
This was not a march toward The Wall.
This was an ambush—aimed at him.
The undead had sealed off both the sky and the ground.
But Rayder did not panic.
Dragons were the overlords of the sky—only dragons could stop dragons.
Even though the number of undead was overwhelming, he remained confident in his three dragons.
With thunderous roars, they charged straight into the horde.
They coordinated seamlessly—diving, circling, striking in turns.
Dragon Flame poured down like a burning sea, while lightning streaked through the clouds. Everything in their path was annihilated.
Rayder's energy points continued to skyrocket, numbers flashing rapidly across his system panel.
But he felt no joy—only urgency.
He gripped Ghidorah's saddle tightly, anxiety twisting in his chest.
They needed to break through and escape as fast as possible.
Not only were the undead overwhelming—the Gryphon King and the Cold God were still chasing them.
He issued a mental command:
Increase speed. Maintain firepower. Stay alert for attacks from the rear.
The three dragons carved blazing arcs through the sky, burning a path forward toward The Great Wall.
They had to reach it—only the ancient magic there could hold back the Army of Ghouls.
Rayder steadied his breath, preparing for what lay ahead.
Just as they neared The Great Wall, Rayder suddenly felt a powerful presence approaching from behind.
He turned—and saw the Gryphon King, carrying the Cold God, closing in fast.
The Cold God felt danger.
Her senses told her that the large flying undead ahead—sent to block Rayder—were about to be completely destroyed.
Without them to stall the dragons, only small bird-type undead remained, far too weak to even scratch dragon scales, let alone stop them.
Time was running out.
She had to act immediately.
She sprinted across the Gryphon King's massive back with supernatural speed.
In the blink of an eye, she leapt lightly onto the creature's beak.
She shifted her stance, her body turning sideways like a drawn bow.
An icy-blue glow gathered in her hand, forming a long bow of pure ice—transparent and bone-chilling.
She drew the bowstring slowly. Power condensed with her motion, distorting the air around it.
She could not see Rayder directly due to distance and angle.
Even with enhanced vision, she could not aim precisely.
So she connected her senses to the undead ahead—sharing their vision.
Finally, she locked onto the target.
The moment her aim was confirmed, she released the string.
The arrow became a streak of white light—too fast for the naked eye to track.
Rayder immediately felt a life-threatening danger.
His heart nearly stopped. Instinct drove him to dodge.
But the arrow was too fast.
He moved—yet still too late.
The streak of white light grazed past his left shoulder and struck one of Ghidorah's necks.
The wound was small—only two fingers wide—and not fatal, as it missed the heart.
But the ice magic sealed the wound instantly, freezing it solid with not a drop of blood spilled.
Rayder had no time to marvel at the power of the attack.
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