CHAPTER 917: GHOSTBONE ARMOR

With a flicker of movement, Orion appeared before the elders.

Tarn, Rendall, and Rockwell were the first to react, bowing deeply in respect. Then Erythros, Grulbane, Torvald, and Taran turned, all moving to perform the grand salute.

"The younglings are the main characters today, not me," Orion said with a wave of his hand. "I’m just here to crash the party and grab some food."

A surge of his supernatural power formed a field around him, gently preventing those who were about to kneel from doing so.

To show their support for their younglings, the elders had all brought treasures from their personal stores. The bonfires roaring in the square, the massive cauldrons bubbling with stew, and the sizzling barbecue racks were proof enough.

"My Lord," Tarn said respectfully.

"You’ve matured," Orion said, looking at Tarn — who had become an elder himself after returning from the human kingdom and starting a family of his own.

"Are you also here to see the dragon?"

"Yes. I’m here with Doke." Doke was Fergus’s son and Tarn’s own nephew. As he spoke, Tarn pointed to a small giant youngling standing next to Pallas. He was a head shorter than the prince, staring up at the black dragon with drool trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"He’s a sturdy little fellow," Orion commented. Looking out at all the younglings in the square, he felt a sense of purpose solidify within him. He needed to find a way to secure more benefits for this new generation.

They were the future of the Tribe, the foundation of the Stoneheart Horde’s expansion, and the source of his faith energy.

"None of you are to leave tonight," Orion said, turning to the elders, all of whom had distinguished battle achievements. "It’s been too long since we’ve all had a drink together. We’re not leaving until we can’t stand!"

His order was met with a chorus of cheers and laughter—a sound of pure, heartfelt joy.

"Daddy!" a bright, clear voice cried out. Before the elders could react, Elara had scrambled up onto Orion’s neck, hugging his head and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Why aren’t you playing with Pallas and the others?" Orion asked, reaching up to affectionately mess up his daughter’s hair.

"This is Pallas’s moment," Elara said, resting her chin on the top of Orion’s head. She stared with wide, curious eyes at the assembled elders, who in turn were all staring intently at her.

Orion saw the complex mix of admiration and reservation in their eyes. On one hand, Elara was undeniably brilliant; the magical talent she displayed at such a young age had won over the entire horde. On the other hand, the fact that she was not of his blood still sat uneasily with some of them. It was something the sharp-witted Elara had surely sensed herself.

"This is Elder Tarn. This is Elder Rendall, you should call him Arch-Elder..." Ignoring the complicated looks from his subordinates, Orion began introducing them to Elara one by one.

Elara, clever and charming, greeted each one with a sweet honorific. In return, she was showered with a collection of interesting little trinkets and gifts.

"Daddy," she whispered in his ear after the introductions were done. "Elara needs to go back to the Grey Mountains. My little dragon is about to hatch, too!"

"In a couple of days, I’ll go with you," Orion promised.

Her face lit up with a brilliant smile, and she gave him another kiss. Her fire dragon egg, having absorbed a phoenix egg and a tremendous amount of energy from the volcano, was finally ready. Seeing Pallas bond with his black dragon had perhaps lit a fire under little Elara as well. It was a development Orion was very happy to see.

That night, the younglings ran wild in the castle square. Their celebration evolved from dragon-watching to pitting their pets against each other, and finally to wrestling matches among themselves. They were a gifted generation, and none of them would back down from a challenge unless they were knocked flat.

Pallas, in the end, was the happiest of all, for he was the ultimate victor. The blood of an arch lord running through his veins made him stand head and shoulders above the rest.

And of course, the adults—Orion and his subordinates—drank themselves into a happy stupor.

Emerald Dream Realm, the Kasenna Sea.

With the presence of dragon arch lords detected on the front lines, Leonidas and Orion had personally led their forces to the heart of the battlefield. Makareth, Isabella, Vexis, Clymene, Gustalon, and several of Leonidas’s own Legendary-level beasts had all joined the fray.

The battlefield was pure chaos. Dragons tumbled through the air while all manner of flying beasts beat their massive wings, whipping the sky into a frenzy. The mist that had previously shrouded the heavens had been completely torn apart by the war.

"They’re getting closer," Orion said. He and Leonidas stood on the square of Leonidas’s floating palace, hands clasped behind their backs as they surveyed the battle.

Across the entire field, Isabella, backed by her colossal dragon, had the strongest frontal assault capability, followed closely by the Demon, Makareth. But in terms of sheer kill count, no one could match Gustalon.

As an elemental being, he had become the wind itself, a deadly gale that swept through the battlefield. Aside from the Ocean Hunters, Whale Riders, and Great-Fin Croc-Whales fighting in the deep sea, every enemy was a target for him to reap.

"Makareth! Isabella!" Leonidas’s voice boomed across the battlefield, devoid of his usual laid-back, joking manner. It was cold and sharp as steel. "Weren’t you just complaining that the enemy was too weak? Now the big ones are here. Do you have the courage to challenge a higher tier?"

"HRAAAGH!" was Makareth’s only reply. He swung his moonstones scimitar, unleashing a flurry of powerful energy arcs that eviscerated the enemies swarming him.

Then, he flared his Demon Wings, and a dark, sinister Abyssal energy poured from them, covering his body in a dense web of black, glowing runes. He knew instinctively that to fight above his weight class, he had to go all out.

On the other side of the field, Isabella and her colossal dragon tore apart the dragon that had been harassing them. As it fell, a layer of bone armor erupted from her body, spreading down from her feet to encase her colossal dragon as well.

It was a sight Orion knew all too well.

That was the work of Arthas. That was Ghostbone Armor.

I wonder if Arthas gave it to her himself, or if Alexander asked for it on her behalf, Orion mused, finding the thought interesting.

The Ghostbone Armor Isabella now wore wasn’t as high-tier as his own, but it was a complete set, and its defensive capabilities were immense.