Chapter 352: Forbidden Spell — Winter Cataclysm!

Leaden clouds obscured the sky, casting the world in the faded tones of an old photograph. Down on the gloomy earth, the Mage Corps of Blackrock Fortress scurried like ants across the Winter Altar, working tirelessly to repair the damaged structure.

Even though Ten Thousand Blades Fortress had already destroyed itself in a massive explosion, the White Dragon Lord still intended to complete his planned spell. Permanently altering the climate of the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress region to favor the White Castle Army was a purely strategic decision.

Finally, the Altar—shattered by the Eight-Armed Snake Demon's self-detonation—was fully repaired.

The White Dragon Lord descended from the sky, landing in the center of the Winter Altar as the soldiers of Blackrock Fortress began a planned retreat.

Once the troops had withdrawn to a safe distance, the White Dragon Lord looked toward the top floor of the White Tower and nodded. He knew Master Owen, stationed inside the Mage Tower, understood his intentions.

Before long, a white mist materialized out of nowhere, rapidly expanding to envelop the Altar and a vast stretch of the surrounding area. Master Owen then laid down a powerful Magic Barrier around the site.

With the preparations complete, the White Dragon walked to the very center of the Winter Altar, tilted his head up to gaze at the sky, and slowly closed his eyes.

After banishing all distracting thoughts, the White Dragon Lord opened his eyes. Not a single trace of emotion remained in his golden pupils as the booming syllables of a vast, ancient incantation began to echo through the air.

He chanted with deliberate, rhythmic pauses, each syllable carrying the immense weight of a mountain. The White Dragon Lord endured tremendous pressure as the mana within his body rapidly drained away.

An inexplicable sense of unease suddenly welled up among the retreating Blackrock Fortress army. It felt as though lead weights had been hung from their hearts—a suffocating dread that even the legendary powerhouses shared.

Sensing the restless, chaotic elements swirling around them, the legendary powerhouses hastily warned the troops to speed up their retreat. Large-scale magic, after all, did not distinguish between friend and foe.

Sensing the elemental unrest, Master Owen was thoroughly astonished from his vantage point inside the White Tower. If the mere initial stage of a Forbidden Spell could cause such elemental panic, what would happen once the incantation was complete? He didn't dare imagine.

Like a flock of sheep driven by a shepherd's crook, all non-ice elements fled the epicenter, leaving only the ice elements to dance and cheer with joy.

An hour passed. Within a thousand-meter radius of the White Dragon Lord, only ice elements remained. Yet the incantation was far from over.

In the blink of an eye, six hours slipped by. The mana within the White Dragon Lord's body had depleted by seventy percent.

The wind picked up. A freezing gale whimpered through the air as clouds and mist violently surged across the sky.

Another hour passed. Finally, when the White Dragon Lord had only fifteen percent of his mana left, the Forbidden Spell's incantation came to an end.

In an instant, the world fell deathly silent, as if the wind and clouds had themselves frozen in fear.

Forbidden Spell — Winter Cataclysm!

Without warning, a Cold Wave materialized out of thin air around the Altar. Expanding in all directions with the explosive force of an erupting volcano, the sudden deep freeze acted like a brush dipped in white paint, sweeping a layer of pure frost across the land.

In the distance, Master Owen saw the incoming frost and immediately piloted the White Tower into a full-speed retreat.

The Cold Wave surged outward in successive storms, brushing layer after layer of frost over the ground. It didn't take long for the earth surrounding the Altar to freeze beneath a thick sheet of solid ice.

Rumble!

A sudden clap of thunder exploded. Lightning fractured the leaden clouds, illuminating the dim sky. Snowflakes the size of goose feathers drifted down from the heavens, but the flurry soon transformed into a barrage of giant hailstones several meters in diameter.

The enormous hailstones smashed into the icy crust around the Altar with a resounding clatter, sending the sharp cracks of shattering ice ringing out in all directions.

Ten kilometers away, the retreating soldiers of the Blackrock Fortress army looked up in disbelief.

"Is it... is it snowing?!"

"No! It's hail!"

Fortunately, the spell's power had mostly dissipated over the ten-kilometer distance. The hail reaching them was only the size of beans, clinking and clattering harmlessly against the soldiers' helmets.

Hovering in the sky, a Legendary Mage blocked the hail with a magic shield. He looked back over his shoulder, his mouth hanging wide open in sheer astonishment.

A white Cold Wave was sweeping across the distant landscape like a tsunami, flash-freezing the arid soil of the Abyss into a sprawling Glacier and entombing everything in its path beneath a thick layer of ice.

"Don't stop! Keep your shields up and keep moving!"

The magically amplified command echoed across the sky. Soldiers hurriedly raised their shields overhead, while the mages cast various defensive spells to protect themselves, all sprinting forward with everything they had.

At the very epicenter of the Winter Cataclysm, a Glacier had already formed around the Altar. Only the Winter Altar itself remained untouched, spared by the protection of the Magic Barrier. Viewed from high above, the massive stone platform—spacious enough for the White Dragon Lord to comfortably roll around on—looked like a mere coin embedded in the ice.

The White Dragon Lord panted heavily atop the Altar. After casting the Forbidden Spell, his mana reserves were practically hollowed out. His body ached with profound fatigue, yet his spirit blazed with incredible exhilaration.

A Forbidden Spell!

As the name implied, Forbidden Spells were taboo enchantments that stood at the absolute pinnacle of magic. They possessed terrifyingly destructive power—so much so that not even deities would dare take one head-on.

Had it been just an ordinary Forbidden Spell, the White Dragon Lord wouldn't be this thrilled, nor would he have needed to rely on the Winter Altar and chant for eight straight hours.

Even Forbidden Spells had grades of superiority. The Gate of the Ice Beast could only be considered entry-level, whereas Winter Cataclysm reigned at the very top.

It was much like taking an examination where both an excellent student and an unparalleled genius scored perfect marks. The excellent student achieved a perfect score because that was the absolute limit of his ability, while the genius achieved the same simply because the test couldn't be graded any higher.

Similarly, Winter Cataclysm was classified as a Forbidden Spell only because the Forbidden Spell tier was the highest classification magic possessed.

Regardless, it was a precious spellcasting experience that allowed the White Dragon Lord to brush against a higher Tier of power.

Elements were the bedrock of any plane, and every plane was inextricably linked to the major elemental realms. The Abyss was no exception. The entire function of Winter Cataclysm was to widen the elemental conduit connecting to the Elemental Plane of Ice, permanently altering the regional climate by allowing a massive influx of ice elements to flood the Abyss.

In certain small-to-medium planes, the sheer volume of ice elements introduced by Winter Cataclysm could easily trigger a fatal elemental imbalance, plunging the entire world into a permanent ice age and rendering it utterly uninhabitable.

In other words, the Forbidden Spell — Winter Cataclysm was an apocalyptic, world-ending invocation. However, here in the Blood War Battlefield, the White Dragon Lord didn't worry in the slightest about the plane being destroyed.

After all, the Blood War Battlefield was a multi-realm Colosseum capable of enduring the chaotic brawls of true gods. Its lands were unfathomably vast, and its spatial structure was incredibly stable.

Furthermore, planes possessed innate self-repair functions, much like a living organism's immune system. Small planes had weak regenerative capabilities and were easily broken, but the self-repair function of the Blood War Battlefield was nothing short of terrifying.

The White Dragon Lord felt the ice elemental conduit he had forced open beginning to slowly stitch itself shut. He immediately activated the magic Array inside the Altar. Bolstered by that continuous stream of support, the conduit's closing speed instantly plummeted.

Ultimately, a perfect balance would be struck between the ice elemental conduit and the self-healing power of the Blood War Battlefield. The Glacier would no longer expand, nor would it ever shrink.

The White Dragon Lord exhaled two streams of white breath and cast a protective spell over himself.

By now, the ambient temperature at the core of the Winter Cataclysm was approaching absolute zero. Even the ice-aligned White Dragon Lord needed magical protection to ensure a safe departure.

Once his defenses were set, the White Dragon Lord flew outside the Magic Barrier's protective radius and shattered it. Instantly, the Winter Altar froze over, eventually burying itself deep within the Glacier. This way, it wouldn't be easy for any enemies to destroy it.

The White Dragon Lord estimated that it would take at least a High-Tier Legend as proficient in ice magic as himself—or a full-fledged Abomination powerhouse—to successfully destroy the Winter Altar and reduce the Glacier's coverage area. Forcefully closing the elemental conduit would exact an even heavier price.

After finishing the cleanup work, the White Dragon Lord took to the sky and flew toward Blackrock Fortress.

...

The battle of Bloodblade Fortress had concluded, but the ensuing fallout was massive. The entire region surrounding Ten Thousand Blades Fortress was now locked in endless ice and snow, severely dragging down the temperatures of the neighboring cities.

This naturally brought a few headaches to Blackrock Fortress. Originally, daytime temperatures at the fortress would easily top forty or fifty degrees. Now, it barely hovered above freezing during the day, and nighttime temperatures plunged well below zero. Unsurprisingly, the price of winter supplies skyrocketed.

However, the adventurers and soldiers who had just made an absolute fortune couldn't have cared less. Over the past few days, the taverns and entertainment venues in Blackrock Fortress saw booming business as the entire city surrendered to a massive carnival.

But as the city's commanders, the two dragons and one human could never afford to let their guard down. Unrestrained revelry was destined to have nothing to do with the three High-Tier Legend beings.

Inside the castle at the core of Blackrock Fortress, the White Dragon Lord, the Gold Dragon, and Master Owen sat together in a circle. By now, the complete tally of losses and gains from the Bloodblade Fortress battle had been finalized.

After deducting all operational expenses like troop rewards and pensions, a substantial pile of wealth remained from the harvested Demon materials. Since the Blackrock Fortress soldiers had slain the vast majority of the Demons, the White Dragon Lord and the Gold Dragon each claimed a twenty percent share of the net profit on their behalf, while Master Owen—who had personally contributed the most combat effort—took the remaining sixty percent.

With the profits distributed, the two dragons and one human looked at each other and smiled.

Of the four irons of life, the White Dragon Lord, the Gold Dragon, and Master Owen had already forged two together: they had split the spoils of war, and they had fought in the trenches side-by-side.

"Owen, is there any news from the other forces?"

Master Owen naturally knew what the Gold Dragon meant. Blackrock Fortress wasn't the only stronghold to have launched an assault on a Demon city.

"Some campaigns are still ongoing, while others have already wrapped up. From the looks of things, our battle results are the best so far. Following the destruction of Ten Thousand Blades Fortress, the other Demon fortresses immediately bolstered their defenses. I reckon that when the dust settles, our achievements will remain the most outstanding."

"That's not necessarily true."

The White Dragon Lord smiled.

"I received word from the Boar's Howl that Trident Keep launched a night raid on Vagro Fortress yesterday evening. Mage Alan single-handedly wounded the Soul-Devouring Demon King guarding it. We might be hearing news of Trident Keep's total victory before long."

"Heh heh. Even if that happens, they'll only tie with Blackrock Fortress."

The White Dragon Lord nodded noncommittally.

"Speaking of which, Owen, both you and Mage Alan hail from the Otag World. Do you know his background? I've crossed paths with him twice, and he gives me the distinct feeling of being absolutely unfathomable."

"Well, about that..."

Master Owen hesitated slightly.

"Honestly, I don't know much about Mage Alan either. I only know that he recently returned to the Otag World; I'm in the dark about the rest. I did, however, hear a rumor that he's the illegitimate son of a certain member of the Supreme Council, and that particular member's signature specialty just so happens to be spatial magic..."

Hearing this, the White Dragon Lord nodded.

"So that's how it is."

The Supreme Council was the highest authority in the Otag World. Unlike the Nordhill Guardian Council, where High-Tier Legends served as members, the absolute minimum threshold to join the Supreme Council was being an Abomination powerhouse. Because of this terrifying requirement, there were only six council members in total.

Having six Abomination powerhouses openly known to the public was a clear testament to the profound foundation of the Otag World.

The Gold Dragon couldn't help but marvel.

"The Otag World truly boasts a terrifyingly deep foundation."

"Hahaha."

Master Owen chuckled with pride.

"Your Nordhill isn't too shabby either. Back in the day, when your two rising stars—the Spellbinder and the Arcane Trickster—stood side-by-side at the peak, the other Alliance members practically died of envy."

"Sigh. It's a pity."

The Gold Dragon let out a long sigh.

"After failing to secure the position of Speaker, the Arcane Trickster left for the Star Realm. He hasn't returned in all these years, and who knows if his heart even belongs to Nordhill anymore."

"As long as the Black Robe Wizard's Association remains, His Excellency the Arcane Trickster's ties to Nordhill will never be completely severed. After all, that's the organization he founded with his own han—"

Suddenly, Master Owen froze in place.

Seeing this, the White Dragon Lord immediately understood that Master Owen had received a magical transmission. It was almost certainly from the Alliance, and highly likely related to their pending rewards.

Indeed, aside from the spoils harvested from the Demon materials, the Alliance doled out its own separate rewards for successful campaigns.

By pulling out the thorn that was Ten Thousand Blades Fortress, the forces of Blackrock Fortress had achieved a victory of immense strategic significance. Ten Thousand Blades Fortress wasn't merely a Demon city; it was the Demons' frontline war bastion. Its destruction had ripped a gaping hole straight through the demonic defensive line.

Furthermore, the White Dragon Lord had struck at the root of the problem by completely altering the climate around Ten Thousand Blades Fortress, permanently rendering the surrounding area uninhabitable for ordinary Demons. This made it incredibly difficult for the demonic forces to ever plug that hole.

For such a massive strategic contribution, the Alliance Headquarters would naturally dispense a handsome reward.

After a short moment, Master Owen snapped back to his senses.

"Everyone, news just came from the Alliance. There's good news, and there's bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"

"Let's hear the good news first."

"The Alliance is absolutely thrilled by the destruction of Ten Thousand Blades Fortress. Following a discussion among the higher-ups, they've decided to reward us with a total of five million points."

Much like the Nordhill Guardian Council, the Alliance distributed rewards in the form of merit points. Furthermore, Alliance points and Council points could be mutually exchanged. Alliance points were inherently more valuable, holding an exchange rate of 1 to 1.1.

However, very few people ever exchanged Alliance points for Council points. Within the Alliance treasury, those points could be swapped for far rarer, higher-quality goods than anything the Council offered—many of which couldn't be bought with conventional money at any price.

In the end, the White Dragon Lord—who had single-handedly cast Winter Cataclysm—received two million points, while Master Owen and the Gold Dragon each received 1.5 million.

"Alright, now for the bad news. According to the Alliance's intelligence, the armies within the territories of the three great Demon lords are all showing signs of abnormal, highly aggressive activity. I imagine the total destruction of Ten Thousand Blades Fortress has thoroughly provoked them."