The victory against Warlord Ignis was a turning point, but not a conclusion. The water around the Iron-Jaw Fortress still boiled with the residual heat of the battle, but Alvian didn't linger. The [Genesis Mode] cooldown was ticking, and his mana, while infinite in regeneration, required focus to channel effectively.

He stood on the ridge, looking east toward the Coral Plains. The territory of the Seahorse Warlord, Kulit, whom Alvian had dismantled days ago. Since Kulit's death, the region had been in chaos, a power vacuum the Syndicate had tried to fill.

But now, the water tasting of that region wasn't chaotic. It was dead.

"System. Analysis."

[Zone: Coral Plains]

[Mana Density: Low]

[Life Signs: Minimal]

"Silence," Alvian noted. "Inefficient. Even in a power vacuum, there should be scavengers. There should be noise."

"The scouts haven't reported in from the Plains in two hours," Valeria said, stepping up beside him. Her armor was scorched from the fight with Ignis, but her spirit was unbroken. "It's a dead zone."

"Then we go wake it up," Alvian said.

He turned to the Guardians. Master Thorne, Master Kaelen, and Lady Ola were rallying their forces. But there was a new presence among them. A figure standing apart, wrapped in a tattered grey cloak that drifted in the current like seafoam.

He held a single, long katana in a sheath made of white sharkskin. He didn't radiate mana. He didn't radiate pressure. He felt like a void in the water, a space where the current simply ceased to exist.

[Target Identified: Kenshin (The Sword Guardian)]

[Level: 58]

[Class: Grandmaster of the Tides]

[Status: Meditating]

"You brought the hermit," Alvian said, looking at Thorne.

"Kenshin felt the awakening," Thorne grunted, adjusting his quicksilver legs. "When the Draconic Seal broke, he sharpened his blade. He says the water tastes like iron."

Kenshin opened his eyes. They were milky white, blind, yet they locked onto Alvian with unsettling precision.

"You are the Anomaly," Kenshin's voice was a dry rasp, like sand on stone. "Your steps are heavy, yet you leave no footprints. Interesting."

"We're moving to the Coral Plains," Alvian stated. "The Legion is regrouping there."

"They are not regrouping," Kenshin corrected, his hand resting on his sword hilt. "They are feeding."

The army moved out. It was a massive force now—the Abyssal Guard, the City Watch, the Vanguard, and the Guardians. They swept through the ocean like a tide of vengeance.

When they reached the Coral Plains, the devastation was absolute.

The colorful, vibrant reefs were gone. They had been crushed, ground into fine white sand. The massive calcified structures that served as the Seahorse cities were leveled. And floating in the water were the bodies of thousands of Seahorse warriors.

They hadn't been killed in battle. They had been slaughtered.

"This wasn't a fight," Valeria whispered, looking at a Seahorse knight that had been bisected cleanly, armor and all. "This was a harvest."

Alvian swam to the center of the ruins. There, sitting on a pile of shattered coral, was a figure.

He was humanoid, clad in armor made of pristine white dragon scales. He didn't look like the other monstrosities of the Legion. He didn't have the chaotic mutations or the oozing corruption. He looked perfect. Refined.

He held a massive greatsword, the blade resting in the sand.

Alvian recognized him instantly. The scars on the armor were gone, healed by the Syndicate's bio-alchemy, but the mana signature was the same.

"Drakon," Alvian said.

The figure stood up. He was taller now, easily seven feet. The red aura he had wielded in the trench was gone, replaced by a terrifying, silent white pressure.

[Target Identified: Drakon, The White Knight]

[Level: 65]

[Class: Draconic High Commander]

[Status: Evolved / Magic Immune]

Level 65. He had surpassed the level cap of the current expansion. The System's limits didn't apply to him.

"You buried me," Drakon said. His voice wasn't a roar anymore. It was calm, cultured, and infinitely more dangerous. "You dropped a mountain on me in the trench. You humiliated me."

"I optimized the battlefield," Alvian corrected, equipping his [Lance of the Void Winter]. "You were in the way."

"And then you killed Megalos," Drakon continued, lifting his greatsword with one hand. "You broke my toys. You disrupted the assimilation. The Syndicate is displeased. But I... I am grateful."

Drakon smiled. It was a expression filled with sharp teeth.

"Because of you, the Master authorized the final upgrade. The [White Scale] protocol."

"Upgrade?" Alvian scanned him. "You look like a walking dinner plate."

"Insolence," Drakon sighed. "Inefficient."

He moved.

"BOOM!"

The water exploded. Drakon didn't use a skill. He used pure physical speed. He crossed the hundred meters between them in a microsecond.

Alvian barely had time to react. He brought his lance up to block.

"CLANG!"

The impact was cataclysmic. Alvian was sent flying backward, smashing through three coral pillars before he could arrest his momentum. His arms went numb.

[-12,000! Heavy Impact!]

"Alvian!" Valeria screamed, charging forward with her shield raised.

"Stay back!" Alvian shouted, spitting blood. "He's different!"

Drakon didn't chase. He stood there, dusting off his white armor.

"Is that the strength of the Godslayer?" Drakon asked. "Disappointing."

Suddenly, a blur of grey motion shot past Alvian. It was Kenshin. The blind swordsman moved like water flowing around a stone. He appeared instantly in front of Drakon, his katana drawn in a flash of silver light.

"Drawing Technique: Severing Tide."

"SHING!"

The blade struck Drakon's neck. It was a strike that could cut through diamond.

"TING."

It bounced. Not blocked. Bounced. The white scales didn't even scratch.

Drakon looked down at the old swordsman.

"Sword Guardian," Drakon said. "Your blade is sharp. But my scales are absolute."

Drakon swung his greatsword. Kenshin deflected, his katana meeting the massive blade at an angle to disperse the force, but he was still knocked back, sliding through the sand.

Alvian regrouped, floating beside Kenshin.

"Physical immunity?" Alvian asked.

"No," Kenshin said, his grip on his sword tightening. "He is hard. Harder than the seabed. Harder than the Deep Iron."

"Then we hit him harder," Alvian said.

"Come," Drakon beckoned with his free hand. "Show me why the Eighth Seat fears you."

The Coral Plains became an arena of death. The Abyssal Guard held the perimeter, engaging the lesser Draconic soldiers that poured from the shadows, but the center stage belonged to the three titans.

Alvian, the Anomaly. Kenshin, the Sword Saint. And Drakon, the White Knight.

Alvian analyzed the situation as he dodged a swing that cleaved the ocean floor in two. Drakon was Level 65. His stats were overwhelming. But his true strength lay in his passive: [Absolute Nullification].

"System. Scan Armor Composition."

[Analysis: White Dragon Scales.]

[Properties: Magic Nullification (S-Rank). Elemental Dispersion (S-Rank).]

[Note: Immune to all magic damage below Tier 6. Resistant to physical damage by 80%.]

"Tier 6," Alvian muttered. "That's endgame magic. My [Frost Descent] is barely Tier 4."

He tested it.

"[Glacial Void Pierce]!"

He thrust his lance. A beam of black ice and void energy shot toward Drakon's chest. It was an attack that had killed Warlords and crippled Avatars.

Drakon didn't dodge. He let it hit him.

"FIZZ."

The beam struck the white armor and simply... vanished. It didn't explode. It didn't freeze him. It was absorbed and nullified instantly.

[-0 HP]

"Magic is useless," Drakon stated, stepping through the dissipating mana. "I was forged to kill mages. I was forged to kill you."

He swung his greatsword. Alvian used [Void Step] to blink away, reappearing ten meters to the left.

"Inefficient," Alvian said. "If magic fails, use physics."

Kenshin moved. The blind Guardian didn't use mana. He used Ki. He used aura.

"[Secret Art: 108 Tidal Slashes]."

Kenshin became a whirlwind. He struck Drakon from every angle, his katana moving faster than sound.

"CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!"

Sparks flew. The white armor held, but Alvian saw it—tiny, microscopic stress fractures appearing on the scales where Kenshin struck the same spot repeatedly.

"He's not immune to physics," Alvian realized. "He's just incredibly durable."

"Focus on the joints!" Alvian shouted to Kenshin.

"I can see them better than you, boy," Kenshin grunted, ducking under a backhand swing that would have taken his head off.

Drakon roared, annoyed by the fly buzzing around him. He slammed his foot down.

"[Dragon Quake]!"

A shockwave of kinetic force rippled through the ground. Kenshin leaped, riding the water pressure to stay aloft, but the disruption broke his combo.

Drakon seized the opening. He lunged, his greatsword aiming for Kenshin's chest.

"Shield!" Alvian barked.

He couldn't use magic on Drakon, but he could use it on the environment.

"[Runic Aegis +2]: Projection."

He cast the shield not on himself, but in front of Kenshin. The purple runes materialized, interlocking to form a wall.

"BOOM!"

Drakon's sword hit the runes. The shield shattered instantly, unable to withstand the Level 65 strength, but it bought Kenshin a fraction of a second. The Sword Guardian twisted mid-air, the blade grazing his side instead of impaling him.

Kenshin landed beside Alvian, clutching his bleeding side.

"He is fast," Kenshin wheezed. "And strong. My blade... it is chipping."

Alvian looked at Kenshin's katana. The edge was jagged. The white scales were harder than the legendary weapon.

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