Chapter 281 "Jormungandr's Mighty Presence"

While the Skyler puppets and the Dark Souls clashed in a fierce battle involving hundreds, Morgan, Voldemort, and Barbarossa were far from idle.

They were not fools. Despite not fully understanding the combat capabilities of the human puppets, the sheer number of these humanoid weapons, combined with Skyler and Aquila wielding the Ravenclaw's Diadem, indicated that they posed a significant threat to the battle's outcome.

Their earlier numerical advantage was now in question. If Skyler's puppets succeeded in eliminating the Dark Souls, Morgan, Voldemort, and Barbarossa would find themselves confronting both Skyler and the remaining forces simultaneously.

Faced with an army of puppets, they would be outnumbered and at a disadvantage.

Therefore, they recognized the urgency of the situation. Before the tide of battle shifted, they needed to leverage their three-to-one advantage to eliminate Skyler swiftly.

Once Skyler fell, without a controller, the human puppets would be rendered powerless, mere objects to be claimed as spoils of victory.

"Ancient Dragon King, bestow upon me your essence and blood, grant me the power of the dragon, and reveal my draconic might!" With palms pressed together and a devout expression, Morgan beseeched the heavens.

A subtle tremor rippled through the earth.

The very air seemed to freeze in anticipation.

From the ground, a golden radiance surged forth, pulling in the surrounding atmosphere and coalescing into a swirling tempest around the trio.

Morgan's hair grew wild, Voldemort's complexion flushed crimson, and Barbarossa's muscles bulged as if infused with newfound strength. Across their visages, fine triangular scales sprouted, tracing a path from their eyes down to their chins.

Their pupils elongated into serpentine slits, reminiscent of Skyler's, yet lacking the cold cruelty. Instead, they emanated a regal aura, suffused with a golden glow that exuded an air of ancient authority.

They appeared as if they were embodiments of some primordial force, recently awakened from eons-long slumber.

"Dragon Eyes?" Skyler mused aloud. "Could this be... a form of half-dragon, half-human hybrid?"

"Well, so it appears they are tapping into the pure bloodline to channel the power of their ancestors momentarily..." Skyler's gaze was sharp as he meticulously observed the trio.

Skyler's keen eyes meticulously cataloged each subtle shift and inconspicuous transformation in their bodies. "Their alterations are remarkable. It's not just an augmentation of magical potency... There's an aura about them, previously unseen..."

"Morgan's lineage traces back to sorcerers who venerated the Dragon King of Hell... Hence, the likelihood of ancestral invocation is high. Perhaps she's emulating the combat forms of her ancient forebears..." Skyler continued to scrutinize them unwaveringly, his mind racing like wildfire. "I cannot afford to be complacent... Ancient lore is scarce, leaving me ignorant of the traits of this martial manifestation. Yet, it's evident she'll likely activate some bloodline talent akin to my magic eye..."

Though Skyler's countenance bore a solemnity, a glint of anticipation danced in his eyes. Within this dimensional realm, adversaries capable of matching his prowess were a rarity, fueling his eagerness to test his mettle.

Only adversaries of such formidable caliber could provide the challenge and refinement necessary for Skyler's ascension along the path of ultimate sorcery.

"Interesting..." Skyler shifted his attention away from Morgan, directing his gaze towards the other two. "Morgan may possess the Dragon King's bloodline, yet this secret enables his comrades to harness the power latent within his own blood momentarily... They say magic in the Middle Ages was forged amidst war, and it seems the rumors hold true!"

The medieval era was a shadowed epoch within the wizarding realm. It wasn't uncommon for lords to enlist wizards in their martial endeavors, thus the magic of that era often bore the mantle of war.

Contrastingly, contemporary wizardry emphasizes individual and group duels, prioritizing speed, efficiency, and ease of mastery.

Skyler harbored no inclination to underestimate his adversaries. In this confrontation, he intended to unleash every stratagem and marshal his full strength!

With a vigorous sweep of his right hand, he lofted his cloak high, the contents of his spatial pouch hurtling forth one by one.

Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's diadem, the nameless mask of the Black family, Merlin's tome of magic, the Rod of Destiny attributed to Merlin, and the True Dragon Throne crafted by Skyler himself—all had been activated upon Skyler's touch of the Goblet of Fire, propelling them into this enigmatic realm. Suspended in the air, they radiated an iridescent array of magical hues, a spectacle of fantasy and grandeur.

"Hahahaha!" Morgan's laughter echoed unrestrained, punctuated by her proclamation. "Are you trembling in fear? Behold my ultimate trump card—the Dragon Warrior form. The essence of 'Dragon Power,' revered in ancient lore, has stirred within you. Compared to it, your feeble bloodline is akin to a firefly challenging the brilliance of the sun and moon. Hahahaha!"

"Though your magical prowess may rival that of a Grand Mage in sheer quantity, against the potency of true dragon might, it pales. Were you to awaken the primordial chaos within, perhaps you'd stand a chance. Yet, your current level of magic is naught but a rudimentary bloodline, scarcely awakened. With three against one, your demise is assured!"

"I've told you countless times, yet you still crave humiliation," Skyler sneered, his eyes rolling in exasperation. "Had your fill of humble pie today, have we?"

"Your obstinance is truly baffling," he continued, a tinge of frustration evident in his voice. "Why persist in provoking me? What pleasure do you derive from goading a human?"

With a resigned sigh, Skyler raised his wand, the air crackling with anticipation. "If humiliation is what you seek, then humiliation you shall receive—"

"Appear!" Skyler bellowed, his voice echoing through the ether. "Hunter! Jörmungandr!"

As the incantation left his lips, twin beams of radiant light shot forth from his wand. Suddenly, a colossal dragon materialized on Skyler's left, its form ablaze with a kaleidoscope of dazzling hues. The aura it exuded rivaled that of Morgan's triumvirate.

It was Skyler's guardian, the Demon Hunter. The once laid dormant decrepit corpse of mighty creature, has been summoned forth to deal with Morgan's army.

Though it had made a fleeting appearance earlier in the narrative, its full potential had yet to be realized. Now, after more than a hundred chapters of anticipation, it stood poised to unleash its might. Eager beyond measure, it let loose a deafening roar that reverberated throughout the heavens.

As the deafening roar echoed through the air, the sheer force of its soundwaves dispersed the clouds and mist, unveiling the star-studded expanse above.

Twisting sinuously through the air, a serpentine form emerged from the shadows, wreathed in viridescent flames that danced along its scales. Crowned with three resplendent golden horns, it bore the countenance of a regal monarch—the true King of Serpents.

As the Demon Hunter's roar reverberated, the three Morgans felt a tremor course through their beings. Morgan remained composed, his demeanor hardly perturbed.

Voldemort swayed slightly, but quickly regained his equilibrium. However, Barbarossa faltered, his gaze momentarily vacant as he staggered backward before steadying himself.

A hiss rippled through the air, and the three Morgans locked eyes with the serpentine visage of Jörmungandr.

Formerly a basilisk nurtured by Slytherin himself, Jörmungandr had now transcended its origins, having assimilated Skyler's blood and the essence of the Holy Spirit's bones. Awakened from its slumber, it had ascended to its rightful mantle as the sovereign serpent.

Once a basilisk nurtured by Slytherin himself, Jörmungandr's soul had been ensnared within a pendant upon its demise. Possessing eyes imbued with a lethal curse, its power had only grown more formidable upon its rebirth, surpassing even its former self from the era of Slytherin.

Barbarossa's agonizing shriek pierced the air, his eyes sealed shut as tears of blood cascaded down his cheeks. "I can't see! I'm blind!" he cried out in despair.

Voldemort recoiled, his eyes momentarily ablaze with golden light before reverting to their familiar crimson hue. Taking several steps back, he struggled to regain his composure.

Morgan, however, stood unfazed, channeling her strength to meet Jörmungandr's gaze head-on.

In response to her unwavering stare, Jörmungandr emitted a mournful wail, its form gradually diminishing until it was only half its former size.

While the potency of Dragon Eyes seemed to overshadow Jörmungandr's ocular abilities, Barbarossa and Voldemort, mere recipients of borrowed power without true dragon lineage, were unable to harness their full potential.