Dracotitán

"Reward?"

"Yes, you've been sending the humans you've valiantly saved to my territory. I can't just accept them without offering you something in return!"

"But I don't need such a reward," Muria's furrowed brows relaxed.

"This could earn you a good impression among the ancient dragons. Plus, if we manage to capture Bertrayn, you'll have first pick of the spoils."

"No need!" Muria still shook his head, refusing to gain treasures in such a manner, as it went against his moral principles.

Besides, a lich who's been destroyed once and resurrected, how much treasure of interest could he possibly have left?

Seeing Muria repeatedly refuse, the golden dragoness smiled even brighter, seemingly pleased by his unwavering rejections.

"What reward do you want, then?" The golden dragoness batted her golden eyes at Muria, her intentions clear.

"I don't want any reward," Muria waved his hand. "Accepting so many human refugees already poses a great burden and trouble to your territory."

"Every granary in my domain is brimming with food, enough to easily feed tens of thousands of displaced civilians. As long as their bellies are full, settling them down is easy. After some time, they'll start bringing in new wealth for me."

The golden dragoness was dissatisfied with Muria's response, feeling she had made herself very clear. What was the issue with this scion of the Dragon King? Was he uninterested in her? After all, there were plenty of golden dragons who had pursued her, desiring to become her mate.

"Well, let's talk about this later," Muria said, squinting his eyes and pointing at the ghost ship beneath the golden dragoness's feet. "Did you inform your grandfather after capturing the ghost ship?"

"I only told you," Caslana replied to Muria's question, her expression slightly changing as she sensed an ominous shift.

"Sigh, after finding and capturing the ghost ship, you should have informed your grandfather first," Muria sighed, stretching out his hand. His staff of ultimate magic appeared silently in his grip, and he began to layer magical shields upon himself.

Under his cloak, the decorative armor he had "acquired" from the dragoness, more ornamental than practical for Muria, was silently replaced with his Holy Abyssal armor, fused with his dragon scale armor.

"It's a bit late for that now," said Caslana, serious, waving her staff and casting spells upon herself, adding layers of magical shields and various supportive spells.

Fiona and Otleyes exchanged looks as they watched Muria and Caslana's cryptic exchange, but the green dragon reacted faster. Though unclear about the situation, she mimicked the golden dragoness and began adding magical shields around herself.

"What's happening?" Otleyes, the red dragon, asked irritably, unaware of the unfolding situation.

"We're surrounded," Muria responded without looking up.

"Surrounded?" The red dragon looked around the empty sky in confusion, but soon he understood.

The space around them, like ripples on water, began to undulate. One after another, ships of various sizes and styles, like breaking through waves, tore through the space, appearing in the sky.

The already hazy sky, shrouded in undead mist, darkened completely. Visible to the naked eye, like a black serpent, undead death energy filled the air, entwining around the decrepit ghost ships.

"What is this?" Seeing the countless ghost ships surrounding them, Otleyes let out a dragon roar filled with a hint of panic, reverting to his nearly hundred-meter red dragon form.

"The Never-Sinking Undead Fleet," Muria replied gravely.

"Not bad, someone's informed!" A chilling voice rang out beside Muria.

Then, in front of Muria, a rust-covered, thousand-meter-long ironclad ghost ship tore through space, appearing before him.

Different from the wooden ghost ship captured by the golden dragoness, this was an ironclad.

"Barbossa?" Muria felt the subtle pressure emanating from the ironclad and tentatively asked.

"Heh, you're mistaken. I'm not the great Captain Barbossa."

"Oh, then who are you?"

"I'm the most outstanding first mate under Captain Barbossa..."

"Most outstanding? Does your Undead Fleet have many first mates? Shouldn't there be only one?"

"That's because we have many ships, so there's more than one first mate!" The chilling voice replied, somewhat annoyed.

"With so many ships, you should've been given command of one and become a captain. Why are you still a first mate?" Muria asked curiously. He genuinely wondered how a legendary undead, who was clearly capable, ended up merely as a first mate under Barbossa.

"..." Silence followed Muria's question. The legendary undead might have misunderstood something. When he spoke again, his voice was colder.

"Who gave you the audacity to seize Captain Barbossa's ship?" With that soul-chilling sound, a cold psychic wave swept towards Muria and the others, as if to ascertain their identities.

"..." Muria raised an eyebrow and waved his staff, deflecting the psychic wave without responding, merely observing the fortress-like ghost ship before him and the wailing spirits struggling on its surface.

"Hey, what kind of group are you? Four dragons: two golds, one red, one green. Aren't metallic and chromatic dragons supposed to fight on sight? How did you end up together?"

Though his psychic power was repelled, the brief contact allowed this legendary undead, still only a first mate despite his status, to identify Muria and the other dragons.

"Now I understand why he, despite being legendary, is only allowed to be a first mate by Barbossa," Muria communicated telepathically with Caslana.

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