The Rise of the Titan

"Caw, caw, caw!" The plague dragon, exuding an aura of decay, laughed excitedly when Muria agreed to visit its lair. "Follow me, mighty warlock."

A plague dragon in the process of transforming into a dracolich, at soul level four, within its meticulously trapped and fortified lair, even dared to face human legends. Of course, this was limited to low-starting races like humans.

So, with a legendary Balor demon as his retainer, Muria showed no sign of backing down. He followed the undead dragon, intending to inspect its collection before deciding whether to act.

"Diablo, please come in!" The plague dragon, shrouded in deathly energy, stood at the entrance of a predominantly black castle, turned to glance at Muria, and then walked inside.

Muria glanced briefly at the undead creatures greedily watching him from the castle's walls and chuckled indifferently. They were just undead, after all.

"Welcome to the Withering Castle, Diablo. You're the third living being to dare to enter since its establishment."

"Oh, really? I'm honored!" Muria, riding the blood lion demon, maintained a calm expression as he observed the castle's interior decor. Like many who dabble in necromancy, the plague dragon's aesthetic sense was utterly twisted.

Though the castle's exterior was merely ominous, its interior was filled with macabre decorations made primarily of corpses. These were not mere decorations but the undead guards the plague dragon had stationed there.

"How do you find my castle?"

"Who else but the undead would like a castle filled with death energy?" Muria retorted.

"What a pity. I thought a warlock as powerful as you might be different." The plague dragon greedily eyed the blood lion demon beneath Muria, brimming with vitality like an erupting volcano.

"Don't waste time. Show me your collection. If I find something suitable, we can trade." Muria adopted a look of impatience, the six Balor demons around him expanding into fireballs, radiating evil and fiery energy.

"Caw, caw, caw! You entered my castle and still wish to trade? Do you think you're a legend? You're overconfident in your strength!" The Decaying Wing Morgan laughed arrogantly, mocking Muria.

"What an awful sound. Can you shut up?" Muria's expression remained indifferent as he looked at the dragon, who had dropped all pretense of goodwill. He noticed high-level undead emerging from various parts of the castle.

"You foolish warlock, don't you realize where you are? The last two arrogant beings like you ended up as soul-level undead under my control."

"I told you to shut up. Didn't you hear?" Muria removed his hood, revealing a young, handsome face tinged with indifference. "Balor."

At Muria's command, the Balor demon following him raised his fist and then punched straight ahead, the fiery force forming a rainbow that struck the laughing plague dragon.

"Leg…" The Decaying Wing Morgan watched as the seemingly inconspicuous giant man behind Muria was covered in fiery demonic runes. The punch hit before Morgan could react, or rather, he lacked the ability to dodge.

Boom! The fiery punch pierced through the plague dragon's relatively fragile body, continuing to the wall behind. The defensive formations glowed briefly before shattering under the impact.

With the Withering Castle shaking as if about to collapse, countless formations crumbled under the punch. A gaping hole appeared in Morgan's chest and abdomen, emitting the stench of decaying flesh.

"You have a legendary demon servant? How is that possible? You're clearly not a legend yourself!" The plague dragon roared incredulously, seemingly unaffected by his severe injury.

"Already half-undead, I see." Muria shook his head, disappointed in the dragon's choice. Abandoning the naturally superior dragon body to become undead was a foolish decision.

"Master, my apologies. Please give me a moment." Seeing that Morgan was still active, the Balor demon's expression darkened.

"Be gentle. Don't kill him. Just break half of his body." Muria instructed.

"Understood." The Balor demon grinned, leaping off the blood lion demon's back and walking towards the plague dragon, his body swelling and large demonic wings spreading.

"A legendary Balor demon?" The plague dragon was stunned, then understandably terrified. He ordered all his undead to attack, hoping to hold off the Balor demon.

"Overwhelming with numbers? That's not fair. One-on-one is fairer." Muria smiled faintly.

The blood lion demon roared, and the Balor demons growled. The black-haired, black-eyed youth released all his demonic servants, blocking the high-level undead pouring from the castle, ensuring a fair fight between Morgan and the Balor demon.

The plague dragon, not skilled in close combat, faced the Balor demon, who was a tier higher and specialized in melee. The result was inevitable. Morgan's limbs, tail, and wings were torn off, and even his lower jaw was snapped off. The Balor demon then carried him to Muria.

"Who are you? With so many demon servants, how could I not have heard of you?" The plague dragon, still resentful, glared at Muria. He had initially thought Muria was an insignificant figure, his ambitions fueled by a secret artifact that revealed Muria's power level.

"But you haven't heard of me." Muria looked down at Morgan. "Any last words? If not, it's time for you to go."

"You can't kill me!"

"Why not?"

"I am the student of legendary lich Griffith."

"Oh."

"He's a formal member of the Council of the Dead." Seeing Muria's indifferent expression, Morgan hastily mentioned his teacher's affiliation.