2024 Can't
Clerebold immediately understood the conclusion those 12 Clans would come to. Maybe there were already armies marching toward them currently. They didn't have much time to prepare at all.
Though there were natural barriers between the regions, one needs to remember that there was a ring of nothing but flat plains around the core region of the Ancient Battlefield. Dyon had run across this very flat plain when he entered the core region for what remained of the Pride Clan's Legacy.
What did this mean? It meant that even if Clans couldn't take a straight line approach to reach their territory, what they could do was take a detour to these flat plains. Using this defenseless region, they could wrap around the natural barriers and enter the east unhindered. This meant that the dwarves wouldn't only have to deal with attacks from the eastern region, but may also have to face attacks from other regions as well.
Lord Clerebold opened his mouth many times to speak, but couldn't seem to find the necessary words. He was now aware that Dyon was far stronger than him and no longer had the confidence to speak to him like a junior.
He still couldn't wrap his head around how this youth was the equivalent to an Overlord existence, yet here was the reality right before him.
To make things worse, he was certain that Dyon had been aware of his presence for a long time already, yet he simply sat there, saying nothing at all.
Yet, Lord Clerebold had no right to feel disrespected by this scene before him. In this prison, strength ruled over everything. In the face of Dyon… He had no right to hold opinions of his own.
"Es… Esteemed one…" Lord Clerebold only now realized he didn't know Dyon's name at all. "… My dwarf clan will likely soon face assaults from all sides. Since you've reached out to us in hopes of an alliance, I hope that you'll also help us weather this storm."
Though there was nothing wrong with his choice of words, Lord Clerebold still found himself drenched in sweat. It was as though these were the most difficult words he had ever strung together in his long lifetime.
The slight shift in Dyon's gaze was the only sign that he had heart the Lord's words at all. However, his reaction was still lukewarm.
In truth, Lord Clerebold was crying on the outside. Their dwarf clan might have 3 Overlords, but who didn't know this? If they were attacking them, they would most definitely bring enough fire power to deal with them appropriately.
He obviously had no idea that this threat was meaningless to Dyon. If he was really worried about it, all he had to do was call Luna here to bring all the dwarves out of the Ancient Battlefield. It took no effort whatsoever.
There were obviously special methods of leaving the Ancient Battlefield, but other than the Celestial Beasts, who would be aware of them? And even if they were, they wouldn't be capable of mass teleportation like Luna was, or else they would have all left this prison already.
However, Clerebold didn't know this, so he was still panicking. To him, even if Dyon had Overlord level strength, that was just 1 more Overlord, making 4. That wasn't enough to face the ire of the whole Ancient Battlefield.
Suddenly, Lord Clerebold trembled. "They… They're already here!"
It had taken Clerebold several to make it here. It wasn't because he was slow, but rather because he hadn't expected Dyon to accomplish so much in so little time, so he had just been patiently waiting for news.
However, his leisurely approach cost him valuable time. While everyone else in this prison already knew of the demise of the centaurs, he was a step too late. The dwarves would be caught completely unprepared!
Dyon slowly stood from his mountain of corpses, a mighty dragon with obsidian black scales that glowed a dark gold appearing beneath his feet.
"Is there a need to react like this?" Dyon's voice sounded cold and detached, as though the world itself was meaningless to him. "Any problem that can be solved by slaughter isn't a problem at all… In fact, it's the easiest thing in the world…"
**
"We can't continue like this."
In a meeting room on the Mortal Plane, the grand pillars of the once mighty Golden Crow Sect seemed bland and uninviting. They had fallen from such supreme heights, crashing down to the point where they stood as the weakest faction on the Mortal Plane.
This might sound like an exaggeration, but it was the truth. Currently, the thousand or so quadrants of the Mortal Plane were divided amongst the Mortal Empire, the Sapientia, the Nephilim, the Transcendent Beast Alliance, the Dragons, and finally… Them…
In fact, their own quadrant wasn't even entirely owned by them. After the matters with the Federation, they only a little over 60 universes, but the Flaming Lily Sect owned over 30.
They had lived the last nearly hundred years in fear, believing that the Mortal Empire would come sweep them up eventually. But who knew that Dyon wouldn't even care about them at all? They could only watch as those in their surroundings grew stronger and stronger, while they themselves grew weaker by comparison.
They had once been a mighty Clan with a deep Legacy, but now they were nothing more than a laughing stock, an example Dyon kept around so that his people would never forget what they would be without him.
Humans tended to have a short memory span when it came to being thankful. Once they were given something good, there would eventually come a time where what was once 'good' would become 'normal'. By then, they would begin to take things for granted, believing that this level of 'good' was what was owed to them.
However, with a pig in a pen like the Golden Crow Sect, there for everyone to observe, their roots would never be forgotten.
