In the Pantheon, Malcador abruptly opened his eyes, a look of shame and anger flashing across them. As he looked around the hall, he noticed the increasingly strange looks directed at him, accompanied by a mocking laughter that rang in his ears.
"Malcador, you're a real joke. You couldn't even handle a young dragon barely over a hundred years old, and your equal-level avatar was destroyed. You've disgraced us gods. Seriously, you should just relinquish your divine status!" The Chromatic Dragon Queen, seated on her throne, laughed heartily, ridiculing him to the fullest. She felt an immense satisfaction, as if all the grievances she'd held were now vented, making even her sleeping posture in her divine realm more comfortable.
"Tiamat!" The Dragon Hunter roared, his anger reaching its peak, needing an outlet.
His avatar, a powerful divine presence, exploded into radiant divine light, signaling that he wouldn't be appearing in the Pantheon anytime soon. As the Dragon Queen had said, he had lost face completely. Being defeated by a legend, even when fighting at the same level, was the utmost humiliation. The fact was undeniable; any argument would only make him appear more ridiculous.
"Wha..." Tiamat's body tensed slightly upon seeing the Dragon Hunter's avatar explode, her taunting stopping abruptly. A foreboding sense filled her heart.
...
In the Abyss's first layer, the Plains of All Origins, a newly ascended Balor demon gazed at the perpetually gray sky, reflecting on its recent rise to power. It had become a small lord of this area, leading hundreds of lesser demons. This ascent was made possible by the complete annihilation of mid-to-high-level demons in the area thirty years ago, leaving a power vacuum that allowed lesser-known demons like itself to rise.
"Sometimes, being weaker isn't so bad," the Balor thought, shuddering at the memory of that great event from its early days of consciousness. "I hope it doesn't happen again. If the Abyss forcibly recruits me, I can't resist. I should move to a deeper Abyss layer; it's too dangerous here," the demon mused, considering itself unusually foresighted.
Suddenly, "What is that?" The Balor stared at the sky, seeing a golden point of light growing larger and streaking across the heavens, leaving a brilliant trail.
"Tiamat, get out here!" A voice filled with anger echoed like thunder across the plains, accompanied by an overwhelming divine presence.
"How many years has it been since such a powerful being descended here again?" The Balor, who had just been considering moving, found itself flattened to the ground by the overwhelming pressure. It swore that if it survived this encounter, it would abandon everything and move to a deeper Abyss layer, where it was safer.
...
"Tiamat, you dare to mock me?" Malcador's real form, still in his divine realm, processed the influx of information rapidly, absorbing everything that had happened in the Pantheon. Despite the avatar acting on its own accord, it reflected his will.
"Didn't you swagger in the Pantheon just now? Come out and fight me." Malcador, wielding a dragon-slaying spear and sword, looked down at the Chromatic Dragon's divine realm. He could see numerous ancient dragons within, gazing at him with awe and fear.
"Why come after me, coward? If you're brave, go confront the Titans! If not, at least retaliate against that young Titan who insulted you. Crush him, and I might even respect you a bit," the Dragon Queen scoffed.
"Do I need your respect, you deformed dragon?" Malcador's scornful voice echoed. "If you don't come out, don't blame me for being impolite."
His anger had become a tangible flame on his body, and he looked every bit the part of a sun god. His urge for violence was barely suppressed, and seeing the Dragon Queen still taunting him, Malcador threw his meticulously forged divine spear into her divine realm.
A heartrending wail echoed as the spear pierced through an ancient red dragon, killing it instantly under Malcador's divine power, erasing its formidable vitality.
"Malcador, you seek death!" Seeing her favored consort killed, Tiamat, enraged, burst out of her divine realm, her already massive body further enlarged by divine power.
As she emerged, the five-headed dragon god opened her mouths, releasing a torrent of colored dragon breath—red, blue, green, black, and white—that converged into beams aimed at Malcador, warping space and shattering matter. Some spatial rifts connected to the material world, pulling unfortunate creatures into the Abyss, only to be vaporized by the dragon's breath.
"This again?" Malcador sneered, drawing his dragon-slaying sword and slashing at the attack...
"Malcador went to challenge Tiamat."
"Expected. Should we intervene?"
"Let it be. Tiamat won't die; this will just keep her occupied and quiet for a while."
In the Pantheon, the Platinum Dragon God Bahamut and other dragon gods briefly discussed the situation before ignoring the battle on the Abyssal Plains, closing their eyes and returning to their statuesque forms.
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