Bone dragons trace their origin to the age when necromancers walked like winter shadows.

Back then, every necromancer’s final dream was simple as a moonlit altar: a bone dragon.

By every measure, a bone dragon sat near the summit of undead might.

Among all undead, its body was the hardest shell, its power second only to Law Realm undead.

Unless you could bend a Law Realm wraith into a slave, the bone dragon was every necromancer’s endgame.

So in that age, necromancers with muscle hunted dragon corpses like wolves after a fallen stag.

The bolder ones even ambushed weaker dragons, jackals nipping at a wounded tiger.

Naturally, to the proud Dragon Kin, necromancers were enemies to the grave.

In the end, their excess became a wildfire.

The four great races rose like a storm and culled necromancers to extinction.

That’s my take on bone dragons and necromancers, much like the histories.

The one below just tanked a full sweep of Lixue’s Sword Aura, and barely a few small bones cracked.

Seems Lixue clipped a bone wing by luck, striking the thin joint that married wing to skull.

ROAR!!

Her relentless blows angered it; the roar carried sonic ripples, and dragon breath of flame lanced at us again.

A bone dragon favors steel over sorcery.

Without flesh or will, it’s a walking husk and can’t weave spells like a living dragon.

Only the Dragon Kin’s innate magic remains—dragon breath etched deep into the soul.

Even so, that breath is dulled in every way, a blade wrapped in frost.

Weakened or not, its breath still hits hard, fast, and wide, a straight river of fire.

A single line is mercy; it let us slip aside with ease—Lixue and the sisters are fast as wind.

As expected, we stepped clear of the blaze.

In that heartbeat, Lixue sent out more sword arts, and new cracks webbed the bones.

“Lixue’s strikes don’t seem to bite. She hasn’t dealt the bone dragon a real wound.”

Unease rose in me like cold mist.

If we drag this out, the undead we sealed in the Holy Prison may break free and swarm back.

If it comes to that, we’re in trouble.

“Mmn. Just hacking bone won’t work; it feels nothing. We need the right cure.”

At my words, Lixue stilled, thoughtfulness clouding her gaze like drifting snow.

“The bone dragon’s weak point...”

Murmuring, I pictured the soul-flame smoldering in its black eye sockets, and the Life-Origin Stone on its brow.

“Maybe it’s that stone!”

Why can a bone dragon move? Because a soul is sealed within.

And how can a soul be bound into a pile of bones? Because of the Life-Origin Stone’s special craft.

“But we need that Life-Origin Stone to open the gate. We can’t scratch it, dear brother—any good ideas?” Lingxiao fretted.

“If we can’t break it, let’s dig it out,” Lingsaki said after a breath, her thought landing like a falling petal.

“That works. Lingsaki, Lingxiao, and Lixue, pin the bone dragon. I’ll take the Life-Origin Stone.” I decided.

“No problem. We’ll do as the Emperor says.”

Lixue nodded and dove first, a silver streak.

We couldn’t loiter in the air, so the sisters dropped with me like leaves on wind.

Back on the ground, with the bone dragon held by Lingxiao and the others, I rushed in unimpeded.

“Now! Heaven Lock, Chain of Light.”

“Earth Chain, Lock of Darkness.”

Light and darkness gathered thick as stormclouds at its flanks, and two massive chains—one white, one black—snared its limbs and trunk.

“Snow-Moon, Thousand Li of Frost.”

Heavy frost swallowed the bone dragon in a blink, leaving only its brow exposed.

Good. Riding my Sword Aura, I vaulted onto its skull; slick as glass—I nearly slipped.

“So big...”

From high above, I’d misjudged it.

Up close, the Life-Origin Stone dwarfed me: two meters tall, a meter plus wide, cut like a diamond.

Against a mountain-sized frame, it wasn’t much.

I stopped thinking and touched the stone, hoping to pry it free.

No matter how I strained, it didn’t budge a hair; if it were easy, Lixue’s strikes would’ve shaken it loose.

No choice.

I flooded Shattered Light’s blade with Sword Aura and drove the edge into the seams around the stone.

Afraid to scar it, I wiggled the blade with care, aiming to loosen the gluey membrane within.

Four, five minutes crawled by; the effect was meager.

The ice underfoot kept quivering like a tired drum; it wouldn’t hold much longer.

If gentleness fails, we’ll be a little brutal.

First, I wrapped the Life-Origin Stone in Sword Aura, a sheath against friendly fire.

Then I backed off, gathered a tide of Sword Aura, and slashed at the ring around the stone.

“Sky Sword: Radiance!”

A searing gold flooded my eyes; instinct shut them like shutters in a gale.

Two, three seconds—or a full minute—drifted past before the sting faded and my sight returned.

“Hm?”

The ground shuddered hard, a boat in sudden surf.

Was the frost failing to bind the bone dragon?

In that thought, cracks spidered across the ice, and slabs dropped away—along with shattered dragon bone.

Of course. That stroke had blown half its skull apart.

Thanks to that, the Life-Origin Stone—once socketed tight in its brow—fell with the ice and bones.

Getting crushed by that chunk would be ugly.

Planting on a larger ice block, I kicked off, then swept a wind of Sword Aura to send the stone toward Lixue.

In the end, Lixue caught the stone safe and sound.

As for me, Lingxiao and Lingsaki caught me with perfect timing; they’d been waiting for this beat.

As expected, we opened the great door that barred the Town of the Undead’s exit.

Long story short, we broke through.

…