The Epic Dragon Titan

"Something's wrong; this efficiency is too low." Muria suddenly realized that now was not the time to use the Grand Relocation Spell. Capturing these steel ghost ships didn't require moving the surrounding seawater and the seabed mud along with them. This was meant for demolition!

"You have to adapt spells to the situation," Muria sighed, quickly making adjustments.

The Atreus Grand Relocation Spell, created by the Golden Dragon Queen, was a robber-type spell with a short-term sealing effect, forcibly taking both inanimate and animate targets away. Once he had time, he could then educate any living beings inside.

So Muria began using the Grand Relocation Spell as a sealing spell. He withstood the bombardment of the ghost warships, reached out, and sealed the variously sized ghost warships one by one, throwing them into his demi-plane.

"There's no more time." Seeing that there were still many ghost warships left, Muria showed a hint of annoyance. Calculating the time, he realized that Barbossa was probably about to return. Facing the victim directly was a thrilling thought, but Muria felt too young to handle that kind of excitement. He decided it would be better to wait until he was older.

Choosing between a hen that lays golden eggs and a nest of golden eggs? Although as an adult, the correct choice would be both, Muria was not yet mature enough and lacked the strength to have both. So he had to painfully choose one.

"Let's relocate Barbossa's shipyard first!" Muria sighed with regret, his greedy eyes turning to the majestic buildings protected by numerous ghost fleets.

Dragon scales appeared on his cheeks, golden dragon wings spread out, and Muria turned into a golden rainbow, dodging the bombardment from the ghost ships and heading straight for Barbossa's lair. Some ghost ships' cannons were indeed powerful, but what good was it if they couldn't hit him?

Roar! In Titan form, Muria charged into Barbossa's lair, unable to suppress the agitation of his bloodline, transforming into a golden dragon. With six twisting horns like a crown, the brilliant light of the Grand Relocation Spell shone between its claws, dazzling to the undead guardians.

...

"These Reapers are always targeting me, really have nothing better to do." Successfully saving his subordinate and thwarting the Reapers' schemes, Barbossa triumphantly returned to the Ghost Sea with his fleet.

However, upon entering the Ghost Sea, Barbossa sensed something amiss. Although it seemed no different from usual, his intuition told him that many things were missing from his domain.

Without thinking, Barbossa used his authority to move above his multifunctional lair, and he stood there, dumbfounded.

"Where's my home? My huge castle? Why is there only a pit?" Barbossa stared blankly at the chasm beneath him, looking around in a daze. He remembered that when he left, the area was filled with ghost warships, but now...

"Where are my ships? There were so many ships docked here, now there are only a few?" Seeing his once expansive ghost fleet now reduced to a sparse scattering, many damaged and battle-scarred, Barbossa felt his anger growing.

"Where's my shipyard?" Seeing his scattered ghost fleet, Barbossa's anger continued to build. Compared to the ghost ships, the shipyard was his foundation. With enough resources, he could build more ships, but without the shipyard—rebuilding was an option, but losing the shipyard meant losing core technology, which was fatal.

"Damn it, who did this?" Hovering above the chasm where his lair once stood, Barbossa's soul fire flickered violently with rage, causing storms in the Ghost Sea. Countless low-level wraiths shattered, becoming death energy, and the remaining undead trembled in fear.

"Can someone tell me what happened here?" Barbossa's voice, filled with killing intent, spread throughout the seabed, laced with spider-web-like spatial cracks.

"Master, you're finally back. If you didn't return soon, the Ghost Sea would have been emptied." Feeling Barbossa's presence, a rotting mass of flesh rolled out from a pit.

"It's already been emptied." Despite his disgust, Barbossa restrained himself and asked, "How did you end up like this? Who hurt you?"

"It was a burning angel. Master, it was a burning angel that did this to me. They cut off all my tentacles. You must avenge me!" The rotting octopus raised its nearly severed tentacles, showing Barbossa the celestial fire burning on them.

"..." Barbossa fell silent, staring at the celestial fire on the octopus's severed tentacles. "How many wings did the burning angel that attacked you have?"

"Five!"

"..." Barbossa said nothing. A burning angel with five pairs of wings—no way! He was certain that if he sought revenge, a host of cloud cities would descend the next day, blocking his demi-plane. A burning angel might even come to purify him to ashes.

"Did you provoke some big shot outside? Otherwise, why would a burning angel attack you for no reason?" Barbossa suspected that the sudden robbery was the octopus's fault. Thinking this, he looked at the octopus with a hostile glare.

"Master, I've never provoked a burning angel! Before today, I didn't even know her. She just appeared out of nowhere and chopped me up."

The undead octopus whimpered, sensing its master's fear of the burning angel. Realizing revenge was hopeless, it felt even more disheartened.

"So the burning angel took my home and my ships?" Barbossa, full of anger, was puzzled. Why would such a proud race loot his ghost ships and ransack his home? It didn't make sense.

"Master, the burning angel just held me off. The one who took your ghost ships was someone else."

"Who?"

"It looked like a Titan, but when it rushed into your home, I saw it turn into a golden dragon."

"Another gold dragon!" Barbossa fell silent for the third time, feeling exasperated. This was the nth time. What did he do to gold dragons? Why did one appear every few centuries to rob him? Did he have a grudge with them?

Without a word, Barbossa began tallying his losses. About an eighth of his ghost fleet was gone, but his lair had been completely packed up and taken away, just like the previous two gold dragons.

"What about my ports? What happened to the undead serving me? All those thriving ports, gone?"

For the third time robbed, Barbossa calmly looked at the undead octopus.

"They were all taken. According to the memories of wandering souls, the ten major ports were cut off by the burning angel and sent into the demi-plane of the entity that could switch between Titan and golden dragon."

"This gold dragon must be related to Deimos." Without investigation, Barbossa instinctively knew. He suddenly remembered the half-blood Titan he met decades ago.

That guy was only at the soul level back then; it couldn't be him. It was impossible for him to advance to a legend so quickly. Besides, he had treated that kid well; why would he come and rob him?

"A dragon king's descendant! Can't afford to provoke, can't afford to provoke," Barbossa kept reminding himself. This was a being he couldn't mess with now; he had to endure.

"But these are my millennia of accumulations, stolen just like that. My qualification for the next council president of the Necromancer Council will surely be revoked." Thinking of the resources he could allocate as the Necromancer Council President, Barbossa felt heartbroken. His plans to venture into the void were delayed once again.

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