"This sword can only be used by you! Sauron can't use it, Darkseid can't use it, and neither can I!"
Renly was furious, but Wright remained calm as he said, "That means the Night King is yours to deal with. Can you defeat him?"
"I can't! Only you can kill the Night King! We'll do it together! Even if I fail, there's still Lyonel, Darkseid, Sauron, Lilith, and Baemon. Once they grow up, House Baratheon will have six dragons!"
As Renly shouted, Wright drew a dagger from his waist and explained, "Only a god's weapon can defeat a god. My greatsword is still lacking—this dagger is the only thing that will work."
"You're going to fight that five-meter-tall monster with a tiny dagger? Don't throw your life away!" Renly maneuvered his dragon closer, intending to toss the greatsword back to Wright.
Odahviing veered away, increasing the distance. Wright continued, "If you defeat the Night King, remember to keep sending people north to help me search for Tyene."
"Wright! Let's face the Night King together!"
Wright smiled at Renly, then turned to the dragon's head and shouted, "Odahviing!"
Odahviing understood, twisting its neck and opening its maw wide. With a deafening roar, it lunged at the dragon flying beside it. Seeing the massive jaws closing in, Peytvahaaz hurriedly twisted its body and flew away, frightened by its mother's sudden aggression.
"You're insane! A complete idiot!"
As Renly's voice faded into the distance, Wright stood atop his dragon's head, tapping its horn lightly with the dagger. "Think we can do this?"
"No!" Odahviing answered honestly.
Everyone only had one life to lose. Wright never resorted to violence if things could be solved with money or reason. But this time, he was personally confronting the projection of a god. If he didn't stop it, the entire world's souls would be enslaved and harvested. There was no way to bargain or escape. At this moment, only Wright and Odahviing stood against the god.
Holding the dagger in his right hand, he pointed its tip at his abdomen. With his left, he removed a piece of dragonbone from his armor and then drove the dagger deep into his body.
"That really f***ing hurts!"
A god's weapon was indeed no ordinary blade. As he withdrew the dagger, a torrent of blood gushed from the wound, and an unbearable agony gripped his very soul.
With the blood flowing, the dragon souls Wright had absorbed over the years became unstable. One by one, enormous, translucent white dragon spirits emerged from his body.
Through years of rigorous training, Wright had mastered this state, turning it into an offensive ability.
Using the most inefficient magic to seal his wound, Wright kept himself in a critical state, his lips pale from blood loss. "Odahviing, you're not alone now—Durnehviir is here too!"
Durnehviir's dragon soul had been absorbed into Wright's body. Now, with Wright weakened, Durnehviir's soul began to regain consciousness.
As an ancient dragon, Durnehviir had been vastly superior to Odahviing in both knowledge and power—if he had not been corrupted into an undead dragon. Even in his spectral form, his battle experience remained invaluable.
After a brief exchange, Odahviing cast a protective spell over itself and dove toward the god below.
"Pathetic insect!"
Molag Bal remained unfazed as the massive dragon plummeted from the sky. Only when Odahviing's jaws came close did he finally react, swinging his black warhammer with devastating force against the dragon's face.
The protective enchantment on Odahviing's cheek shattered into scattered glimmers of light, and his crimson scales—harder than steel—proved just as vulnerable. His head was knocked aside, and searing dragon blood splattered onto the ground, sizzling as it made contact.
But as Odahviing's tongue flicked, Wright slipped through his fangs and landed in the dragon's mouth.
Twenty-six dragon souls stretched their ethereal bodies, their heads biting onto Molag Bal from all sides.
"Odahviing!" Wright gripped the dragon's teeth with both hands, pulling the dragon souls back into himself. The tightening force dragged Molag Bal toward the dragon's maw—and in doing so, brought the massive jaws crashing down onto the god.
Though this body was not as formidable as Molag Bal's true form, the divine nature of the dragon's fangs could easily pierce it. Molag Bal still needed this vessel to conquer the world and was unwilling to destroy it so soon. Yet, he found himself unable to break free from the spectral dragons latched onto him. As the snapping jaws closed in, he raised a hand and caught one of the razor-sharp teeth, struggling to keep the dragon's mouth from clamping shut.
"The battle must be far from the crowd! Fly west!" cried the dragon soul of Durnehviir.
Odahviing, already close to the ground, held Molag tightly in his jaws. With a powerful push from his legs, he flapped his wings furiously. The immense gusts sent the undead below tumbling in all directions. In mere seconds, he lifted off, his body shimmering with magical energy as he soared rapidly westward.
Molag, towering at five meters, stood on the dragon's lower jaw, gripping one of its fangs with a single hand. Raising his massive warhammer, he sneered at the diminutive figure of Wright before him. "Dragonborn! I shall taste your blood!"
The Daedric Prince was fluent in countless tongues. He deliberately spoke in a language Wright could understand, his jagged maw splitting into a cruel grin as he mocked his soon-to-be-dead foe.
Seeing Molag lift his arm, ready to swing his hammer down upon him, Wright refused to sit idly by. "You ugly bastard!" he spat.
The dragon souls clamped onto Molag's body released their bites. Their attacks, capable of wounding spirits, had left no visible damage on the Daedric Prince.
Yet, rather than dispersing, the dragon souls coiled their long, serpentine forms around Molag's limbs. The most powerful among them, Durnehviir, wrapped tightly around the arm gripping the warhammer, freezing it in place.
"These undead cannot harm me in the slightest!" Molag bellowed.
Face to face with Wright inside Odahviing's mouth, the Daedric Prince exhaled a putrid breath, thick with the stench of rotting blood, mingling with the sulfurous fumes of the dragon's maw. The noxious scent made Wright's eyes water.
"Listen well, you son of a bitch! Gol~~Hah~~Dov~~!" Wright roared.
A dragon shout, infused with the will of two Daedric Princes, burst forth from his lips. The sheer force of the Thu'um left Molag momentarily dazed.
Barely ten seconds later, Molag regained his senses. He thrashed against the spectral dragons entwining his limbs, his voice seething with fury. "You foolish, insignificant mortal! Were I in my true form, I would crush your soul with a mere flick of my fingers!"
"But your true form cannot come through!" Wright retorted. "Gol~~Hah~~Dov~~!"
Another Shout erupted from his throat, this time imbued with even greater knowledge, freezing Molag in place for a few more seconds.
"Arghhh!" The Daedric Prince howled in rage. No longer able to tolerate the humiliation, he gathered his dark magic and fought back against his restraints, even forcing Odahviing, who had been flying westward, to veer sharply south.
Each time Molag struggled, Wright countered with another Thu'um. The Shouts consistently stunned the Daedric Prince for a few seconds at a time.
However, as Wright continued to unleash his Shouts, each one laced with deeper knowledge, the corruption of Hermaeus Mora crept further into his soul. His tears, once clear, slowly turned black.