Island God: Going From Level 1 To World Ruler-Chapter 49: New Continent

Midas and Gool fled the scene, quickly disappearing into the labyrinth of tunnels within the Vineral mountain range.

The walls around them trembled from the abuse of war and fury, but stopped as they got far enough away.

"We got really lucky..." Gool said, panting slightly as the two had finally gotten a chance to stop running and catch their breath.

"Yeah... way too lucky. So many factors could have gone wrong there, but I managed to make Sergalas surrender at the end." Midas replied, relieved and clearly satisfied.

This wasn’t just a small win. It meant that now, Midas had a fighting chance to take over this island. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"All we have to do now is find a way to somehow subdue that beast and make it follow my orders." Midas said, "It won’t be easy..."

Gool chuckled, "Yeah, I second that. It seems the orcs were slightly distracted in formation as well. As if their coordination wasn’t monitored properly." He noted.

"Do you think Sergalas will win?" Midas asked, "If he dies now, all of that was for nothing."

Gool smirked, "Oh... there’s no chance that Sergalas loses. The orcs will be lucky to leave with their lives." He said.

Midas’s eyebrows raised swiftly with surprise. "What?" He asked, "Are you serious? I thought a thousand orcs were plenty to take him down, no?"

"That would have been the case if Sergalas were a normal King Water Drake. You see, Water Drakes are powerful beings that can grow from eighty up to one hundred feet in length. One from a royal bloodline, such as Sergalas, can grow up to one hundred and fifty feet long. And finally, an elder version of such a beast can even climb to a length of potentially two hundred feet. That is the estimation I had given the beast before seeing him. However, Sergalas was close to three hundred feet in length. He’s been feasting very well over the years." Gool replied, confident in his tone.

"I see... so that guarantees Sergalas’s survival," Midas said, assured now.

"For now. Who knows what the orcs have planned... You lied about them making some powerful weapon, but that may not be entirely out of the realm of possibility. They are led by a smart mind..." Gool replied, thinking back to the time he spent in the orc’s homestead.

’Led by a smart mind? He is talking about their king, I assume...’ Midas said to himself.

"Hmm... I suppose that means we’re not out of the woods just yet. I need to think of a way to protect ourselves from the orcs and also Sergalas, while coming up with a way to keep Sergalas safe from the orcs as well." Midas said in a calmer, more serious tone.

"The orcs will most likely take a while before they regain their strength. We have time." Gool replied, "In any case, the main reason I said we got lucky is that the noise of the orcs and Sergalas fighting is the perfect compass out of here. Since Sergalas’s cavern chamber is at the very heart of the mountain, all we have to do navigationally is walk in the opposite direction of the noise. That way, we are guaranteed to escape."

Midas was pleasantly surprised to hear this, "I guess that’s true..." He said.

’Still, without Gool’s previous skills, I doubt we would be able to make it out of here. However, I trust him to find a path...’ With these final thoughts in mind, Midas and Gool continued their journey to the outside world.

Within the heart of Sergalas’s Cavern, the mighty serpent and the commander of the white orcs raged on with their battle.

The war didn’t seem to have an end anytime soon, Dorhal refusing to give up despite losing countless men as time progressed.

*Several days earlier*

Thousands of miles northwest of the shores of Demadur Island, a massive griffin swiftly tore through the clouds in a blitz of flight.

Dorian, standing atop the griffin, chewed on a crispy apple.

"Hmm..." He narrowed his eyes, "Looks like we’ve arrived." He said as Midrael’s velocity began to slow down.

The griffin dove downwards, piercing below the clouds to reveal the rocky shores of what looked to be an unending landmass. The land stretched as far as the eye could see, the shore being lined with spiky stones and rigid mountains.

Frothy white waves crashed against the shoreline, being forced back every time.

Midrael calmly descended, landing atop a tall stone mountain with a flat top. The hill was three hundred feet (91 meters) high.

"Thank you, my old friend!" Dorian exclaimed, hopping off the griffin’s back and landing on the peak of the mountain.

He stumbled forward, nearly falling off the edge before balancing and saving himself. The top was only a few feet wide, after all.

"Phew..." He muttered, turning and facing the mythical creature.

Midrael swung his wings down for a single big lift off, now floating a dozen or so feet off the ground. He remained still, his wings allowing him to stagnate in place as he stared at Dorian.

"I don’t mind helping out an old acquaintance," Midrael replied, his voice deep and seemingly filled with age and wisdom.

Dorian smiled, "I’m sure you have a lot to do... ruler of the southern skies." He said before placing his right hand on his stomach and bowing.

Midrael simply nodded to acknowledge the man’s words.

"I know it may be cumbersome, but I have one last request of you before we depart," Dorian said, raising his head as a smile formed. "Visit my homestead once. I’ve left my clothes there, so you will know where to find them. I feel an odd sensation in my bone marrow. It’s telling me that danger encroaches upon that land. Please clarify whether my fears are unnecessary, great emperor."

Midrael’s wings flapped every few seconds, sending down gusts of wind to remain afloat.

"Your request is accepted, supreme commander." Midrael bowed his head, but for a fraction of a second.

"Please, don’t let me take up your time any longer." Dorian immediately replied, nodding with gratitude and approval.

Midrael didn’t reply, simply gazing at Dorian for a second longer as if to acknowledge his words before turning and propelling himself through the clouds in a single flap of his wings.

Dorian turned, facing the vast land before him.

"The continent of Ygnahril, center of Fell-Terra." He gazed upon a savanna that cloaked the land as far as the eye could see.

Hills and valleys, small rivers, and forests were littered throughout. And far in the distance, Dorian’s eyes seemingly zoomed in to see what looked like enormous walls surrounded by knights no smaller than mountains themselves.

"Kyphas..."