In Draven's perceptive vision, the stingers of the Violet Carpenter Bees, once known for their lethal sharpness, now seemed to have lost their edge.

  Even though they were capable of piercing through the armor of lord-tier magical beasts, they could only leave shallow dents on the shells of these strange flying ants.

  To kill a single flying ant often required multiple stabs at the same spot before it could be barely brought down.

  There was no doubt about it—the shells covering these ants were incredibly tough, to the point of being unnaturally durable. They didn't resemble any creature born of the natural world.

  The battle was only growing more intense. The air above the cliff bottom was packed with swarming insect bodies, a ceaseless aerial storm of wings and violence.

  The bee swarm and the ant horde tangled together midair, their forms interwoven in a frenzied melee. Corpses rained from above like heavy droplets, crashing onto the rocky ground below with dull, wet thuds.

  In the center of the chaos, the queen bee and the ant queen faced off in midair. These two massive leaders clashed like titans, each collision sending shockwaves through the air, bursting like thunder in the depths of the canyon.

  They were not merely commanders, but warriors fighting on the frontlines themselves.

  Draven stood to the side, utterly captivated by the battle. He had never imagined that a war between two magical insect species could evoke such primal grandeur—and such tragic beauty.

  But he wasn't here just to spectate.

  He noticed that while the queen bee issued retreat commands, several Violet Carpenter Bees quietly slipped toward the pale blue flowers and began rapidly collecting nectar.

  At the same time, the ants were methodically dragging the bodies of fallen bees back to their rear lines.

  Clearly, this wasn't the first time such a battle had taken place. Both sides had grown accustomed to seeking opportunity amidst warfare.

  It was through such means, it seemed, that they had managed to survive in this barren cliff-bottom environment.

  A gleam flashed through Draven's eyes. He knew he had to act now.

  Once both sides retreated, subduing either species would become exponentially more difficult.

  Taking a deep breath, he activated Aerial Shadow Sprint—his speed exploded to its peak, his form slicing through the air like a blur.

  He charged directly toward the locked-in-combat queen bee and ant queen, simultaneously activating his two key skills: Terror Assault and Forced Pact!

  A surge of overwhelming psychic pressure crashed down, stunning both queens instantly.

  But in that brief instant, the ant queen snapped out of it first. Her mandibles opened wide—and without hesitation, she bit down on the queen bee's head!

  "Damn it!" Draven cursed inwardly.

  Using Aerial Shadow Sprint and casting two high-level skills had drained too much of his stamina. He simply couldn't move fast enough to stop the brutal execution.

  The queen bee's head rolled away, blood tracing an arc through the air.

  The queen bee was dead—but the contract hadn't been in vain. The ant queen was now bound as his new battle pet!

  At the moment of the queen bee's death, a psychic ripple pulsed through the entire Violet Carpenter Bee swarm. A sharp screech rang out, and the bees instantly disengaged, scattering like startled birds toward the far end of the fissure.

  The flying ants seemed ready to give chase, but with a slight flap of her wings and a few sharp clicks of her mandibles, the ant queen immediately issued a retreat order.

  Like a receding tide, the ant horde swept backward and encircled their queen, casting wary glances toward Draven. Tension crackled in the air.

  But Draven remained calm. He knew that once a psychic contract was successfully formed, the queen could no longer defy his will.

  Moments later, after the ant queen gave a series of subtle commands, the ants all bowed low, jaws open, emitting rhythmic clack clack clack sounds—as if welcoming the arrival of a new monarch.

  Draven grinned and ignored them.

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  Instead, he turned his gaze toward the queen bee's corpse.

  He walked over, stored the body in his spatial wristband, then looked once more toward the direction where the bee swarm had fled.

  From what he knew of the Violet Carpenter Bees, a new queen would soon be chosen after the death of the previous one to assume command of the hive.

  However, the new queen was rarely as strong as the last.

  For now, Draven chose not to pursue them. Instead, he shifted his focus to the war-torn central zone—where a pile of petrified remains lay.

  As he stood before the bones, his brow furrowed.

  The corpses had turned completely to stone, making it difficult to identify the species.

  The bones were interwoven chaotically—some appeared beastlike, while others seemed vaguely humanoid. Most had been gnawed, their edges jagged and uneven.

  He pressed his palm to one of the remains, channeling his senses in hopes of detecting residual energy. But aside from cold hardness, he felt nothing.

  They didn't seem to hold much value.

  Yet the ants remained interested in them.

  Several flying ants darted forward and began gnawing at the stone bones. Their razor-sharp mandibles ground the petrified remains like metal files shredding rock.

  The sight struck Draven like lightning.

  These creatures survive by eating this stuff?

  A sudden thought flashed in his mind—he frantically searched his memory for references to similar magical beasts.

  Then he slapped his forehead, whispering the name:

  Gold-Devouring Demon Ant!

  He crouched and grabbed one of the flying ants, which was nearly fifteen centimeters long, studying its rust-stained exoskeleton and blade-like mandibles.

  The more he looked, the more familiar it seemed.

  It was almost identical to the mythical Gold-Devouring Demon Ant—except far, far larger.

  He let the ant go, watching as it rejoined its swarm.

  Don't be fooled by the size of these flying ants. Each one is over ten centimeters long, and when they spread their wings, they can even cover the palm of an adult. Yet, despite their bulk, they are shockingly light.

  Draven weighed the struggling ant in his hand. He could barely feel any weight at all—it was like holding a piece of stiff cardboard.

  That only reinforced his initial judgment: these were the legendary Gold-Devouring Demon Ants.

  Like the elusive Violet Carpenter Bee, the Gold-Devouring Demon Ant was incredibly rare, known only from fragmented records and myths.

  According to legend, these ants are naturally drawn to metals and minerals, especially precious ores. What made them truly remarkable, however, was their ability to secrete a high-purity metallic fluid while devouring minerals—one that could allegedly be refined directly into top-grade magical gold.

  Because of this trait, they also possessed an extraordinarily hard exoskeleton, tough enough to resist low-tier magical attacks. It was no wonder they had managed to withstand multiple strikes from the queen bee's stinger during the earlier battle and still survived.

  These magical ants typically dwelled deep underground, in hidden mineral veins, rarely seen by humans, demi-humans, or even other magical beasts.

  Draven remembered hearing about such creatures only once—overheard in a tavern from a drunken old miner, who claimed that such ant colonies were no bigger than a finger. And yet, the specimen now in front of him was nearly as long as his forearm—at least three times the size described.

  Was the rumor inaccurate? Or had the Gold-Devouring Demon Ants of this underground region mutated? He frowned but knew this wasn't the time to delve into such questions.

  He glanced at the faintly glowing pale blue flowers growing around the pile of skeletons. While they emitted a soft luminescence in the gloom of the ravine bottom, they seemed to have no magical energy or other unusual properties—nothing of value.

  Having confirmed that, he waved his hand, signaling the ant queen to lead the colony back to their nest.

  Liliana was still waiting for him above the chasm. He knew her temperament well—restless and impulsive. If he delayed much longer, she might just leap down on her own.

  Sure enough, just as he rose through the dead-air layer on his Nightmare Horse, he spotted a blurry brown shape clinging to the cliff wall.

  It was a massive brown bear, its claws wedged into cracks in the rock as it clumsily descended. Its movements were slow but stubborn—determined to make its way down.

  With a soft flap of its wings, the Nightmare Horse drew closer to the bear. The creature finally noticed his approach, turned its head—and revealed a familiar, mischievous face.

  Liliana looked up and giggled, waving her clawed paw at him. A moment later, with a soft pop, she shifted back into her human form.

  "Draven!" she called sweetly and threw herself toward the saddle.

  Draven scrambled to catch her and pulled her up safely, tapping her gently on the forehead.

  "Ow! That hurt!" Liliana pouted and rubbed her head with both hands, giving him a mock-pitiful look.

  Draven didn't bother scolding her—he knew reasoning with her was pointless. He simply shook his head in resignation and urged the Nightmare Horse to fly out of the chasm and back to the surface.

  The worker bee left behind stood quietly nearby, as if it had never moved.

  Draven helped Liliana down and sat on a flat rock. He briefly recounted everything he had discovered at the bottom of the ravine. Liliana listened with rapt attention.

  Although both of them could fly, the layer of dead-air was a nuisance. It had probably existed for many years.

  Draven glanced down at the mark on his arm, and a sudden thought flashed through his mind—Hand of Death.

  The Hand of Death originated from the realm of necromancy. And that dead-air… could it be a form of necrotic energy?

  His eyes lit up. He stood quickly."Stay here and don't wander off."

  "I'm not a kid!" Liliana started to protest—until Draven gave her a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks flushed immediately, and she fell silent, just nodding with a pout.

  Draven mounted the Nightmare Horse again and flew toward the dead-air layer. He tugged the reins, ordering the horse to stop at the edge and go no further.

  Raising his right hand, he summoned the Hand of Death.

  A giant, black-scaled arm erupted into the air, writhing for a moment before plunging straight into the swirling dead-air below.

  The noxious mist surged violently, as if enraged, churning like a living thing—but soon, the gray-black fog began to spiral toward the Hand of Death, drawn like a tide, endlessly sucked into the monstrous limb.

  Draven felt a surge of excitement. He could sense it—the Hand of Death was devouring the dead-air, little by little.

  The Nightmare Horse snorted uneasily at his side, wings twitching. It too sensed the flow of necrotic energy and seemed eager to dive in.

  Draven patted its neck."Easy. This job's not for you."

  Taking a deep breath, he focused on guiding the Hand of Death, determined to consume as much of the obstructive mist as possible.