King turned, staring at the scorched ground one last time. His instincts screamed recognition. The desolation, the blackened earth cracked like shattered glass, the faint sulfuric scent carried on the wind, all of it pointed to one thing.
Dragons.
He'd seen this landscape before, though never from this exact vantage point. In his playthroughs, the Dragon Oath faction had controlled vast stretches of volcanic wasteland, their bonded drakes patrolling the skies like sentinels.
The territory bred fire-attuned NPCs and drew players who prioritized raw destructive power over strategy.
King opened his map interface again, studying the boundary line where the meadow met the scorched earth. All-Gods Ragnarok never labeled these territories with convenient names. No guides, or tutorials, no helpful markers beyond the basic directional indicators. Blue cursors meant allies. Red cursors meant anything that wasn't an ally.
And that was where the null alignment became a nightmare.
