"Get him, Old Phil!" At Ye Qingxuan's voice, a roar that shook the heavens and the earth rang out.
A dragon's roar.
The golden retriever leapt forward, stepping into the void. His form began to swell, and after three steps he had transformed into a giant gold dragon. A pair of giant wings swept out from his back, breaking through the many layers of The Witches' Dance's illusion before picking up Ye Qingxuan's.
He turned his head and the dragon's breath burst out.
Black fire spewed from the dragon's mouth. What looked like flames was actually the accumulated essence of destruction. Even light was disintegrated by his chaotic will. All matter and music theory were destroyed by his violent bestial nature and ground into dust.
After the dragon breathed, the projection of The Witches' Dance seemed to crawl out of the furnace. It screamed viciously as its flesh began to wriggle as it repaired itself.