Chapter 526: Dragon Battle
In Isthalia, atop towering stone pillars, within the grand white altar, white mist curled through the air as the red dragon lazily coiled upon his marble throne.
Standing beside him was the ogre grand mage Langpu, and before him, massive magical projections displayed the ongoing battles across the various war zones of the Empire's Wall.
Cassius watched the Butcher Demon being encircled and slaughtered with great interest and asked, "How many Dragon-Scale Monks like these exist within the Empire?"
Langpu responded, "Master, this project is still in its experimental phase. For now, there are only twenty-one, and only twelve of them can currently fight with stability."
"Crack—"
As he spoke, the ogre's massive body flickered, becoming somewhat illusory, as light particles shimmered across his skin.
"M-My apologies, Master. My main body might be engaged in battle, so this projection is unstable."
This was merely Langpu's projection—his true body had already gone to the front lines, stationed on the battlefield to face off against the Abyssal spellcasters.
Cassius narrowed his eyes as he observed the ominous phenomenon caused by the Butcher Demon's death.
"A Butcher Demon, huh."
The Butcher Demon—an apex predator of the Abyss, a creature with a challenge rating of 16. It was on par with some lower-tier legendary beings.
Even within the Empire, where Cassius's dominion suppressed the chaos within its body, this demon was still not an opponent to be underestimated.
Once, players were slaughtered at will by vampires, crushed mercilessly by frost giants, and served as mere cannon fodder in wars.
But now, the strongest of them could band together and take down such monsters.
—Though this was largely thanks to the Empire's resources, it was undeniable that players had become a force to be reckoned with in this world.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Cassius asked again, "How much does it cost to train a Dragon-Scale Monk?"
Langpu's projection answered, "Fifty thousand gold Nair, Master. The most expensive part is the dragon blood materials, but the Empire has no shortage of those.
The technology of the Tech Division is still immature. According to the geneticists of the Mechanist Church, the cost could be reduced to under ten thousand gold Nair in the future."
Cassius nodded slightly, licking the flames at the edge of his lips. "Excellent. Soon, we will be mass-producing supernatural-level warriors, and all it costs us is money."
The one thing the Empire had in abundance was wealth. In the endless wars of Feanso Continent, the Ember Empire made fortunes selling weapons to both sides and flooding markets with their goods.
The Empire's ability to accumulate wealth was beyond what other nations could imagine.
As for the actual amount of gold in Cassius's treasury? It had become the stuff of legend.
Scholars estimated that the figure was so astronomical that it defied the comprehension of most mortals—so unbelievable that simply stating it would sound absurd.
Langpu grinned obsequiously and leaned in, "Master, this won't even require the Empire's—your—funds.
These Starfallers should consider it an honor to be chosen. We plan to charge them a tribute of twenty thousand gold Nair as an offering in return for your blessing."
Cassius clicked his tongue in admiration and nodded approvingly.
After over a decade of practice, this ogre had mastered the art of player exploitation—even more meticulously than the red dragon himself—seeping into every aspect of domestic life.
For instance, the Empire's infamous "Spellcasting Tax," "Firearm Possession Tax," and "Dragon Blood Tax."
"Pfft—"
Cassius stretched his neck and snorted, expelling a cloud of scorching white smoke before turning his attention back to the magical battlefield projections.
"The main adversary still hasn't appeared? What a coward."
At this moment, the war between the Empire and the Abyssal Legions had reached its climax.
The Empire's artillery barrages were no longer enough to stem the tide of demons, and ferocious high-ranking Abyssal entities emerged one after another.
But the Empire was also pulling out all its trump cards, relying on pre-prepared defensive lines to hold firm, preventing the demon hordes from breaking through the Empire's Wall.
In the southern wastelands, the land was pockmarked with craters and shrouded in smoke, strewn with demonic corpses, shattered shrapnel, and spent bullets.
The demons' purplish-black ichor corroded rock and soil, scarring the land with grotesque marks, as if cursing the very earth itself.
The ceaseless shrieks of demons, the roar of artillery, and the battle cries of Imperial soldiers intertwined across the vast battlefield, forming a cruel symphony of war.
Horl Mountains.
This mountain range wasn't particularly tall—crossing it would lead directly to the northern plains, the heart of the Empire.
"Roar—"
A horde of dragon-beasts flapped their wings, swarming like dense storm clouds, their hoarse, chaotic cries echoing through the mountains.
Under normal circumstances, such a scene would not be unusual within the Empire.
After all, the Ember Empire, known as the "Land of Dragons," raised thousands of wyverns, dragon-beasts, and other draconic creatures.
But this time, the dragon-blooded creatures were different—they hailed from the Abyss.
Abyssal Dragon-Beasts resembled their wyvern ancestors, but their dark-red scales marked their infernal lineage.
They had powerful bat-like wings, sinuous snake-like necks, and razor-sharp claws.
These creatures were the horrific byproduct of an ancient breeding experiment meant to combine the most vile aspects of demons, wyverns, and red dragons.
They roamed the Abyssal wastelands, preying upon demons and travelers alike.
"Awooo—"
Their shrill cries reverberated through the Horl Mountains, causing the local wildlife to tremble in fear. Their roars were even more chaotic and oppressive than ordinary wyverns, infused with the taint of the Abyss.
Flapping their wings, these Abyssal Dragon-Beasts spewed black-red Abyssal flames, incinerating all life below.
Atop the lead Abyssal Dragon-Beast, a crimson-skinned humanoid raised a bloodied longsword, letting out a frenzied war cry.
"Burn it all!"
"Offer everything to the Abyss! Let chaos consume this land!"
Clad in pitch-black armor, the demon's forked tongue flicked from his mouth, and two curved horns extended from his forehead.
His scarlet eyes burned with an unquenchable fire as he gazed into the distance.
"I have returned."
"And I will make you all pay!"
His name was Licht Mol, once a Northwind Eagle Guard. He had barely escaped the war that destroyed his nation, chosen by a Vengeance Demon, and reborn in the Abyss.
For years, he endured countless trials on the battlefield of the Blood War, yet his hatred never faded. The destruction of the Lackman Principality was seared into his memory.
And that hatred granted him even greater power.
Now, Licht had become the leader of the Abyssal Wyvern Legion, commanding dozens of elite demon cavalry and hundreds of Abyssal Wyverns.
His mission was to cross the Hall Mountains, penetrate the Empire's territory, and use his mobility to disrupt the Empire's fortified defenses from the rear.
This was a common strategy of the Abyssal Legions. Licht himself had once used it to seize a Hell Fortress in Avernus.
Thus, he was confident that the same strategy would work against the Empire.
Licht raised his bloodstained longsword, carved from skulls, and roared to his legion.
"Comrades, we have faced countless brutal battles in the Blood War, slaughtering an endless number of devils!
This time, our enemy is merely a weak mortal kingdom of the Material Plane! We will baptize them in fire and blood, making these mortals feel the might of the Abyss!
For the Abyss!"
"Awooo—"
Just then, a similar roar echoed from afar—only deeper and more powerful.
The demons turned their gaze toward the distance.
From the other side of the mountain, wyverns and Flame Drakes soared into the sky, their wings beating like crimson clouds, blocking half the sky, standing in opposition to the Abyssal Wyvern Legion.
Within the Empire's forces were Crimson-Scaled Conquerors riding wyverns, Flame Drakes wreathed in fire, and even atavistic wyverns with strength rivaling true dragons.
Their presence was no less imposing than the Abyssal Wyvern Legion to the south of the mountains.
Licht immediately recognized the wyvern riders who had once crushed the Northwind Eagle Guards and forced him into exile. The shameful memories resurfaced in his mind.
"Crimson-Scaled Conquerors."
He gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with fury. His forked tongue lolled from his mouth, dripping with viscous saliva.
Then, his expression shifted from rage to sheer ecstasy. His grotesque red face twisted into a manic grin, stretching almost to his ears.
"Perfect, perfect! Finally, I can have my revenge!"
"I will make them taste what I endured—watching their comrades die, their nation reduced to ruins."
Lost in the thought, Licht's face took on a rapturous expression. His dark visage was concealed beneath his helmet, revealing only eyes brimming with vengeful fire. "Hahahaha! Charge! Kill them! Make them feel the fear of devils in the Blood War!"
"Face the Abyss!"
"Devour these pathetic flies!"
"Roar—"
The demons howled fanatically, brandishing their bloodstained swords, spears, and war hammers, while the Abyssal Wyverns let out piercing, bone-chilling screeches.
And no wonder they were so confident—Abyssal Wyverns, a grotesque blend of demon, wyvern, and red dragon traits, were massive, far surpassing standard wyverns in size.
Most Abyssal Wyverns measured nearly fifteen meters in length, while their leaders exceeded twenty meters—larger than many true dragons.
Compared to them, the Empire's wyverns, which rarely exceeded ten meters in length, seemed almost diminutive.
Northern Hall Mountains.
The Empire's Dragon-Blooded Marquis, commander of the Crimson-Scaled Watchers—Alger—rode atop his massive draconic eagle, his gaze cold as he watched the Abyssal Wyvern Legion.
This former Northwind Eagle Guard had long completed his vengeance. He had personally witnessed the death of Duke Brad, the rise of the Empire, and the improving lives of the northern people.
He had also seen the once-oppressed tieflings freed from suffering, living prosperous lives.
Now, Alger had found a new purpose.
He had become the Empire's protector, swearing to dedicate the rest of his life to atoning for the grievous sins he had committed.
Alger raised his Ever-Burning Greatsword, its flames dazzling.
"Warriors—"
"You are the people of the great Red Dragon! These filthy Abyssal spawn, these tainted bloodlines, are nothing before you!
They seek to burn our cities, slaughter our people, and destroy our nation!
Can you endure this?"
"No!"
The response shook the heavens.
Satisfied, Alger bellowed, "Then charge with me! Reduce these Abyssal vermin to ashes!"
The Abyssal Wyvern Legion surged like a rolling black cloud, their chaotic roars filling the air as they climbed higher, preparing to strike the Imperial forces.
Faced with the coming aerial battle, both the native Imperials and players felt their blood boil with excitement.
From above, they gazed down at the demon horde, their hearts pounding as they dived, unleashing battle cries.
"For the Empire!"
"Long live the Ember Empire!"
"For His Majesty Cassius!"
Hundreds of wyverns and Flame Drakes stretched their wings atop the mountains, launching their dive.
"Awooo—"
Like a crimson torrent, like a scarlet waterfall, they cascaded from the mountain peaks. Their wings sliced through the air, scorching, explosive gales swirling beneath them.
The upper half of the mountains became engulfed in a crimson flood, while the lower half was consumed by the blackened Abyssal tide.
A violent collision was imminent.
Licht looked up at the wyvern and drake formations in the sky, a cold smirk beneath his helmet.
Too weak.
Compared to the Abyss-forged wyverns, these drakes were far too weak—just as he had once been.
The wyvern riders he had once deemed invincible now seemed like nothing more than frail mortals of the Material Plane.
Gripping his bloodstained skull-adorned blade, Licht imagined effortlessly slicing through the slender necks of those wyverns.
Yet amidst the crimson tide, Alger raised his Ever-Burning Greatsword and commanded:
"Warriors—Dragon Roar Charge!"
"Roar—"
A hundred wyvern knights and nearly five hundred wyverns and Flame Drakes roared in unison.
This was the largest Dragon Roar Charge in Imperial history.
Their dragon-infused bodies trembled as their blood resonated, linking and converging, forming an overwhelming dragon's aura.
"Just mere mortals—"
This, this...
This is impossible!"
Licht trembled violently, his teeth chattering in fear.
In the sky, a massive spectral Red Dragon formed within the ranks of the Imperial forces, its regal, imposing figure enveloping them entirely.
Every knight recognized it—it was their emperor, the ruler of the Ember Empire, the supreme lord of Anzeta—Cassius!
"Roar—"
The dragon's awe-inspiring phantom flapped its wings, opening its massive, bloodstained maw, and let out an infinitely deep and resounding roar.
Instantly, under the oppressive force emanating from the depths of their souls, all the Abyssal Dragon Beasts let out wails of agony. Their wings trembled, unable to maintain balance, causing them to stagger and plummet from the sky.
Licht also felt the terrifying pressure, the phantom of the Red Dragon relentlessly assaulting his filthy and chaotic soul.
In this enigmatic empire, the presence of that Red Dragon seemed godlike, exuding a force of order that inflicted unbearable suffering upon the Abyssal demons.
Yet, he clung to his will for vengeance and endured.
Licht struggled to maintain his balance, frantically slashing at the neck of the Abyssal Dragon Beast beneath him, cursing in frustration, "Damn it! That is just a dragon! You are the offspring of the Abyss! Wake up! You spineless worms!"
However, Licht's struggles were in vain, and the threat had already drawn near.
"Swish—"
A blazing, razor-sharp longsword descended from the sky, carrying the unstoppable force of a diving strike, infused with Cassius's supreme power, and cleanly severed the demon's head.
"No—"
Dark purple blood splattered as Licht's head was sent flying into the air, his helmet scattering away.
His grotesque, crimson face remained frozen in an expression of shock and disbelief, as if unable to comprehend that he had just been slain by a mere mortal of the Material Plane.