Chapter 621: The Chaotic Legion
"Impossible! I clearly killed you! Even resurrection spells shouldn't work this fast."
Kalen was shocked and furious, pointing his longsword at that familiar half-dragon, but soon, he was startled to find the blood on his blade had vanished, and the headless corpse from before was gone without a trace.
Killed and resurrected immediately, even the corpse vanished without a trace.
Kalen couldn't help but recall his battles with demons; those abyssal demons were the same—if killed in the material world, they'd be summoned back to the bottomless abyss and revived anew.
His throat moved, and he couldn't help but ask, "What the hell are you?!"
Iron Frenzy blurted out, "I'm your daddy! You damn bird-brain, you had the nerve to sneak attack me from behind? That's just downright shameless!"
Then, with a smug grin, he pulled out eight metal spheres, wedging them all between his fingers.
"But this time, I'm fully prepared. I spent thousands of XP to exchange for fast resurrection—I'm not about to waste this chance."
"So—time to die, bird-man!"
Iron Frenzy yelled with utter confidence, tossing all the metal spheres. As spatial ripples and arcs of lightning flickered around them, the spheres suddenly opened up mid-air.
Out of seven of the metal spheres poured floating turrets, armed robots, combat-type mechanical hounds, and all kinds of war machines developed by the Machine Cult, completely surrounding the angel-blooded.
The last metal sphere released a colossal arcane-powered armor nearly ten meters tall. Iron Frenzy leapt in, landed in the cockpit, let out a maniacal laugh, and the sound of roaring machinery blared: "Scared yet, bird-man? Hahaha! Ignorant primitive, tremble before the mechanical iron fist of the God of Machines!"
Kalen looked calm, surveying the surrounding machines, and spoke softly: "Exquisite magical devices, but nothing more than clever toys."
"Toys? Stupid savage, I'll show you just how powerful these are!" Iron Frenzy shouted in defiance, then pressed a button.
Instantly, the arcane armor's left arm charged up with a terrifying electromagnetic cannon. With a thunderous boom, a thick bolt of lightning shot out, aiming straight at the distant angel-blooded.
Next, the floating turrets unleashed a hail of concentrated light projectiles, tossed out fearsome electromagnetic grenades, and the machine guns below spat fire nonstop.
In an instant, light particles, electromagnetic bombs, bolts of lightning, and combat machines surrounded the angel-blooded from all directions—it was a spectacular siege.
However, Kalen remained unhurried, gripping his longsword with both hands and plunging it into the ground.
"Whoosh—"
In a flash, a hemispherical shield of light rapidly expanded, blocking everything—light shots, lightning, bombs, all wiped out in an instant.
Iron Frenzy's eyes widened as he watched the angel-blooded draw his sword in the distance, blurting out in disbelief, "What the fuck?"
The armed robots charged with their light blades, while the mechanical hounds leapt through the air like missiles, aiming straight for the angel-blooded.
"Awooo—"
"You think just because you lucked out and killed my comrade, you're qualified to challenge a real scion of the gods?"
Kalen sneered coldly, not even looking back, swinging his sword at a speed almost impossible to catch with the naked eye.
"Vmm—BOOM!"
A flash of white blade light cut the air, and all the charging robots and mechanical hounds were sliced in two, exploding in mid-air.
"No way, this bird-man is way too OP."
Watching the machines get wrecked so easily, and seeing the three question marks above the angel-blooded's head, Iron Frenzy felt a bad premonition rising in his heart.
Without any intel, Iron Frenzy knew the opponent's challenge level had to be at least 15—maybe even higher.
But just now, by pure luck, he'd killed a level 15 angel-blooded, and feeling on top of the world, Iron Frenzy believed his mechanical creations could easily cover the mere five-level gap.
But Iron Frenzy didn't know—the opponent's challenge level was 21, a full ten levels higher than him. The gap between them was just insane.
As a marquis of Holy Fadlan, Kalen was also an absolute standout among the angel-blooded. Decades ago, during his ascension, he'd reached legendary rank, even hitting the peak of legendary for a time.
Even as Marquis Kalen weakened and lost a lot of power after Holy Fadlan's collapse, he was still a top legendary powerhouse—utterly out of reach for mortals.
Iron Frenzy watched, trembling, as the angel-blooded strode toward him, and pressed the "Emergency Defense" button with a shaking hand.
"Whoosh—"
A shield, shimmering with light and electric arcs, appeared in front of him, covering the entire arcane mech.
The shield could withstand five-ring spells, but it gave Iron Frenzy no comfort—because the angel-blooded was already airborne, wings flapping, sword radiating blinding light.
"BOOM!"
A golden-red column of fire crashed down from the sky, instantly punching through the shield and the entire arcane mech.
"My armor—!"
But before Iron Frenzy could even finish wailing in the cockpit, the fire turned him to ash, not even a trace left.
"Infinite resurrection. Even gods with mighty divine power can't do that so easily—just what the hell are these guys?"
Kalen stared expressionlessly at the charred pile of scrap metal, knowing things weren't over—the other guy would be back soon enough.
—Because all he saw in those eyes was heartbreak over lost gear, not the desire to live.
Then Kalen looked toward the ever-maddening battlefield. Those dragon-scaled bastards were slaughtering allied soldiers, tearing open holes in the defenses.
Worse still, when facing the allied soldiers—men who fought to the death to defend their homes and deserved respect—these dragonkin turned the fight into a game, pulling off utterly humiliating stunts.
"Riiip—"
With a crisp, bloody sound, a dragon-scaled cultist laughed wildly as he ripped a terrified allied soldier in half.
Not caring about the blood all over his face, he muttered, "Turns out the stuff from those TV dramas really works! As long as you're strong enough, you can really tear people in half!"
"Holy shit, badass! I gotta try that later."
"Asshole, save some points for me, would ya? Stop hogging all the kills, there won't be any left for me!"
"Can't you try somewhere else? There's tens of thousands of soldiers, and you just have to fight me for these? Get lost."
Watching their horrific behavior, hearing their unrestrained chatter, the angel-blooded gripped his sword, fuming: "Damn dragonkin, they're humiliating our soldiers!"
"Whoosh—"
Kalen unfurled his wings, eyes blazing, turning into a blur as he dove at the dragon-scaled cultist.
Just then, a fire dragon shot into the sky, rushing him, coiling around his body, forcing him to dodge with his wings.
"Fadlaner, your opponent is me."
Ashes swirled, dragon might filled the air.
A girl with dragon horns hovered in mid-air, her long crimson hair dancing wildly, and her broad, unmatched dragon wings unfurled behind her, totally out of proportion with her slender frame.
Her face was striking, those golden slit-pupiled eyes flickering with fire, exuding an extraordinary indifference and killing intent—like a hunter watching her prey.
This was the Marquis of Dragonblood from the Ember Empire, mistress of the Tower of Wildfire, chief Dragon Pact Sorcerer, Misha.
Kalen narrowed his eyes, watching the beautiful girl, feeling the unimaginable power hidden in that delicate body.
He distinctly saw a proud red dragon spread its wings and roar!
Kalen sneered and muttered, "I was just wondering how a girl not even twenty could have such an aura."
In the next instant, he snapped his gaze up, eyes cold, and barked, "So that's it—you're just a damned dragon in a human skin!"
The angel-blooded whipped his wings, stirring a violent wind, and lunged at Misha with his divine longsword, slicing the air and bringing down a torrent of blinding light.
"Arrogant Fadlaner!"
Misha showed no fear. She flapped her wings, floating in the air, reached out toward the distant angel-blooded.
At once, scales appeared on her cheeks and forehead, flames and smoke coiling around her, and in her palm, energy as hot as the sun built up.
At that moment, compared to the angel-blooded diving at her, Misha looked more like a scion of the sun god.
"BOOM—"
The accumulated energy burst out, a burning pillar of fire tore the sky, ripping open a crimson wound in the heavens, striking at the angel-blooded.
The superheated shockwave twisted and ruptured the air, turning the sky gold and red.
Kalen's brow furrowed, and he lashed his wings, rocketing nearly vertical to dodge the fire column by a hair.
The angel-blooded seized the gap as Misha cast her dragon-breath, soaring overhead and swinging his sword at blinding speed.
"Whoosh—"
The sword cleaved the air, but met nothing. Kalen's face changed—he'd only hit a flaming afterimage. The real Misha had teleported behind him.
Fireballs tore through the sky along the angel-blooded's path, blasting over and over, scorched feathers raining down.
More fiery portals opened in midair, Dragon Pact Sorcerers flying out to join the assault on Kalen.
Explosions burst high in the sky, dazzling flames stretching hundreds of meters, fire dragons roaring, boiling gusts ripping apart the clouds—their figures darted through the chaos, impossible to keep up with.
"BOOM!"
The thunderous blast made all the allied troops on the ground look up, their eyes glued to the sky.
This was what a clash between legends looked like—a natural disaster in its own right. Even the shockwaves alone could easily annihilate ordinary soldiers.
Once, the Ember Empire had desperately lacked high-ranking power. Facing legendary foes, only Emperor Cassius could stand up to them himself.
But now, after absorbing the Anzeta Wasteland and conquering many planar colonies, the Ember Empire was strong enough that its army could rival the once-famous angel-blooded legions.
The aerial battle raged on, billowing fireclouds ever-growing, more imperial dragonblood nobles and celestials joining in, while on the ground, a new batch of special players entered the fray.
The stench of brimstone filled the air, hellfire erupted from the cracks, and the raucous, shrill voices followed.
"Damn, you're ugly—look like some giant troll."
"What do you know? This is called a bloated demon-form. You're one to talk—when it comes to power, looks don't mean shit!"
"This freak's got its own vibe. Honestly, the longer you look, the more you wanna…"
"Hey, it's fine to have an earthy kink, but don't go straight to the underworld—wait, no, hell!"
"The devil in my head says if I offer up an angel-blooded's soul, he'll score me a succubus!"
"For real? Shit, I'm going all out now!"
This batch of players was shrouded in inky, evil energy, twisted blood-red runes carved into their bare skin, ragged, torn bat-wings sprouting from their backs.
They looked all kinds of freaky—some like bloated, stitched-up fatties; some like drop-dead gorgeous vamps; others with steel forks and red skin, classic devil style.
These were the players who'd made pacts with devils, officially called the Ember Hell Legion by the Empire.
These devil-turned players howled into the allied lines, bringing pure carnage.
They burned the trenches with hellfire, hacked off arms and thighs with cleavers, ran soldiers through with spiked chains, skewered hearts with bony tails, even used charm powers to wipe out entire units' will to fight.
Players wielded devil powers but were even more chaotic than the devils themselves—creativity off the charts.
With over ten thousand hell warriors joining the battle, victory had already tipped.
On the main battlefield, artillery kept pounding away, steel behemoths and dragon-scaled cultists ripped open the lines, imperial infantry advanced methodically, slicing up and encircling the allied forces, wiping out units wholesale.
Meanwhile, hell legions, undead legions, and fire elemental legions—flanking forces of the Ember Empire—launched wild assaults on weak points in the endless front, spreading terror and chaos.
"Boom!"
Another shell plummeted toward Collins City, exploding in midair, but blocked by a magical barrier conjured by the Arcane Legion.
On top of Collins City's tower, Walter overlooked the entire battlefield. He saw endless explosions, angels falling from the sky, and allied troops retreating nonstop.
This former "Wing of Fadlan" frowned and sighed softly.
"Dragon bloodlines, terrifying weapons, even hellish pacts… Who'd have thought, in just ten years, the Ember Empire's military would get this strong?"
Perched beside him on the city wall, the gold dragon flapped his wings anxiously: "Duke Walter, it's time to act! The allied army can't hold out against the Ember legions much longer!"
"No, Sir Titus."
Walter shook his head firmly and refused: "I know you're righteous and want to help the coalition, but compared to the Ember legions, their emperor—the red dragon—is the real threat.
I'm sure you see it too. That red dragon is not just brutal and powerful, but cunning as a serpent, crafty as hell. Until he shows himself, we absolutely cannot act first."
Titus protested passionately: "So we're just supposed to watch the coalition get wiped out, watch these ruthless bastards turn North Aether into scorched earth?"
At this moment, the gold dragon looked downright agitated, his barbels standing stiff, pacing back and forth, making the walls quake.
"No, Sir Titus. Just as you said—the endless night will eventually break, and justice and order will triumph."
Duke Walter lifted his gaze to the horizon, the rolling hills bathed in gold, his golden eyes shining with unwavering resolve.
At this point, there was no turning back.