Battle of Dragon Valley

Dragon Valley, before Bedrock Fortress. The dragon-blooded monsters stood at the ready, letting loose low, guttural growls. Wyverns swarmed the sky in a dense, dark mass, their wings pressing close against one another like heavy storm clouds blotting out the sun. Wasteland landwyrms rumbled as they trampled the earth in rhythmic thunder, like the pounding of war drums. Three chimeras stood perched on the edge of a cliff, their three heads roaring in unison. Dragonblood hobgoblins and lizardfolk stood guard atop the fortress, silently awaiting the enemy's approach. Although the most elite units had long since been deployed to the south, the vassals left behind in Dragon Valley remained the backbone of the former Cinder Nest. Many of them were veterans of the Battle of Trier who simply had not yet marched south with the red dragon. During Cassius's absence, Dror, a hobgoblin and one of Duoluo's trusted subordinates, had been appointed temporary overseer of Dragon Valley. He had attained the position Duoluo once coveted, though unfortunately the heart of the Kingdom of Cinders had already shifted to Northwind Keep. Dragon Valley now served primarily as a frontier stronghold and a major garrison for raising troops. *Whoosh—* A freezing wind howled as it poured into the valley. Dror sneezed, his expression growing grim. "Just as Lord Duoluo said... they ride the cold wind." "Frost giants..." Standing atop the highest point of Bedrock Fortress, the hobgoblin peered into the distance. Enormous figures were appearing along the horizon—the main host of the frost giants. Over a hundred frost giants were charging toward the valley, some mounted atop massive tundra landwyrms and others sprinting on foot, trailing dense clouds of steam in their wake. The ground shuddered violently under the impact of the giants' forced march. As the temporary overseer of Dragon Valley, Dror lacked seniority and chose not to give any elaborate speech before battle. He simply raised his spear, emblazoned with the crest of Cinders, and shouted at the top of his lungs, mimicking the image of Duoluo in his memory: "For the Kingdom of Cinders!" "Fight for the great red dragon!" The monsters below erupted in a deafening cheer that echoed through the valley. "Roar—" Having lived through that past campaign, their devotion to the red dragon bordered on worship of a deity. What was more, the Kingdom of Cinders had filled their bellies. Formidable as the frost giants were, the dragon-blooded vassals felt only the fierce exhilaration of facing a worthy foe—after all, they were the evil dragon's claws and fangs. Amidst the frost giant ranks, Baya brandished his dragon-bone pick and unleashed a battle cry. "Take this fortress!" "Show them what the Frost Calamity truly means!" The frost giants surged forward with the biting wind. However, they stumbled first into traps prepared by the kobolds. Those unassuming creatures were true masters of ambushes and snares. Caught completely off guard, several frost giants plunged into specially dug pits, impaled upon sharp wooden and iron stakes. One tundra landwyrm was even tripped by a steel cable. It collapsed with a heavy, mournful screech, crushing the rider on its back and flattening two frost giants beneath it. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" At Dror's command to fire, the cannons atop Bedrock Fortress roared, shaking the valley to its foundations. Shells rained down upon the frost giants, sending shrapnel tearing through the air and dirt flying in every direction. Several more unlucky frost giants were blasted apart on the spot. Baya was taken aback by how swiftly the casualties were mounting, but he bellowed in fury nonetheless: "These cheap tricks won't stop us!" "Charge! Crush them!" Even as several of their kin fell one after another, the frost giants showed no sign of retreating. "Hiss-roar—" Amidst a cacophony of shrieks and hisses, the dark cloud descending from the sky resolved into hundreds of wyverns diving in a chaotic swarm. Some breathed scorching fire, some tore with vicious fangs, and others struck from above with their venomous barbed tails. Having weathered the initial barrage, the frost giants immediately struck back. They were natural enemies of dragonkind, with vast experience in hunting these winged lizards. The frost giants hurled massive boulders into the air, knocking the disorderly wyverns from the sky. Whenever a wyvern swooped too close, a giant would seize it by the wing or tail and drag it to the ground to grapple. The frost giants were far larger and more powerful than the wyverns. Any wyvern dragged to the earth was quickly torn and mangled like an old rag. "Pesky vermin!" Baya leaped high once more, hooking a wyvern out of the air with his dragon-bone pick. Using his tremendous weight, the frost giant warrior slammed it into the dirt and pinned it beneath his massive bulk. Then, with a single wrench of his arm, he snapped the beast's slender neck. *Rrrrip—* Blood and shredded flesh splattered across Baya's charred face. He bared his teeth in a savage grin, ready to charge at his next target. Yet just as the wyverns launched their assault, the ground forces of Dragon Valley moved in right behind them, seizing the moment while the giants were tangled up with the flying beasts. "Advance!" Dror bellowed. His heart pounded with wild excitement, and the hand clutching his saber trembled slightly. He had once been a common soldier in the line infantry, marching alongside Duoluo during that volley drill and fighting in the Battle of Trier. Now, at last, it was his turn to command the line regiment. To the rhythm of the satyrs' drumbeats, the hobgoblin line regiment marched forward in locked step. From time to time, the frost giants hurled rocks that knocked down several hobgoblins, but the ranks behind swiftly closed the gaps. When the hobgoblins had advanced to within fifty paces of the frost giants—close enough to catch the foul reek of their bodies and feel the heat of their breath—Dror finally gave the order, just as Duoluo once had. His heart thudded against his ribs, whether from excitement or nervous tension, he could hardly tell. "Ready—" The hobgoblins raised their rifles in unison according to their drilling, the metallic clatter echoing down the line. "Fire!" The hobgoblins pulled their triggers. *Bang!* The volley roared as a wall of pale smoke drifted up from the muzzles, filling the air with the sharp stench of gunpowder. A short distance in front of the line, several frost giants tilted off balance before crashing heavily to the earth, kicking up billows of dust. Due to their colossal size, the giants were far easier to hit than ordinary targets. Multiple expanding bullets mushroomed on impact and ripped through their thick hides, tearing through their massive frames from within and effortlessly claiming the lives of even these hardy, ferocious warriors. "Ahhh!" "It hurts!" One giant writhed on the ground, his face contorted in a ferocious snarl as he tried to keep his fighting stance, unable to fathom how he could be struck down so easily. Baya was thoroughly shaken by the volley's devastating effect. Dropping the mangled wyvern from his grip, he stared grimly at the distant line regiment, his face dark as thunder. "Damn it..." "How can those tiny runts slaughter our warriors so easily...?" The entire Everfrost Tribe numbered just over five hundred adult frost giants. Every single warrior was an irreplaceable asset. If Baya suffered excessive losses, he would be held accountable—even as the chieftain's own brother.