Amid intense spatial fluctuations, several teleportation portals tore open in the clouds behind Oszedro.
"Elder, is that him?"
"Is that the evil dragon ravaging the Northlands?"
"We will protect the peace here! In the name of Melvold!"
One after another, silver dragons emerged from the swirling mists, hovering behind the wyrm silver dragon. They let out unified, earth-shaking rumbles, lending their voices in support of their revered elder.
Pairs of silver wings beat in unison, casting shimmering ripples of light across the sky.
Above the cloud layer, cloud giants and storm giants stood tall. Channelling their potent spell-like abilities, they seized control of the surrounding climate, sustaining a domain of howling, subzero winds to hold off the creeping heat of the red dragon's presence.
"Your Highness, Prince of Dragons! We of the Faria Clan have come by your order to assist you!"
"Roar! Shameless metallic worms!"
"Master, that silver-skinned lizard is insufferably arrogant! Let's teach him a lesson!"
Behind the red dragon, thirteen ferocious blue dragons of the Faria Clan, led by Christina, arrived in swift succession. Beside them, the atavistic white dragon Tinia—whose colossal frame rivaled an ancient white dragon—soared into the sky.
These chromatic dragons threw back their heads in unison, parted their bloody maws, and unleashed thunderous roars that matched the opposing silver dragons in sheer ferocity.
Behind the chromatic dragons were hundreds upon thousands of wyverns, churning their wings in ragged formation and raising a chorus of harsh, chaotic shrieks.
The red dragon and silver dragon confronted each other across the divide, each backed by their own vassals and the atmospheric domains they commanded.
This no longer seemed like a mere war between the Kingdom of Cinders and the Northern United Kingdom. It resembled a miniature Dragonfall War fought between metallic and chromatic dragons.
The two dragons standing at the apex of the Material Plane locked eyes from afar. In each other's gaze, only the opponent existed; everything else at this scale of conflict was rendered utterly meaningless, reduced to inconsequential window dressing.
*So this is Oszedro...*
*He doesn't disappoint. A truly troublesome opponent.*
Cassius beat his wings, his pale gold vertical pupils fixed unwaveringly on the massive silver dragon.
[Oszedro, "Silver Wings"]
[Challenge Rating: 25 (75,000 XP)]
This was the most formidable enemy he had ever faced in direct confrontation.
The wyrm silver dragon measured over thirty meters in length, representing the near pinnacle of his species. Even in the realm of raw physical combat—the greatest pride of red dragons—Cassius would likely hold little advantage, to say nothing of spellcasting.
A closer inspection revealed that nearly every single scale on the silver dragon's body was etched with intricate magical runes, weaving hundreds of dormant spells across his flesh.
Over the course of a millennium, Oszedro had painstakingly carved and amassed them as a "spellhoarder." To ordinary dragons, such an obsession was a mental illness, but this wyrm silver dragon relished every second of it.
His claws were laden with magical rings, and his forelegs were banded with bracers of adamantine and mithral.
Along his silver spine and between the scales of his belly, glistening jewels were embedded—warding gems enchanted to protect their bearer's vitals from lethal harm.
Most striking of all was the dragon's chest.
A metal disc was held fast against his breast by silk ribbons looped over his forelimbs. Twelve magical gems of differing colors were set into the rim, while the center bore the etched pattern of swirling stars and nebulae—the holy symbol of Bahamut, Lord of the North Wind.
To describe this wyrm silver dragon as "armed to the teeth" was no exaggeration.
He had literally done so.
An intricate metallic contraption called the "Dragon's Jaw" was fitted inside the silver dragon's mouth, with several silver teeth protruding outward, enchanted with *sharp tooth*. Their points gleamed with a magical radiance capable of piercing defensive wards.
Faced with a wyrm silver dragon armed to the teeth and radiating boundless opulence, even Cassius—who had always prided himself on his vast wealth—could not help but feel a twinge of inadequacy, keenly conscious of his own relative poverty with merely a few legendary items to his name.
Above the clouds, Oszedro's smooth, radiant, plate-like visage was equally grave.
*Cassius, the "Prince of Dragons"...*
He scrutinized the distant red dragon, complex magical circuits flitting through his quicksilver eyes, unable to suppress a flicker of pure admiration for draconic might.
Even as a silver dragon—the mortal enemy of red dragons—he had to concede that throughout his thousand-year existence, this red dragon ranked among the greatest beasts he had ever seen.
The creature's colossal frame was comparable to a wyrm red dragon, scarcely smaller than his own. In fact, judged by physique alone, the red dragon's corded, muscular build was noticeably more robust.
An unimaginable surge of vitality radiated from the red dragon's frame. Four cruel horns spiraled upward from his brow, the dragon crystal upon his chest brimmed with terrifying power, and the faint draconic presence clinging to his bloodline felt like that of the progenitor dragons spoken of in racial memory.
Yet, he was still young. The red dragon carried only a handful of legendary-grade items, which gave the wyrm silver dragon an odd sense of superiority, satisfying the innate draconic urge to flaunt wealth.
*He is rather poor.*
Still, that was not the crucial issue.
Oszedro could hardly believe that this was a dragon still in his young adult phase, or perhaps even younger. Yet the truth was laid bare before him; he could even feel the scorching heat rolling from the creature's breath.
*Lord Bahamut's oracle was not mistaken. This is indeed a dragon variant possessing boundless potential.*
*He must never be allowed to fall into Tiamat's embrace!*
*Otherwise... it would spell utter catastrophe for all metallic dragons, and indeed for every creature of good and order on the Material Plane!*
With that thought, the wyrm silver dragon's gaze hardened, waves seeming to churn within his quicksilver eyes.
A ringing reprimand boomed from his jaws like thunder, sobering everyone across the field.
"Cruel and savage red dragon!"
"Fate granted you immense power, yet you cherish it not."
"For your selfish desires and raw ambition, you have shattered the millennium-long order between mankind and dragons, disrupted the balance of the Material Plane, and endangered the peace and stability of all Elezerg."
"Therefore, in the name of the Lord of the North Wind—"
Crisp, mocking applause interrupted his impassioned speech, followed by words delivered in a cool, calm tone.
"Well said."
"You truly live up to your fame, Lord Oszedro, 'Silver Wings.' Your hypocrisy surpasses even my imagination."
Cassius parted his jaws slightly, revealing a smile that struck terror into the hearts of all who beheld it.
"Tell me then—who was it that provoked this war?"
His voice swelled with stirring fervor as Silver Tongue, backed by his reality-bending Charisma, exerted its full power.
"Who launched a contemptible, unprovoked ambush against the kingdom's merchant caravans? Who deployed tens of thousands of troops to roam within our borders under the pretense of a 'first line of defense'?"
"And who bled the populace dry, pressed commoners into service, forged a military coalition, and instigated this massive war with their own hands?"
"You..."
Under this barrage of questions, even Oszedro was struck momentarily speechless, unable to find an answer. Down on the ground, the humans began questioning their very reality, even doubting the righteousness of their cause.
Cassius merely exhaled a plume of sulfurous heat and pressed on:
"Lord Oszedro, since you are unwilling to answer directly, allow me to answer for you. I speak of the very Northern United Kingdom you champion—or more precisely, the northern nobility led by House Bosque."
Oszedro let out a cold, dismissive scoff.
"Sophistry! If the Northlands hadn't struck first, would you and your monstrous realm have halted your expansion? Are the nature-defying weapons you manufacture meant purely for self-defense?"
Having lived for over a millennium, the silver dragon was second to none when it came to weathering surprises and donning thick skin.
Cassius could not help but laugh out loud. On that particular count, the sanctimonious silver dragon was startlingly similar to himself.
"Hahahahaha! Naturally not. After all, countless people in the Northlands remain brutally oppressed by the nobility. They await the kingdom's arrival, yearning to reclaim their freedom and step into a bright, new world."
"Hmph, a new world?"
"Lies! Does your so-called 'new world' consist of endless gunfire, plains heaped with corpses, and bloody slaughter?"
The silver dragon roared. Infused with magical power, his voice projected vivid illusions into the minds of everyone present—images of the Kingdom of Cinders crushing the coalition army, leaving the earth scarred and battered.
"No, you are mistaken."
Cassius gently shook his head, fire seeming to kindle within his pale gold pupils.
"That is merely the price of forging a new order."
Chapter 325