The Position

"The Third Theater?" "Understood." Lowering the flickering communication device, Alger guided his giant eagle upward to the very vanguard of the formation, circling easily in the sky. "As all of you have seen, these Abyssal bastards stand no chance against the might of the Empire! "Yet we must not let down our guard. A greater ordeal awaits us! "Everyone, march west along the Hall Mountains! To the Third Theater!" Fresh off a crushing victory, the Redscale Conquerors grew all the more fired up, itching to plunge into the next battle. For these imperial warriors, the field of slaughter brought not only scars and death, but glory and power. They waved their banners high, and a wave of thunderous cheers swept across the sky. "March!" "For the Empire!" Having slaughtered the legion of Abyssal drakes to the last, the Cinder Empire's dragon host gathered under Alger's command and set off west in unison. They were headed for the most ferocious front—the Third Theater—to strike the demons from the flank. *** At the Grand Altar of Isdalia. "Decent strength. Nearly rivaling an ordinary adult red dragon... but his wits are as dull as ever." Coiled upon his throne, Cassius watched Smaug plant his talons on the severed head of the Abyssal drake alpha, roaring skyward in triumphant swagger, and offered an impassive critique. He had never been particularly worried about the engagement in the Hall Mountains. The Redscale Conquerors were his sharpest blade, and Smaug, having received multiple Bloodline Boons, possessed strength comparable to a true dragon. Dealing with Abyssal drakes was well within their grasp. What truly commanded Cassius's attention was the Third Theater. This sector was under the direct command of Imperial Field Marshal Duoluo, where the Cinder Empire's most formidable armies stood in battle array. Directly behind them lay a vast, unbroken wasteland dotted with vital military bastions like Blackstone Keep and the City of O'Neill—virtually the most crucial strategic strongholds within the Wall of the Empire. And this was precisely where the Ministry of War had slated the "decisive engagement." The demons had clearly recognized this as well. A surging demonic tide blanketed the wasteland before the defensive line. In this single theater alone, hundreds of thousands of demons had assembled, among them many formidable terrors. From some of those demons, even Cassius could sense a faint whiff of danger. Cassius was acutely aware of the Empire's weaknesses. Founded only recently, the Empire possessed few mid-to-high-tier powerhouses, while its lower-tier armies relied heavily on armaments. Their personal strength was comparatively frail, making them vulnerable to hostile spellcraft. Yet this flaw was compensated for by the Empire's allies, and Cassius placed ample faith in his vassals. To the Empire, this was not merely a war for survival, but a baptism of fire. Only by adapting to warfare of such high intensity could the Empire secure a true foothold on the Feanso Continent—and perhaps one day conquer the sprawling south. *Haa...* Scalding white smoke vented from his nostrils and the crevices between his fangs, curling around the red dragon's massive form. Cassius stared out at the demonic horde blanketing the hills and plains. Faint light gleamed in his pale golden pupils, as though piercing through the grotesque fiendish bodies to glimpse the dark, fathomless eyes lurking behind them. "Jerlazax, when your Abyssal legions are wiped out completely... "Will you still be able to hold back?" The corners of the red dragon's maw curled into an intensely cold smile. Upon the magical projections, against a backdrop of ceaseless artillery fire, the Empire's finest troops clashed fiercely with the demonic hordes. *** *Boom! Boom!* An artillery shell slammed into the mass of demons, throwing up a violent blaze that consumed over a hundred fiends in its radius. "Faster! Keep up the fire! Don't let them breach the high ground!" George fired relentlessly into the horde, shouting in urgency. With the support of the Dragonscale Marines, the sector under his charge had largely repelled the Abyssal assault and purged the nearby demons. Having then received redeployment orders from high command, he had marched his elite troops without a moment's rest to reinforce the Third Theater, where the fighting raged fiercest. Yet on this savage battlefield, demons and imperial soldiers perished by the second. Over a million combatants across both sides were locked in brutal slaughter across the barren wastes. The earth was scarred with craters and trenches, carpeted with fiendish corpses, while purplish-black blood pooled into rivers. And the sole objective assigned to George and his thousand-odd elite soldiers was to hold the high ground on the western flank of the defensive line, stalling the demons' advance. *Rumble—!* A deafening roar erupted without warning. A deep gouge ripped through the earth as a powerful cylinder of acoustic force blasted straight toward the densest cluster of imperial soldiers. "Aaargh!" "No! My ears—!" Under the devastating sonic blast, over a hundred imperial soldiers were sent flying. Their shields shattered to pieces, and blood sprayed from their ears and noses. That was *shout*! George's eyes turned bloodshot. Firing shot after shot into the demonic horde, his eyes tore with fury as he yelled, "Spellcasters! Scatter! Don't bunch up!" *Boom—!* Yet another column of sonic waves surged forward. The ground shuddered and rocks cracked as dozens of human soldiers atop the high ground were obliterated on the spot. Those two spells alone had inflicted hundreds of casualties, cutting George's force by more than half and leaving the defenses atop the ridge perilously thin. George looked into the distance and saw over a dozen towering, horrific silhouettes emerging from the dense fog, accompanied by low, raspy roars. *Growl...* Standing nearly three meters tall, these demons were covered in festering boils and sores. Patches of coarse fur were scattered across their gaunt, skeletal frames. They had pale ram heads bearing massive, curved horns, cold eyes, and slack lips drooling viscous slime over needle-thin teeth. Serpentine tails whipped behind them, each ending in a knotted cluster of barbed metallic quills. Despite their emaciated forms, the beasts brandished ranseurs far too massive for their bodies with disturbing grace. "Bulezau..." George gripped his rifle tightly, muttering with a grim expression. He had seen these demons in imperial intelligence reports. Serving as heavy infantry in the Abyss, they were brutal monsters that reveled in cleaving flesh and spilling blood. Yet that alone was not what rattled him. Far more terrifying was their innate spellcasting. They could cast spells like *command*, *shout*, and *fear*. Bulezau excelled in melee combat. They typically opened battle by launching *shout* into the enemy's densest ranks, and in open terrain, they would use *solid fog* to cut off easy escape routes. In the official classifications published by the Empire, a bulezau held a Challenge Rating of 9. And right before George—there were a full thirteen of them! George knew full well this was far beyond what his few hundred remaining elite soldiers could handle. All he could do was stall the enemy's assault as long as possible and hold out for reinforcements. He whipped out his transceiver and called out urgently, "Requesting backup! Requesting backup! "Thirteen bulezau spotted at Hill 014! Thirteen bulezau!" Yet the bulezau had already launched their charge. A chilling roar tore through the air. *Howl—!* The thirteen bulezau sprinted across the terrain, charging the ridge held by the imperial troops. Cruel grins stretched across their massive, ram-like faces. Their serpentine tails whipped behind them, the metallic quills clattering loudly. Though they appeared decrepit and disease-ridden, it was merely a disguise veiling their raw power and ferocity. *Bang! Bang! Bang!* The imperial soldiers on the high ground fired continuously, raining down a hail of lead, but the bulezau swept their ranseurs. Thick banks of smoke and fog suddenly billowed before them, blinding the imperial soldiers until they could only make out swift, flickering silhouettes. Bullets tore into the fog like pebbles cast into an ocean, failing to cause even the slightest ripple. Suddenly, the gaunt figures burst from the fog at frightening speed, leaping high into the air and crashing directly into the imperial lines. "Fire! They've breached the perimeter!" "Bang! Bang!" The imperial soldiers fired in panic, while others leveled their spears, bracing for close-quarters combat. *Slash—!* The lead bulezau swept its massive ranseur through the air in a lethal arc, terrifying force erupting from its deceptively thin arms. The shield of the foremost imperial heavy shieldbearer split apart instantly, along with his skull, spraying blood and shattered iron. Another bulezau leveled its ranseur at a cluster of soldiers, releasing a devastating burst of sound. *Boom!* Dozens of imperial soldiers clutched their heads in agonizing pain, blood streaming from their orifices. Even those hardy enough to endure the blast felt their limbs turn to jelly. Flashing a cruel sneer, the bulezau seized the opening to stride into the imperial ranks, swinging its giant ranseur to butcher at will, reveling in the slaughter. Behind the bulezau, swarms of dretches and manes surged up the hill, drowning the imperial position. *Bang!* A bullet struck home, but it failed to pierce the beast's thick hide; a bloodstained ranseur came sweeping down in return. Identical scenes played out across the line as the bulezau treated the battle like a sport, punching through the defenses from multiple directions. Dense fog rolled across the high ground, and the bulezau darted through the haze, killing with impunity. "Scatter!" "It's that spell again!" "I can't see anything, there's too much fog!" "Damn it, we can't stop them! These goat-headed—aargh!" In less than a minute of contact, George's defensive position stood on the brink of total collapse. The imperial line was shredded, showing rare signs of an impending rout. *So this is the heavy infantry of the Abyss...* George lowered his gaze, his hand on his rifle trembling faintly. Having marched alongside the Empire's expansion, nearly every battle he had experienced had been an overwhelming victory. This was the first time he had tasted such bitter defeat. They were simply too strong. Whether in close combat or spellcasting, these bulezau completely outmatched the imperial troops under his command. This was no longer a battle; it was a massacre. It brought back memories of his days as a serf, watching nobles slaughter his people for sport. The northern lords had ridden atop warhorses just like this, brandishing sabers and hunting down terrified serfs for amusement. George gritted his teeth, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Blood welled in his mouth as memories of the military camp and the battlefields of the Northlands flashed across his mind. In the end, the images settled on the towering silhouette of the Red Dragon Emperor spreading his wings. George would never forget the sight he had witnessed nine years ago when he first tasted freedom. That moment had changed his destiny forever. "No..." "I... I am of the Great Red Dragon's bloodkin! A baron of the Cinder Empire! I am no helpless prey to be slaughtered!" He snapped his head up, his eyes blazing with an inner fire as he locked onto a bulezau slaughtering through the ranks. He could feel something dormant within him—awakening completely. Though he had bitten down so hard his teeth cracked and blood dribbled down his chin, he paid it no heed. Pulling a specialized high-explosive round from his pouch, he loaded it with practiced speed, raised his rifle, and held his breath as he aimed at the ranseur-wielding bulezau. *Bang!* With a sharp crack, the bullet bored straight through the bulezau's eye and detonated violently, blowing half its head to mush. Amidst the chaotic battlefield, George roared at the top of his lungs: "Men! These bulezau are not invincible! We are the subjects of the Red Dragon, warriors of the Cinder Empire! We do not cower before these bastards from the Abyss! "Nor are we fighting alone! Imperial reinforcements will be here any moment! All we have to do is pin these bulezau right here!" He drew the officer's longsword engraved with dragon wings from his waist, held it high, and poured every ounce of his strength into a cry so fierce that blood sprayed from his lips: "For the Empire! For His Majesty Cassius!" "For the Empire!" "For His Majesty Cassius!" George's roar galvanized the imperial soldiers across the field. His voice carried an inexplicable power, resonant with the force of a dragon's roar. They joined in the fanatical battle cry. Bolstered by their faith, they formed squads to surround the bulezau, pulling their triggers from the dirt even after being struck down by ranseurs. Yet George's shout had also caught the demons' attention. To their minds, once they butchered this troublesome nuisance, the pathetic mortals would revert to shivering lambs waiting to be slaughtered. "A human with dragon blood...? A fine prize." A bulezau chuckled darkly, raised its ranseur, and hurled it with vicious force. *Whoosh—!* The ranseur tore through the air. *What's that...? Danger!* Sensing the lethal threat, George dodged with blistering speed, rolling across the ground several times. The weapon struck empty earth, sinking deep into the soil. The bulezau leaped forward, yanked the ranseur from the ground, and swung it brutally toward George, a sinister sneer plastered across its ram-like face. In the demon's eyes, it was about to cleave the human officer in two and relish the splash of hot blood upon its face once more. At that very instant, George felt his pounding heart pump scorching dragon blood through his veins. Veins bulged across his skin, and the faint texture of scales appeared upon his forehead. Power—far greater than anything he had possessed before—surged from within. It was the boon of the Cinder Emperor! George drew the longsword at his waist in a flash, the muscles in his arms swelling and venting wisps of steam. Channeling the immense power erupting through his frame, he slashed without hesitation. *Clang—!* A crisp shriek of metal echoed out, but shock filled the bulezau's hideous ram face. The ranseur was knocked clean from its grip! In a direct clash of brute strength, it had lost to the puny human before it! Incredible force burst from George's comparatively tiny frame. Roaring, he threw his entire weight into a leap, driving his blade into the bulezau's skull with everything he had. "Die, you Abyssal bastard!" *Squelch—!* The blade thrust mercilessly into the bulezau's eye socket, piercing flesh and bone to impale the ram-like head through and through. The bulezau toppled backward, its purplish-black blood soaking into the earth. *Pant, pant...* Still clutching the hilt embedded in the demon's head, George gasped for air, using the weapon to prop up his trembling, exhausted body. In that single clash, he had practically ignited the red dragon bloodline within him to muster enough strength to rival the bulezau. Suddenly, a violent gust swept across the ridge, blowing away the thick fog. It was *disperse mist*. *Roar—!* A resonant dragon roar echoed across the heavens. Summoning the last of his strength, George lifted his head and saw dragons shimmering with silver light beating their wings as they emerged across the sky. Only then did he collapse contentedly beside the demon's corpse, his eyes slowly slipping shut. He knew their reinforcements had arrived.