Noticing Crassus's strange reaction, Walter hesitated for a moment before venturing tentatively, "Lord Crassus... you do not wish to make an enemy of him?"
The massive great wyrm gold dragon remained silent, offering no reply, seemingly conceding the point.
As Archon, Crassus was well aware of everything unfolding on the Material Plane. He knew that if the gold dragons were to forcefully stand in the red dragon's way, their clan might pay a devastating, irreversible price. What was more...
"Alas..."
Crassus let out a long sigh. Stroking his long whiskers with a claw, he gazed into the distance, his expression solemn as he explained in earnest: "It is not that I do not wish to aid you. It is simply that... that red dragon's identity is far too extraordinary.
"He is the only dragon in nearly ten thousand years to possess the potential of a Dragon King, capable of shifting the future destiny of our race. Both Lord Bahamut and the Dragon Queen are attempting to win him over..."
Crassus spoke with utmost sincerity, making no attempt to conceal his thoughts; there was no need for deception.
Toward mortals, great wyrm gold dragons were often aloof and indifferent, viewing them as mere specks of dust. In Crassus's eyes, their lifespans were fleeting, slipping away in the space of a single nap.
Yet toward this godblood noble who had once rendered a great favor to the gold dragons, Crassus showed a rare respect, treating him as an equal.
Walter was not angered. After a brief silence, he said solemnly, "Regardless of Emperor Cassius's standing, in my eyes, he is nothing more than a tyrannical red dragon seeking to seize my land and enslave my people.
"Whether you lend your aid or not, I will never give up."
Hearing this, Crassus shook his head with a bitter smile. Stroking his whiskers, he did not address Walter's declaration directly, but continued: "That red dragon is cunning. He is still very young, yet commands extraordinary power.
"Thus... he has not rashly chosen a side. Instead, he deftly preserves the status quo, straddling the border between good and evil, balanced between law and chaos, serving as a counterweight in the balance of power between metallic and chromatic dragons.
"We discussed this matter with several elders. Cassius is not as wicked as the rumors claim, but he is certainly no creature of virtue.
"He is like a willful child leveraging himself as a bargaining chip. Any action we take might tip the scales to the other side and push him into the embrace of the evil dragons—and that could bring an even greater catastrophe upon the world."
Upon hearing these words, Walter lifted his head and met Crassus's pale golden slit pupils. Word by word, he said, "Lord Crassus, I had thought... gold dragons considered it their sacred duty to halt every crime committed by chromatic dragons. Now, it seems I was naive."
Facing Walter's pointed, thinly veiled sarcasm, the great wyrm gold dragon did not take offense. Maintaining a calm expression, he tapped the ground gently with the scepter held in his claws.
Instantly, an apocalyptic vision of burning skies and cracking earth manifested before Walter. The weeping and agonizing screams of mortals echoed in his ears.
In the heavens above, the phantom of a colossal dragon with five heads of differing colors grinned hideously, her wings blotting out the sun and sky.
"This is..." Walter muttered, stunned.
"Walter, you are a hero. You should dedicate yourself to Lord Bahamut and fight to repel the impending cataclysm that may engulf the entire Material Plane.
"My friend, do not obsess over a war destined to fail. From that moment three years ago, the Holy Fadlan you pledged your loyalty to... has already ceased to exist."
"No," Walter said through gritted teeth, his voice heavy and resolute.
"So long as I draw breath in this world, so long as mortal men still remember its past glory, Holy Fadlan shall never perish."
"Where the sun's light reaches..."
Hesitation flickered in his eyes for a split second, only for him to shake his head resolutely. He tightened his grip on his greatsword, veins bulging on the back of his hands. "...all is—the Empire's domain!
"Lord Crassus, forgive me, but I must return to the Material Plane, back to North Aethel. The future you speak of is far too distant. All I know is... right now, I must still fight for the people of Fadlan."
Crassus sighed in resignation, looking at Walter with a gaze blending pity and a hint of reverence.
In his view, the Fadlan godblood's loyalty and courage were admirable, but the man was far too fixated, obsessed with chasing the flickering illusions of the past.
The massive great wyrm gold dragon slowly rose to his feet, spreading his broad golden wings and looking down at Walter.
"Walter, your virtue would satisfy the most demanding of good deities, and the favor you showed the gold dragons has always been etched in my heart.
"Though I do not endorse your course of action, I will present your plea before the Gold Dragon Council as an agenda item. Perhaps some of our kin will extend a helping hand..."
A look of joy immediately crossed Walter's face. Cupping his hands, he bowed in gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Crassus. I shall take my leave then."
He knew that mobilizing the full might of the gold dragons was unrealistic. Even securing the aid of one or two gold dragons would be a tremendous boon, and for Crassus to go this far was already more than generous.
Crassus simply turned away and murmured in a voice only he could hear: "Walter, my friend, I only hope that decades from now...
"You are still alive."
***
Ugo Steppe, northeastern Feanso Continent.
A boundless desolation paved in the plainest grayish-green stretched to the horizon. Cold gusts swept past from time to time, causing waves of grass to ripple like swells upon an ocean.
"Awooo—"
A long, mournful howl pierced the air, mingling with the whistling wind and evoking an endless chill.
In the distance, the silhouettes of several worgs flickered through the gale, terrifying beasts galloping across the steppe like specters.
Astride the worgs were orcs clad in animal pelts, armed with shortbows and spears—the most common light cavalry of their tribes, the worg cavalry.
Just then, a piercing sound came from afar.
Swoosh—
An arrow gleaming with light sliced through the freezing wind, crossing hundreds of meters straight toward the worg cavalry.
"Ah!"
A sharp, brief cry rang out. A bloody hole bloomed between the brows of an orc rider, and he pitched straight off his worg's back, lifeless before he hit the ground.
On a slope hundreds of meters away, Rhea looked calm and composed, her gaze placid as if the enemy's death were a trifling matter.
The half-elf wore light armor and no helm, her pale blonde hair tied back neatly and crisply, lending her a capable, practiced air.
"Seventy-eighth," she murmured.
Drawing an arrow from her quiver, she raised her silver longbow once more and took casual aim at the distant foes.
Swoosh—
Another flash of silver tore through the air, puncturing an orc between the brows with pinpoint precision and sending him to Gruumsh's Realm of Nishrek.
"Boss, it's an elven archer! Looks like she's alone, and she's already killed a bunch of our boys!"
"Dammit!"
"Cowards! You bunch of cowards! Disgraces to the All-Father! You're worse than filthy goblins—getting spooked by a single elf! There are over a hundred of us! More than enough to chop her into mincemeat!"
Livid with rage, the orc cavalry leader blew his bone whistle to rally his subordinates, preparing to encircle and butcher the elf.
Just then, that familiar sound whined through the air again. Caught completely off guard, the orc who had just reported tumbled from his worg's back, rolling several times across the dirt.
"Watch out! Her aim is deadly!"
"Follow me! Encircle her from every side! Kill her, and sacrifice that wretched pointed ear to the All-Father!"
The orcs coordinated with practiced ease. At the command, over thirty nearby worg riders converged on the slope from various directions.
"Die, point-ear!"
"The orcs shall reclaim all!"
Brandishing their spears, they bellowed in harsh, deafening clamor.
"Heh, delivering yourselves right to me..."
Rhea showed no fear. Her expression remained cold, a faint sardonic smile touching her lips as she unhurriedly stowed her longbow and drew the silver sword from her waist.
The half-elf's eyes gleamed brightly. As a Paladin of Vengeance, she could perceive the shroud of sin clinging to these worg riders: they had pillaged, slaughtered, and ruthlessly razed a peaceful dwarven village, all for mere scraps of bread.
From an orc perspective, they might have been heroes who rescued their tribe and brought back precious food, filling the bellies of emaciated women and starving children. But to the half-elf—
They were villains, irredeemable villains.
Rhea's gaze hardened. Holding the silver sword horizontally before her chest in a tight grip, she whispered her oath: "To the wicked... no mercy!"
Shing—
In an instant, a flash of silver burst before her. A circular ring of light erupted outward from her, radiant as the twilight afterglow, swirling like a ferocious tempest.
Everything in the path of that radiant blade—vegetation, orcs, worgs, and even the dust suspended in the air—was cleaved cleanly in two.
Instantly, orc blood sprayed into the air. Severed limbs and mangled corpses scattered in every direction, staining the yellowish-green steppe with grisly crimson.
"I-It's her... it's really her!"
"Fall back! Retreat! That point-ear is Rhea, the Orc Butcher!"
Gazing upon the carnage, the orc cavalry leader shuddered violently. His hands shook so hard he nearly dropped his spear.
At the mention of the "Orc Butcher," screams of terror erupted from nearly all the remaining riders. Without hesitation, they wheeled their worgs around and fled in the opposite direction one after another.
"Run!"
"Don't look back!"
"Dammit, what rotten luck! Of all people, why her?!"
Over the past several months, this half-elven paladin had roamed the Ugo Steppe, slaughtering over a thousand orc warriors and striking terror into their hearts.
With her silver blade alone, Rhea had carved out the fearsome moniker of "Orc Butcher," forcing the orc chieftain to reluctantly establish an exception: any who encountered Rhea were permitted to flee.
Rhea sneered and was about to pursue them when a cacophony of whistling winds and rumbling roars echoed from the distant horizon.
At the sound, the orc cavalry leader turned deathly pale. His entire frame trembled violently, and even the worg beneath him tucked its tail between its legs, letting out a terrified whimper.
"This is... the Golden Death."
The orc uttered the taboo title in a quivering voice, his face awash with disbelief.
It was said that when this thunderous roar was heard, doom was already sealed, and an orc's life had reached its end.
He looked up in despair. High in the sky, a golden silhouette appeared, growing larger and larger until it cast a shadow over him.
Boom!
Blazing dragonfire consumed the orc leader's vision. Looking down, he saw his own flesh crackling in flames, melting away—the final sight he would ever behold.
Thus, the dragon the orcs called the "Golden Death" swooped low across the steppe, incinerating every remaining orc into ash with scalding dragonfire.
The ancient gold dragon circled in the sky several times, letting out a majestic roar before landing heavily on the hillside, sending a tremor through the ground.
"Good day, Lord Titus. You are as formidable as ever."
Sheathing her silver sword, Rhea bowed slightly. Her tone was cool yet respectful.
Tucking back his broad wings, the massive gold dragon looked down at the half-elf with pale golden slit pupils and nodded slightly. "Good day, Lady Rhea. You have made quite a name for yourself on the Ugo Steppe of late."
Rhea replied calmly, "Compared to your contributions, Lord Titus, it is hardly worth mentioning. I am merely doing what I can to purge evil.
"To tell the truth, had you not lent your aid, we might never have dealt with that orc chieftain."
The gold dragon stepped forward with elegant, light paces, saying with a smile, "There is no need to be so distant, Rhea. We are already comrades-in-arms."
Rhea smiled as well and nodded softly. "I must admit, being able to fight alongside a great being like an ancient gold dragon and earn your friendship is indeed an honor."
Looking into the distance, Titus asked with apparent intention, "Rhea, once matters with the orcs are settled, where will you go?"
"Back to Therenia, of course. Her Majesty Catherine... is still waiting for me."
"You wish to launch a coup and help the Queen reclaim her power?"
Rhea did not deny it. Instead, she spoke candidly: "The Senate's corrupt rule has lasted far too long and is already teetering on the brink of collapse. They are nothing more than leeches clinging to human nobles and sucking the lifeblood from the Sacred Tree.
"Only the Elven Queen can lead Therenia to forge a new order, restore the dignity of our people, and step toward a brighter future."
Titus turned his head to look at the half-elf, saying earnestly, "Rhea, should you have need, I would be glad to lend a hand. This world needs more rulers who walk the path of justice—such as Her Majesty Catherine."
Rhea looked up and said solemnly, "Lord Titus, on behalf of Queen Catherine—and the hundreds of thousands of elven subjects of Therenia—I offer you my heartfelt gratitude."
"Roaaar—"
Just then, a familiar, slightly high-pitched dragon roar came from afar.
Titus looked up to see a slender, comparatively smaller gold dragon gliding over with graceful poise—none other than Aurora, the young female gold dragon from the Realm of Eternal Order.
Panting for breath, she called out anxiously in Draconic:
"Senior Titus! Senior Titus!"
"The Gold Dragon Council is about to convene! Master specifically sent me to inform you. You cannot miss it again this time!"
Seeing the two gold dragons discussing clan affairs, Rhea tactfully said, "Titus, since you have business, I shall take my leave and not interrupt your conversation."
"Very well."
After the half-elf departed, Titus—or rather, Cassius—watched the young gold dragon flying toward him and murmured softly, "The Gold Dragon Council..."
A glint of amusement flickered in his pale golden slit pupils.
Chapter 601