Star of Doom

Boom! Jushan smashed the ground in a frenzied, sure-kill strike. The earth fractured, and grit and dust shot straight into the clouds. Yet this time, his blow struck empty air again! Whoosh! A figure shot upward, piercing through the dense layers of smoke. In the span of a breath, George had ascended dozens of meters into the sky. He beat his dragon wings, his flaming golden pupils looking down from above, locked onto the orc. A powerful dragon fear immediately flooded out, pressing down toward the earth, while scorching gales stirred by his wings began sweeping across the wasteland. "This is..." Feeling the surging bloodline power in his chest and the resistance against the broad dragon wings beating at his back, George felt a fleeting sense of wonder, followed by sheer exhilaration. A half-dragon. At this critical juncture, the bloodline bestowed by the Cinder Emperor had awakened, breaking free of genetic shackles to elevate him to the realm of a "half-dragon." Within the Cinder Empire, though the ranks of dragonblood nobility were strictly defined, their innate affinity for receiving the bloodline varied, and their blood was classified by an independent standard. Those possessing draconic traits such as dragon scales, vertical pupils, or dragon claws were collectively known as "Emperor's scions" or "dragon scions." This group comprised roughly five percent of the imperial populace, and George had previously been one of them. Only those who sprouted dragon wings were eligible to be called the "Emperor's Favored"—or half-dragons. Their numbers were exceptionally scarce, almost all of them prominent figures standing at the pinnacle of imperial power: Marshal Duoluo of the Military Department, Lady Misha of the Tower of Wildfire, and even Imperial Chancellor Trump, who bore a pair of small dragon wings on his back. Every half-dragon was a fortunate soul blessed by the Emperor, almost without exception an illustrious founding elder of the Empire. And now, after undergoing multiple dragon-blood baptisms and facing a crisis of life and death, George had joined their ranks, becoming an exalted half-dragon! He recalled the figure that had just appeared in his mind and the gaze cast upon him. Could it be—had he truly drawn the Emperor's personal attention? At that thought, George's heart surged with boundless euphoria, leading him to momentarily overlook the orc on the ground. This slight infuriated Jushan beyond measure. The greenskin slammed his warhammer violently into the earth, blasting out several more massive craters. "Damn reptile, you ain't gettin' away! You think growin' wings'll save ya? "Ol' Jushan's still gonna kill ya!" Jushan howled toward the sky, raising his warhammer to point at George in midair as he bellowed with ferocious momentum. "I should be the one saying that. Before the power bestowed by His Majesty, you are utterly fragile!" George's eyes turned sharp, a keen glint flashing through his pupils, leaving no attempt to hide the scorn in his voice. His dragon wings snapped fully open, casting a vast shadow over the ground. Behind him, the phantom of a colossal red dragon seemed to manifest. As that terrifying dragon fear poured downward, even Jushan felt a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. Jushan's eyes widened in utter shock. How was this possible? How could any creature possess a presence more overwhelming than his own? That aura was the very power he took the greatest pride in! His eyes nearly split with fury, and he unleashed an earth-shattering roar: "Waaagh!" The muscles in the orc's arms bulged in knots, green veins popping out anew. He violently hurled the massive warhammer forged of crude steel. Fire spat from behind the hammerhead as it spun at blistering speed, rocketing toward George in midair. Watching the incoming warhammer, George did not panic in the slightest. Beating his wings, he shot upward another dozen meters, dodging the strike with ease. The hammer whistled through empty air and spun back toward Jushan's grasp. The greenskin grinned savagely as he watched George rise—this was the exact moment he had been waiting for! Boom! With a deafening crash, the warhammer struck the earth. Leveraging the recoil alongside his own monumental leap, the orc vaulted high into the sky at unbelievable speed. In a mere instant, Jushan caught up to the ascending George, swinging his warhammer through the air toward him. "Not good!" Hearing the whistle of the massive weapon tearing through the air behind him, George sensed immediate danger. Turning his head, he saw the orc hurtling toward him with a sadistic grin. What speed! George flipped around in midair, gripping his longsword with both hands and holding it horizontally, braced and ready to counterattack. At the same time, he felt an intensely scorching energy coiled within his lungs, chest, and throat, on the verge of erupting. —And the orc before him was clearly a worthy target. Jushan quickly overtook George, soaring above his head. Riding the momentum of his descent, he swung his warhammer toward the half-dragon with all his might, bellowing, "Reptile, eat my hammer!" George finally stopped holding back the immense energy within him. His features contorted as he opened his jaws wide, resolved to wage a battle to the death. Boom— Accompanied by the crisp crack of bursting air, a blinding, blistering pillar of flame erupted from George's mouth, blasting straight toward Jushan's chest. Jushan's expression changed abruptly. For reasons unknown, the moment his opponent opened his mouth, an uncanny terror gripped him, as though those flames possessed the power to utterly annihilate him! He was the pinnacle among millions of orcs, a one-of-a-kind existence. Those cunning, feeble Imperials had fired thousands of rounds and hundreds of shells into him without killing him, nor had the carpet of artillery fire been able to drown him. How could he possibly perish to a mere blast of flame? Brief astonishment gave way to a blinding fury that completely consumed his sanity. Within his spore-woven body, something seemed to awaken... "Ol' Jushan will never lose! Waaaaagh!" A sinister gleam shone in Jushan's eyes as he swung his warhammer straight down into the pillar of fire. A materialized, dark-green force field radiated from his entire body, like a poisonous mist woven from countless spores. The orc force field expanded wildly, throwing the Weave and the world's natural laws within hundreds of meters into utter chaos, causing the weapons in the imperial soldiers' hands to malfunction one after another. Yet against such a terrifying force field, the energy inside George did not diminish in the slightest. Instead, it burned hotter and thicker, as if a miniature sun were being forged within his lungs, its brilliance shining right through his flesh. And intertwined within that light was an extraordinarily sacred silver hue, radiant as heavenly light. The instant before the warhammer could smash into his skull, the awe-inspiring pillar of fire slammed into Jushan's chest, instantly burning through his tough hide and melting his thick flesh. Though Jushan's body continually drew spores from the surrounding orc corpses, regenerating at visible speed, it could not keep pace with the destruction wrought by the flame. Beyond the physical clash, the dragon fear and the orc force field collided and ground against each other, churning the high skies and spawning spatial turbulence. In an instant, even the orc's violently hammering heart was obliterated by the pillar of fire. The flame punched straight through his torso—George had burned a hole clean through Jushan! Boom! Deep within the orc's heart, a special spore detonated as well, consumed by the blaze. Jushan had been roaring as he hurtled down to crush George, poised to slay his enemy, when an abrupt weakness washed over his frame. He could no longer feel pain, but powerlessness terrified him far more than any wound. Without strength, his existence was meaningless. "How..." Jushan looked down in dazed bewilderment, only to find his powerful body mangled, a charred, gaping hole punched straight through his chest from front to back. With the destruction of his heart, the greenskin force field blanketing the surroundings collapsed entirely, supplanted by George's dragon fear. The orc's coarse, massive hands could no longer hold his warhammer. He plummeted straight out of the sky, and across his ugly face, once consumed by wrath and madness, the emotion known as "despair" surfaced for the very first time. An orc stripped of power was lower than a dog. George did not let down his guard for a second. Seizing the opening, he tucked his wings and dove straight down from the sky, hands gripping his longsword as he thrust directly downward. Whoosh! The sharp tip pierced the air, and his wings tore through the slipstream, turning George's body into a fiery meteor falling from the heavens. Crash! A dull impact echoed across the sky as the earth caved into a colossal crater. Grit and stone flew, and dust billowed. The orc lay dying in the pit, unable to move a muscle, yet his hoarse voice still rasped, "Ol' Jushan... ain't... lost..." The next instant, George descended like thunder. His plunging longsword, laden with kinetic energy and heat generated from shearing through the air, stabbed straight toward the space between the orc's brows. Crack! The blade decisively skewered the orc's head. The skull shattered, a mist of blood erupted, and brains splattered across the dirt. George held the longsword with both hands, dropping to one knee. Jushan's massive head was pinned through, the sword's tip sunk deep into the ground beneath. The greenskin's hideous face still bore the bitter hatred and reluctance of his dying moments. "It's finally over..." George exhaled a sigh and rose, only to find his limbs drained of strength. No matter how he pulled, he could not dislodge the sword buried deep in the earth. "Phew..." Surviving this battle felt like waking from a harrowing dream; even in hindsight, lingering dread chilled his spine. Looking down at the mountainous, grotesque corpse of the orc, George could hardly believe this was his own doing. As an imperial officer, his training at the military academy had focused primarily on command theory and tactical knowledge. Combat prowess was never his forte, and most of his honors had come from leading troops to eliminate enemy commanders. Before entering the Empire, he had been nothing more than a lowly serf, helpless against anyone who wished to torment him, to say nothing of martial skills. Yet now, he had slain this orc leader single-handedly? No, he had never killed this beast by his own strength alone! Recalling the sensation of a sun coiling in his chest, George suddenly deduced a highly plausible explanation. Excitement flooded him so intensely that his entire body trembled. "Your Majesty..." Abandoning his attempt to stand, George knelt on the ground for a long time. Gazing through the thick smoke obscuring the heavens, he looked up toward the sun. Surrounding him lay not just Jushan, but tens of thousands of orc corpses. Some were charred by fire, others had their heads sheared off by shrapnel, some were riddled with machine-gun bullets, and others had their bones crushed beneath the stampede of their own kin surging from behind... These orc corpses lay piled across the wasteland, forming mound after mound of bodies that nearly blanketed the earth, reeking of scorched flesh and putrid stench. *** Great Anzetta Waste, atop Dragonblood Mountain. Cassius gazed across the battlefield from afar through the Cataclysmic Dragon Eye. Watching Jushan's corpse, he stroked his chin. "How intriguing. An orc warlord appearing this early? It seems They hold me in high regard. "The nature of that power is quite familiar as well. Tsk, tsk... A union between the God of Orcs and the Abyss, just as expected. A truly troublesome enemy." The red dragon shook his head, offering a soft sigh. Yet this was the Material Plane, the home turf of the Cinder Empire. Here, even if evil deities and demons joined hands, Cassius would not yield a single inch. George's suspicion was entirely correct. With his own strength, he was far from capable of slaying an orc warlord bolstered by myriad greenskin spores to near-legendary combat power. It was Cassius who had personally intervened, using the bond of the Bloodline Boon to bestow upon him a sliver of flame imbued with the laws of order, enabling him to successfully slay Jushan. The process sounded remarkably effortless, yet behind the scenes, Cassius had actively contested the powers of Gruumsh and the Lady of Fungi, annihilating the chaotic energy and profane divine power They had left within Jushan's body. Orc warlords had emerged during the greenskin calamity that ravaged the northern reaches of the Feanso Continent in his past life. They were terrifying engines of war capable of growing step-by-step into legendary beings. When greenskin density reached a certain threshold and casualties mounted into the tens of thousands, the spores of fallen orcs would congregate around the individual with the strongest force field, triggering a metamorphosis. Every orc warlord was a rampaging, bloodthirsty darling of war, capable of rapid growth and empowerment amidst the crucible of battle. Cassius glanced once more at the corpse beside George and chuckled softly. "To think this famous newbie nightmare would fall by my hand this early on." Jushan—another familiar name. Cassius had heard of this warlord's illustrious reputation in his past life, though he had been known not merely as Jushan, but as Jushan the Bonebreaker. This greenskin leader stood on equal footing with Big Tooth, ranked together as one of the "Four Calamities." Throughout his campaigns, he continually scavenged discarded weapons and armor to forge a set of super-heavy plate. In the original timeline, it was Jushan who had led an army of hundreds of thousands of greenskins to conquer Evindeldan first, seizing countless weapons from the dwarven vaults alongside their architectural blueprints. Thereafter, Jushan and his warband campaigned across the land, relentlessly expanding their territory and plundering everything in sight. By coincidence, he was also one of the prime culprits behind the destruction of North Aethel in that past life. Jushan had spearheaded several massive offensives against North Aethel, slaughtering millions of Aethelians in the process. During Jushan's relentless campaigns, the novice players of North Aethel had been tormented so grievously that some quit the game on the spot.