*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—*
With the crisp sound of churning air, the red dragon beat his wings and slowly descended from the sky, looking down upon the living beings across the battlefield.
"Long live the Empire!"
"Long live His Majesty Cassius!"
The cheers of imperial officers and soldiers rose like an unbroken tide, each wave surging louder than the last as the red dragon descended.
Farther away in Evindeldan, countless soldiers fired gun salutes into the air, and wyverns spread their wings in unison, craning their necks to roar toward the heavens.
The red dragon cast a grotesque, colossal shadow across the earth. As he drew closer to the ground, the shadow swelled larger and larger until it engulfed hundreds of orcs, Soro included.
A boundless dragon fear descended like a crushing mountain upon the heart of every orc present, setting their chests pounding wildly and suffocating them.
Kneeling on the ground with his head hung low, Soro felt the impending pressure wash over him. A chill plunged through him as though he had fallen into an icy abyss; he trembled violently all over, cold sweat pouring down like rain.
*This is impossible!*
*The red dragon actually won!*
How could this be? The mighty, invincible All-Father he worshipped had actually lost to the Emperor of the Cinder Empire!
"All-Father!"
"All-Father, I beg You, grant us Your protection!"
"The red dragon has returned! All-Father, strike him down!"
He prayed and roared frantically in his heart, but no matter how hard he cried out, that familiar voice did not sound again. The only response was absolute silence.
At this moment, Soro was finally certain—the All-Father had completely abandoned them, casting aside the orcs of the Ugo Steppe without a second thought.
At the realization, the orc chieftain's eyes turned hollow and stared blankly. Struck motionless as if hit by lightning, he remained kneeling upon the scorched earth.
The howl of artillery and the cheers of imperial soldiers enveloped him like a deluge, setting off a harsh ringing in his ears.
Scenes from the past surfaced in his mind: the death of the previous chieftain Batu, the collapse of the Red Blood Tribe, receiving the All-Father's blessings, cultivating newborn orcs...
Soro murmured, "I am the Great Chieftain of the Red Blood Tribe. I am the warrior chosen by the All-Father. I am the hero destined to lead the orcs to greatness..."
He should have had an incomparably glorious future. He should have stirred a monstrous orc tide and conquered northern Feanso. But all of it—all of it had been destroyed by that red dragon!
After a moment of silence, he snapped his head up toward the red dragon beating its wings in the sky. Gritting his teeth, his eyes wide, an endless fury blazed within him.
It was this red dragon that destroyed everything he had! His hopes, his future, his grand ambitions—all burned to ashes!
No, he still had one last sliver of hope. If only—if only he killed that damned red dragon!
In an instant, fueled by extreme rage, the orc spores inside Soro awakened!
The nearly six-meter-tall orc swelled with bulging muscle, his face flushed crimson and eyes bulging wide. The blue veins on his temples pulsed with every ragged gasp, his gaze blazing with towering wrath.
Snatching a spear from the ground, he gripped it tight, raised it high, and kicked off the earth to leap into the air, roaring in a frenzy of rage, "I'll kill you!"
Tall and burly as the orc was, before this colossal red dragon stretching nearly sixty meters in length, he looked like a green-skinned grasshopper hopping up, appearing exceptionally tiny and laughable.
"Look at that! That green-skin actually dares to challenge His Majesty!"
"How utterly delusional."
"Yeah, even their god fell before His Majesty Cassius. How dare he..."
Witnessing the spectacle, the imperial soldiers looking on broke into murmurs. Most spoke with mockery, though some grew indignant, taking it as an insult to His Majesty Cassius.
Yet no one—not even the soldiers among the orcs—believed Soro's "assassination" had any chance of succeeding.
Before such an overt, insurmountable gulf in power, no matter how honed one's combat skills or how abundant one's courage, it was entirely in vain.
"Foolish," Cassius murmured, looking coldly at the leaping orc.
Then, as if struck by a thought, a faintly mocking smirk curved across the corners of his lips.
"In that case, let's see whether what I snatched from that old green-skin actually works!"
The red dragon extended a massive claw, spreading five razor-sharp talons. The ball of bloody light in his palm suddenly transformed, condensing into a bloodstained spear.
A boundless, thunderous pressure rolled outward, compelling every living creature within a hundred li into involuntary terror, submission, and panic. This was not dragon fear—it was divine power drawn from domains such as War, Strength, Chaos, and Orcs.
The moment Soro caught sight of the bloodstained spear and felt that familiar fluctuation, his eyes went wide and his body froze stiff. Utter shock and terror slammed into his heart like a warhammer.
"Th-this is... the All-Father's presence?"
Soro's voice turned hoarse and trembled, filled with disbelief.
In an instant, chaotic thoughts surged through his mind: *Could the All-Father's supreme divine power have been seized by this greedy red dragon? Then what should I, a self-proclaimed god-favored one, do now?*
Cassius gave him no time to think. Smiling mockingly, the red dragon grasped the bloodstained spear and manipulated this wisp of divine power.
*Boom—*
With a rumble through the heavens, a crimson divine radiance spread out.
Instantly, every orc felt a suffocating dread, as if their flesh, mind, and even soul were gripped in another's grasp, liable to be crushed at any moment—and Soro, suspended in midair, was no exception.
Under the terrified and awestruck gazes of the orcs, the red dragon waved the bloodstained spear, pointing its tip directly at Soro in midair.
*Swish—*
A dazzling crimson beam shot forth, striking the orc's body.
In that instant, Soro felt his body seized by an invisible, colossal hand, leaving him utterly powerless to resist. He felt as though his flesh were being flayed, his bones stripped away, and even his soul torn out.
Suspended in midair before countless watchful eyes, the orc's hulking frame gradually withered. His muscular limbs grew gaunt and sunken, and even his coarse fur dried into a brittle husk.
Before long, Soro realized that the red dragon was doing something far more horrifying than killing him—stripping away his power!
"No, no—"
"Red dragon! You cannot take my strength!"
Soro screamed silently, fury, terror, and panic filling his heart.
Yet under the divine power that governed all orcs, he was powerless, left with no choice but to let the other manipulate everything about him like a plaything.
In the end, Soro had become an elderly orc barely 1.6 meters tall, his muscles completely atrophied, his skin wrinkled and saggy, and nearly all his hair fallen away.
Without a close look, no one would ever associate him with the once-spirited orc Great Chieftain; one might even mistake him for an aged goblin.
Only then did Cassius lower the spear. Soro plummeted from midair and crashed heavily onto the earth. The impact left him dazed and shattered, his bones snapping in unison.
"Ugh..."
Soro opened his eyes and strained to look down, only to see a gaunt, withered, shriveled body—precisely the kind of elderly orc he had once despised most and deemed worthy only of execution.
He twitched his fingers and realized in horror that his strength was not even a thousandth of what it had been. He could barely lift his arm, let alone fight.
For an orc who revered only the strong, this was worse than death—no, a torture more terrible than being sliced into a thousand pieces!
The surrounding orcs began whispering among themselves, and gradually their voices grew louder and increasingly callous.
"Great Chieftain Soro has become... so weak."
"Yeah, with an aura like that, he's not even equal to a deep gnome."
Soro raised his head with great effort, looking up at the red dragon in the sky with a face full of terror, begging tremulously, "Red dragon—no, Your Majesty Cassius, please, give me back my strength..."
Yet Cassius merely watched him with amusement, like observing a tiny ant.
"Does someone like this deserve to be our chieftain?"
"He's too weak, an insult to the All-Father's teachings! By tribal tradition, he should be cast out."
"Tsk, tsk, he looks like a stray dog..."
"Leave this fellow by the roadside, and the vultures will probably pick him clean until nothing's left but a pile of bones."
The orcs' remarks grew increasingly brazen, stabbing into Soro's heart over and over like sharp daggers, drowning him in fury, remorse, and agony.
Under the eyes of the crowd, Soro pressed his head to the dirt with great effort and slammed his forehead against the ground again and again, until blood ran freely.
His face streaked with blood and tears, he wept hoarsely, "Your Majesty Cassius, please, return my power to me! I... I am willing to lead the Red Blood Tribe to submit to You! I am willing to give up everything I have..."
Cassius glanced down, shook his head with mild amusement, and said, "Aside from that miserable life of yours, what do you have left that holds any value to me? Chieftain Soro, having made your choice, you must pay the price."
"Right, I was thinkin' the same! This weak old geezer doesn't deserve to be our chieftain!"
Suddenly, a booming, full-throated roar rang out like a clap of thunder from a clear sky, drawing looks from everyone—even Cassius in the sky glanced over.
A burly, hideous green-skinned orc bounded forth. Brandishing sharp steel claws, he thrust out a foot and aggressively stomped Soro underfoot.
This orc was none other than Garlon, one of Soro's two chief bodyguards who had participated in the "Bloody Day."
Looking at his former subordinate flaunting his might, Soro wanted to roar in fury, but could only manage a feeble rasp: "Damned... lesser orc... your life... was given to you by me... Without me... you wouldn't even exist!"
Garlon shook the steel claws in his hand and said dismissively, "Old man, you said it yourself: flawed relics of the old era belong in the scrapheap!"
*Rip—*
Before Soro could reply, the sound of blades biting into flesh rang out. Garlon had actually swung his steel claws, punching straight through Soro's skull!
The withered face froze in sheer terror and disbelief—even in death, he could not believe he had been murdered by an orc he had raised with his own hands.
Garlon effortlessly wrenched free the bloodied steel claws as blood and brain matter spurted from the skull. He grinned and said, "Farewell, old geezer."
Then, Garlon raised his head, pointed at the dead Soro, and plastered a fawning grin onto his blood-splattered face. "Lord Red Dragon, I've killed this old geezer. Us orcs are willing to follow a strong boss like you. From now on, you're our boss! Wherever you point, that's where we'll kill!"
"Yeah! That old geezer Soro was never fit to be our boss!"
"Boss Cassius!"
"And I can feel a warm, familiar presence from him too. Swearing loyalty to Boss Red Dragon can't go wrong!"
The green-skinned orcs cultivated by Soro turned coat in an instant, raucously clamoring to offer their submission to the red dragon, while the pureblood orcs turned pale and remained silent.
For these simple-minded, brawny green-skinned orcs, as long as there were battles to fight, it made no difference whom they served.
Moreover, not only did Cassius possess terrifying strength—effortlessly handling former chieftain Soro like a helpless chick—he also radiated the presence of the "All-Father."
Seeing that the mood was ripe, Garlon dropped to his knees and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Your Majesty Cassius, please accept our surrender!"
With that, mimicking the imperial soldiers, he shouted fanatically, "Long live His Majesty Cassius!"
Watching this turncoat orc, Cassius felt an urge to laugh, musing to himself that the fellow was quite a character.
Garlon—he had heard this name as well. In his past life, Garlon had been one of the "Four Calamities" of the orc tide, having orchestrated several massacres of entire cities and slaughtered hundreds of thousands of humans, becoming a living nightmare in the minds of northern Feanso's folk.
In the past, Cassius might truly have taken him under his banner and put this orc chieftain to use.
Now, however, after suffering a few bitter lessons, Cassius had grown far more cautious.
The marks of the Orc God and the Mother of Fungi ran too deep within this creature. Who knew how many hidden contingencies lay coiled inside his body? Recklessly admitting him into the Empire would inevitably pose a threat.
Even if he wished to harness the divine power of these orc domains, Cassius preferred to forge dragon bloodline races uniquely his own, entirely free of latent perils.
With that thought, Cassius gazed coldly down at the tens of thousands of orcs across the battlefield, slowly raising the blood spear in his claw that symbolized authority over the orcs, releasing crimson divine light.
"Orcs, heed my command—"
Cassius's thunderous voice echoed through heaven and earth with overwhelming majesty.
"Awesome!"
"Did the boss agree?"
"We're Empire folks from now on!"
Gazing at the familiar crimson divine light in the sky, the orcs grew wild with excitement, waving their spears and bone clubs in jubilant cheers, and Garlon was overjoyed.
Yet Cassius's next words plunged them into icy dread.
"I grant you—absolute death!"
*Flash—*
In an instant, the crimson divine radiance flared outward, sweeping past ten li in every direction. All orcs enveloped in the blood-light—whether green-skinned or pureblood—fell in swathes like scythed wheat.
The moment they touched the divine light, their eyes dimmed and pupils dilated; they slumped to the ground, perishing in utter silence.
Chapter 682