Arrival of the Players

Duke Franz turned toward the sound. Over a hundred humans and dwarves, brandishing weapons of all kinds, were charging toward Green Valley Town. At their head was an armored paladin wielding a silver sword, radiating a pale golden light that stood out brilliantly against the dark, rainy night. "Is that... Adrian?" Duke Franz still remembered Adrian. In his eyes, this son of his old comrade-in-arms was a paladin of decent talent, but he had never possessed an aura anything like this. From hundreds of meters away, the reinforcements raised their rifles. With a sharp crack, gunfire howled across the sky. Muzzle flashes erupted along the entire line, leaving behind acrid plumes of gunsmoke. Bullets tore through the curtain of rain, punching through the scales and flesh of the dragon-blooded monsters. They shrieked in agony as one after another plummeted from midair. Further back, mounted knights hauled up mortar after mortar. With deafening roars, shells blossomed among the acolytes, blowing over a hundred cultists into charred cinders in an instant. "Charge with me! Fight these damned cultists to the death!" Adrian barked a command and spurred his horse into a furious gallop. Leading the charge, he slammed into the enemy's flank. His longsword swept through the air, releasing flames as brilliant as the sun, instantly engulfing a dozen acolytes in a sea of fire. However, this was his first time channeling the divine power of the sun and he had not yet mastered it; the surging tongues of flame nearly caught their own allies. The human knights followed close behind him, skewering airborne draconic beasts with lances and lopping off the heads of nearby cult acolytes with longswords and sabers. When the dragonfang dwarves caught sight of the cultists, their eyes turned red with vengeance. Gripping warhammers and battleaxes, they plunged into the crowd, hurling themselves into reckless slaughter with the acolytes. The arrival of Adrian and his followers threw the battlefield into chaos, allowing Franz's personal guards to withstand the assault from the Cult of the Dragon—and even begin pushing back. Yet Franz knew that a mere hundred reinforcements could not turn the tide of the war. Under the relentless onslaught of the green dragon legion, defeat was inevitable as time wore on. "Human! This place is your grave! I will slaughter every soldier at your back and butcher this town to the last soul!" "Roar—" The ancient green dragon bellowed savagely, hurtling its massive frame directly at him like a falling green mountain. Duke Franz stared hard at the dragon, breathing heavily. Gripping his greatsword with both hands, he sank into a low stance, gathering his strength until a faint red glow seemed to envelop the blade. "You seek death—" With an earth-shattering roar, the heavy greatsword swung viciously toward the ancient green dragon. The displacement stirred up a terrifying storm that made the very air tremble, leaving only the whistling scream of steel cleaving space. Clang! First came the sharp ringing of clashed steel, followed by a dull thud. To everyone's disbelief, the ancient green dragon was sent hurtling backward by the strike, wailing as blood and shattered scales sprayed through the air. Yet before Franz could recover, two mature green dragons closed in from the left and right with ferocious roars. Razor-sharp talons and jagged teeth lunged at him, eager to tear him to shreds. Duke Franz twisted around, bringing the greatsword up like a shield against his left flank to block the gaping jaws of one snapping green dragon. But his back remained completely exposed, right in the path of the other's piercing claws. "Careful, Your Grace!" From the distance, Adrian vaulted high from his mount. Brandishing his silver sword blazing with the fire of the sun, he swung it through midair with a furious shout. The next moment, the sickening sound of torn flesh rang out, but Duke Franz was entirely unharmed. "Awoooo—" The mature green dragon threw its head back in agony, shrieking hideously. Its right foreleg had been severed clean off, smoking and hissing with the smell of scorched meat as blood poured from the stump. The severed claw struck the ground and rolled several times, trailing dark blood across the mud. Seeing this, Duke Franz shoved against the snout of the dragon in front of him, pushing it off. Spinning on his heel, he swung his greatsword in a wide arc, smashing it down hard upon his foe. Boom! The mature green dragon was knocked flying. Half of its brow horn snapped off, and its upper jaw twisted at a crooked angle. "Damned human!" "I will rip you apart! Your flesh will dissolve into slime in our acid!" "Inferior filth! Your souls will wail within my gullet!" Though shaken, the green dragons continued to growl venomous threats. Franz and Adrian stood back-to-back, guarding each other as they faced down the dragons. "Adrian." Duke Franz glanced at the flaming blade in the paladin's hand and murmured, "To think that in this era, you could still receive power akin to a godblood's..." "I only just discovered it myself," Adrian replied, tightening his grip on his sword. A flicker of surprise showed in Franz's eyes before his expression hardened with gravity. "Leave this place. The few of us cannot defeat these green dragons. I will fight to the death to carve an escape route for you." Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, he gave a bitter smile. "Adrian, you possess extraordinary talent. You may well be the hope to revive Fadlan. Your life is far more precious than that of an old soldier like me, who should have died on the battlefield long ago." Adrian gritted his teeth and shook his head with resolute firmness. "No, Your Grace. I cannot run anymore. I've run for far too long." Duke Franz grew anxious. "Once the Cult of the Dragon's chromatic dragon legion surrounds us, you won't be able to escape! What little forces we have cannot stand against them!" Yet Adrian remained calm and confident. "Your Grace, as I said, we have run for too long. We cannot keep running. And besides—" He paused, looking toward the center of Green Valley Town. "Who said these were all the troops we had?" Franz looked at him in astonished disbelief, as if seeing this young paladin for the first time. Following Adrian's gaze, he looked over. The earth rumbled and shook as a towering stone stele rose from the ground, carved with lifelike dragon sculptures and intricate runic arrays. "What is that...?" Franz's face shifted dramatically. From the monument, he felt an overwhelming pressure—one far closer to dragon fear than the presence of the Sun God. "What is that?" "Another little trick from those damned humans?" Whether the green dragons and acolytes of the Cult of the Dragon or the humans and dwarves of the Second Fadlan Front, all watched the sudden appearance of the stele with shock. Soon, however, the runes across the stone stele blazed with dazzling magical light, unleashing an intense spatial ripple. Dust and rocks whirled in a ferocious gale that shredded the dark clouds hanging over Green Valley Town, dispelling them into nothingness in an instant. Above the monument, space warped, folded, and tore open, finally resolving into a swirling spatial vortex tens of meters across. "Gods above..." Spectators gasped at the breathtaking sight, murmuring in confusion and awe. Right then, dense hordes of bizarrely assorted figures poured out of the spatial vortex, accompanied by euphoric shouts and cheers. "New instance, here I come!" "Long live Cassius!" "Hurry, hurry, hurry! Get ready to steal mobs from the big guilds!" Leading the vanguard were dozens of knights mounted on wyverns, sweeping across the sky to high-pitched draconic cries. Behind them came the heavily armored Dragonscale Marines, revving chainswords in one hand and brandishing bolters in the other. They slammed into the ground, craters splintering into the stone roads of Green Valley Town. Further back were rugged, bald monks with knotted muscles. Bare-chested and clad only in light linen trousers, they vaulted and bounded across rooftops with agile grace. These figures from the unknown realm looked extraordinarily bizarre. Some could still pass for humans, but others were outright monsters wearing human skins—such as one six-meter-tall bald monk who sprouted eight arms. Their weapons were just as eclectic, leaving the southern "country bumpkins" utterly bewildered yet instinctively awed. Yet what followed proved even more staggering. Accompanied by a deep hum that filled the sky and the piercing shriek of a steam whistle, a massive, hundred-meter-long air dreadnought glided slowly out of the portal. Built entirely of steel, its flanks were stenciled with the gear holy symbol of the Machine Cult. Dense tangles of mechanical components churned within, belching endless plumes of white steam. This incredible iron behemoth hovered high in the sky, casting a colossal shadow that shrouded half of Green Valley Town. Hatch doors beneath its belly parted, and giant mechs over a dozen meters tall plummeted toward the earth, while small magitech skiffs streamed out, darting across the skies. "Gods..." "By Amaunator..." "Great Dragon Queen, what in the world is that?" At this moment, soldiers on both sides stood transfixed, dumbfounded by the sheer scale of the spectacle. Only the beings pouring out of the vortex showed zero awe, loudly cursing: "Those damned cogboys! Deploying that thing right at the start?!" "Fuck, quit blocking the door!" "The Machine Cult always abuses their numbers! Looks like they don't even want to leave us scraps this time!" Right on its heels, a great wooden vessel soared out of the spatial vortex. Covered from stem to stern in spell circles and flickering magical radiance, its sails billowed to generate magical squalls as it glided across the sky like a leviathan swimming through the deep. It was the flying spelljammer—the massive vessel belonging to Magic Coin, another top-tier guild. At the same time, all manner of war wagons, airships, and powered armors poured from the vortex, creating a dazzling, overwhelming spectacle. In moments, the skies above Green Valley Town were blotted out. Even the experienced and worldly Duke Franz was struck speechless by the display. He whipped his head toward Adrian. "These... are the reinforcements you spoke of? Where did they come from?" Adrian answered honestly, "The Cinder Empire. The Red Dragon Emperor promised me he would do everything in his power to help us resist the Cult of the Dragon. Only..." Gazing at the swarm of players covering the sky, he gave a wry smile. "I never imagined they would go this far—sending reinforcements of such terrifying scale." Duke Franz looked grim and warned in a low voice, "We must still remain vigilant. That Emperor is not of our Fadlan blood, after all." Adrian nodded. "Of course. I will keep that in mind." Meanwhile, within the Cult of the Dragon's ranks, a green dragon looked uncertainly at Rogan and asked in a low rumble, "Where did these creatures come from?" Rogan, the cultist leader, stared at the wyvern knights soaring through the heavens and hastily cried, "Lord Anselm, look! The noble blood of true dragons flows within them! They must be ours!" "So that's it." "No wonder their might is so astounding—they must also be vassals of Her Majesty, the Dragon Queen!" Hearing this, the cultists and green dragons felt a surge of exhilaration, letting loose roars of triumph. Little did they know that cold sweat soaked Rogan's brow as he frantically used divine magic to contact the Cult of the Dragon's higher-ups, desperately trying to investigate the origins of the beings emerging from the spatial rift. Meanwhile, the front-line soldiers of Green Valley Town looked up at the wyvern knights with bitter, despairing expressions. Even throwing away their lives had barely allowed them to hold off the enemies in front of them. If those terrible forces were reinforcements for the Cult of the Dragon, caught in a pincer attack, they were doomed without question. Piercing whistles shrilled from across the sky. The soldiers loaded crossbow bolts and bullets, holding their breath as they awaited death from above. Yet to their utter astonishment, the wyvern knights swooped right past the Green Valley Town defenders, roaring and howling as they plunged straight toward the acolytes of the Cult of the Dragon. "What?!" "They're enemies?!" Caught entirely off guard, the acolytes shrieked in panic. They tried to raise shields, but it was already too late. "Roar—!" With furious draconic bellows, the Redscale Conquerors dove into the throng. Their atavistic wyverns spewed torrents of dragonflame while the knights upon their backs used the momentum of their descent to slash and impale indiscriminately. Like the scythe of the Grim Reaper, the Redscale Conquerors swept across the earth, reaping hundreds of lives in a blink, leaving behind endless blood and flame before climbing effortlessly back into the high skies. Immediately after, heavily armored Dragonscale Marines dropped from the sky, crashing into the Cult of the Dragon's ranks like meteors and crushing acolytes into paste. "Hahahaha! For the Emperor! Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!" "Come on! Let's have ourselves a slaughter!" These four-meter-tall humanoid brutes revved their chainswords and raised their bolters, howling savagely. They charged wherever the enemy was thickest, butchering and firing with wild abandon. Gouts of blood and severed flesh flew in all directions. In mere moments, the Dragonscale Marines carved out a horrific tableau of dismembered corpses and flowing rivers of blood. Even when wyverns pounced, the Dragonscale Marines wrestled their heads into iron grips without flinching, effortlessly severing their vulnerable necks with screaming chainswords. In the sky, countless artillery shells crossed paths in graceful arcs, raining down upon the Cult of the Dragon's forces like a relentless storm. Blast after blast rocked the ground, flinging blackened flesh and limbs high into the air. Within minutes of the players entering the fray, the tide of battle at Green Valley Town was turned completely on its head!