"Human, spare me! I can give you endless treasure! I can grant you a lifespan rivaling an elf's!" Bound in a steel-wire net, the adult green dragon writhed frantically on the ground, raspy pleas tearing from its throat.
Tiansheng Zhankuang merely scratched his head, hefting the battleaxe off the dirt. "If I kill you, doesn't everything you own belong to us anyway? Plus, we get paid for a chromatic dragon corpse."
The bloodstained axe dragged across the ground with a shrill, metallic screech that set teeth on edge.
Driven to desperation, the green dragon shrieked, "We are scions of Tiamat! The great Mother of Evil Dragons will never forgive you! Every chromatic dragon will mark you as their sworn enemy and hunt you to the ends of the earth!"
Before the dragon's startled, horrified eyes, Tiansheng Zhankuang's frame swelled, shooting up to five or six meters in an instant.
Magma-like scales broke across his skin, his muscles bulging into grotesque proportions. Broad bat-like wings snapped open behind his back, and a lethal fiery glow churned within his eyes.
"Th-this... a pit fiend? How is that possible?! Those stingy devils actually granted this level of—"
"Chromatic dragons?"
Tiansheng Zhankuang raised his battleaxe high above his head, a savage grin spreading across his face. "I'd like nothing better! Tell them to come find me! Tell them to try and kill me!
"Let's see who's the prey!"
Gritting its teeth, the green dragon finally shredded the wire netting and lunged straight at the berserker.
*Swish—*
With an ear-splitting sonic crack, Tiansheng Zhankuang brought the axe down. The green dragon's massive head was cleaved cleanly in two from the crown down, the blade biting through bone and flesh before shuddering to a halt at the base of its neck.
Blood, brain matter, and bone shards sprayed everywhere. The green dragon didn't even have time to wail before its jaws were torn apart by the sudden cleave, dark blood gushing like a geyser.
"Haaah... haaah..."
Tiansheng Zhankuang stood panting, his face flush with manic excitement. The dragon's talons had stopped a mere hair's breadth from his heart—a thrilling brush with death.
Thick brain matter and gore splattered across his face, making his already brutal visage look terrifying enough to silence crying children in the dead of night.
Meanwhile, the surrounding players stared in utter shock before erupting into an uproar of indignant chatter.
"Holy crap! What kind of damage is that...? One-shot with an axe? Is that even balanced?!"
"I swear Brother Zhankuang is playing a completely different game than us. That's a full-grown dragon, damn it! You can one-shot that?!"
"This green dragon was pure trash. Couldn't even hold a candle to the Empire's wyvern alphas."
"With a monster like him around, who the hell can get the kill credit on a dragon head!"
"Screw it, start skinning!"
Players scrambled forward to swarm the dragon's corpse, stripping materials like a flock of ravenous vultures.
With a wet tear, Tiansheng Zhankuang ripped the severed dragon head free along with a massive swath of neck hide, draped the bloody trophy over his back without a second thought, and charged toward another green dragon.
Not far off, a biologis priest from the Machine Cult shook his head with a sorrowful sigh. "What a magnificent specimen. If only we could have augmented it... What a waste, letting them butcher it like that."
"Quick, five o'clock! Shoot it down!"
"Dragon-hunting ballista ready—"
"Watch out for acid breath!"
"Still fighting back? Load armor-piercing shells, damn it! I'm blowing its ugly head off!"
Up in the sky, players piloting airships pursued relentlessly as the green dragons scattered in panic, the entire airspace plunged into chaos.
Amidst the thunder of exploding shells, the cheers of the crowd, and the agonized shrieks of dragons, beasts tumbled from the sky one after another.
The moment a dragon crashed, it was met by the frenzied onslaught of hundreds of players. Though its corrosive acid, fangs, and claws could easily obliterate lower-level players, none showed a shred of fear. Even those swallowed whole down a blood-soaked gullet slashed frantically with their blades until the very end.
"Holy crap, that NPC's damage is insane! Is this the beauty of raw stats?"
"Ridiculous!"
"Looks like a legendary fighter. Damn it, he stole the kill!"
Shouldering his nine-foot greatsword, Duke Franz stomped against the earth, leaping over a hundred meters into the air. He brought the massive blade down with shattering force, smashing a mature adult green dragon straight out of the sky.
Adrian seized the opening, vaulting upward in a sudden lunge. His radiant longsword punched clean through the mature adult dragon's throat in a blinding flash.
The two moved in flawless coordination. Even a mature adult green dragon couldn't withstand a single exchange before them.
"Hurry! Snatch the body while the NPCs aren't looking!"
"Free loot from the sky!"
Players swarmed the fallen dragon. Duke Franz hoisted his greatsword back onto his shoulder, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic battlefield.
Adrian let out a sigh. "Frightening. During my travels through Silvermoon Bay, I once watched fishermen work together to hunt leviathan whales—it looked just like this. But these people are facing dragons! They actually dare to treat dragons like common game. I truly don't know whether to call them reckless or mad."
"Immortal beings have no concept of ordinary men's fear of death. And yet..."
Duke Franz turned, lowering his voice. "Have you noticed? These humans from the Empire—if they can even be called humans—do not see us as equals. Not as people."
Adrian tried to reason, "My Lord Duke, aren't you being a bit alarmist? In the end, they are fighting alongside us..."
Duke Franz cut him off. "I know that look all too well. It's the exact same way those green dragons look at us. To put it bluntly, they don't see us as their own kind. Provided the price is right, these people wouldn't hesitate for a second to turn us into their quarry."
His voice grew heavy. "For now, we are their nominal allies, so we can maintain this veneer of peace. But what about tomorrow?"
Adrian's expression turned solemn, and he said seriously, "My Lord, I cannot say what the future holds. All I know is that right now, we must give everything we have to drive these brutal chromatic dragons from our homeland and put an end to this calamity."
Duke Franz let out a long breath. "You're right. I only worry... if that Cinder Emperor's ambitions do not stop here, these so-called 'Starfallen' will bring an even darker catastrophe down upon Seleucia."
Adrian gripped his sword, wings of concentrated radiance coalescing at his back. "Let us go, My Lord. There is no need to drown in worry. At least for now... we fight for Seleucia, and we fight for Fadlan!"
Franz nodded in firm agreement. The rugged yet deeply perceptive duke shouldered his ridiculously oversized greatsword once more and threw himself back into the slaughter of the dragon brood.
"Foul beasts! Pay for your atrocities!"
...
Twelve green dragons.
Most were adults and mature adults, alongside a formidable ancient green dragon.
Gathered together, such a force was significant enough to shake all of Feanso. For them, slaughtering a city of tens of thousands or wiping out a minor duchy was child's play.
The Lord of the Rotting Bog had dispatched this flight to the remote, sparsely populated Green Valley Town specifically to crush the resistance led by Franz and snuff out the last embers of hope in Seleucian hearts.
Yet the moment nearly thirty thousand elite players poured through the massive portal into Green Valley Town, everything changed. The scales of victory tipped instantly and violently to one side.
The weaker cultists, despite their vast numbers, were butchered in short order, turning the ground into rivers of blood. Dragon-blooded monsters and beasts of every kind were slaughtered to the last.
Even the green dragon flight that the Lord of the Rotting Bog took such pride in had been treated as mere game—hunted mercilessly, their corpses partitioned right in the open. Now, only five remained, less than half their original strength.
Faced with such losses, the great wyrm lurking behind the green dragon flight could no longer sit idly by.
The night sky hung thick as ink. Battered and bloodied, a green dragon darted through the churning storm clouds, letting out desperate wails and furious hisses.
"Back off, you wretched humans! I am a scion of Erebos, Lord of the Rotting Bog, King of the Deep Forest!"
"Thinking of running?"
A Machine Cult tech-priest sneered. Aligning the electromagnetic pulse cannon at the belly of his vessel with the dragon's heart, he slammed down the firing stud.
*Boom—*
A sky-shattering detonation erupted as a thick beam of lightning surged from the barrel, streaking straight toward the dragon's back.
The green dragon twisted violently, trying desperately to evade, but the shot still punched through one of its wings. Howling in agony, it spiraled downward, a charred, gaping hole blasted clean through its wing membrane.
"Tch, missed the kill shot! The machine spirit must be displeased. Time to overhaul this ship," the tech-priest muttered venomously through gritted teeth.
Down below, players were already converging eagerly, ready to butcher the wounded beast.
Just then, thunder rolled with a deafening rumble. The storm clouds boiled violently as a colossal silhouette loomed within the dark vapor, shifting like a titan in the mist.
*Crack-boom!*
Another bolt of lightning tore across the heavens. By its blinding glare, everyone caught sight of the true terror masked by the storm.
Dark green scales, deep and venomous eyes radiating an overwhelming aura of dread. Mud and withered roots tangled across its hide, giving it the terrifying aspect of a primordial savage deity.
A green dragon—and a genuine great wyrm.
"Gods above!"
"It's... it's really him!"
Shouts of terror broke out among the soldiers of Green Valley Town, their limbs shaking uncontrollably.
This was one of Tiamat's three emissaries, revered as the Lord of the Rotting Bog—Erebos, an authentic great wyrm!
Like a drowning child grasping at a lifeline, the wounded adult green dragon flapped its tattered wings furiously, thrusting its front talons outward.
"Grandfather! Do you remember me?! I'm Theodore! Save me, please! Slaughter every last one of these wretched humans!" The dragon's raspy voice broke into a desperate sob.
The remaining four green dragons beat their wings with all their might, fleeing toward the infamous tyrant in hopes of shelter.
"Trying to spook us with tricks?"
"This green dragon isn't simple. Test the waters!"
Several small Machine Cult skiffs swarmed toward the great wyrm, loosing a barrage of crackling orbs of lightning.
Yet the great wyrm's expression remained grim and pitiless. With a simple, cold sweep of its claws, a massive spectral talon of black energy coalesced across the heavens, sealing the Machine Cult's vessels within its grasp.
"That energy signature—it's at least a ninth-tier spell! Danger! Fall back now!"
"No, it's too late!"
*Boom!*
*Boom! Boom!*
The great wyrm clamped its talons shut. The skiffs detonated in rapid succession, blooming into brilliant fireballs against the clouds.
"How is that possible?!"
"The Machine Cult squadron got wiped out in a single exchange! Isn't this dragon totally busted?!"
Riding on the great wyrm's overwhelming display, Theodore shrieked in triumph. "Filthy scum! You're nothing before my grandfather's supreme might!"
The other dragons joined in with arrogant laughter. "Lord Erebos, let us wipe them out together! Raze Green Valley Town to ash!"
"Fools! Useless trash!"
Erebos's expression darkened, an oppressive gloom settling over his hideous draconic face as venomous fury burned in his eyes.
"You forced me to expend the divine power bestowed by the Dragon Queen just to pull you out of the fire, and you're still lingering here?!
"A bunch of good-for-nothing worms! Are your brains no bigger than a white dragon's?!" Spewing furious curses, the great wyrm swept a talon through the air, carving open an emerald spatial vortex before him.
"Huh?"
Theodore blinked in dazed shock before scrambling frantically into the portal.
It finally dawned on him: his grandfather was deep in the south making hasty preparations for the grand sacrificial ritual. How could he possibly be here in person?!
This was nothing more than a projection!
In the distance, an officer of the Machine Cult caught on. "Wait! That's just a projection formed of concentrated divine power! Obliterating our skiffs expended all its energy—that dragon is bluffing! They're trying to escape!"
"Quick, fire! Don't let them get away!"
In an instant, countless cannon barrels swiveled toward the dragons. A dense hail of shells, arrows, and energy beams converged upon the vortex, but the five green dragons had already vanished through the rift.
Erebos beat his wings, letting the artillery and arrows pass harmlessly through his translucent form. A chilling, bloodcurdling grin curled onto his hideous face.
"Humans, you will pay dearly for this. When dragon wings blot out the sky, I shall teach you...
"...the meaning of true despair."
Gradually turning ethereal, the great wyrm swept a venomous, hatred-filled gaze over everyone present before dissolving entirely into thick black smoke.
Dawn broke across the horizon. A crimson sun crested the distant peaks, its dazzling gold washing out from the eastern sky to unfurl across the firmament.
The churning storm clouds began to scatter, and the driving rain slowed to a stop. The first rays of a new day bathed Green Valley Town, illuminating a landscape of absolute devastation—strewn with corpses and drenched in rivers of blood.
Unlike the players, who still hungered for more fighting, the soldiers of Green Valley Town—Franz and Adrian among them—gazed up at the sky in dazed, reverent wonder, like children receiving a sacred blessing.
Soon, townspeople who had hidden inside the church and deep cellars stepped out with trembling steps, shuddering at the monstrous carcasses of dragon-blooded beasts littering the ground.
The sun had risen.
The morning light fell upon the soldiers' dirt-streaked, bloodstained faces, and upon the bewildered, hopeful expressions of the townsfolk.
They were still alive. Green Valley Town had not been trampled beneath the dragons' claws, nor had it fallen to the Cult of the Dragon. Hope remained.
Just like the rising sun.
Chapter 780