Friction and Conflict

Seleucia, the Locke Great Rift. Located in central Seleucia, this rift valley was the largest fault zone on the Feanso Continent. Stretching for over a thousand kilometers, it looked from high above like a gigantic scar across the earth. The Locke Great Rift began in the south at the lower valley of the Doyle River, ran northward through the Tewai River Valley to the Lake of the Setting Sun, and bordered the boundless Great Taliro Desert to the southwest—the cradle of the Ancient Gulan Empire and the primary domain of the Blue Dragon Sect. At this moment, two unimaginably colossal, roiling tides of armies had massed on opposite rims of the rift, their gathered might shaking heaven and earth. North of the Locke Great Rift, countless wyverns circled the air. Hundred-meter-long skyships and magical vessels hovered high along the horizon like great whales navigating a sea of clouds, while over a dozen gold, silver, and brass dragons roared furiously toward the opposite side. The acrid stench of black powder hung heavy in the air. Hundreds of steam tanks were stationed across the plateau, churning out billows of smoke like a herd of primordial behemoths. Humans, half-dragons, dwarves, elves, hobgoblins, and other races stood arrayed across the allied lines, disciplined, alert, and battle-ready. Behind them, tens of thousands of howitzers, cannons, and mortars pointed their muzzles straight across the chasm at the enemy. South of the Locke Great Rift, tens of thousands of dragonbeasts of myriad shapes charged forward with frenzied eyes, churning up blinding dust storms and breathing with ragged, thunderous rasps. Dragonborn and half-dragon warriors rode atop these beasts, raising spears, sabers, and swords high as they unleashed deafening war cries. Swarms of cultists clad in black and gray robes shouted alongside them, surging forward like an unstoppable tidal wave. High above, over a hundred evil dragons of diverse colors had assembled. Among them were not only familiar chromatic breeds like red, blue, and green dragons, but also rare varieties such as purple and brown dragons. Circling above the rift like a massive, swirling multicolored storm cloud, they flapped their wings in chaotic rhythm, unleashing terrifying roars and screeches that shook loose showers of stone from the cliff faces. These were genuine, full-blooded dragons—the scions of Tiamat! As some of the mightiest creatures on the Material Plane, a single ordinary adult dragon could easily lay waste to a village or even a small town, and a flight of a dozen could bring ruin to an entire nation. What, then, did over a hundred dragons signify? This was nothing less than a full-scale Dragon Calamity—a cataclysm capable of plunging the entire continent into chaos and ruin, something only great powers on the scale of Holy Fadeland or the Cinder Empire could hope to withstand. Evidently, the Cult of the Dragon had mobilized everything it had, determined to crush the imperial-led coalition in a single decisive battle. An ancient red dragon wheeled high in the sky, roaring with incandescent rage: "Imperials! You are disgraceful traitors! You wallow in the draconic bloodline granted by Her Majesty the Dragon Queen, yet shamelessly betray Her!" Within the coalition ranks, a tall half-dragon officer clad in a military-green greatcoat stepped forward. It was George—now an imperial major general and legion commander under Duoluo after years of relentless warfare. George drew his saber, pointed it toward the ancient red dragon, and sneered, "Betrayal? How absurd! The blood of us imperials comes solely from the supreme sovereign, Emperor Cassius. What does that have to do with your Dragon Queen?" Beside itself with fury, the ancient red dragon barked, "Mongrel! Who are you to speak? The blood of Her Majesty Tiamat flows through all chromatic dragons, and your emperor is the most despicable traitor of all!" "Utterly shameless!" Duoluo, the hobgoblin marshal and supreme commander of the southern expeditionary force, spread his wings and took flight. He hovered in midair, confronting the ancient red dragon eye to eye without the slightest trace of fear or hesitation. "His Majesty Cassius has never bowed to your Dragon Queen! Every inch of the empire's vast territory was won through His Majesty's unbroken string of victories. What does any of that have to do with you chromatic vermin?" "So long as the Cinder Empire stands, your deity will remain trapped in the depths of Hell, forbidden from ever stepping onto the Material Plane!" "Vile wretches!" The chromatic dragons erupted into a flurry of outraged curses, while the imperial soldiers, furious at the insults directed at their emperor, hurled scathing retorts across the chasm. Yet despite the vitriol, neither side struck the first blow. Both were awaiting the final assembly of their forces; after all, an engagement of this magnitude required several days to fully mobilize. Duoluo watched the circling dragons with sharp, resolute eyes. His objective in this war was to fulfill the task assigned by Emperor Cassius: to annihilate the effective fighting strength of the Cult of the Dragon once and for all. Away from the main front, countless players had organized their own squads to traverse mountains and ford rivers, slipping deep into the Great Taliro Desert—the heartland controlled by the Blue Dragon Sect. *** Deep in the Great Taliro Desert, the Il River Valley. It was currently the dry season. The river had run completely dry, leaving vast stretches of soft riverbed exposed with only a few sparse, withered patches of grass clinging to life. Beyond that, nothing met the eye except an endless sea of yellow sand. Howling winds whipped grit through the air, and signs of humanoid life were nonexistent. Only blurry dark silhouettes occasionally circled overhead, uttering raspy screeches—manticores and hieracosphinxes on the hunt. Amidst the rolling dunes, a patch of sand warped unnaturally, shifting in an odd, subtle rhythm. "Sing-dog, you didn't get us lost, did you?" Mantou whispered, wrapped tightly in a camouflage cloak that blended seamlessly into the surrounding terrain. Singo glanced down at the map on his wrist and replied with complete confidence, "No way. It's definitely around here. My map has already picked up life signatures." Whoosh— Another gust of gritty wind slammed into them, stinging their faces with dry, scouring pain. "Pah!" Mantou spat out a mouthful of sand in disgust. "This godforsaken wasteland has nothing but sand and more sand. Let's just haul ass out of here. Stop relying on your knockoff magical GPS." Singo brought a finger to his lips. "Quiet. Wait a second." Just as Mantou opened his mouth to complain, the air in the distance warped violently. Three desert dragonbeasts crawled out of a spatial vortex, their scales matching the desert dunes in perfect camouflage. Behind them, they hauled wagons loaded to the brim with weapons and armor. Mantou instantly held his breath, his eyes lighting up with delight. The dune before had merely been an illusion cast by mirage magic; they really had intercepted a supply convoy belonging to the Blue Dragon Sect! Soon after, accompanied by noisy, canine yaps, a band of kobolds materialized alongside the wagons. There were roughly twenty to thirty of them, clad in crude animal pelts, brandishing wooden spears, and hoisting spiked clubs. They were clearly nothing more than a rabble of weak minions. Mantou grew even more excited. A supply caravan with such feeble guards was practically free gold delivered right to their doorstep! Beside them, Tiansheng Zhankuang crouched uncomfortably beneath his camouflage cloak, looking somewhat crestfallen. In his view, fighting such weaklings was entirely pointless; beating on a wooden training dummy would be far more entertaining. Singo, however, raised a hand with a solemn expression, his brow furrowed. "Hold on. Don't act rashly. My map shows several extraordinary life signatures. This escort isn't that simple." Suddenly, heavy, raspy breaths echoed from the distance, interlaced with the crackle of electrical arcs. Three towering, blue-scaled humanoids stepped slowly into view. Broad and imposing, they stood four to five meters tall, clutching bone greatswords in one hand and dragon-skull shields in the other. Their heads bore the unmistakable visage of blue dragons. As they ground their fangs and banged their blades against their shields, bright sparks of lightning burst from their maws and weapons. "Those things look like trouble..." Mantou muttered, quickly pulling up his interface to scan the horrific, half-dragon monsters. [Bluespawn Godslayer] [Challenge Rating: 10–14] [Tens of thousands of years ago, Tiamat engineered the bluespawn godslayers to slaughter planar foes and metallic dragons.] [The bluespawn godslayers know they are the most favored of Tiamat's spawn, for they are born only of dragons, and they hear her distant roars echoing in their dreams.] [They instinctively recognize all dragonspawn as children of Tiamat, yet they believe themselves superior to all others.] [However, all of Tiamat's spawn and chromatic dragons remain wary around godslayers—after all, their reputation as dragon slayers is well known among Tiamat's worshipers.] "Word has it that the northern imperials have already entered the Great Taliro Desert. We must stay on high alert..." the lead godslayer, the largest of the three, rumbled in a voice like rolling thunder, crackling with sparks deep in its throat. "I've heard about that, Navi," another bluespawn godslayer hissed through clenched teeth. "Those filthy traitors! I heard the Mother Goddess roaring in my dreams. To think the emperor of that realm dared openly blaspheme Her—the fool will pay dearly!" The final godslayer's eyes flashed with brutal malice as it gripped its bone greatsword tightly, growling, "By Tiamat, if I run into those imperials, I'll tear them limb from limb..." Right then, an iron orb arced through the air and rolled with a clatter to the very front of the convoy. The godslayer named Navi showed a flash of confusion, then whipped his head around, shouting in warning, "Careful! It might be an enemy trick—" Before the words left his mouth, the iron orb detonated violently, releasing a blinding flash that lit up the heavens and overwhelmed all sight—a custom flashbang produced by the Imperial Ordnance Institute. Its efficacy was extraordinary; even a legendary warrior caught staring straight into it would be dazed for three full seconds. In an instant, the dozens of kobolds and all three bluespawn godslayers squeezed their eyes shut in agony, falling into chaotic disarray. From their hiding spot, the four players threw off their camouflage cloaks, took off their anti-glare shades, and charged relentlessly toward the caravan. "I'll take the trash mobs! You guys take down the three big ones!" Singo drew his longbow to full draw and released an unusual arrow. The projectile screamed through the air, punching straight through a kobold's skull in an explosion of brain matter and blood. Yet the moment the bloodstained shaft exited the back of the kobold's head, the specialized arrowhead fragmented into three sharp projectiles that darted toward three more kobolds behind it. Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! Three more heads were pierced with ease, and the fragments split once more, showering outward like scattered flower petals toward the rest of the pack. With just that single multi-target arrow, Singo slaughtered over a dozen kobolds. He nocked and fired several more in rapid succession, mowing down the kobolds like wheat before a scythe until not a single one was left standing. Taking full advantage of their enemies' temporary blindness, Mantou, Xiaye Qiuyu, and Tiansheng Zhankuang each lunged toward one of the bluespawn godslayers. Crimson light surged in Xiaye Qiuyu's eyes. She raised a finger, channeling all her energy into its tip, and unleashed a searing pillar of fire straight at the chest of her target. Relying on acute hearing alone, the bluespawn godslayer twisted violently to the side. The column of fire tore through its shoulder, missing its vitals. "Die!" Tiansheng Zhankuang leaped more than a dozen meters into the air, swinging his poleaxe with vicious momentum straight toward his target's skull. His target was Navi, the strongest, oldest, and leader of the three. Before the blade descended, Navi heard the whistling rush of wind. Born solely for slaughter, the bluespawn godslayer raised his dragon-skull shield by pure reflex. Boom! The poleaxe smashed down with tremendous force against the dragon-skull shield. Yet the godslayer withstood the blow through sheer brute strength, even shoving Tiansheng Zhankuang back into the air. "Traitors! It really is you!" Navi forced his eyes open, sparks dancing violently in his pupils. Roaring, he swung his bone greatsword, lightning crackling along its edge as it cleaved toward Tiansheng Zhankuang's neck. "Come at me!" Tiansheng Zhankuang laughed wildly. Instead of defending, he brought his poleaxe down with everything he had, meeting force with force! Clang! A deafening metallic ring resonated across the valley. Under Tiansheng Zhankuang's full-powered strike, Navi's bone sword was deflected violently, a visible notch hacked into its edge. However, electrical currents surged along the haft of the poleaxe and coursed through Tiansheng Zhankuang's arms, wrapping his entire body in arcs of lightning that left him numb and momentarily paralyzed. "Die, you scum who betrayed the Mother Goddess!" Grinning with savage bloodlust, the bluespawn godslayer gripped his bone greatsword with both hands and thrust it forward with all his might, the spark-tipped point aimed straight for Tiansheng Zhankuang's heart. Yet at that exact moment, Tiansheng Zhankuang reached out his bare hand and clamped it firmly around the bone blade. "How is this possible?" "How could his strength be this terrifying?" The bluespawn godslayer looked up in shock. Crimson blood dripped down Tiansheng Zhankuang's palm as crackling arcs of lightning danced across his charred skin. At this moment, he looked like a vengeful demon freshly emerged from the abyss. Yet Tiansheng Zhankuang merely split his lips into a savage grin. "Now... this is what I call fun!" Choking sulfurous fumes swept across the battlefield. Enveloped in the billowing smoke, Tiansheng Zhankuang's frame expanded dramatically, and a pair of broad, leathery bat wings unfurled from his back.