The bluespawn legions entrenched across the windswept dunes were thoroughly buried beneath yellow sand and shattered stone under the devastating carpet bombardment of the Empire's artillery. With lightning momentum, the main force of the coalition army swiftly captured dozens of cities, taking control of the Great Taliro Desert and the vast regions surrounding it, bringing the entirety of western Seleucia—the territory held by the Blue Dragon Sect—into their fold.
The Great Taliro Desert was parched, sweltering, and afflicted by harsh weather year-round. Most of its population was clustered along the cities of the Il River Valley. Seizing these major cities was equivalent to holding the desert's most precious resources: water, food, and habitable land, enough to dominate the entire desert.
In ancient times, the desert kingdoms had arisen along the Il Valley, gradually expanding across the whole of the Taliro Desert over centuries. Dynasties rose and fell through thousands of years of ceaseless contention over this fertile valley until they were finally extinguished by the rising Holy Fadlan.
Due to the rampant atrocities of the Blue Dragon Sect, which treated the populace as mere sacrifices and instruments, public resentment across Taliro had long boiled over. The people had only stayed their hands out of terror before the overwhelming might of the Cult of the Dragon.
Now, with the coalition army crushing the Cult's main legions, toppling the cities held by the Blue Dragon Sect one after another, and absorbing rebel fighters from everywhere, the locals welcomed them with open arms, offering food and drink to celebrate the liberating army.
Since then, the coalition had obliterated both the Green Dragon and Blue Dragon Sects, reclaiming more than half of the Kingdom of Seleucia and bringing the great objective of "Liberating Seleucia" within sight.
Yet a tragic reality remained: Seleucian natives accounted for less than thirty percent of the coalition army. In practical terms, it was the Cinder Empire from the north that had assumed control over most of the Seleucian kingdom.
It was a cruel cycle of fate. The poor Seleucians had just driven off one pack of dragon servitors, only to invite a new breed of dragon vassals to rule over them. It seemed that no matter what, the shadow of dragons would perpetually loom across this land.
***
Great Taliro Desert, the City of Kafar.
This city had once been the royal capital of the ancient desert kingdom, situated in the Il River Valley atop the most fertile, bountiful oasis in this otherwise barren waste.
Now, it was the last city still clinging to the rule of the Blue Dragon Sect.
At the summit of the pyramid altar in the center of Kafar, a priest clad in blue-scaled robes and wearing a golden dragon-head mask held his scepter aloft. Surrounded by cultists, he shouted, "Listen to me! We have not lost! This is a test bestowed upon us by Her Majesty the Dragon Queen!"
He was Mahmoud, ruler of the city and the very last evil dragon bishop in the entire Great Taliro Desert. The others had largely been rounded up by the Imperial Guard and put to death on the gallows.
At this moment, Mahmoud swung his scepter toward the south and cried out with feverish fervor, "I have received a divine decree! Magma shall engulf the earth, ash shall shroud the heavens, and the great Mother of Evil Dragons shall descend upon the world to usher in a brand-new era!
"Brothers and sisters devoted to the Mother of Dragons, as long as we endure this final hour, we will welcome a glorious age of dragons ruling the earth!"
"Praise the Mother of Evil Dragons!"
Below him, the cultists of the Cult of the Dragon threw up their arms and yelled in manic ecstasy, their hoarse, shrill cries surging forth like a relentless tidal wave.
Amid the cheers and shouts, several hulking dragonborn soldiers dragged a line of human captives toward the edge of a blood pool.
Ragged and scarred with lashing marks and charred brands, the prisoners were bound with coarse hemp ropes to the pillars at the top of the altar, their battered bodies submerged in the foul, filthy blood pool.
Mahmoud leveled his scepter at the battered humans, his voice dripping with malice. "And they—vile, wretched humans—dared to dream of overthrowing the rule of dragons! They dared seek to halt the descent of the Mother of Dragons, and they even butchered several noble dragonborn!
"An unforgivable transgression! They shall perish in agony, offered up as sacrifices to Her Majesty the Dragon Queen!"
"Blood sacrifice! Blood sacrifice!"
"Kill them!"
"These lowly, treacherous worms deserve to be punished!"
The cultists clamored in blind fury, screaming at the top of their lungs as if longing to rip the prisoners to shreds, seemingly oblivious to the fact that most of them were human as well.
Bound to one of the pillars, one of the human prisoners strained with all his might to hoist his head. Glaring at the mob of cultists with venomous hatred, he broke into a savage laugh. "Hahaha! Minions of evil dragons, traitors to humanity, you are trembling in your boots!
"The coalition army is on its way, and every single one of you will swing from the gallows! You will pay for your sins with your lives!"
"Insolence! Shut him up!" Mahmoud snarled harshly.
A dragonborn soldier beside him stepped forward at once, gagging the human warrior's mouth with a thick length of coarse rope, reducing his curses to muffled grunts.
This captive was Baldur Love, the leader of the Kafar resistance. Leading rebels who refused to bow to the Cult of the Dragon, he had cut down dozens of dragonborn and even slain a young blue dragon.
"Kill him!"
"Damned human!"
The cultists' shouts grew even more furious, shrieking toward the sky.
Mahmoud raised both arms, screaming in near-madness, "Great Mother of Evil Dragons, Queen of Chaos! Your five heads are the crown of greed; your twin wings are the shadow of tyranny! Drink deep of this chaotic blood, and grant us the power to tear apart the shackles of order!"
The priest thrust his scepter high, and the dragon eye carved upon its tip blazed with piercing five-colored profane light, shooting straight into the heart of the blood pool.
The liquid in the pool instantly turned violent. Five-colored streams of light twined upward like colossal serpents, churning into a swirling vortex of desecrated energy.
"In the name of my Queen, Tiamat!" Mahmoud roared, pointing his scepter at one of the captives. "Devour this fragile vessel! Reshape it into the claws and fangs of dragons!"
Accompanied by a raspy shriek from the void, a beam of corrupt, dark light burst from the dragon eye on the scepter. The captive's body violently convulsed, his pupils instantly flooded with chaotic, five-colored profane radiance.
The liquid in the blood pool churned violently, causing the prisoner's flesh to melt like wax. Under the corrosion of the vile energy, his skin carbonized and peeled away, exposing raw, crimson muscle. The agonizing torment tore inhuman shrieks from his throat.
"Aaagh—!"
Immediately after, the foul, impure dragon blood in the pool surged crazily into his open wounds, nostrils, mouth, and eye sockets. His body ballooned like a blown-up bladder, his bones snapping with teeth-grating crunches.
His spine lengthened at an unnatural rate, bursting through the flesh of his back. Patchwork scales of discordant hues sprouted across his surface. His joints inverted and broke, only to be reshaped under a sheath of slime into bestial claws bristling with sharp bone spurs.
Most horrifying of all was the transformation of his head.
The prisoner's skull fractured and mutated in extreme agony, but instead of forming a single coherent dragon head, it warped into three grotesque, tumorous growths.
One was covered in crimson scales, belching black smoke.
One sprouted massive blue horns, crackling with jumping arcs of electricity.
The third split into a gaping maw dripping green, venomous drool, lined with dense rows of needlesharp teeth.
His original human features were pulled and mashed to pieces, and his eye sockets burned with an unholy fire of fury and boundless torment.
Staring at the three profane heads, Mahmoud's face lit up with glee. He murmured to himself, "Magnificent... By Tiamat, what a perfect form!"
"No... kill me... kill me..."
No longer resembling a man, the captive raised a twisted dragon claw toward Baldur. A faint, lingering glimmer of human terror and pleading flashed through his eyes.
Yet in the next second, that last vestige of humanity was completely devoured by the profane fire. Nothing remained in the hollow sockets save for frenzy, agony, and a rabid thirst for destruction.
"Mmph—mmph—!"
Baldur's eyes turned bloodshot, brimming with tears of incandescent rage. He thrashed frantically against his bonds, desperate to grant his comrade release and fulfill his final plea, yet the ropes held fast.
In merely dozens of seconds, a desecrated creation roughly three meters tall and physically unstable rose slowly from the blood pool, uttering a raspy growl.
It was no longer human, but a monstrosity cobbled together from warped flesh and vile filth.
From the outside, it resembled a colossal beast flayed alive, with disparate draconic organs crudely grafted onto it. Its torso was plated in mottled scales, leaving throbbing vessels and raw muscle exposed. Five kinds of elemental energy clashed and flickered across its frame, causing parts of its limbs to combust, freeze, or rot in turn.
Yet seeing this hideous, terrifying creature, the cultists felt no fear—only a deeper frenzy.
They cheered wildly:
"A miracle!"
"A blessing from our Queen!"
"What a perfect weapon! The imperial dogs will tremble before it!"
Mahmoud uncoiled iron chains and wound them around the newborn beast, his lips curling into a vicious grin as he roared, "Behold! This is the culmination of mortal kind—to fight for our Queen! To exist for ruin!"
The heavy chains clattered loudly as the creature reared its savage head and bellowed, churning up crimson splashes in the blood pool.
Mahmoud wiped his scepter, eyeing Baldur with a playful, cruel sneer. "Human, a wonderful idea has just occurred to me... You shall be the very first meal for this child of Tiamat! To die down the throat of your comrade-in-arms—you ought to feel honored!"
Baldur glared relentlessly at the evil dragon priest, his eyes blazing with enough hatred to burn the man to ash.
At Mahmoud's command, the newborn beast turned its gaze to Baldur. There was not a trace of recognition in its eyes—only the predatory greed for prey and the rabid thirst to destroy life. Its muscles twitched with extreme agitation.
"Go! Tear him to shreds!" Mahmoud laughed maniacally.
Baldur fought with everything he had, yet he could not break free of the blood pool, forced to watch the monster close in step by step.
*Roar—!*
A foul, blistering stench washed over him as a guttural growl broke out. The creature gaped its bloody maws and lunged forward with murderous intent.
Yet right at that instant, a resolute, booming voice rang through the heavens from afar.
*Bang!*
A blurry streak tore through the air, screaming with blistering heat. It plunged directly into the dragon-blooded monster's back, ruthlessly obliterating its beating heart, and burst out through the front in a spray of gore, ripping open a massive hole in its chest.
Blood erupted from the creature's chest like a geyser, mingled with shattered entrails, fractured scales, and all manner of vile fluids that splattered across the flagstones.
*Awoo...*
It had only enough breath left for a feeble, pained wail before pitching forward and collapsing to the ground, vomiting blood, shredded meat, and slime from its three warped heads.
Even as it drew its final breath, the dragon-blooded monstrosity continued to stare at Baldur with longing and regret—a chilling gaze, as though bitter that it had failed to slay its quarry before dying.
"Who is it?!"
"Who dares disrupt our great sacrifice!"
Mahmoud cried out in shock, an uncontrollable wave of panic flashing across his face.
High above, a cloaked, compact aerospace gunship slowly opened its hatch. A squad of extraordinarily massive Vitagis Dragonscale Marines in thick, scaled armor stepped into view, poised and eager to drop from the sky.
Gangtie Kuangchao pressed a hand against the tactical visor over his right eye and whispered into the communicator at his chest:
"Fourth Legion reporting. Target count in this sector detected at 2,453 enemies. Average Challenge Rating 3.47, peak Challenge Rating 15. Threat level assessed as low; our legion can resolve this independently.
"The Fourth Legion has eighteen Gen III Dragonscale Marines and nine Gen IV Dragonscale Marines fully deployed and ready for engagement. Awaiting attack orders."
Atop the altar, Mahmoud raised his scepter and pointed furiously at the gunship, howling, "Another profane creation of those Imperials! Bring it down!"
In an instant, flames, lightning, and virulent venom—draconic breath of every element—hurtled toward the airborne vessel, only to be harmlessly deflected by the translucent energy field enveloping its hull.
"Full assault."
Hearing the command over his earpiece, Gangtie Kuangchao grinned and vaulted out from the open hatch. Behind him, more than twenty Dragonscale Marines followed suit without the slightest hesitation, leaping straight down from hundreds of meters in the air.
"It's those traitors who stole Her Majesty the Dragon Queen's power! Kill them!" With a contorted face, Mahmoud roared and raised his staff to cast divine magic at the falling Marines.
Yet before he could finish, more than a dozen orange-red missiles shot forth from the belly of the gunship. Screaming with shrill whistles and trailing blinding trails of fire, they hammered down toward the altar.
*Boom!*
Smoke, dust, and fire blasted into the sky, hurling shrapnel in every direction. The violent explosions engulfed over a hundred cultists and rattled the towering altar so violently it seemed on the verge of collapse.
Even Mahmoud lost his footing, nearly pitching off the altar. Raging with fury, he looked up, only to find the sky shrouded in a dense curtain of smoke, completely obscuring the descending rebels.
*Thud! Thud! Thud!*
With heavy thuds, the Dragonscale Marines slammed into the ground one after another. Blending into the smoke, they relied on their thermal visors to hunt down the cultists of the Cult of the Dragon.
"I can't see!"
"Watch out!"
"Damn it, where are those rebels?!"
The cultists fell into panic and confusion, their frantic cries drowned out by the thundering concussions.
Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the smoke. A Dragonscale Marine closed in from behind, driving a greatsword straight through a cultist's chest, nearly cleaving him in two.
*Bang!*
Another gunshot barked, and the acrid stench of gunpowder filled the air. Bolters sprayed dense barrages of rounds, unleashing a metal storm that chewed the cultists' bodies into gruesome sieves.
Gunfire, shrieks, the wet tearing of flesh, and the sharp snapping of bones sounded in rapid succession. Towering figures strode through the dense smoke, cutting the cultists down with ruthless speed.
The surviving cultists stood frozen in utter terror, cast into despair beneath the creeping shadow of death.
A feast of slaughter, a one-sided massacre—had begun.
Chapter 830