Doomsday for the Druids

As a rule, true dragons did not simply snap their jaws shut around an enemy. Because if they did it often enough, the day would come when they bit down on something that exploded. In the hereditary memories of dragonkind, there was a vital piece of wisdom: humans were best eaten well-roasted. Humans were far too crafty, prone to attaching delayed-blast spells to bait so that the magic detonated only after a dragon had swallowed it whole. A dragon's internal organs, after all, were nowhere near as durable as its scales. Druids, however, possessed no draconic inheritance; any dragons they encountered were mere figments conjured in dreams. And so, when this young druid clamped his jaws around Anbaixiu, Anbaixiu gave him a memory he would never forget. A tremendous boom echoed from Anbaixiu's arm, sounding like an explosion, and the magebreaker blade shot out like an artillery shell from a cannon, thrusting through the gap in the upper palate straight into the silver dragon's brain. A dragon formed from a druid's Wild Shape was practically indistinguishable from a true dragon—they could even mate with real dragons and sire offspring, possessing the exact same anatomy. And Anbaixiu happened to have spent time researching draconic anatomy. Armed with that fatal vulnerability, slaying a dragon became child's play. Having its brain pierced sent agony ripping through the silver dragon, making it wish for death, and Anbaixiu was flung clear of its maw. The silver-white mecha hovered in midair, sections of its plating dented and warped. But as Anbaixiu clenched his fists, the outer layer of Hellfire Armor radiated searing heat, warming the compromised metal. As the temperature climbed, the deformed sections rapidly popped back into their original shape. During the decade-plus Anbaixiu had holed up in his private demiplane, he hadn't spent all his time merely refining the airship; he had also heavily modified his mithral mecha. Many load-bearing parts had been replaced with memory alloy, capable of recovering seventy to eighty percent of their original form once baked under intense heat. Conveniently, he also had a suit of Hellfire Armor, making the two complement each other seamlessly. The silver dragon wailed for a few moments before finally bursting into a shower of gory slime. The druid inside reemerged, only to shift into a silver dragon again the very next second, unleashing a torrent of blazing dragonfire straight at Anbaixiu. "A second Wild Shape?!" This genuinely caught Anbaixiu by surprise. If a druid dismissed their transformation voluntarily, shifting a second time was nothing unusual. But to transform again immediately after being blown to pieces was something far beyond ordinary practitioners. After all, a druid's Wild Shape effectively served as a second life. If he could transform twice in succession, didn't that give him three lives? No wonder he was the druids' youngest legend. Turns out this love-struck fool was more than just lovesick. With the dragonfire hurtling toward him, Anbaixiu did not summon the Golden Throne. From the very start, he had no intention of exposing his true identity. The moment he donned this silver-white mecha, he was no longer the legendary lich Tiga Ultraman—he was Trazyn the Infinite! A pair of magebreaker blades snapped out from his arms, parting at the palms, and began spinning rapidly like high-speed propellers. A howling gale rose and collided with the surging dragonfire. The wind couldn't fully suppress the rushing flames, but once the breath weapon slowed, the two magebreaker blades shredded the magical breath. With its arcane structure dismantled, the blistering heat vanished in an instant. Anbaixiu neatly sliced through the blast of breath weapon without suffering the slightest harm. When the silver dragon finished its breath only to find Anbaixiu completely unharmed, shock registered across its visage. In all his years, he had never encountered an opponent capable of taking a dragon's breath head-on. With a series of metallic clicks, Anbaixiu retracted the red-hot magebreaker blades, then reached behind him into his private demiplane to draw out an extraordinarily long staff. Calling it a staff was somewhat generous; it looked far more like a polehammer, capped with a spiked, diamond-shaped maul head. In a flash, Anbaixiu vanished and reappeared directly behind the silver dragon, swinging the staff with all his might. Misty Step into a sneak attack—the trick Anbaixiu had mastered best back in his adventuring days. The silver dragon was massive and inherently slower to react, only realizing what had happened when the staff slammed into its neck. It had assumed its thick scales would be more than enough to withstand a melee weapon. Who could have guessed that a single blow from this hammer would shatter its neck vertebrae? Watching the silver dragon plummet from the sky, Anbaixiu felt a twinge of disdain. *This kid has terrifying talent, but his combat experience is utter garbage. How dare he face-tank an attack he's never even seen before? You're a dragon—would it kill you to cast a protective spell?* The young druid had placed far too much faith in the durability of his scales, and grossly underestimated Anbaixiu's mecha. This was the latest iteration, overhauled more than a dozen times by Anbaixiu. Powered jointly by the mana power reactor and dark magic, reinforced on top by the Hellfire Armor, the triple-boosted suit granted Anbaixiu staggering strength. Moreover, with its altered attributes, the mecha could receive buffs just like an undead creature. Bear's Strength, Hill Giant Strength Potions, and more... Anbaixiu had come fully prepared before setting out. What the druid faced was the fully realized mecha—the complete Trazyn the Infinite! One swing of that hammer was enough to smash even a true dragon to bits. Twisting with a broken neck, the silver dragon plummeted and finally exploded into gory slime once more. As he fell, Brandir Sanda cast Feather Fall upon himself, sparing himself the farcical fate of being reduced to paste on the ground. At this point, not a trace of anger or disdain remained on Brandir Sanda's face. Knocked out of his Wild Shape twice in a row, he now realized that the golem puppet before him was anything but simple. In truth, Brandir Sanda couldn't really be blamed for underestimating his foe—it was a golem puppet! He had seen golem puppets before. Back when the druids protested the City of Alchemy's destruction of nature, Brandir Sanda had joined the demonstrations there and brawled with those very automatons. Even if this was an upgraded model, what kind of puppet could fell a dragon with a single hammer blow? Brandir Sanda had initially intended to destroy the golem puppet and then track down its controller, only to lose two lives right off the bat. In that case, he had no choice but to get serious! With a wave of his hand, dozens of vines sprouted under his control and wove themselves into a staff. As Brandir Sanda grasped the staff, pulses of radiant light gleamed across its length. "Shillelagh?!" This was a cantrip every druid knew, barely qualifying as a proper spell. Yet Brandir Sanda sprang straight toward Anbaixiu. Anbaixiu was baffled. They were over a hundred meters apart, so what was he... Soon enough, Anbaixiu understood. Before leaping, Brandir's legs had morphed into those of some beast; with a powerful thrust, he shot dozens of meters into the air, shifted into an eagle mid-flight, and beat his wings as he hurtled toward Anbaixiu. Clutched in his talons, the enchanted staff swung viciously down toward Anbaixiu's head. Unwilling to back down, Anbaixiu swung his own polehammer to meet it. A deafening crash rang out, and the immense kinetic force sent Anbaixiu flying backward. After struggling to regain his balance, Anbaixiu stared in shock at the weapon in his hands. The power behind this Shillelagh was absurdly monstrous—even Anbaixiu's staff had been bent by the shockwave. Anbaixiu blurted out in amazement, "Brat, is dragon form actually your weakest form?!" No wonder that when he fought his father last time, he was disemboweled the moment he became a silver dragon, but as soon as he dismissed the transformation, he pinned his old man to the ground and beat him senseless. Reverting to human form, Brandir Sanda hovered in midair, raising his staff toward Anbaixiu. "A pile of scrap metal! Once I tear you apart, I'll dig out your master!" Anbaixiu let out a sigh. He had thought this trouble could be resolved effortlessly, but it seemed he would have to resort to somewhat less scrupulous methods. Anbaixiu tossed the warped staff back into his private demiplane, and the jetpack at his back roared to life once more, blasting high-velocity exhaust. Anbaixiu rocketed straight into the sky. Brandir Sanda hastily shifted into an eagle to pursue, but after flying for just a moment, he found the distance between them growing wider and wider. *How can he be so fast?!* Brandir Sanda had only seen Anbaixiu from a distance before; he knew the construct was fast, but hadn't had a concrete sense of it. Only now, trying to chase it, did he realize... this speed was utterly ridiculous! Catching up was completely impossible. Was this heap of scrap trying to flee?! Unfortunately for Brandir Sanda, he guessed wrong. After opening a gap of six or seven hundred meters, Anbaixiu slowed down and retrieved a peculiarly designed magitech rifle from his private demiplane. Compared to his previous models, this rifle boasted a much longer barrel, a bulkier frame, and an attached scope. A magitech sniper rifle upgraded from the magitech rifle, featuring greater range and superior precision. Anbaixiu raised the rifle, sighted down the scope, and pulled the trigger on Brandir Sanda from several hundred meters away. The immense recoil instantly drove Anbaixiu back by over a dozen meters. Brandir Sanda had no concept of what a magitech rifle was; the only magitech weapons he had seen were magitech cannons as massive as carriages. Consequently, until the oversized bullet hit, he didn't even realize Anbaixiu had attacked. Fortunately, the enchanted gear on his person saved his life. The oak ring on his finger flared with light, automatically conjuring a magical shield that stopped the bullet. The white bullet shattered against the magical barrier, bursting into a mass of ghastly white bones that formed a cage, trapping Brandir Sanda within. Brandir Sanda furiously swung his glowing wooden staff, smashing all the bones to splinters. "A magical shield, is it?" Anbaixiu chuckled softly. With a flick of his finger, he ejected the magazine, quickly slapped in another, and raised the rifle to fire again. This time, the bullet passed straight through the magical shield upon impact and struck Brandir Sanda in the shoulder. Anti-magic weapons were not limited to blades and swords; fashioned into bullets, they worked just as well. Brandir Sanda's shoulder erupted in a blossom of blood. Flesh and bone splattered everywhere, as though someone had scooped a chunk out of his shoulder, leaving his right arm completely crippled. Brandir Sanda's eyes went wide. Even now, he could scarcely believe it. What was that thing? How could his magical shield have been utterly useless? Brandir Sanda's body plummeted from the sky as a radiant green light flared across his chest. His mangled shoulder began to rapidly regenerate. Bone and flesh knitted together simultaneously; even a fatal wound could be completely healed in mere seconds. This was his family's ancestral artifact, "Emerald's Blessing." No matter the wound sustained, it could rapidly restore the bearer using the magical energy stored within the necklace. Even horrific trauma like that just inflicted was completely mended in two or three seconds. Brandir Sanda was no fool. He immediately commanded a thick mass of vines to form a protective barrier before him. Yet Brandir Sanda underestimated the potency of the magitech firearm. Another bullet came hurtling in, blowing the dense vine shield to pieces. Because the magical structure binding the vines together was disrupted, the vines fell apart instantly, rapidly disintegrating into debris. And before Brandir Sanda could repair his shield, the anti-magic bullet struck his body once more—and in the exact same spot. The same concussive force shattered Brandir Sanda's shoulder once again. The emerald-green light flared once more as the artifact necklace dutifully restored its master's wounds. Yet Brandir Sanda knew he had already lost. The necklace's restorative capacity was limited, whereas the opponent's magitech weapon clearly had plenty more rounds to fire. Striking the exact same spot twice made Brandir Sanda realize that the foe hadn't missed his mark out of poor aim; he had intentionally spared his life. Had that bullet targeted his head instead, he would already be dead. Just what was this golem puppet? His kin were all locked in deep slumber, and he was no match for it. Could this truly be doomsday for the druids?