Chapter 120: Chapter 50 Scourge (II)
Robert felt a deep sense of helplessness, followed by uncontroble anger.
How dare this red dragon mock him like this!
He suddenly loosened his grip, and the several-meter-long crossbow armunched the arrow with immense force.
“Whoosh—”
A sharp whistle pierced the air.
Robert gazed at the arrow soaring toward the sky, involuntarily holding his breath as he prayed to his deities for it to hit its mark.
As the giant arrow neared Cassius’s chest, about to pierce that burning, pulsating dragon heart, his enormous dragon body transformed into a zing inferno, merging into the twisted, swirling fire tornado.
[Braving the Fiery Pits]
At this moment, the red dragon truly became the incarnation of me!
The dragon-ying arrow that once killed “cier Wing” passed through the fire without resistance, finally embedding powerlessly into the ground.
“Impossible, this is impossible!”
Robert copsed to the ground again, seemingly going mad, shaking his head and muttering incessantly.
He looked up at the sky, now empty except for the endless mes, his eyes reflecting the dazzling firelight, filled with utter despair.
“No…”
As the fire tornado approached, ravenous tongues of me rushed toward him.
Those terrifying zes rotated at high speed, condensing, forming, finally transforming into the enormous dragon body—that of Cassius.@@novelbin@@
“Who gave you the courage,”
“to oppose me with these pitiful toys?”
Cassius crushed the few great crossbows under his ws, and the mes surrounding himpletely consumed the prostrate Robert.
The youngest Earl of Rackman’s Duchy,mander of the thirty thousand allied forces, turned to ashes in the zing fire without a singlest word.
“The final judgment is near!”
“You pitiful mortals will soon take your leave!”
With billowing smoke and raging mes, Cassius rampaged through the enormous army of thousands like a god of destruction.
The red dragon’s horrific body flickered in and out of the firelight, directly crushing the soldiers fleeing in all directions. His sharp ws and fangs, like the world’s most lethal weapons, destroyed everything in their path.
Even if someone tried to fight back, those feeble arrows could not pierce his hard, golden-red scales, instead inviting scorching white flying mes.
“Help!”
“Stay away from me!”
Faced with this monster akin to a scourge, the allied soldierspletely lost the will to resist.
However, the soldiers directly destroyed by Cassius were actually the luckiest; at least they could be considered to have died honorably in the fight against the evil dragons.
But the rest were purely victims.
A nearly hundred-meter-high fire tornado followed the red dragon, sweeping soldiers into the sky only to ignite them into zing fireballs.
Soldiers on the outskirts managed to run upwind, only to be bombarded by a rain of fireballs.
Many soldiers, unable to escape, were engulfed by falling fire. They iled, aze, screaming and running. Some desperately burrowed into the ground only to die miserably, burned to a crisp. Others, encased in heavy iron armor, were melted by the mes, their remains fusing with molten metal.
Firelight filled the sky and earth, smoke and ash swirling everywhere.
The soldiers, like headless flies, darted frantically in the fire and smoke. Some reached dead ends, others exhausted, some barely clinging to life, some charred beyond recognition.
The furthest soldiers, lucky enough to avoid the fire, attempted to climb over stone walls but were enveloped by pervasive, choking smoke, asphyxiating to death.
Amid the thick smoke, a grey-robe mage used a spell to hastily flee to the battlefield’s edge, trembling, raising his magic wand.
“I must leave.”
“I’m sorry, Lord Earl.”
[Secondary Teleportation Spell]
A ripple of space emerged before him, and Schroeder’s form gradually became illusory.
Cassius keenly sensed the Magic Web’s fluctuations and turned, but upon seeing the fleeing grey-robe mage “Grey Hawk,” he deliberately allowed him to escape.
The red dragon soared above, slowly pping his wings, surveying the burning, hellishndscape below.
This ce, once housing tens of thousands of troops, now scarcely contained any living beings.
All he could see was fire and charred remains.
Countless ashes danced in the wind.
It had be a carnival for mes, a forbidden zone for the living.
Cassius meticulously fulfilled his pre-battle promise,nding with a resounding thud, sending ashes into the sky. Surrounded by embers, he lifted his head and let out a long roar.
“Roar—”
…
On the mountain, Viscount Luton trembled as he witnessed the apocalyptic scene. His mind brimming with ssical works of court poets,vishly adorned with eloquent words, but at this moment, none of them could capture even a fraction of the scene’s magnitude.
His lips quivered, finally uttering a few words: “Infernal Cmity…”
Luton recalled a line from the holy scriptures: “Sinners cast into purgatory, the mes will consume them.”
“Fire… the incarnation of me, he is the incarnation of me!”
“By the gods…”
The captured nobles stared nkly at the sight of tens of thousands of elite troops turning to ash, trembling all over. Many copsed on the spot, some even wetting themselves in fright.
Meanwhile, the retainers of the Ashen Nest, whether Great Goblins, Ogres, or Wyverns, all fixed their eyes on the massive dragon silhouette encircled by embers at the fire’s core.
Reverence, panic, longing—all these emotions appeared on their grotesque faces: “This is the master’s strength, this is… the great red dragon’s rage.”
“This is the purest form of power incarnate.”
“He will conquer the world or destroy it.”
Ramp stared at the infernal scene, muttering to himself.
The red dragon pped his enormous wings, detaching from the sea of mes, descending to the Ashen Nest’s camp halfway up the mountain.
As he gradually approached, whether retainer or captive noble, all trembled and lowered their heads in the presence of his mighty dragon’s might.
“Quite the splendid disy of fireworks.”
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
Cassius gazed down at them, his golden eyes still seemingly burning with recent mes.
…
“The allied forces never had a chance at victory; it was all like a grand y orchestrated by him for himself.”
“That day, mes swept through the sky and earth. The Triel Valley was filled with ashes. He wielded scourge-like power, announcing his presence to the Anzeta Great Wilderness in the strongest possible way—a war, or rather a massacre of thirty thousand allied forces, usually referred to as the Triel Tragedy.”
“From that day forward, the seemingly impregnable Northern United Kingdom, standing for centuries, was on the brink of copse, heralding the impending era of dragon domination.”
—The Triel Tragedy, Annals of Anzeta, Duke Luton