Chapter 331: Red and Silver (Part Four)
Osszedro trembled with overwhelming rage, his silver scales slightly flaring, and the solemnity of his dragon face twisted into something ferocious.
The vast silver body appeared as if under two filters: one side dulled and dusted, the other side shimmering with dazzling brilliance.
"Despicable and shameless wyrm!"
"You will pay the price for your actions!"
The ancient silver dragon roared again, his fury barely containable.
Osszedro stretched out his massive right claw, where a complex magic circle several meters wide appeared, lifting heavy stones, broken trees, and even shattered corpses into the air. The surroundings warped into a starry void.
The gravity within a hundred meters bent to the ancient silver dragon's will—a testament to the innate magic of the silver dragon.
"My actions?"
"Giving people a better life? Counterattacking in this war? Shattering the dream of Northern nobles ruling Anzeta for eternity?"
"Or destroying your centuries-old treasures, you miserly old fool, turning you into half a pauper?"
Cassius mocked without mercy.
The red dragon suddenly flared his wings. With the powerful muscles attached to his wingbones, he generated an immense vortex that counteracted the reversed gravity, keeping his colossal body aloft.
Silver dragon's roaring response grew more wrathful, thunderous in its intensity.
"Rhetoric! You cannot provoke me!"
"The metallic dragons have expended immeasurable effort and paid countless prices to barely maintain the balance between mortals and dragons, ensuring the tragedies of ancient times do not repeat."
"But you, filthy spawn of Tiamat, have squandered the power granted by Io, using it for destruction and chaos!"
The ancient silver dragon parted his maw, revealing his gleaming teeth—adorned with the "Dragon's Jaws" contraption—and unleashed a stream of snow-white frigid torrents.
Yet Cassius was far from immobilized by the counter-gravity field Osszedro assumed.
Harnessing Aerobatics and Dexterity of the Dragon to their fullest, Cassius' flight skills reached perfection.
"Swoosh—"
The red dragon moved with unparalleled grace, maneuvering through the anti-gravity field effortlessly. He became a crimson blur, encircling the ancient silver dragon at breakneck speed, evading the white frost breath by fractions of seconds.
As Cassius flew in swift circles, a fierce vortex formed. Coupled with the flames surrounding his body, it gave rise to a towering fiery tornado.
"Osszedro! You must have been sleeping for centuries and let your brain rot! Your drafty version of order is long outdated!"
"The North's decrepit and decayed system should be consigned to the dustbin of history!"
"And you—the sanctimonious, hypocritical silver dragon—a so-called defender of order yet an obstruction to progress—are no exception!"
"Roar—"
The dragon's roar thundered across the wasteland.
Cassius' flames and Osszedro's icy aura collided, heat and frost converging, resulting in deafening clashes and steam rising endlessly.
The wasteland seemed engulfed by a massive pillar of mist and cloud, constantly expanding, filled with scalding steam, flying debris, chaotic flames, and shattered ice fragments—an absolute death zone.
"Retreat! Retreat immediately!"
"This is not a battle we can partake in!"
Faced with the escalating chaos, Marshal Dolo decisively ordered a retreat. Under the coordination of field officers, the Kingdom's army orderly withdrew to the rear.
Tieflings, hobgoblins, and ogres raised their weapons high, cheering wildly for the red dragon in this "Duel of Dragons," even from afar.
The players, however, descended into disarray. They scattered in all directions, some moving closer for a better view. Despite being caught in the chaos, they displayed indifference, even shouting excitedly.
"The special effects are maxed out! Such grandeur!"
"Damn, this cutscene has damage mechanics?"
"I'm flying!"
"Wait, why am I on fire?"
"Look! That person's charred!"
Meanwhile, the coalition soldiers and nobles devolved into complete chaos. Comprised mainly of various family militias, their organization could be described as "chaotic."
Tens of thousands rushed desperately towards safety, leading to numerous stampedes. Some were swept into the maelstrom and perished tragically.
Unlike the immortal players, once caught up in the war's wrath, their lives ended permanently.
"What is that thing?"
"Damn it, stay away!"
"Run for your lives!"
"Help—the wind is too strong! I'm going to be swept away!"
Count Ludon also stumbled and fled desperately, his trembling legs and soaked pants causing him to trip repeatedly. He lay prone on the ground, shivering, casting a fearful gaze at the apocalyptic scene.
"By the gods… what kind of power is this?"
"How can humanity contend with such beings?"
Ludon whispered in awe, watching the battle that shook Anzeta.
A sudden realization dawned upon him—a fight of this legendary scale should not vanish in the river of history. It needed to be recorded.
In the coalition's rear, Grand Duke Leo silently gazed at the ongoing battle.
Occasionally, a glimpse of dragon scales or massive silhouettes emerged through the billowing white mist.
The earth groaned like a newborn, emitting constant rumbles—the land trembled with every impact.
Lightning, hurricanes, hail, and even meteors appeared in rapid succession. Dim stars materialized in the sky, leaking remnants of power capable of causing hundreds of casualties with ease.
Grand Duke Leo felt that decades of schemes now seemed laughable. Even his son's death had not left him this despondent.
"Dragons."
"They can destroy everything effortlessly."
"Such beings should never exist in this world."
Leo Bosk muttered, gazing skyward at the colossal dragon shadows.
He was the Duke of Bosk, the nominal king of the Northern United Kingdom.
Leo Bosk, born noble, should have been the one to rule Anzeta and decide the North's destiny—not those monsters in the sky.
Suddenly, a deep voice echoed in his mind, abrupt yet feeling strangely natural.
"Do you seek revenge?"