Chapter 637: The Mad Greenskins
Upon that towering mountain, the red dragon lounged lazily within the cavern, his colossal body nearly filling the entire space, exuding a terrifying, overwhelming pressure.
"By Gruumsh above."
Nur was deeply shaken. He had never seen such an immense dragon. Even that damn ancient golden dragon seemed insignificant in comparison to the Ember Emperor.
Sensing the visitors, the red dragon opened his eyes and slowly rose. His crimson scales scraped the cave walls with a harsh grinding sound, dislodging stones from the ceiling. The entire mountain groaned, as though his every movement could bring about a landslide.
The red dragon thrust out his massive head, peering down at the orcs with molten eyes. Behind him, his vast wings unfurled, casting the orcs into shadow.
"By the Father God..."
"Th-this can't be real..."
Under the dragon's terrifying pressure, half the orc delegation blacked out on the spot, foaming at the mouth, convulsing uncontrollably.
The remaining orcs collapsed to their knees, their foreheads pressed low to the ground, unable to think clearly, clinging to consciousness with the last shreds of will.
Nur, who prided himself as a tribal warrior, also dropped with a thud, his forehead pressed to the dusty floor. Blood surged through his body, his heart pounded so fiercely it nearly burst from his chest.
Truly worthy of conquering North Aether—the Ember Emperor's power was unmatched! Not even the great Batu could have overcome such a dragon.
If they allied with this being, that damned golden dragon and the Dwarf King would be nothing. Even the fortress of Avenderdan, famed for its strength, would crumble before him.
A storm of fear, awe, and exhilaration churned in Nur's heart. The dream of avenging Batu and conquering the Highland Kingdom suddenly felt within reach.
Summoning all his strength, Nur recalled the mage's instructions and stammered out, "G-greetings, Your Majesty Cassius. We... we are emissaries from the Bloodfang Tribe. We've heard of your conquest of Aether and bring the respects of High Chieftain Soro."
Cassius grinned, baring a savage smile. He spoke slowly: "Guests from the plains, no need to tremble. After all... it's not like I'll swallow you alive."
"Hah... hah..."
The crushing pressure vanished. The orcs gasped for breath, finally freed from the overwhelming fear.
Nur forced a flattering grin onto his tusked face, drawing on every poetic phrase he could remember. "Your Majesty Cassius, your form dwarfs the mountains, your presence is broader than the plains themselves.
We do not cower in fear—but in awe of your power. Only now, after witnessing your majesty firsthand, do we understand how you conquered North Aether."
After finishing his flattery, he bowed again, pressing his forehead to the ground, anxiously awaiting the Emperor's response.
They all knew: unlike metallic dragons, chromatic dragons were evil by nature. And red dragons were volatile tyrants—one misstep could spell death.
A thunderous voice rumbled overhead. The red dragon asked, "Orcs of the Bloodfang Tribe—why have you come?"
"We seek alliance with the Ember Empire!" Nur blurted.
Cassius's eyes gleamed; he had expected as much. He repeated the word quietly.
"Alliance?"
Nur looked up eagerly. "Yes, Your Majesty Cassius! Your Empire has just conquered the North Aether Plains. Its military might is immense, and its victories vast.
Your next conquest must surely be the Highland Dwarven Kingdom! Rich mines, countless dwarven smiths—perfect for wargear production..."
Cassius cut him off: "Conquering the dwarves is indeed a fine idea. But the Ember Empire is powerful enough—why would we need an alliance with you?"
Nur hadn't expected this. He hesitated, then stammered, "We orcs have warred with the dwarves for thousands of years—we've breached Avenderdan many times. We know their defenses inside and out. We are your ideal allies—"
Cassius interrupted again: "And yet I hear you've never once won. Didn't you suffer total defeat just months ago and flee north in disgrace?"
"No, Your Majesty, we merely—"
The red dragon lowered his head and exhaled sulfurous white smoke. His grin widened. "Failures like you think you're worthy of standing equal with the Empire?"
"Boom—"
Dust exploded, stones scattered, and the earth rumbled.
Crushing pressure descended once more. The ground cracked beneath the orcs' knees. More fainted. Only a handful remained conscious.
"No..."
Nur whispered. The vision of conquering Avenderdan and avenging Batu was fracturing—crumbling to pieces.
No—he had to convince the Emperor. He had to avenge Batu and change the orcs' doomed fate!
Trembling violently, Nur forced himself upright and croaked, blood foaming from his mouth: "Y-Your Majesty... the Bloodfang Tribe can help the Empire!"
Cassius looked down at him, spreading his wings mockingly. "From what I see, you orcs lack strength, lack gear. Aside from some brute endurance, you're worthless.
Tell me—where does your confidence come from?"
"Your Majesty Cassius..."
Nur remembered Soro's final instructions—if they were denied or threatened, he must reveal the orcs' true strength: the gift of Father Gruumsh!
He had to force this red dragon to respect the orcs—and fulfill their millennia-old dream of destroying the dwarves!
He pulled a crude, rune-carved ceramic jar from his fur pouch and lifted it to his lips.
Inside was a foul, fishy black sludge, so dark it seemed to devour all light.
Chieftain Soro had found the sludge in the Binder River and named it "Blood of Gruumsh"—a divine blessing meant only for the tribe's bravest.
"Orcish pride comes from our ancestors—and from the great Father Gruumsh!"
Nur shouted proudly, tilting his head back and swallowing the sludge. It surged into his throat like a ravenous beast.
"What's this..." Cassius watched, intrigued. Something about the black liquid felt familiar.
The Abyss.
Chaos, madness, distortion—the sludge's power resembled the Abyss's chaos. Yet something else lurked within it, intriguing Cassius.
These orcs had more than just abyssal backing—something unknown was at play.
Sure enough, after drinking the "Blood of Gruumsh," the orc's body swelled visibly. His muscles bulged, and tusks elongated.
But the transformation was unnatural—more fungal than biological. Fungal threads and moss-like growths spread across his skin, eventually forming new muscle and flesh.
"WAAAGH——"
The orc howled madly. Red light blazed in his eyes. His body surged from under two meters to over three in seconds, now grotesquely muscular.
"Emperor... do orcs now qualify... for alliance?"
Nur grinned, exposing jagged tusks. Black liquid dripped from his lips, reeking of rot.
Cassius didn't reply. He studied the transformed orc with interest, as if inspecting a bizarre lab specimen. "So this is Gruumsh's gift?
That resilient green skin seems to photosynthesize, drawing energy from the air. Those massive muscles emit green spores... and a warping aura that distorts reality.
Heh... what a fascinating lifeform."
To Cassius, this grotesque, tusked greenskin resembled a fungus-beast hybrid more than a proper humanoid.
Nur, receiving no reply, grew angry. "Ember Emperor! We've shown you our power—why still refuse alliance?!"
"Power?"
The red dragon sneered. He flapped his wings, summoning a howling gale.
Even in his new form, the orc was like an ant before the fifty-meter-long dragon.
Staring up at that vast, sky-darkening figure, Nur finally realized his arrogance.
Even Batu, blessed by Gruumsh, couldn't defeat this red dragon—how could he?
"Before true power, you are nothing. You greenskins are better suited as test subjects than allies!" Cassius roared, raising a massive claw.
A shimmering claw-shaped force field manifested, seizing the three-meter-tall orc and crushing the unconscious ones into pulp.
Nur twisted and howled midair: "Ember Emperor! Spare me! We are descendants of Gruumsh! Don't you fear the Father God's wrath?!"
"Would Gruumsh care about one orc's life? And besides... are you even an orc anymore?"
Cassius sneered. The claw's pressure intensified, tearing even the tough green skin. Spore-laden blood burst from the orc's body.
"WAAAGH!"
Nur screamed, radiating a chaotic field to disrupt the dragon's magic.
But Cassius, a legendary warlock and transcendent caster, wielded high-quality spells. Even a cantrip like Claw Grip wasn't something a greenskin could interfere with.
"Pop!"
With a sickening crunch, Nur exploded midair. The dream of conquering Avenderdan and avenging Batu died with him.
Green blood, viscera, and limbs splattered the floor.
Cassius noticed, intrigued, that the spores from Nur's corpse were rooting in the soil, greedily absorbing nutrients.
Uncontrolled, they could sprout mushroom-like forms and spawn new orcs—dozens or even hundreds from a single body.
"They're reproducing."
Cassius stared at the remains and muttered, "Such terrifying fecundity. No wonder the orcs caused the 'Greenskin Catastrophe' in my past life, razing kingdoms in their path."
He breathed a stream of dragonfire, incinerating Nur's remains and killing the spores.
Then he hooked a claw, collecting some black sludge and green gore into a dimensional pouch.
"These need to go to Langpu—let the Empire's tech division study them properly," Cassius said, nodding in satisfaction.
Far away, Langpu—buried under paperwork—had no idea he'd soon receive a new assignment: researching mutated orcs.
Northern Ugo Steppe, the Paris Valley.
In the shadows, an orc knelt and reported softly, "Lord Soro, Nur and his team have been missing for days. The tribe's shamans divined their fate—they're all likely dead."
"I see. Worthless trash," growled a massive orc as he rose from his moss-covered bone throne, grinning savagely. "No matter. We don't need allies anymore. The Bloodfang Tribe is strong enough alone!"
He was the current chieftain—Soro Blooddrinker. Now over six meters tall, he looked like a green-skinned giant—even more imposing than the former god-blessed Batu Skullbreaker.
Raising his bone spear, Soro shouted wildly, "With Father Gruumsh's protection and gifts, the great orc race shall conquer the world!"
"WAAAGH!"
Before him, countless orcs surged together like a green tide, raising their weapons and bellowing in frenzy. Their war cries shook the skies.
And deep in the damp, dark valley beyond, giant green mushrooms grew in dense clusters, covering the landscape, greedily devouring nutrients from the earth.