The air ruptured with sound. The Dragon King was a beast of nightmare and scale. And he was no longer a distant threat.
It was an active force now. A living mountain of malice. Its emerald eyes, at the size of carriage wheels, fixed on the three champions.
Prime Minister Elfalcon struck first. A blur of lightning-laced feathers. His were-gryphon form shimmered. Crackling with arcs that should have seared dragonhide.
Field Marshall Misthawk followed right afterward. His winged were-gorilla shape hammered the Dragon King's scales. Sending tremors to the atmosphere.
Admiral Ashenowl utilized his mechanical battle armor. Unleashing a barrage of crimson energy bolts from integrated cannons.
They were powerful. Tier-7 powerhouse masters. Each was capable of flattening small armies of dragons. But against the Dragon King, they were flies to a bonfire.
The colossal beast barely flinched from PM Elfalcon's lightning.
Marshall Misthawk's powerful blows slightly dented its scales. But the Dragon King simply swatted him aside like a bothersome insect. Sending the brute were-gorilla tumbling across the ruined earth.
Admiral Ashenowl's energy blasts were potent enough to melt steel. But, they merely scorched the Dragon King's scales. Leaving trails of black char that faded as quickly as they appeared.
The Dragon King retaliated with a roar that tore at the fabric of reality. A wave of pure draconic force erupted from its maw. Sweeping over the battlefield.
PM Elfalcon twisted. Deflecting some of the force with a shimmering shield of wind and lightning. But he was still thrown back. Feathers ruffled. A faint taste of ash on his tongue.
Marshall Misthawk roared. Trying to stand his ground. But the impact sent him skidding. Groaning. His massive form was briefly disoriented.
Admiral Ashenowl's armor shrieked under the pressure. Its automated defenses were struggling. Before it was slammed into the ground. A metallic clang echoing across the bloody field.
They were suppressed. But not defeated yet. They scrambled back. Grimacing. Preparing for another assault.
They knew how to survive. How to weather punishment. But they had no answer for the Dragon King's sheer, overwhelming power. They were helpless to truly injure it. Much less defeat it.
Then, from the massive gate of Eagledome, a new figure soared. An eagle-man. He was clad in resplendent golden armor. Crafted with sharp, regal lines that mimicked an eagle's form.
His pair of reddish brown wings were large and seemed very strong. In his grasp, a mechanical spear hummed with barely contained power. Its tip seemed to glow with compressed light.
Spark immediately recognized him. This was King Aquila Eaglecrown, the Tier-7 Technoframe Mechknight. The Sovereign of Avianest. He descended with the controlled fury of a hunting raptor. His commanding presence was instantly drawing attention.
Spark, still hidden beneath the leathery wing of a fallen dragon, watched. His dark-grey eyes narrowed. Another Tier-7. Four of them. They were all in the city. Why the hell did they not act sooner?
A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through the ground as the King landed. This King Aquila did not rush to join the desperate struggle. Against the Dragon King.
Instead, he moved with ruthless efficiency. His golden spear became a blur. He carved a path through the lesser dragons that remained. Not even sparing a glance for the titanic clash unfolding not far from him.
Each thrust of his spear was precise. Targeting vulnerable points. Or the soft flesh beneath scales.
The dragons fell like felled trees. Their roars cut short. Their bodies collapsed into bloody heaps.
He was a reaper, methodically culling the horde while the Dragon King was preoccupied.
The Dragon King was busy. Being engaged in a futile dance with the three masters it clearly underestimated. But, it finally took notice.
A guttural roar shook the battlefield. Filled with primal fury. "INSOLENT MORTAL!" It shrieked. Its voice was a grating sound of rock and thunder.
It abruptly disengaged from PM Elfalcon, Marshall Misthawk, and Admiral Ashenowl. Its massive form turned with surprising speed. Its eyes were blazing as it charged King Aquila. The ground buckled under its thundering approach.
PM Elfalcon immediately charged. "Do the plan!" He roared in his were-gryphon form. And launching himself forward. A streak of lightning covered half-beast.
Admiral Ashenowl's mechanical armor exuded heavy black smoke. Its boosters flared as he shot after PM Elfalcon. His energy weapons already spitting fire. They moved to intercept the Dragon King. Reducing the pressure King Aquila faced.
Marshall Misthawk, however, did not follow. With the Dragon King's fury focused elsewhere, he charged at the other surviving dragons.
His were-gorilla form grew even larger. His muscles coiled. He let out a deafening roar. And began tearing through the remaining dragons with savage glee. Replacing King Aquila in the gruesome task of extermination.
Scales ripped. Bones snapped. And dragon blood flowed freely as Marshall Misthawk became a whirlwind of destruction.
The Dragon King saw this and got more enraged. It fought with renewed ferocity. Forcing the three who stalled him to retreat.
But when the Dragon King targeted Marshall Misthawk, one of the three fighting it would immediately peel off. Leaving the other two to join Marshall Misthawk in facing the Dragon King.
The other one replaced Marshall Misthawk in the systematic slaughter of the remaining dragons. It was a rotation. A calculated, ruthless tactic.
The Dragon King was kept occupied. Unable to effectively protect its dwindling numbers of subordinates. While the four Tier-7 powerhouses ensured the complete annihilation of its horde.
The Dragon King, in its rage, lashed out at the surviving nobles. Scattering them like dolls. Crushing them underfoot. Their screams were short. Brutal. Spark watched from his hidden place with his enhanced eyesight.
He saw the city guards on the walls. Their faces were pale. Their expressions were horrified. He saw the terror in the eyes of the few nobles who had managed to crawl away from the initial massacre. Only to be crushed in the Dragon King's brutal tactic.
But the four powerhouse experts ignored it. Utter disregard for human casualties. Their focus remained singular. Kill the other dragons. All of them.
A cold, hard knot formed in Spark's gut. A bad feeling. This wasn't a defense. This wasn't noble sacrifice. This was a ruthless plan. A trap. And he had been part of the sacrificial lambs.
He had recognized the pattern. The cold calculation. He had seen ruthlessness before. He often applied it himself. But this... this was next level. This was the betrayal he knew so well. Etched onto a grand, horrifying scale.
No. Spark's mind clicked into gear. He would not die here. Not for them. Never.
He began to move. Slowly. Deliberately. His gigantic frame was still in its Draconic Werelion form. But it was hidden by the activated [Supernatural Stealth].
The magic coated his presence in an ethereal shroud. His footsteps was usually heavy enough to crack bone. They now became as light as falling leaves.
He moved from the cover of one massive dragon cadaver to another. Melting into the shadows cast by their hulking forms.
The air thrummed with residual magic and the screams of dying nobles. But Spark made no sound. His keen senses allowed him to perceive the precise movements of the battling bigshots. Ensuring he remained out of their peripheral vision.
He moved towards the outer edges of the battlefield. Not aiming for the city walls, but the partially burnt forests closer to his position. Spark kept his head low. Muscles coiled. Every step was a calculated gamble.
It didn't take long. The battle was nearing its gruesome endpoint. At least for the lesser combatants. Marshall Misthawk had, by now, slaughtered the last remaining dragon on the field.
The Dragon King, despite being locked in a brutal exchange with PM Elfalcon, Admiral Ashenowl, and the King, had finished off the last of the surviving nobles. Their screams echoed briefly before silence descended.
The battlefield was a tableau of death. Scattered corpses of humans and dragons. Blood was pooling into crimson rivers. Smoke was still rising from scorched earth.
Now, only five entities remained alive on the sprawling, blood-drenched field. The four Tier-7 human powerhouses and the Tier-8 Dragon King.
Spark, meanwhile, had reached the relative safety of the outer perimeter. Far enough from the active combat zone. But still close enough to observe.
He didn't dare shift back to his human form. The werelion's [Supernatural Stealth] was still activated. His dark-grey eyes, keen and calculating, remained fixed on the unfolding drama.
The ground continued to tremble as PM Elfalcon's lightning spears clashed with the Dragon King's claw. As Ashenowl's energy barriers deflected blasts of pure draconic fire. As Marshall Misthawk's makeshift shield, a dragon carcass, blocked the Dragon King's tail swipe.
They were pushing the beast. Not defeating it. But keeping it occupied. Funneling its rage.
Then, King Aquila made his move. He disengaged slightly. His free hand delved into a spatial pocket at his hip. He pulled out an object.
It was a blood-red crystal. Intricately carved into the shape of a soaring eagle. It pulsed with a faint, malevolent light.
King Aquila lifted the crystal to his chest. His voice echoing across the silent battlefield. Not in a shout, but in a strange, resonant hum.
He began to chant. A long, guttural mantra that reverberated with ancient power. Runes, invisible moments before, flared into existence on the ground.
Spark's heart gave a sudden lurch. A hidden formation array. It wasn't just a battle. It was a ritual.
The runes on the ground pulsed with an unholy light. Drawing power from the very earth. And then, the blood spread across the battlefield. The vast, horrific pools of mingled human and dragon blood, began to stir.
It flowed. Coalescing. Defying gravity. Rising in crimson tendrils. It swirled, twisting, churning... Merging into a singular, grotesque mass.
It grew larger. Forming a monstrous, shimmering ovoid. A giant egg of congealed blood.
The Dragon King roared. Sensing the shift. Sensing the true purpose of this engagement. But it was too late. PM Elfalcon, Marshall Misthawk, and Admiral Ashenowl activated a scroll each. Keeping it ensnared.
King Aquila hurled the blood-red crystal eagle towards the giant egg. His face was grim but victorious.
The crystal soared through the air. A crimson meteor. And plunged into the swirling, sanguine mass.
As the crystal dissolved into the egg, Aquila's voice, amplified by the array, boomed across the desolate landscape. It was a voice filled with cold pride. Stripped bare of any pretense of heroism.
"For too long..." He declared with chilling tone to the Dragon King. And the people watching this. "Our country has been vulnerable. Surrounded by empires that covet our land. Our skies. Our resources. We needed a true guardian! Not mere stone walls, but a living bulwark!"
He gestured to the bloody egg. To the field of countless dead. "The great Sky Beast Ritual requires power! The blood of invading enemies! As well as the blood of patriots. Those who would defend our lands with their lives!"
He paused. A triumphant smile stretching his lips. Completely devoid of warmth. "The stronger the blood, the more powerful the guardian would be. And what stronger blood could there be than that of a Dragon King's horde, and the noble families, pure and loyal, who perished defending our capital?"
Spark, watching from his hidden point outside the pulsating array, felt a cold, hard realization...