Ashen Dragon-Chapter 120 - 50 Scourge (II)

Robert felt a deep sense of helplessness, followed by uncontrollable anger.

How dare this red dragon mock him like this!

He suddenly loosened his grip, and the several-meter-long crossbow arm launched 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 blazing inferno, merging into the twisted, swirling fire tornado.

[Braving the Fiery Pits]

At this moment, the red dragon truly became the incarnation of flame!

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

The dragon-slaying arrow that once killed "Glacier Wing" passed through the fire without resistance, finally embedding powerlessly into the ground.

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"Impossible, this is impossible!"

Robert collapsed 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 flames, his eyes reflecting the dazzling firelight, filled with utter despair.

"No..."

As the fire tornado approached, ravenous tongues of flame rushed toward him.

Those terrifying blazes rotated at high speed, condensing, forming, finally transforming into the enormous dragon body—that of Cassius.

"Who gave you the courage,"

"to oppose me with these pitiful toys?"

Cassius crushed the few great crossbows under his claws, and the flames surrounding him completely consumed the prostrate Robert.

The youngest Earl of Rackman’s Duchy, commander of the thirty thousand allied forces, turned to ashes in the blazing fire without a single last word.

"The final judgment is near!"

"You pitiful mortals will soon take your leave!"

With billowing smoke and raging flames, 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 claws 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 flames.

"Help!"

"Stay away from me!"

Faced with this monster akin to a scourge, the allied soldiers completely 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 blazing 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 flailed, ablaze, 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 flames, 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 flapping his wings, surveying the burning, hellish landscape below.

This place, 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 become a carnival for flames, a forbidden zone for the living.

Cassius meticulously fulfilled his pre-battle promise, landing 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 classical works of court poets, lavishly 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 Calamity..."

Luton recalled a line from the holy scriptures: "Sinners cast into purgatory, the flames will consume them."

"Fire... the incarnation of flame, he is the incarnation of flame!"

"By the gods..."

The captured nobles stared blankly at the sight of tens of thousands of elite troops turning to ash, trembling all over. Many collapsed 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 flapped his enormous wings, detaching from the sea of flames, 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 display of fireworks."

"Wouldn’t you agree?"

Cassius gazed down at them, his golden eyes still seemingly burning with recent flames.

...

"The allied forces never had a chance at victory; it was all like a grand play orchestrated by him for himself."

"That day, flames 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 collapse, heralding the impending era of dragon domination."

—The Triel Tragedy, Annals of Anzeta, Duke Luton