Ember Dragon

A burst of electric static rang in the Imperial soldiers’ ears: "Azimuth 175, altitude 3500—prepare to fire!"

With a screech of metal, the gun barrels jerked upward. Ogre loaders expertly shoved armor-piercing shells into the chambers, the clink of brass casings crisp like silver coins hitting stone.

The crosshairs in the scopes locked onto the winged figures hovering high above.

The Holy Guard’s longswords burned with divine fire. Heavenly flames rained down, beams of divine light scorched the Imperial soldiers below like divine punishment.

To ordinary mortals, they looked like angels—heavenly beings worthy of worship. But to the Imperial soldiers, they were simply enemies—targets that could be turned into war merit.

"Fire!" The commander’s roar erupted in sync with the blast of the first shell, shockwaves ripping off soldiers’ caps.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

In an instant, orange-red fire bloomed across the sky. A fiery net of shrapnel wove through the clouds, whistling toward the Holy Guard above.

To combat these angelic beings, the Empire had inscribed armor-piercing rounds with runes specifically against solar divine power.

The Holy Guard leader—a six-winged angel—watched coldly. Fire swirled in his golden eyes as the brand on his forehead glowed.

"Holy hymns mark the brow, divine gaze like a blaze."

He chanted softly and raised his flaming sword, drawing a glowing circle midair. A red magic array of fire appeared before him.

The other Holy Guard members followed suit, chanting hymns, circling with their swords. More and more red arrays filled the sky, merging into a massive reverse pentagram hundreds of meters wide, dyeing the sky orange.

"Boom!"

"Boom! Boom!"

The armor-piercing shells struck the array in bursts, but could not shake it—only rippling waves of energy pulsed across its surface.

The array was vast and complex, but not sacred—it radiated a crimson hue, exuding a strange and eerie aura.

On the ground, Tal furrowed his brows and muttered, "Reverse pentagram..."

The Holy Guard slashed down with their swords. With a low rumble, burning meteors surged from the array, crashing toward the Imperial forces.

Even worse, each meteor’s base was encased in a rotating reverse pentagram array.

Even the Empire’s own shells were absorbed and fused into massive ten-meter metal spheres falling toward the ground.

The sky shuddered. The earth quaked. This full-force strike from the Holy Guard rivaled ninth-tier forbidden spells—far beyond human resistance.

"Vmmm—"

The shockwave stung the soldiers’ eardrums. Confused, they looked up and froze.

—The sky cracked in red streaks. Fireballs streaked through the clouds trailing sulfurous tails.

"Cassius above..."

"That’s..."

Confusion turned to terror. Soldiers trembled, faces pale and helpless.

They were used to watching enemies writhe in destruction and agony.

But now, under the Holy Guard’s catastrophic strike, they were the victims—the ones awaiting doom.

Seeing the descending meteors, Tal’s face changed. He shouted, "Anti-air cannons! Intercept! Fire now!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Dozens of anti-air cannons lit up, shells trailing smoke, weaving another fiery net in the sky.

But the meteors were wrapped in reverse pentagrams. Not only were they immune to midair explosions, they even absorbed the metal from the shells.

Scorching debris rained down like hail, taking lives with ease—even piercing steam tanks.

Even before impact, searing heat swept the land. Hot wind burned skin, dust stung eyes, and the air stank of scorched flesh.

Soldiers tried to flee but found meteors already covering the entire battlefield.

"Sinful souls burn, our Lord eternal—"

The earth split open. Red-hot chains erupted, writhing wildly midair, cutting off escape, encircling the Imperial force.

Fear gave way to despair. Many soldiers dropped to their knees, praying to their god—the Ember Emperor Cassius—for salvation.

"Great Red Dragon..."

"Emperor Cassius protect us—we will survive!"

The half-dragon officer watched the meteors fall, gritting his teeth, soaked in sweat.

Tal knew—if these meteors hit, his mixed division would be utterly wiped out.

It would be the first complete annihilation of an Imperial army since the Empire’s founding. As commander, he would be nailed to the pillar of shame.

Tal raised his rocket launcher and fired at the meteor above. "Spell shielding team—hold the line!"

Over a hundred burly ogres raised huge shields, rune-carved surfaces glowing with anti-magic energy, forming a protective dome over the Ember Empire’s position.

But the colossal meteors smashed through it like cracking an eggshell, shattering the shield.

"Boom!"

An earth-shaking blast erupted. Fire surged skyward, smoke rolled across the land, swallowing soldiers, cannons, tanks—everything.

Heat waves ripped through the battlefield. Charred limbs and debris flew, forming a storm of destruction.

Just then, ripples distorted the air in the distance. Space fissures opened, spewing out a dozen airships and hundreds of Wyverns, flooding the sky.

"Screee—"

Alger soared high atop a draconic eagle. Staring at the flames and smoke below, his pupils narrowed. "Damn, we’re still too late."

He raised his longsword, pointed at the Holy Guard, and shouted, "Don’t let them escape! Avenge the fallen!"

Instantly, Wyverns roared, flapping wings and spewing flames, surging like a tide toward the Holy Guard.

Elemental cannons beneath the airships locked on, blasting thick beams charged with lightning, frost, and fire.

Countless missiles rained from above, dense as hail.

But the Holy Guard, having unleashed their meteor catastrophe, had almost no energy left—they couldn’t continue fighting.

Many of them showed strange changes—cracks on their skin, exposed bleeding flesh, wings molting and burning midair.

The Holy Guard leader turned, his six wings fluttering, expressionless. "Our goal is achieved. No need to linger—retreat."

"Yes, my lord."

On command, all Holy Guard raised their swords in unison like puppets on strings.

"Vmmm—"

Beams of light shot skyward, parting the clouds like pillars supporting the heavens.

The ethereal hymn rang again. The reverse pentagrams beneath their feet spun rapidly. Space twisted and cracked, cloaked in soft light.

"Damn it, they’re teleporting! We can’t let them escape!" Alger shouted, diving faster—now a crimson blur.

"Seal the space—I’ll disrupt them!"

Onboard the airships, Imperial court mages raised staves and chanted, forming intricate spell models to seal the area.

[Dimensional Lock]

Chains of magic burst from the void, shimmering as they closed in, surrounding the airspace.

Alger closed in rapidly on the Holy Guard.

"Roar—"

His dragon eagle shrieked with fury, releasing overwhelming draconic pressure. Behind them loomed a massive phantom of a majestic red dragon.

As a Dragonblood Duke—one of Cassius’s earliest vassals—Alger’s power was terrifying. Alone, he could match the charge of a hundred Crimson Scaled Conquerors.

In moments, he had closed to within 500 meters. At that speed, he could strike in a heartbeat.

"Die!"

Alger roared. Crimson scales rippled across his face, veins bulged on his forehead, and golden dragon-slit eyes flared with rage.

The Holy Guard leader turned, locking eyes with him—also golden, cold, and emotionless. Two rotating reverse pentagrams reflected in his pupils.

Those eyes were deep and mysterious, like they could devour one’s soul. Alger faltered for a split second.

The six-winged leader slowly raised his burning sword, pointing it at the Wyvern knight. "Minion of the evil dragon—you shall be destroyed by our Lord."

100 meters.

50 meters.

20 meters.

Just as Alger’s sword came down, hundreds of Holy Guard vanished in light—first fading like phantoms, then gone.

The hymn distorted into a hoarse, mocking laugh, echoing across the sky.

"Swish—"

Alger’s blade cut empty air, tearing space so fiercely it cracked.

Hovering, he looked down at charred corpses and tank wreckage, face grim. "Damn Thracians... they escaped again."

Circling down, he examined the ruins and smelled the stinging sulfur.

Picking up a pinch of ash, he frowned. "Soul residue? This doesn’t feel like solar divine power... it’s more like something from hell."

"A whole division gone. The military’s going to blow up over this." He sighed, eyes lifting toward the Western Army Group HQ, face darkening.

In the Issac Valley, temporary HQ of the Empire’s Western Army Group, high-ranking officers erupted in shock at the frontline report.

Since the Empire’s founding, this was the first time a division had been wiped out—historic in a grim sense.

If this news reached home, it would cause national uproar and outrage among the people.

"What? The 3rd Mixed Division’s completely annihilated?!"

"Cassius above! That’s fifteen thousand troops—with full armor and air support—how did the Thracians destroy them all?!"

"I told you! Tal is a damn incompetent! He was never fit to command a division!"

"Great Red Dragon... A whole division wiped out—that’s the first loss of this scale since the Empire was founded! It’s a disgrace! How can we face Emperor Cassius now?!"

"Enough!"

Arturo slammed the table and stood up, face twisted with rage. "It’s already happened! Blaming each other won’t help!"

"I’m the Western Army Group’s supreme commander. I’ll take responsibility."

He looked around, eyes sharp as blades. Then, more calmly, he said, "We underestimated Thrace—and the legacy of Fadlan.

We attacked their deep defenses the same way we attacked the Northern Kingdoms and Aether—by splitting our forces. That’s why the 3rd Division got isolated and wiped out.

Their Holy Guard can unleash attacks on par with forbidden spells. Without elites like Duke Alger or Duchess Misha, they could destroy a division instantly."

Another officer added, "We need new tactics. Thrace, one of the three heirs to Holy Fadlan, has more trump cards. We should advance steadily and avoid reckless losses."

"But we’re on Thracian soil! If we slow down and get bogged down in attrition, we’ll face supply issues."

"Then leave the scattered cities to the Starfallers. Focus our main force entirely on Auguste!"

The officers fell into heated debate again, shouting over each other.

Arturo gripped the massive Thrace map in front of him, hands shaking with fury, voice hoarse: "The Holy Guard..."

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