Ember Dragon

The forcefield shields were unbelievably sturdy and indestructible. Armored cars hauling mortars, steam tanks, and even the Empire’s ground troops followed closely behind the giant mechs, using them for cover to evade Thrace’s bombardment.

But the wyverns and airships in the sky weren’t so lucky. Massive swaths of wyverns were swallowed by fire, and some airships turned into enormous fireballs, plummeting to the ground before exploding with a thunderous roar.

Arturo raised his longsword and roared, "All troops, open fire! Blast open that Thracian turtle shell for me!"

In an instant, mortar barrels and steam tank cannons all lifted, their muzzles spewing brilliant fire and thick smoke.

"Boom—"

One terrifying shell after another slammed into the light dome. The immense shockwaves shook the walls again, sending several more soldiers screaming to their deaths.

Behind the Empire’s front lines, court mages floated midair with staves in hand, chanting ancient draconic incantations in low tones.

"Roar—"

With a sky-splitting roar, nine blazing fire dragons charged toward August, unleashing a sea of fire that scorched the walls and made the dome flicker wildly.

These spells, empowered by the Ember Emperor himself, were all at least 8th-tier or higher, potent enough to reduce entire cities to ash.

But magic requires inheritance and centuries of accumulation—something the Empire clearly lacked.

Thrace’s Arcane Legion, however, was no easy target. They held the profound legacy of Holy Fadlan, and even legendary mages stood among their ranks.

"Whoosh—"

With a tremendous fluctuation of the Weave, a massive vortex formed in the sky. It exerted a powerful suction, drawing all the fire into the elemental towers.

In moments, one tower’s peak produced a fireball nearly ten meters wide. At its core, immense energy pulsed with blinding radiance, as though something terrifying was about to be born.

"Damn it! They absorbed our magic! Brace for their next attack!"

The Empire’s spellcasters paled and shouted warnings, hastily raising magic barriers into the air.

The giant mechs also raised their forcefield shields in unison, combining them into a fortress-like, impenetrable wall.

"Boom—"

A dazzling fire column ripped through the sky, blasting through over a dozen magical barriers before finally slamming into the mechs’ shields, dispersing into a storm of flame.

"Damn Thracians!"

"Crush them!"

Imperial officers brandished sabers and roared in fury once more.

The Empire’s firepower intensified. Heavy cannons in the distance launched another barrage. Steam tanks near the front lines fired armor-piercing rounds. Even the infantry unleashed relentless waves of bullets. Gunfire and smoke threatened to smother the entire front.

Up high, Smaug spread his wings and let out a deafening roar, releasing a crushing dragon’s might.

"Roar—"

Thousands of subdragons surged forward like a black tide, their wings flapping in chaos as they dove toward August.

They probed for weaknesses in the light dome, quickly slipping through the gaps, then pounced upon the Thracian soldiers on the walls—clawing, biting, and unleashing dragonflame without restraint.

Panic erupted. Screams and shouts echoed over the battlements as the Thracians descended into chaos.

"Damn beasts!"

"Archers! Crossbowmen! Kill every last one of those bastards!"

At their officers’ commands, Thracian soldiers raised their bows and crossbows and began firing relentlessly at the airborne subdragons.

Spear-wielding soldiers with golden shields held the front line, fending off the diving subdragons and skewering their hearts with precise thrusts.

Beside the Sun God ballistae, soldiers strained at the winches. The giant golden bolts they fired pierced through three or four subdragons in a single shot, skewering them like kebabs.

The air filled with screams, roars, blood, and shattered scales. Wyverns fell from the sky, but Thracian soldiers died too—roasted by dragonflame, pierced by venomous tails, or decapitated in a single bite.

"Screee—"

The wyverns were cunning. In packs, they dove at the ballistae, tearing with claws, stabbing with tails, and spewing flame—incinerating both the ballistae and the soldiers manning them.

The blood-soaked chaos atop the walls gave the Imperial main force a rare breather—and a golden opportunity to punch through the light dome.

One by one, the giant mechs approached the dome. From their arms extended spiral lances inscribed with spatial magic.

These towering beasts leapt high into the air. Flames burst from their elbows, propelling them forward. Their lances struck with unstoppable momentum.

The supposedly indestructible dome trembled, twisted, and webbed with fractures like a spider’s web.

Tank cannons lifted and fired again, every armor-piercing round aimed at the dome’s weakest spots, dimming its glow.

"Crack—"

A huge breach finally tore open in the dome. Like a dam bursting, Imperial troops surged through.

A Thracian officer on the walls shouted, "The holy barrier is breaking! Stop them!"

"Boom—"

August’s steel gates rose with a grinding groan. From within marched massive steel golems, charging straight at the incoming mechs.

One roared, its alchemical circuits blazing with light. It slammed an iron fist into a mech before it.

The mech raised its forcefield shield and blocked the blow. Its other arm fired an elemental cannon, boring through the golem’s belly and obliterating its inner matrix.

Missile pods on the mech’s back launched a storm of rockets. Explosions blackened the golems, drawing furious howls.

But one golem retaliated, smashing a mech’s head into scrap metal and killing the pilot inside.

"Boom! Boom!"

Steel fists and alloy punches collided in a furious clash, shaking the walls and cracking the earth.

The steam tanks and infantry were far from useless. They kept firing, riddling golems with bullet holes.

"Amanata above—what the hell is that?!"

"Gods..."

A portal opened in the sky. A 200-meter-long shadow loomed—like a floating fortress. It was the flagship of the Empire’s Third Air Fleet: the Isdalia.

It was powered by helltech provided by Bael: twelve Hellfire Furnaces in parallel, converting molten heat into arcane pulses to drive rune pistons. Exhaust vents spewed sulfur storms.

Its most terrifying weapon lay in its belly: the "Maw of Annihilation" arcane rail cannon.

Thirty meters long, forged from black infernal steel, covered in jagged horns, its hexagonal barrel housed 17 layers of arcane runes. Each shot cost tens of thousands of gold worth of energy crystals.

It was the most destructive weapon in the Empire’s arsenal. Its purpose was singular—to break August.

"Prepare to fire!"

Hundreds of soldiers inside loaded crystals and turned valves. Sulfurous steam hissed as gears rotated the massive barrel.

The Isdalia’s captain eyed the dials, then cut the safety valve himself. "Let those cowardly Thracians witness true violent beauty."

"Hummm—"

The gaping muzzle aimed at August. Light surged from within.

Energy ripples stirred winds for miles, kicking up dust and twisting space itself.

This shot might shatter the sacred domain.

Even Wilhelm, floating above the Sun Tower, opened his eyes wide. "Stop them!"

"For Thrace!"

"For Amanata! Destroy that gun!"

Angelblooded soared from the tower, swords blazing, wings spread, diving toward the Isdalia.

Tyrena led the charge, her eyes glowing as she raised the Sword of Judgment and rallied her kin.

"Screee—"

Under Smaug’s roar, subdragons surged like tides, racing to intercept the angelblooded.

Blades of light tore the sky. Dragon blood and broken limbs rained down.

In moments, the angelblooded slaughtered the subdragons in their path. Mangled corpses fell like comets.

"His Majesty Wilhelm shall grant you death!"

Tyrena slashed forward, the angelblooded trailing golden streaks behind her like falling stars as they dove at the Isdalia.

Just then, a deafening dragon’s roar rang from the side. Its might overwhelmed even the angelblooded.

"Impossible! We are the Sun God’s heirs! How could we fear?!"

"That’s—"

Tyrena looked up. A colossal, vicious red dragon phantom loomed overhead—summoned by nearly three hundred fully armed wyvern knights: the Crimson Scaled Conquerors!

"Crimson Scaled Conquerors—Dragon Roar Charge!" Alger raised the Everflame Greatsword and roared. The rest followed.

The roars merged, becoming the will of the Ember Emperor himself.

The red dragon phantom behind them grew more majestic—this was their ultimate move.

At Alger’s signal, they dove. Serrated wings scraped the air, igniting blazing contrails.

Alger cleaved off an angelblooded’s head. Others pierced their chests with crimson spears.

Tyrena snapped out of her daze. Seeing the wyvern knight before her, she exploded with divine light.

"Vile dragon lackeys! Who gave you the courage—to harm the Sun God’s children?!"

Spears of holy light shot from her back, skewering seven Conquerors. Her sword swung, cleaving three wyverns in half.

The other angelblooded joined the fight, swords blazing with divine power, battling the Conquerors.

Explosions flared in the clouds. Over a hundred wyverns, bleeding gold and red, spiraled from the sky.

Amid the chaos, Mantou charged a distracted angelblooded with his lance.

"Feather freak, you’re dead!"

"Shing—"

"Foolish." Tyrena cut a Conqueror in half, then flashed toward the railgun.

She raised her blade. A giant golden sword formed and slashed down toward the Isdalia.

"For the Lord of Eternal Radiance!" The sky split with her power, clouds torn asunder.

But a giant flaming hand caught her blade in midair.

"Impossible!" Tyrena went pale.

Misha appeared amid fire and ash, lifting a hand to the sky. "Your Sun God sleeps eternally."

"And you relics of a dead age shall be destroyed by the Empire."

"Gravitational field charging 90%... Hellfire Furnace overload warning!"

"Charge complete!"

The Maw of Annihilation fired. A ten-meter-wide beam of light tore through the heavens like divine wrath, blasting toward August.

"Boom—"

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