Chapter 318: The Beginning of the Campaign
"Your Highness Kai Xiusu, please let us come with you," pleaded the Blue Dragon, clinging tightly to Kai Xiusu’s front paw, his voice desperate and unyielding. "That old Silver Dragon is cunning and deceitful—full of tricks! He might very well be leading his disciples in a siege against you!"
Christina couldn’t help but glance sideways, her expression dripping with provocation, as she watched the White Dragon trotting obediently behind Kai Xiusu like a loyal hound.
"Ruuuuaa!"
"Filthy whore dragon," snarled Tinia, her body arching like a cornered cat, wings flared wide. "You think you can provoke me? How dare you even touch Master?"
But this was exactly what the Blue Dragon had wanted.
Christina smirked, her voice cold and sharp with contempt.
"Look at that—what you truly need is allies like us: reliable, disciplined, and capable of controlling our emotions. Not some mindless beast like the White Dragon, incapable even of basic restraint."
A low, guttural growl rumbled from the White Dragon’s throat. Her face twisted into a snarl, her eyes burning with fury. She wanted nothing more than to pounce and tear the insolent Blue Dragon apart—but she had no reply.
If she attacked now...
Then she’d be proving the Blue Dragon’s words true.
And if Master took offense, grew disgusted, or even withdrew favor... that would be catastrophic.
"One day," she thought, grinding her teeth, "I’ll rip her mouth off."
With a heavy swallow, she buried the venomous thought deep within her soul.
Kai Xiusu, growing impatient, violently shook his claw, sending the persistent Blue Dragon tumbling onto the ground.
"Enough. I’ve agreed. You may come too—on the Dragon Queen’s behalf."
"But under no circumstances are you to act without my orders."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
"It would be our honor to serve!"
Christina scrambled to her feet instantly, her eyes sparkling with delight.
For days, she’d used every trick in the book—sacrificing the Blue Dragon’s dignity, bending every rule, whispering promises, and pressing every advantage—until finally, she’d cracked the Red Dragon’s icy resolve.
Now that the door was open...
Why not push a little further?
Her mind raced with possibilities, her gaze drifting with sultry intent.
"Since you’ve consented... I suppose we should also carry out the Dragon Queen’s decree..."
"Get lost."
A single, cold syllable echoed in her ear.
Without another word, Kai Xiusu spread his wings and vanished into the sky—leaving the Blue Dragon stranded in the wind, utterly disoriented.
"Such a hopeless romantic," she muttered, shaking her head.
"Though... I swear I just caught a whiff of rain. Smells just like those stinking Silver Dragons."
"Strange. Could it be a trick of the mind?"
Christina stared upward, watching the crimson streak of Kai Xiusu’s form slice through the heavens like a falling star. After a moment of hesitation, she clenched her jaw and launched herself into the air, following at a distance.
Twelve Blue Dragons emerged in succession, fanning out behind her—forming a disciplined, imposing column of azure might.
The cold wind howled. Snowflakes danced through the air.
The Inaki River and Olyur River flowed silently, their surfaces veined with melting snow, turning into icy ripples.
The northern wind brought fresh snow to the Okgaral Plain, while soldiers on the riverbanks worked tirelessly—digging trenches, constructing underground bastions—tense and focused, preparing for the storm to come.
But the Players? They barely cared. Some even hummed cheerful tunes, as if this war, the fate of the entire Northern Regions, had nothing to do with them.
Many paused, lifting their eyes to admire the breathtaking winter scenery.
"Such a beautiful snowscape..."
"Even if our development starts slow, this view alone is worth it."
"Yes..."
"Huh? Wait... did you hear that? Music?"
"And why does it sound so familiar... like Empire of Angels?"
"Does this game even have background music like that?"
"Also... do you feel it? The ground is trembling."
"Earthquake?"
"No—look over there—"
As cries erupted from both Players and soldiers alike, a vast, overwhelming army emerged from the distant horizon.
The sky and the earth were consumed by fire and steel. The endless white expanse of snow suddenly burst into a chaotic, mottled flood.
Wyverns poured in like a storm of black clouds, their wings blotting out half the sky in a dense, swarming mass.
On the ground, colossal armored beasts—each the size of a small mountain—moved slowly forward, their every step shaking the earth, turning the plain into a rolling landscape of miniature mountains.
Great Goblins and Tieflings marched in perfect formation, rifles gleaming freshly, their movements precise and disciplined. Behind them, Ogre tribesmen dragged heavy cannons, heaving and panting, yet their eyes blazed with euphoric anticipation.
Dragon-Bound Holy Knights, each bearing massive shields, gathered in tight clusters, their bodies wreathed in crimson auras. The air itself seemed to ignite around them.
A steady drumbeat echoed across the plain. The Satyr Military Band played a majestic, grand melody—something like the very rhythm of fate—filling the vast expanse with rising tension, the air thick with the weight of war.
On the far side of the two great rivers, soldiers and Northern nobles stared in horror at the approaching horde. Some even collapsed, fainting from sheer terror.
"Gods above..."
"How could such an army exist?"
"This doesn’t match the intelligence reports at all!"
"How on earth are we supposed to defeat this?"
Yet the army gathered on the Okgaral Plain was no ordinary force. It was the absolute elite, the pinnacle of Northern strength. Even under this overwhelming oppressive pressure, they held their ground—no mass rout, no collapse.
Among the five thousand soldiers standing there, over seventy percent were personal armies raised by various Northern nobles. The rest were retainers—knights whose families had served the same lords for generations, bound by blood and honor. Their fates were inextricably tied to the nobility.
Even surrender would bring no mercy.
Thus, their resolve was unshakable.
Even after repeated "Kai Xiusu’s Speech" indoctrinations, only a hundred or so had defected or fled—remarkably low, considering Loren’s army had collapsed under two-thirds.
Duke Leo raised his Greatsword toward the distant enemy, roaring with the thunderous power of a lion.
"Those are merely savage, crude beasts!"
"Soldiers! Remember—Scandian is invincible!"
"And we have allies far more powerful than they can imagine—enough to shatter their ranks!"
As he spoke, Asmo, the Divine Offspring from Heaven’s Peak, brandished his luminous Silver Sword.
Cloud Giants, Pegasi, Plumed Serpents, Celestial Eagles, Pengyu Angels, Justiciars—countless celestial beings soared into the sky above the southern bank of the great river, facing off against the dense swarm of Wyverns and Chimeras across the water.
On the ground, Steadfast Shieldbearers, Armored Guards, Blessed Lions, Elven Druids—emerged from the earthworks, filling the southern bank with an aura of unyielding authority.
This was the relief force from Heaven’s Mountain and the Druid Grove—only a few hundred in number, yet each a being of mystery and immense power. Individually, their strength surpassed even the Dragon-Blooded Nobles of the Kingdom of Ashen.
Their presence alone inspired the Allied Human forces. Morale soared.
A cry rose from the southern bank:
"For the Bosk Duchy!"
(End of Chapter)
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