https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-326-The-Crimson-Thread-of-the-Divine-Sovereign-8-/13676656/
Chapter 327: Ice Barrier
"No, my Lionheart Knights!"
"Damned Kingdom of Ashen!"
Duke Leo stared into the distant inferno, his face twisted in a snarl of fury and despair—his usual composure utterly shattered.
Lionheart Knights. The legendary elite force of the Bosk Family, the most powerful military order in the Northern Regions. The very backbone of Bosk Duchy’s dominance, the sword that had carved empires and enforced the will of the realm across countless lands.
Now, with their annihilation, even if victory were won, the Duchy’s authority would never be as secure as before.
He had sent them merely to hold the line, to stall the enemy’s advance—never expecting the Kingdom of Ashen’s army to be so devastating. Even the Lionheart Knights, famed for their impenetrable defense, had fallen before the synchronized, fire-wreathed march of Dragon-Bound Holy Knights.
"They’re coming!"
"This isn’t a foe we can fight!"
"Run! Run now!"
"What do we do? The whole field’s on fire!"
Watching the Allied Forces scatter in disarray, the relentless advance of the burning army, the ground torn apart by explosions—
Hearing the shriek of rifle fire, the roaring war cries pulsing with arcane fury, the wails of the dying—
Duke Leo lifted his gaze to the sky, where thick, white clouds hung low and dense. He whispered beneath his breath:
"Lord Oszedro..."
He knew—beyond doubt—that the Silver Dragon of the Clouds, with his ancient power and divine mystery, would hear. Even the faintest whisper would carry to his ears.
And then, the voice came—deep, resonant, and timeless.
Oszedro Melward.
"This is a conflict between mortal beings. I will not intervene lightly. I have learned this lesson too many times across my endless lifespan."
"The Red Dragon, the destroyer of order between man and beast, has not yet appeared."
Leo Bosk trembled. Slowly, he lowered himself to one knee. His thick beard brushed the frozen ground as his lips parted in a desperate plea.
"Please… I beg you. In the name of the Northern Regions’ highest authority..."
"Our homeland stands at the brink of ruin. The Evil Dragon has bestowed his followers with boundless dark strength. We mortals cannot withstand it."
His posture sank lower than dust. For the first time in his long life, the old Duke felt utterly powerless.
Before such beings of power, his army, his nation—mere ants. The very land itself could be reshaped at will.
Yet, to preserve his lineage’s thousand-year rule, no price was too great.
"Mortal," the voice echoed, "I have witnessed the rise and fall of countless empires. In my eyes, you are all laid bare. And men like you—unless driven by the need to preserve order and balance—I would not waste a single word upon."
"Can’t you see?"
"I have already shown mercy. The gap between you and your enemy goes far beyond the strength granted by that Red Dragon."
The chaos around him grew worse. The rout deepened. Duke Leo no longer cared for noble pride. He dropped to both knees, forehead pressed hard against the ice, melting a shallow pit into the frozen earth.
"Lord Oszedro! I do this for the Northern Regions! I beg you! Take whatever you desire—power, wealth, anything—anything at all, we will give it!"
"Enough."
"Tch. I still can’t resist meddling."
A long, weary sigh drifted down from the heavens.
Duke Leo lifted his head, relief flooding his face.
Then, the Dragon’s voice rang out across the clouds—deep, ancient, echoing endlessly over the scarred Ice Plains.
The ground trembled violently. A frigid wind howled from every direction, making every soldier on the battlefield tremble in fear.
"Boom!"
With a thunderous roar and a violent surge of arcane energy, a wall of ice erupted from the earth—stretching for miles, rising up to pierce the clouds, instantly enclosing nearly all Allied Forces within its shadow.
The barrier was thin—less than an inch thick—but impossibly strong, radiating a bone-chilling cold. Not even an Ogre’s Heavy Cannon could crack it. A single touch would freeze flesh to the bone.
[High-Level Ice Barrier]
Instantly, the entire army of the Kingdom of Ashen was sealed behind the wall. No matter how hard they pressed, no matter how many desperate efforts they made, the barrier stood unbroken.
"Damn it—what is this?!"
"We were about to wipe out their main force! And now this damn thing appears?!"
"Where’s the Ogre Heavy Cannon unit? Are they incompetent?!"
"Stop! Don’t get near it—don’t get frostbitten!"
Behind the lines, on the high slopes north of the two great rivers, Ogre Magus Lanpu gripped his toothpick-thin staff so tightly his knuckles turned white. His grotesque face hardened into grim seriousness as he stared at the flawless, radiant wall of ice.
"This kind of magic…"
"Only a Legendary Mage could do this. That Silver Dragon has acted. Or… they’ve hidden another caster. No Anzeta-born spellcaster could ever conjure something like this."
He raised his staff, pointed it toward the opposite bank, and began chanting.
A blazing, searing Fireball shot through the air—a Greater Fireball, refined and amplified through countless transformations.
"Boom!"
The explosion left only charred scorch marks. The ice wall remained untouched.
This was the power of a Legendary Mage’s high-tier spell. Even the mighty Burning Army couldn’t break it. Not even Lanpu could do anything.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Metal shells slammed into the barrier, detonating mid-air in dazzling explosions. The ground shook with each blast, yet the fragile-looking wall still gleamed under the sunlight, unyielding.
Viscount Luton, standing among the Northern nobles, exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his chest. His breath was ragged, his heart racing.
"Phew… thank the stars…"
"Thank goodness we still have Lord Oszedro."
"The Kingdom of Ashen’s army… it’s like a force of nature. A true Cataclysmic Army."
He still trembled at the memory of the Kingdom’s overwhelming assault—the Celestial races plummeting from the sky like falling stars, the once-unsinkable Lionheart Knights reduced to ash before his eyes.
It felt as if nothing could stand before them. No defense. No hope.
"Thank the stars…"
"We have Oszedro."
He repeated the words again, almost in a daze.
Then—sharp, piercing shrieks tore through the air. Followed by a barrage of explosions. The wasteland trembled once more.
"Wait… what’s that?"
Viscount Luton’s face froze. His heart stopped. A dread he had long feared, but never dared to believe, surged through him.
On the horizon, a single speck—spined eye—appeared, piercing through the endless blue sky.
Then—lightning-fast, a streak of crimson fire tore across the heavens, trailing a long, narrow line of glowing red like a blade splitting the sky in two.
It fell like a meteor.
The sky ripped open.
As the presence grew, the Northern nobles and Allied soldiers alike lifted their eyes in horror. The figure grew larger, more terrifying—until it filled their vision.
"No—!"
"It’s him! He’s here!"
Viscount Luton screamed, his voice cracking with terror. The nightmare that had haunted him for years returned, vivid and real.
"Purgatory Cataclysm!"
He shouted the name, his legs giving way. A few pale-yellow craters appeared in the snow beneath his feet, where his sweat had frozen instantly.
—
Wow… I just saw so many votes in one day. I’m honestly stunned. This is the first time I’ve ever gotten this many. I’m so overwhelmed.
(End of Chapter)
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