Chapter 328: Red and Silver (I)
A series of sonic booms tore through the air, followed by thunderous roars echoing from the heavens.
“Foolish people of the Northern Regions!”
“Since you so recklessly provoke war—”
Kai Xiusu spread his vast wings wide, plummeting from the sky in a devastating dive. The Dragon Crystal on his chest pulsed with searing energy, blazing with an intense, blinding light.
“Then I shall grant you ultimate destruction!”
Boom!
As his voice rang out, the air裂裂炸响. From his Bloody Maw surged a column of blazing white flame.
The unbreakable ice barrier shattered instantly—first with a web of cracks, then erupting into thick, choking smoke. With a sharp, crystalline crack, it disintegrated completely, crumbling into fragments.
“Long live the King of the Ashen Flame!”
“Long live the Great Red Dragon!”
“This is the might of a Master Divine Being!”
“No—Master has surpassed even the gods! He is something greater!”
“Your Majesty! We are invincible!”
The soldiers of the Kingdom of Ashen erupted into frenzied celebration. Tieflings, Great Goblins, and Ogres alike raised their weapons high, screaming with ecstatic fervor—like they had just witnessed the descent of their divine savior.
The euphoric Ogres in the artillery corps even fired their cannons repeatedly, sending shells soaring into the sky like fireworks. The explosions rained down into the barren wasteland, empty and lifeless.
But the Ogres’ commander didn’t care. He was too caught up in his own ecstasy.
The massive, hulking Ogre waved his banner wildly, leaping with joy—each stomping step cracking the ground beneath him, threatening to split the earth.
“Roar—!”
The Red Dragon slowly unfurled his wings midair, letting out a deep, resonant roar that shook the very soul of Anzeta.
He said nothing more.
Only stared down at the world below with cold, imperious eyes.
As his roar echoed across the desolate plains, each sweep of his wings sent storm-force winds tearing through the land. The climate behind him began to shift—rapidly, violently.
Temperatures soared. The air grew restless, charged with energy. Crimson fire clouds surged across the horizon, spreading like wildfire, staining half the sky a blood-red hue in mere moments.
The river misted violently as the ice in the rapids melted instantly.
[Control Weather]
This was the Red Dragon’s domain.
Wherever he appeared, the land turned into a hellish realm.
Under the overwhelming, oppressive aura of this dragon, countless eyes looked up in fear.
Though the Northern Chronicles spoke of many ravaging dragons, most were White Dragons—none had ever reached this scale. In any plane of existence, dragons of such magnitude were exceedingly rare.
Even after witnessing them in magical visions, the sheer reality of facing this monstrous beast left them trembling with awe and terror.
Northern nobles lost all desire to challenge him.
This Red Dragon wasn’t just a creature—he was a force of nature, like an earthquake, a landslide, or a hurricane. A cataclysm beyond human strength.
“By Tampas above… how could such a being exist?”
“How is this possible?”
“He… he’s grown even stronger.”
Viscount Luton whispered in disbelief, his silk trousers soaked through with sweat. But under the dragon’s aura of intimidation, no one noticed.
“No…”
Even Duke Leo stood frozen like a statue, his hand trembling on his sword hilt.
He no longer needed to draw the Sword of Lion’s Honor.
It was pointless.
Before a dragon of such prime material power, any being below legendary rank was nothing more than an insect—crushed beneath a single step.
Now, his last hope rested on one being. And perhaps, just a sliver of hope in his own hands.
Duke Leo lifted his head, tense, eyes locked on the sky.
“Roar—!”
Another dragon’s roar echoed—this time from the alliance.
“I come in fulfillment of the Northern Wind’s will. I am the Guardian of the Dragonkind Order.
I am the Keeper of World Balance.
I am the Observer of Material Beings.”
A low, resonant voice, pulsing with magical power, echoed across the endless wasteland above the alliance’s military formation.
Beneath the vast blue sky, a colossal Ancient Silver Dragon slowly unfurled his wings. The gusts he generated lifted clouds into the air, revealing his true form—none other than Silver Wings, Oszedro.
His body stretched thirty meters long, head held high. His eyes—deep, luminous, piercing—seemed to see through all illusions, into the very soul of existence.
The air around him shimmered, as if touched by magic itself. Even the weave of magic trembled, rippling with solemn reverence.
A presence as powerful as the Red Dragon radiated from him—yet different.
This aura was not one of fear, but of awe. Order. Majesty.
Dragons were inherently magical beings. And ancient dragons, through centuries of spellcasting, had developed an aura so dense with magic that it bordered on physical substance.
Oszedro, a legendary spell-consuming dragon, was no exception. His presence felt like the arrival of a chosen one of Mystra herself—so overwhelming, so divine, that it stirred an instinctive urge to kneel and worship.
On the battlefield, under the sunlight, the Silver Dragon gleamed like a mountain forged of pure silver, standing atop a sea of white clouds.
Every movement of his ancient form was a perfect blend of strength and grace.
As he flew, a biting cold wind swept across the land, carrying icy snowflakes and swirling white mists. The sky above the allied forces turned white, a frozen world of frost and fog—making even the bravest soldiers shiver.
[Control Weather]
This was the Silver Dragon’s innate talent—a natural spell every silver dragon could master upon reaching maturity. Oszedro, of course, had long since surpassed that threshold.
In an instant, the heavens and earth were split into two stark realms:
One—a blazing inferno of crimson fire clouds, scorching and chaotic.
The other—a frozen wasteland of frost winds and snowfog, silent and deathly.
The battle had not yet begun. The two dragons were still probing each other’s strength.
But the world itself had already been irrevocably altered.
It would take years—perhaps decades—for the land to heal.
“Great gods…
Have we returned to the Second Age?
Such power… such a battle…”
Viscount Luton shivered violently. The cold wind pierced through his body, freezing even his soaked trousers.
Duke Leo’s face darkened, his expression heavy as he stared upward.
“Such monsters…”
He whispered, lips trembling.
Yes. Before such overwhelming power—whether it be absolute authority or noble status—everything else was meaningless.
All his schemes, all his efforts, all his struggles—reduced to pathetic jokes.
These two dragons could destroy his nation in an instant. Obliterate the Bosk family’s legacy, built over thousands of years, in a single breath.
And most absurd of all?
He, the man most affected by this war—the leader who had staked everything on this battle—had no control over his fate.
Whether he survived this “Red Dragon calamity” depended not on him, but on whether that silver dragon—so indifferent, so disdainful—could win.
“If…
If this Red Dragon had never existed, the leadership of the Northern Regions could have endured for another thousand years!”
Even he didn’t realize how his face twisted, eyes burning with hatred.
He remembered the Silver Dragon’s scornful words. His own humiliating posture.
Now, all supernatural beings capable of threatening his rule—those who once stood in his way—were gone.
Even that righteous, radiant Silver Dragon… was now nothing but a memory.
(End of Chapter)
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