https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-472-Elemental-Master-Major-Chapter-/13676905/
Chapter 473: The Conquest of the Underdark
Dragonshadow City, the Underdark.
Here, night never ends. The sun is a forgotten myth, a tale told only in whispers.
Perched above the vast Abyss, the city of Shadow Dragon Leadership hangs like a cursed jewel in the void. Through the Abyss, the Cold Wind howls eternally—a voiceless scream that never ceases.
The city is scarred. Charred ruins stretch in every direction, ash thick as snow blanketing the ground. The broken walls and shattered remnants stand as silent witnesses to the Red Dragon’s merciless firestorm, recording the buried history of a civilization consumed.
“Hssss…”
The wind cuts through the cracks in the ruins, a spine-chilling shriek that echoes like the wails of lost souls.
Yet, atop these ruins, a new city rises—fresh, bold, and stark. Its architecture is simple, powerful, and unyielding—clearly forged in the image of an empire.
Within this new city, half-dragons, humans, and giant ogre soldiers move through the streets. But the most numerous are the mindless, low-level undead skeletons—shuffling, silent, eternal. Even street vendors have set up stalls, selling lamps, staffs, leather boots—everyday necessities of the Underdark.
“Sssssss…”
A sound that crawls up the spine, making the skin prickle with dread.
Beyond the city walls, colossal skeletons of Azure-Footed Dragon Serpents wriggle across the ground like living moats, ready to tear apart any who dare approach.
On the newly built city wall, Hart stands motionless, gazing into the endless, howling chasm below.
“I once had a beating heart,” the zombie lord murmurs. “I once tasted fine meals, sipped fine wine.”
His voice is hollow. He carries every memory, every obsession, every ounce of hatred from his former self—Hart. But the flesh is gone. The warmth is gone. The soul is broken, stitched together by sheer will.
He is a zombie lord—an existence sustained not by life, but by the burning embers of past fury.
Hart’s lips twitch. His two black eyes gleam faintly in the darkness.
“But… this isn’t so bad. Immortality. Forever. Killing enemy after enemy. Conquering the vast Underdark for my Master.”
He is a new existence.
Not the old Hart.
Not a common zombie lord.
He forces his pale, cracked lips into a smile—unnatural, grotesque, a mockery of humanity.
“Old… General Hart.”
A familiar voice.
“What?” Hart turns, voice calm, empty.
It’s his comrade—still flesh, still alive. A half-dragon, a loyal subject of the Emperor. His name is Zaike Granger. An elder of the Empire, one of the founding members since the Ashen Hollow days. Now, he holds the rank of Baron—equal to Hart.
Yet, there’s irony in it: Zaike was once one of the slave traders—Hart’s subordinate in life.
Now, due to Hart’s undead status, he cannot be appointed governor of the Underdark. The ministers prefer a profitable, living stronghold—not a corpse-ridden wasteland.
Had the living Hart been told this, he would have raged. But the heartless “Hart” feels nothing.
He doesn’t care. He only needs to lead his undead legion into battle, obey orders, and slaughter without mercy.
But the men behind the scenes—they think differently.
Zaike flips through documents, voice low.
“Ingrid is almost due back from the surface. She’s lifted the Shadow Curse from Dragonshadow City.”
He pauses. “According to the Strategic Department’s plan, we’ll be constructing a new outpost near the Howling Abyss.”
Hart—no, the zombie lord—recalls the name.
He remembers her. The woman with the nauseating aura of holy light. The way her eyes burned with cold hatred whenever they met his.
If Ingrid weren’t an envoy of the Empire, he would have cut her head off and mounted it atop the city wall.
His voice cuts through the silence.
“You know, Zaike… I don’t care. I don’t need to know what she’s doing. I don’t want to hear where she is.”
He leans forward, black eyes glowing in the dark.
“All I want to know—where must I conquer? Where can I slaughter living beings without restraint?”
Zaike, a man hardened by war, feels a chill crawl up his spine.
He says nothing.
Instead, he slowly opens a file.
“There’s a city near Dragonshadow—called Blackwing. It’s ruled by the descendants of Mortifer, the Shadow Dragonblood Drow—Jezled Clan.”
Mortifer.
The name is legendary. The archenemy of the Emperor. A power that once stretched across the Underdark. In the New Era 1785, he was torn apart by King Kai Xiusu.
“After Dragonshadow’s fall, the Jezled Clan surged. They seized the Shadow Dragon’s former power, trade routes, and influence. Their scouts even ventured beyond the city’s borders.”
Zaike closes the file. His voice is grave.
“This is an act of provocation. A direct insult to the Emperor.”
It’s a declaration of war—though Zaike knows the scout was captured hundreds of miles away.
The Empire of Ashen doesn’t need a real reason. They only need a pretext.
To show their presence in the Underdark.
To erase Mortifer’s bloodline before it grows stronger.
Zaike looks up. “General Hart… you know what must be done.”
The zombie lord turns. His black eyes lock onto Zaike.
“Can I burn the city to the ground?”
Zaike doesn’t answer immediately. He speaks like a man describing a battlefield.
“Blackwing is the heart of the Shadow Dragonborn Drow. Sixty percent of its population are Shadow Dragonborn.”
He pulls out a fresh, sealed letter—marked Top Secret.
He hands it to Hart.
Hart opens it. His dead eyes scan the words.
> [Special Authorization]
> Full eradication of the Shadow Dragonborn Drow authorized. Leave no trace. Be thorough.
> —Chief Minister, Lanpu
Hart’s lips curl into a faint, chilling smile.
His eyes gleam.
“Good. I understand.”
He draws his bone scepter, steps to the edge of the wall, and raises it high.
Instantly, hundreds of Azure-Footed Dragon Serpent skeletons surge from the earth. Thousands more undead skeletons gather—forming a wave of bone, a tide of white.
The old bones grind together—crack, crack, crack—a sound that sends shivers down the spine.
Hart leaps from the wall, diving into the sea of skeletons. He lands atop the largest Azure-Footed Dragon Serpent, gripping the Bone Staff of Milcor.
“Boom.”
Hundreds of serpentine skeletons erupt from the ground, writhing across the Underdark soil. The earth trembles. The black sky seems to scream.
The white tide flows—bright against the endless dark.
“Come, Undead Legion,” the zombie lord declares.
“Let us slaughter every living thing that dares stand in the path of the Empire’s expansion.”
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
