Chapter 528: Frontline Position
"Third Front?"
"I know."
Alje set down the flickering Communication Device, then rode his Giant Eagle to the very peak of the formation, effortlessly circling high above the rest.
"Everyone, you’ve all seen it—facing the Empire’s might, these Abyssal vermin have no chance!"
"But we must not grow complacent. Greater trials await!"
"Forward—along the Houl Mountain Range, westward! To the Third Front!"
Instantly, the Crimson Scale Conquerors—still riding high on their recent victory—erupted into euphoric cheers. The prospect of another battle burned in their veins.
For these Empire warriors, the battlefield brought not only wounds and death, but also glory and strength.
They waved their banners, shouting cries that surged like waves across the sky.
"Advance!"
"For the Empire!"
After annihilating the Abyssal Drake army, under Alje’s command, the Dragon Horde of the Ashen Empire gathered and surged westward as one.
Their destination: the Third Front—the fiercest theater of war. They would strike from the flank, piercing the Demons’ lines.
---
Isdalia Grand Altar
"Strength is decent—almost matching a common adult Red Dragon. Just still as dim-witted as ever."
Kai Xiusu lounged upon his throne, observing Smaug’s triumphant long roar as he stomped on the head of an Abyssal Drake chieftain. His tone remained flat, a detached assessment.
He wasn’t overly concerned about the battle in the Houl Mountain Range.
The Crimson Scale Conquerors were his blade. And Smaug—having received multiple Bloodline Gifts—possessed power rivaling that of a True Dragon. He could handle the Abyssal Drakes with ease.
But what truly occupied Kai Xiusu’s attention was the Third Front.
This warzone was under the direct command of Imperial Marshal Dolo, home to the Empire of Ashen’s most powerful forces—on high alert.
Beyond it lay the endless Wasteland, dotted with strategic strongholds like Blackstone Fortress and Oner City—crucial bastions within the Imperial Wall.
This was precisely where the Military Bureau had planned the "Great Decisive Battle."
And the Demons had seen it too.
A tidal wave of Demons surged forward, blanketing the Wasteland in darkness.
This single front alone teemed with hundreds of thousands of Demons—among them, numerous powerful beings.
Some of them even carried a faint, unsettling aura of danger that Kai Xiusu could sense.
He knew the Empire’s weaknesses.
Too new, too young. Its mid-to-upper ranks were dangerously thin. The lower troops relied too heavily on military equipment, their innate strength weak—easily countered by magic.
Yet those deficiencies were made up by the Empire’s allies.
And Kai Xiusu had full faith in his followers.
For the Empire, this was not just a war for survival—it was a brutal crucible.
Only by enduring this high-intensity warfare could the Empire truly establish its presence across the Feiansuo Continent… and eventually conquer the vast South.
---
A scorching white plume burst from Kai Xiusu’s nostrils and between his teeth, curling around his form like smoke.
He stared into the endless sea of Demons, his pale golden eyes glowing faintly—piercing through the monstrous forms, as if seeing the cold, calculating eyes lurking behind them.
"Jelrazaks… when your Abyssal Legion is wiped out, can you still hold your patience?"
A cold, sharp smile curled at the corner of the Red Dragon’s lips.
On the magical display, artillery fire lit the sky like a storm.
The Empire’s elite forces clashed with Demons in brutal, unrelenting combat.
"Boom!"
A shell detonated in the midst of the Demon horde, unleashing a violent firestorm that consumed over a hundred of them in an instant.
"Firepower! Hit them hard! Don’t let them breach the high ground!"
George fired relentlessly, voice tight with urgency.
With support from Dragon Scale cultivators, his sector had already repelled the Abyssal assault and cleared the surrounding area.
Now, he’d been ordered to rush his elite troops to the Third Front—the most desperate front.
But here, on the battlefield, death came in waves.
Millions clashed across the Wasteland—earth scarred by artillery craters and trenches, rivers of purple-black blood flowing through the dust.
George and his thousand-strong elite were holding the western high ground—buying time, delaying the Demon advance.
"Boom—!"
A deafening roar split the air.
A deep fissure split the earth, and a powerful cylindrical shockwave surged toward the densest concentration of Imperial soldiers.
"Ahh—!"
"No! It hurts!"
Hundreds of Imperial soldiers were shattered into the air. Shields cracked. Blood sprayed from ears and nostrils.
Roar Spell.
George’s eyes flared crimson.
He fired at the Demon swarm, his voice cracking with rage:
"Spellcaster! Scatter! Don’t cluster!"
"Boom—!"
Another shockwave roared through the ground.
The earth trembled. Rock shattered.
Dozens of human soldiers on the high ground were killed instantly.
Two spells.
Hundreds dead.
His subordinates’ force was already halved. The high ground’s defenses were now dangerously exposed.
George looked toward the horizon.
From the thick fog, a dozen towering, grotesque figures emerged—followed by deep, rasping roars.
"Roar."
Each Demon stood nearly three meters tall, their bodies riddled with festering sores and pus.
Their skeletal frames were adorned with patches of short, coarse fur.
They bore the heads of pale white ram-like creatures—horns curved like scimitars, cold eyes, lips drooling thick, sticky saliva, and rows of needle-thin teeth.
Their serpent-like tails writhed behind them, ending in regimented metal spines.
Though emaciated, they moved with a disturbing grace, wielding oversized spine forks far too large for their frames.
"Brezut Demon."
George gripped his rifle tightly, voice low and grim.
He’d seen these creatures in the Empire’s internal intelligence.
In the Abyss, they served as elite infantry—monsters who reveled in ripping open flesh and drowning in blood.
But that wasn’t what made him so tense.
The real terror?
These Brezut Demons possessed innate spellcasting ability.
They could unleash Command Spells, Roar Spells, Fear Spells—multiple attacks in one.
They fought up close, often launching Roar Spells at the densest enemy clusters at the start of battle.
If the battlefield was open, they’d use Heavy Mist Spells to block escape routes.
Officially rated Challenge Rating 9 by the Empire—
And here, in front of him… thirteen of them.
George knew—his few hundred elite soldiers couldn’t survive this.
All he could do was delay, hold the line, and wait for reinforcements.
He grabbed his comm unit, voice desperate:
"Requesting backup! Requesting backup!"
"Thirteen Brezut Demons spotted at position 014! Thirteen Brezut Demons!"
But the Demons had already begun their assault.
A chilling roar echoed through the air.
"Awooo—!"
The thirteen Brezut Demons charged across the ground, sprinting toward the high ground where the Imperial soldiers held their position.
Their ram-like heads twisted into cruel grins.
Their serpentine tails thrashed, the metal spines at their ends clattering like chains.
Though they looked diseased and weak—
In truth, their appearance was a disguise.
A mask of decay to hide their terrifying strength and cruelty.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The Imperial soldiers fired relentlessly.
Bullets poured down like rain—but the Brezut Demons raised their spine forks, and thick smoke erupted in front of them, blinding the defenders.
All they saw were blurred, high-speed figures moving through the fog—like phantoms.
Bullets struck the mist.
Like stones dropped into the ocean—no ripple, no effect.
Then—
A sudden surge.
Silhouettes burst from the smoke at lightning speed, leaping high into the air, diving into the Imperial lines.
"Shoot! They’re through!"
"Bang! Bang!"
Panicked soldiers fired. Others drew spears, preparing to close the distance.
"Swish—"
The lead Brezut Demon swung its massive spine fork in a wide arc.
Its thin arm exploded with impossible strength.
The first Imperial heavy shield soldier’s shield shattered instantly.
His head split clean in two.
Blood and metal shards sprayed across the field.
Another Brezut Demon raised its fork, aiming the tip at a cluster of soldiers—then unleashed a focused sonic blast.
"Boom!"
Dozens of Imperial soldiers collapsed, clutching their heads, blood pouring from their ears and noses.
Even those with strong constitutions felt their limbs weaken.
The Demon grinned—cruel, satisfied.
It charged forward, slashing through the Imperial formation, reveling in the slaughter.
Behind it, waves of timid Demons and primeval beasts surged forward, flooding the high ground.
The frontline was overrun.
"Bang!"
A bullet struck a Demon’s hide—bounced off.
Then came the spined fork, dripping with blood.
The same scene played out across the entire front.
The Brezut Demons treated war like sport—breaking through from every angle.
Smoke filled the high ground.
And within it, the Demons moved like shadows, carving through the Imperial ranks.
"Break formation!"
"Another one of those spells!"
"I can’t see a thing—just fog everywhere!"
"Damn it! No chance! These sheep-headed bastards—ah!"
Less than a minute of combat.
George’s frontline position was on the verge of collapse.
The Imperial line was shattered.
For the first time, a rout began to form.
"So this is Abyss’s elite infantry?"
George lowered his gaze. His hands trembled.
He had marched with the Empire’s expansion—won every battle like a storm sweeping through dry grass.
This was the first time he’d truly felt defeat.
Too powerful.
The Brezut Demons outmatched his army in every way—close combat, spellcasting, endurance.
This wasn’t a battle.
It was a massacre.
It reminded him of the days as a peasant laborer—being slaughtered by Northern nobles, who rode on horseback, swinging swords like toys, treating terrified peasants as sport.
George clenched his teeth.
Cold sweat dripped from his brow.
His mouth tasted of blood.
Memories flooded in—his battalion in the Northern battlefields, the cries of dying men, the stench of war.
Then—
The image of the Red Dragon Emperor, wings spread wide, towering over the land.
He would never forget that moment nine years ago—the first time he’d seen freedom.
That moment changed his fate.
"No…"
"I am not prey. I am the blood of the great Red Dragon. I am Baron of the Ashen Empire. I will not be slaughtered like a lamb!"
He raised his head, eyes blazing with intensity—flames flickering in their depths.
He felt it—something deep inside him… awakening.
His teeth were shattered. Blood poured from his mouth.
But he didn’t care.
From his pocket, he pulled a specially crafted high-explosive round.
With practiced ease, he loaded it into his rifle.
He raised the weapon, breath held, aiming at the Brezut Demon swinging its spine fork.
"Bang!"
The bullet struck the Demon’s eye—exploded inside its skull.
The head shattered, half blown apart.
In the chaos, George roared at the top of his lungs:
"Men! These Brezut Demons are not invincible! We are the children of the Red Dragon! Warriors of the Ashen Empire! We will not fear these Abyssal vermin!"
"We are not fighting alone! Reinforcements are coming! We only need to hold them here!"
He drew his longsword—etched with the Dragon Wing motif—raised it high.
With every ounce of strength, he screamed until blood sprayed from his lips.
"For the Empire! For King Kai Xiusu!"
"For the Empire!"
"For King Kai Xiusu!"
His voice—like a dragon’s roar—cut through the battlefield.
The Imperial soldiers stirred.
Their faith rekindled.
They roared back, forming a desperate ring around the Demons.
Even when felled, they kept pulling triggers, hands still gripping their weapons.
But George’s cry had drawn the Demons’ attention.
In their eyes, this human officer was a nuisance.
Kill him—and the rest would cower again, trembling in fear.
"Dragon-blooded human? A fine meal."
One Brezut Demon sneered.
It raised its spine fork and hurled it.
"Shhh—!"
The weapon flew through the air.
George felt the danger—slammed to the ground, rolling violently.
The fork buried itself deep into the earth—missing by inches.
The Demon leapt forward, yanked it free, and swung down with a furious grin.
It was ready to cleave the human in two—enjoy the blood on its face.
But then—
George felt his heart pounding—hot, pulsing.
The Dragon Blood within him surged.
His skin tightened, veins bulging.
Scales flickered across his forehead.
Power—greater than before—erupted from his body.
The blessing of the Emperor of the Ashen Flame.
He drew his sword.
Muscles strained, steam rising from his arms.
With all his might, he swung.
"Clang!"
The sound of metal meeting metal rang out.
The Brezut Demon’s eyes widened in shock.
Its spine fork shattered into the air.
It had lost.
To a mere human.
George, so small compared to the Demon, unleashed strength no mortal should possess.
He roared, leaping into the air, driving the blade forward with everything he had.
"Die, Abyss filth!"
"Swish—!"
The sword plunged into the Demon’s eye, tearing through flesh and bone—piercing straight through its ram-like skull.
The Demon fell backward, purple-black blood staining the earth.
"Whew… whew…"
George held the sword embedded in the corpse, gasping, trembling, using the blade to keep himself upright.
He had burned through his Red Dragon bloodline—sacrificing everything to match the Demons’ strength.
Then—
A sudden gale tore through the battlefield, scattering the mist.
Dispelling Mist.
"Roar—!"
A long, echoing Dragon’s cry echoed from the sky.
George, spent, forced his eyes open.
A dozen Silver-Gleaming Giant Dragons descended from the clouds, wings beating the air.
He smiled.
Exhausted, he collapsed—onto the Demon’s corpse—eyes closing slowly.
He knew.
Reinforcements had arrived.
(End of Chapter)
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