Chapter 584: The Reputation That Spreads — The Illusion of Shadows
In Batu Skullcrusher’s single eye—now dimming as Gold Dragon pierced his chest and severed his Life Force—came a final, bitter thought: Is this truly my Fate? Damned golden-skinned crawler! Damned Dwarf and Elf!
In that instant, the centuries of slaughter between Ogres across the Ugo Grassland, the ancient sacrifices of Old Shamans, and Monke’s fearless defiance of death all flashed through his mind.
The grip on “Blood of Gush” trembled in Batu’s hand. For the first time, he felt the weight of his people’s destiny in his own palms.
If he won—if he led the Crimson Blood Tribe to conquer Aivendeldan—the millennia-old dream of the Ogres would finally come true. No more warring over barren lands, no more bloodshed among kin. Their territory would stretch across the entire Feiansuo Continent!
"Coward! You’ll never defeat me!"
Faced with enemies swarming from every direction, Batu raised his Great Axe to the sky and unleashed a furious battle cry—a challenge to the world itself.
Burning Blood Frenzy!
Blood boiled within every vein. Crimson light surged into the heavens, as if the very sky were being painted red.
"Praise the One-Eyed God!"
"Praise the Ever-Wakeful!"
Orc Shamans raised their arms in unison, their prayers echoing with piety. From the heavens, a terrifying strength descended, wrapping around the Ogres Chieftain like a divine storm.
With these blessings, Batu’s Aura surged once more—now nearing the peak of Legendary power.
"For Molradin!"
The High Mountain King Aid roared, his voice raw with agony. Blood from the royal Dwarven lineage poured from his body, flowing into his War Hammer.
Clang! Clang!
Fire danced around his form as the sound of blacksmithing rang out—each strike forging his soul into the weapon itself.
And then, in a moment of ultimate sacrifice, Aid began fusing his body with the Pillar of Stone Hammer.
A colossal, rust-stained Copper-Forge Iron Hammer—nearly a hundred meters long—materialized in midair.
"Wrrrrrrr—"
A deafening boom split the air as the hammer plummeted down like a mountain falling to earth.
Batu roared and thrust his Great Axe skyward, his massive Ogres Phantom Image mirroring the motion behind him.
"BOOM!"
A crushing pressure wave erupted, hurling tens of thousands from their feet. A hurricane tore across the battlefield, shaking the sky and the ground. Debris, dead trees, severed limbs, and discarded blades were sucked into the storm.
At the storm’s heart, Batu remained frozen—his axe braced against the descending hammer, his body torn and bleeding. But the Phantom Image behind him shattered like glass.
Aid was flung backward, crashing into the earth and carving a massive crater. He lay there, soaked in blood, barely alive—but still clutching his War Hammer.
"Long, long beard… is that all your hammer’s got?"
Batu grinned through the blood, his voice a snarl. He limped forward, preparing to end the Dwarf King’s life—when a sharp, piercing cry rang out from behind.
"No mercy for enemies!"
Batu turned.
A Revenant Angel with wings of vengeance descended—its Silver Sword blazing with Twilight Radiance, slicing through the air.
Thousands of blade-light streaks rained down from the sky, crisscrossing like the final flickers of dying stars.
Crimson Totems flared around Batu, shielding him from the storm—but they dimmed quickly.
Wounds tore open across his body. Blood sprayed in all directions. The glowing wounds burned with divine fire. And from every shadow, vengeful spirits surged forth, screaming in fury.
Even a Dragon could not withstand such an onslaught.
Yet Batu, fueled by sheer will and monstrous resilience, endured.
"Even if I die—I’ll drag you, you self-proclaimed champions of Justice, into Hell! Ogres too deserve the right to live beneath the sunlight!"
With every breath, he screamed it, his voice tearing from his throat.
A single eye symbol flared above Ria’s head—the Ogres’ Malevolent Curse. The Half-Elf Holy Knight staggered, her body weakening, her knees nearly buckling.
For a Legendary Holy Knight, such a curse could only delay for a moment—but that was enough.
Batu charged forward, axe raised high, driving toward Aid—his remaining left eye alight with murderous intent.
"Ahhhh!"
Aid, lying broken on the ground, whispered weakly:
"Ogres… you’ll never… enter…"
Batu grinned savagely. Veins bulged across his arms as he heaved with all his might.
"Too bad you’ll never see that day!"
Just as the axe descended—
"Klack-klaaaak!"
Two Kill Credit points erupted in a spine-chilling explosion.
Shadow surged from nowhere—growing, swallowing everything.
"BOOM!"
The earth trembled. Dust clouds erupted.
From the heavens, a colossal Gold Dragon plummeted like a meteor, crushing down upon the Ogres Chieftain with a force that shattered the ground.
A massive crater formed. And within its depths, the once-proud Chieftain lay pinned beneath the Dragon’s claw—dying, broken, barely breathing.
His body was a ruin. Wounds covered every inch. Bones crushed to powder. Joints twisted unnaturally. Flesh flattened, unrecognizable.
The Ogres Chieftain—warlord of two decades, unifier of the Ugo Grassland—was finally at his end.
"Pfff—"
Batu spat blood, yet laughed—a twisted, mocking grin on his face.
"Hahahaha… So this is the ambush of the so-called Justice Envoy—the Gold Dragon?"
Kai Xiusu’s mind flickered with a mischievous thought. He straightened, voice solemn and resolute:
"To deal with villains like you… why follow rules?"
"Villain?"
Batu repeated the word, his voice suddenly electrified with excitement.
"Villain? We Ogres were betrayed—by treacherous Dwarves, by sneaky Elves. Trapped beyond the Blackstone Mountains for centuries, forced to live in this wasteland! For thousands of years, we’ve fought each other over scraps—just for survival. Is that what you call evil? Hypocrite, golden-scaled lizard… you’ll never understand!"
"BOOM!"
The Gold Dragon unleashed a torrent of scorching flames. The Ogres Chieftain was consumed in an instant—reduced to ash.
The Dragon exhaled a plume of blue smoke, sighing.
"Villains always talk too much. Best finish this quickly—before things get messy."
As the corpse burned, Batu’s Spiritual Soul rose from the ashes—protected by a faint crimson Divine Power.
The “Blood of Gush” floated into the air beside it.
The spirit form of Batu stared at the Gold Dragon with his single eye—then froze, horror flooding his soul.
"No… you… you’re not a Gold Dragon! What are you? Hahahaha! I see now! You’re no different from me!"
The Dragon remained impassive.
"Think you can leave like this? At least leave something behind."
With a single claw, the Dragon summoned a swirling vortex at its palm—siphoning the last remnants of Divine Power from the “Blood of Gush.”
Batu’s soul screamed—his axe soaring into the sky with him.
"Damned thing! Remember—your end will be far worse than mine!"
"Hmph. Baseless slander. Ogres… you disgust me."
Ria folded her wings and descended from the sky, her eyes narrowed as she gazed into the distance—deep in thought.
Not far away, the King of the Dwarves slowly opened his eyes, struggling to rise.
Aid stared at the charred corpse, his voice hoarse but gleeful.
"Batu Skullcrusher… is dead."
On the city walls, Dwarves and Elves finally snapped from the shock of the titanic battle. Cheers erupted—deafening, triumphant.
"This is a battle for the ages! The Gold Dragon has slain the Ogres Chieftain!"
"He killed Batu Skullcrusher!"
"Molradin bless!"
The Ogres collapsed in despair. Some Shamans went mad, launching senseless massacres.
"Impossible!"
"How could this happen?"
"Batu was the Chosen of Gush—he couldn’t lose!"
The Dwarves counterattacked with arrows, raining fire upon the Orc army. Dwarven infantry advanced, pursuing.
With Dwarven morale soaring and Ogres leaderless, the tide turned—into a massacre.
The Gold Dragon circled above the battlefield, diving again and again, breathing torrents of intense flame that turned hundreds into charcoal.
The Avenging Angel hovered high, Silver Sword slicing through the air, cleaving Ogres in half with each stroke.
The few remaining “Eye of Gush” Warriors and Shamans tried to fight back—but it was not a fair battle.
Finally, Soro Blooddrinker stepped forward. He rallied the remnants, raising his voice:
"We’re not beaten! The Father God still watches us! Retreat! Leave this place—there will come a day when we avenge Batu! We will drown Aivendeldan in blood!"
"Drown Aivendeldan in blood!"
The crimson single-eye banner flapped wildly in the wind as the Orc Army fled—leaving behind only corpses.
In the chaos, Dwarves and Elves harried the retreat, inflicting over ten thousand casualties.
Yet despite the losses, the Ogres still numbered nearly one hundred thousand.
The Allied Forces—Dwarves and Elves—cheered wildly, raising their hammers, spears, and bows.
"Molradin above—victory!"
"Aivendeldan shall never fall! The High Mountain Kingdom endures!"
"This is justice! This is victory!"
Aid looked at the ruined walls and the piles of corpses before the city gate. He sighed deeply—his spirit aged, as if decades had passed in an instant.
He turned to the Gold Dragon standing atop the city tower.
"Titus, you saved my life… and our homeland. You will be a friend of the Dwarves—forever. I will repay this gratitude with all I have."
The Gold Dragon nodded, letting out a soft, proud roar.
Then he turned to the Half-Elf Holy Knight beside him.
"And thank you, too—our allies. The High Mountain Kingdom will stand firmly behind Catherine the Moonwalker, His Majesty’s restoration. We will oppose the Senate of Elders’ rule."
Ria nodded, her face finally breaking into a smile.
"Thank you. This is exactly what the Queen wishes."
Her expression hardened.
"But Ghuush’s conspiracy remains. The Ogres in the North still stir. Until then, I will remain in the Blackstone Mountains—to help you purge the Ogres’ threat once and for all."
"Agreed."
Sunlight pierced through the dark clouds, bathing the earth in golden light.
Under the watchful eyes of Dwarves and Elves, the Gold Dragon’s vast, elegant form shimmered—his eyes glowing with a soft, ethereal halo, like the first light of dawn.
Someone cried out:
"Praise the Dragon of Dawn!"
"Thank you, Titus—our savior from the Ogres!"
The Dragon swept his wave-like wings through the sky, circling Aivendeldan with grace. Then, with a long, echoing roar:
"ROOOOOOOOAAARRRRR!"
"Justice and fairness—the sun rises, the sun sets. Eternal, unchanging!"
Thus ended the great Battle of Black Stone Mountain—Batu Skullcrusher slain, Soro Blooddrinker retreating north.
The Dwarves and their allies repelled the southern invasion once more, preserving peace and order across northeastern Feiansuo.
In the aftermath, Aid, the High Mountain King, and Ria, the Dawnblade, became legendary heroes—celebrated in every minstrel’s song.
And the mysterious Gold Dragon—Titus—was unveiled to the world.
Now known across the Feiansuo Continent as the Dragon of Dawn, he was whispered to be at least an Ancient Gold Dragon, possessing Legendary Spellcasting Ability.
People rejoiced. The return of such a just, noble being brought hope. Even young Metal Dragons traveled from afar, drawn to Blackstone Mountains, eager to meet and befriend him.
---
Anzeta Great Wasteland — Dragonblood Mountain
After months of Bloodline Refinement, the Emperor of the Ashen Flame’s True Form grew even more immense—now measuring forty-five meters in length.
The Red Dragon slowly opened his eyes, surveying the refreshed data before him.
He exhaled a plume of sulfur-scented white smoke, a satisfied smirk on his face.
> [You have slain Bloodred Tyrant - Batu Skullcrusher (Challenge Rating: 24).
> Reward: 60,000 Experience Points.]
"Much better than fighting the hard way," Kai Xiusu sighed, genuinely pleased.
(End of Chapter)
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