https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-620-The-Fall-of-Divine-Offspring-Two-Headed-Dragon-and-the-Corpse-of-Celestial-Beings/13677452/
Chapter 619: The Tangled War Clouds
With the thunderous roar of Artillery Fire echoing through the sky, the army of the Empire of Ashen steadily advanced toward Collins’ City Wall. At last, the monstrous beast revealed its full fangs.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Shells screamed across the heavens, plunging into the frontline positions of the Aelthar Allied Forces, detonating in violent explosions.
“Ah!”
“Watch out!”
“My arm—it’s gone numb!”
Soldiers screamed in agony, their cries drowned beneath the relentless barrage. Trapped in the storm of fire, they were torn apart by shrapnel or swallowed whole by the inferno.
A commander slashed his sword through the air, bellowing:
“Counterattack! Damned fools—what are your cannons for?!”
As a former stronghold of Thrace, Aelthar had also acquired the advanced cannons of the Empire of Ashen, boasting its own Artillery Corps. Duke Walter had believed they could at least mount a meaningful defense.
But soon, the officers realized their grave miscalculation. Cannon against cannon—yet still, there was a chasm.
The Allied soldiers fumbled, hastily loading shells into their barrels, wildly aiming at the distant Ember Army. The cannon muzzles spat fire, thick smoke billowed into the air, and the shells arced gracefully through the sky—only to fall short, exploding harmlessly in the barren fields before the Tank Corps.
Their range was insufficient.
Seeing their counterattack fail, the commander roared in fury. Meanwhile, the Artillery Corps soldiers scrambled to reload.
Then, one human soldier lifted his head—his eyes wide with despair. In his pupils, the sky was choked with countless shells, descending like a storm from the heavens.
“By Amanata above…”
Boom!
The skies erupted in continuous artillery fire. Rain after rain of shells poured down upon the Allied Artillery positions. Flames and dust clouds roared into the sky, and the entire frontline vanished beneath a sea of fire.
The thousand-plus Heavy Cannons Duke Walter had pinned his hopes on—now nothing but rusted scrap. Yet, the gold coins spent had been real, and the Empire of Ashen had used them to fuel its war machine, producing even more shells and rifles.
In the Ember Army’s Artillery Position, Ogre Bighead, the Artillery Corps Commander and a Major General, stood with a telescope, squinting at the burning ruin.
—That was the Allied Artillery Position.
“Tch. Foolish Southern humans. Utterly ridiculous. They exposed their position so easily. After all these years, they still don’t understand the new era of warfare. Even the finest weapons would be wasted on such fools. They’re just trash—meant to be consumed by us.”
The ogre lowered his telescope, then casually pulled out a cigarette—brand “Emperor”—and stuck it between his lips.
“Sir, let me light that for you.”
A half-dragon guard hurried forward, exhaling a jet of flame from his mouth to ignite the cigarette.
Because the military equipment sold by the Empire of Ashen to the South were outdated, surplus stock—discarded relics.
With the Ashen Technology Department rapidly ascending its technological tree, the cannons in the hands of the Allied Forces were already at least one era behind. Their range, armor penetration, accuracy, and firepower were utterly outmatched by the Ember Army’s Heavy Cannons.
And just moments ago, Daitou had effortlessly uncovered the Allied Artillery’s location—no concealment, no tactics.
He immediately deployed hundreds of cannons, unleashing a merciless artillery barrage that turned the frontline into a smoldering wasteland in seconds. The old cannons were reduced to scrap.
“Cunning Empire scum,” Walter growled, watching his artillery positions turn into a sea of fire. His jaw clenched, his brow furrowed in fury.
After the bombardment, he finally understood—the Three Great Kingdoms had all been deceived by the crafty Empire Merchants!
What they had bought wasn’t new weaponry. It was obsolete junk—long since discarded. And every gold coin spent had only fed the war machine of the Empire of Ashen, fueling more shells, more rifles.
Thousands of Heavy Cannons roared in unison. Shells tore through the sky. Thick gunsmoke blanketed the heavens. Explosions erupted across the Allied frontline, and before the armies even met, the Allied forces already bore heavy casualties.
But this nightmare did not last long.
High above the clouds, Barachiel raised his Lightning Blade, his voice thundering across the battlefield as he commanded his Celestial Legion:
“By the name of Heaven’s Mountain—protect our allies!”
His voice was like a bolt of lightning—powerful, resonant, each word heavy with divine authority.
Instantly, the giant warriors clad in golden light let out deep, rumbling war cries, emerging from the storm clouds at the front.
Armored from head to toe in metal, each carried a massive spear-like blade on one arm and a colossal shield on the other.
They were the Steadfast Shieldbearers—the unyielding foundation of the Celestial Legion, enduring wave after wave of demonic assaults, bearing the brunt of attacks from far more powerful enemies.
Now, shoulder to shoulder, they raised their shields high, forming an unbroken steel wall stretching for thousands of meters. The massive light shield unfurled, intercepting nearly every shell aimed at the Allied frontline.
Each explosion slammed into the wall, shaking the bearers to their core—but not a single one faltered. They endured. Silent. Unbroken.
The beautiful horn-blowing divine messengers flapped their pure white wings, lifting their silver horns and playing a gentle, healing melody. The sound wove through the battlefield, mending wounds and soothing the souls of the fallen.
The Arcane Legion chanted incantations, their magic surging with radiant energy. Flashes of light danced around them, and dazzling beams of power wrapped around the Allied soldiers, strengthening them.
Then, meteors, fireballs, ice spikes, and lightning bolts streaked across the sky—fierce, devastating spells raining down upon the advancing Ember Army.
Boom!
A steam tank, racing forward, was struck by a fire meteor. Instantly, it ignited in a blazing inferno, exploding into a pile of black-smoking wreckage.
On the towering walls of Collins City, thirty Sun Divine Trebuchets fired massive, glowing bolts, piercing through over a thousand meters of distance. They shattered Ember Army steam tanks, armored vehicles, and soldiers alike.
From within the tank, Marquis Arturo Dragon Blood, the commander of the armored forces, roared through the speaker:
“For the Ember Empire! For Emperor Kai Xiusu! Break them!”
The Iron Beasts bellowed across the wasteland, their massive barrels erupting in fire. The cannons fired with terrifying power, detonating against the Allied infantry.
Even the Steadfast Shieldbearers’ thick shields couldn’t withstand the armor-piercing bullets forged with alloyed steel. And the heavily armored infantry? They were torn apart, reduced to fragments.
Thick steam and choking black smoke billowed forward. The Iron Beasts charged onward, relentless, crushing the Allied soldiers beneath their treads.
“We of the Faldran Empire have never known cowards! Do not retreat—defend our land!”
Frontline officers drew their swords, roaring with fury, leading their men forward in a desperate charge—aiming to siege the steel monsters.
Boom—
But the real world was no ballad sung by a minstrel. The Allied soldiers’ long spears were nothing but toothpicks against the tank’s armor.
The steam tank crushed forward without hesitation. Blood and meat scraps sprayed into the air. The treads turned crimson. The tank roared on, leaving behind only bloodstains and shattered remains.
On the ground, dozens of steam tanks surged forward like a tidal wave, barreling through the Allied frontline. They tore open the defensive line, slicing the Allied forces into scattered fragments.
The tanks’ main guns obliterated the fortifications, while the Ember Army’s infantry surged forward behind them—rushing through the breaches, firing, throwing grenades, weaving a dense firepower net to support the tanks’ advance.
After countless drills and exercises, the combined tactics of infantry and tanks had become instinctive, a conditioned reflex etched into their bones.
But the Allied Forces were unprepared. Like wheat before a scythe, they fell in great swathes. The frontline became a field of corpses, soaked in smoke and blood.
Had this been a common army, they would have already broken, panicked, and collapsed under the Steel Tide of the Empire.
Yet the Northern Aether Allied Forces were no ordinary army. Comprised of remnants of the Faldran Empire, the Celestial Legion of Silver Heaven, and the Arcane Legion of the City of All Arts—these were forces of legendary existence.
Faced with the Empire’s overwhelming offensive, they were momentarily stunned—but only for a breath. Then, they adapted. They regrouped. And they struck back with fury.
The Arcane Legion’s mages chanted their spells, raised their staves, and unleashed dazzling spelllight. The fabric of magic writhed violently around them.
Fire walls, stone barriers, and force fields materialized before the Iron Beasts. Magical fog obscured their vision. Rock spires erupted, flipping tanks over. Ice spines pierced armor.
Even spatial rifts opened suddenly—swallowing unprepared steam tanks into a ten-thousand-foot abyss.
“Foolish Dragon’s Claws! You’ll taste the wrath of the Sun God’s descendants!”
The Angel Divine Offspring spread their wings, hovering in midair. Their eyes blazed with divine fire—like semi-gods descending upon the battlefield.
Together, they raised their crackling divine energy swords, pointing them skyward. A blinding light erupted from their blades.
Kalen Marquis swung his longsword, his voice shaking the sky:
“For Sacred Fadran! I shall grant you destruction with holy fire!”
Boom!
From the heavens, several golden-red flame columns descended, piercing through the front-line steam tanks—including the veteran “Old Comrade”-class tank.
The Iron Beasts screamed as their engines shattered, erupting in fire. Only smoking ruins remained. Their crews were vaporized.
High above the clouds, the Balani Angels drew their bows, aiming at the ground. Arrows of silver metal shot forth like lightning, dancing through the air with the grace of elven archers.
The arrows pierced through the clouds, trailing silver light, falling like a meteor shower.
They struck the Iron Beasts, embedding deep into their armor. Instantly, a violent whirlwind of dust and snow erupted inside the tanks, shattering their internal structures.
Other Archers of the Divine fired glowing arrows at the Ember Army infantry—piercing their dragon-blooded hearts.
But the ground soldiers could not reach the angels in the sky. Forced to charge through the storm of light arrows, they trudged over the corpses of fallen comrades, battered and bleeding.
The Allied counterattack was effective. In just minutes, the Ember Army lost twenty-one steam tanks—something unprecedented.
But the sky was not solely the domain of divine beings. The Ember Army’s air force was no less formidable.
Though the Two-Headed Dragons and drakes of the Empire were slightly inferior in quality to the naturally powerful and noble Celestial Beings, their numbers were overwhelming—decisively so.
And among them were Dragon Vein Beasts, blessed with multiple Dragon Blood Blessings, wielding power far surpassing that of ordinary kin.
“Arooo—!”
The Dragonfly Legion’s Chieftain, a colossal Ancestral Wyvern nearly twenty meters long—Smaug, the legendary beast—raised its head and let out a thunderous, wrathful roar. Its majesty matched that of a true Red Dragon.
At its call, thousands of Wyverns roared in unison, flapping their wings chaotically, surging forward like a tidal wave.
Many of the Two-Headed Dragons carried soldiers in specialized gear—but these were not knights. They were Flight Troopers, a specialized unit trained to operate the weapons aboard the dragons.
The Empire’s aerial forces were strictly divided: some were bomb-dropping dragons, others were battle dragons equipped with machine rifles and howitzers. And the Flight Troopers were the ones who manned them.
Dak-dak-dak-dak—
Machine guns on the dragons’ chests spat fire. Side-mounted cannons roared, unleashing a storm of shells. The sheer volume of fire forced the Celestial Legion to retreat behind the Steadfast Shieldbearers, their only defense now a desperate volley of arrows.
They had no time to aid the ground troops.
Wyverns fell from the sky, their bodies burning, but angels were also struck—felled by bullets, crashing to the earth.
Marquis Alje, commander of the Crimson Scale Conqueror Regiment, rode a Dragonvein Eagle, his Dragon Blood Marquis title gleaming. He joined the chaos above, leading true Dragon Riders into battle.
Alje raised his flaming greatsword, charging forward, roaring:
“For the Ember Empire! For Emperor Kai Xiusu! Destroy them!”
“Dragon Roar Charge!”
His sword pointed toward the Celestial Legion.
Instantly, hundreds of Dragon Riders surged forward, their dragons spreading their wings, diving at breakneck speed, mouths wide open in deafening roars.
“Roar—!”
A haunting resonance echoed across the sky. The hundreds of Two-Headed Dragons merged into one, a unified force. The Celestial Legion soldiers trembled, their hearts shaken.
Before them, the Phantom of the Red Dragon, a hundred meters long, descended from the clouds—dive-bombing them with terrifying speed.
In a flash, the Crimson Scale Conquerors speared, slashed, and hacked—decapitating the golden-light warriors, shattering the Steadfast Shieldbearers’ line, carving a massive gap through the Celestial Legion.
After a fierce charge, they ascended—climbing straight into the sky, preparing for their next dive. Meanwhile, the Dragonfly Legion surged through the breach.
The dragons flapped their wings, snapped their jaws, tearing into the bodies of celestial warriors. Their tails lashed out, driving venomous stingers through their chests.
Machine guns on their chests sprayed fire, turning fragile angels into sieves.
“Arooo—Kill them all!”
The White Dragon, her eyes wild with bloodlust, lunged forward, slashing with her wings. From her throat, she unleashed a freezing frost breath, instantly freezing several warriors into icy statues.
Wyverns, drakes, and the Celestial Legion clashed in brutal melee combat—entangled, tearing each other apart.
Many Two-Headed Dragons were pierced through the heart or beheaded. Yet their riders—loyal, brave soldiers—carried the radiance of heaven, vowing to fight to the death against the evil invaders.
Others, however, were monstrous. Their dragons tore celestial beings limb from limb, scattering flesh through the air. Even their corpses were grotesque.
The greedy Two-Headed Dragons had a simple goal: to satisfy their bloodlust, to slaughter, to earn the Emperor’s attention—and a higher, more noble bloodline.
The clouds were torn apart by battle. Gunsmoke stained the sky charcoal black. The light of heaven clashed with the fire of rifles and explosions. The roars of dragons, the war cries of warriors, the whine of machine guns—all merged into a symphony of destruction.
Dragons’ corpses, angels’ bodies, severed limbs, and rivers of blood fell from the sky.
The heavens had become a merciless flesh grinder.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
