https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-620-The-Fall-of-Divine-Offspring-Two-Headed-Dragon-and-the-Corpse-of-Celestial-Beings/13677452/
Chapter 621: A Chaotic Army
“This is impossible! You were definitely dead! Even with Respawn magic, this can’t be happening this fast!” Kalen roared in disbelief, his Longsword trembling as he pointed it at the familiar Half-Dragon. But then, he froze—his eyes widened in shock as the bloodstain on the blade vanished into thin air. The headless corpse from moments ago had disappeared without a trace.
To be resurrected instantly—so fast that even the corpse vanished.
Kalen’s mind raced back to his battles against Demons. Those Abyssal creatures from the Deep Abyss worked the same way—when slain in the Material Realm, they were instantly pulled back to the Bottomless Abyss to be reborn.
He swallowed hard, voice cracking as he forced out the question:
“…What are you?”
“I’m your dad!” Steel Tide bellowed, grinning wildly. “You little bastard! Sneaking up on me like that? That’s low even for a scumbag like you!”
With a triumphant laugh, he pulled eight Metal Spheres from his belt, clamping them tightly between his fingers.
“Now, though? I’ve got everything covered. I spent thousands of Experience Points on a Rapid Resurrection upgrade. I’m not wasting this chance!”
He raised his hand high.
“So—die, you winged worm!”
With a thunderous cry, Steel Tide flung the spheres into the air.
Space rippled. Electric arcs danced around them. In midair, the spheres burst open—seven of them unfolding into a swarm of advanced war machines: Floating Artillery Platforms, Armed Robots, and Combat Mechanical Hounds—cutting-edge creations of the Mechanical Divinity. They encircled the Angel Divine Offspring Regiment like steel vultures.
And then—the final sphere erupted into a towering Aether Armor, nearly ten meters tall. Steel Tide leaped inside, slamming the cockpit shut with a metallic clang.
A booming, mechanical voice crackled from the speakers:
“You scared, birdman? Hah! You ignorant primitive! Tremble beneath the Iron Fist of the God of All Machines!”
Kalen remained calm. He surveyed the battlefield, his gaze sweeping over the machines.
“…Fascinating craftsmanship. But still just clever toys.”
“Toys?” Steel Tide sneered. “You’ll experience their power, you dirt-dwelling savage!”
He slammed his palm down on the control panel.
The Aether Armor’s left arm flared with energy—its electromagnetic cannon charging with a terrifying, crackling thunderbolt. With a deafening BOOM, the air split apart as a thick, jagged lightning beam lanced out, striking the distant Angel Divine Offspring.
Then, the Floating Artillery Platforms opened fire—hail of luminous energy bolts. Electromagnetic bombs detonated in midair, their shockwaves tearing through the sky. Below, the mechanical rifles spat flame tongues in rapid succession.
In an instant, the battlefield was a storm of light—luminous particles, explosive shockwaves, lightning beams, and fighter jets—closing in from every direction. The net was complete. The scene was nothing short of spectacular.
But Kalen didn’t flinch.
He gripped his Longsword with both hands, drove it deep into the ground.
“Shhhhh—”
A radiant, hemisphere-shaped Shield erupted from the blade, expanding outward in an instant. It absorbed every attack—lightning, bombs, energy fire—erasing them all like water washing over sand.
Steel Tide’s eyes bulged. He stared in horror at the Angel Divine Offspring, who stood unmoved, sword still planted.
“…What the hell?”
The Armed Robots swung their energy blades forward. The Combat Mechanical Hounds launched themselves into the air like guided missiles, aiming straight for the Angel.
“Awwww—”
“Mortal Entity,” Kalen murmured, his voice cold, “you think luck alone lets you kill my comrade? You dare challenge a true Divine Offspring?”
He didn’t even turn.
With a blur so fast it defied the eye, he swung his Longsword.
“WHEEEEEE—BOOM!”
A flash of white light split the air—like a blade slicing through reality itself.
The robots and mechanical hounds were cleaved in two, exploding midair in showers of sparks and experience points.
“…No way. This guy’s way too strong.”
Steel Tide stared at the wreckage, his mind reeling. The Angel’s head now bore three question marks—clearly, something was very wrong.
Because he couldn’t see any information.
And yet, he knew—this opponent’s Challenge Rating was at least 15. Possibly higher.
He’d just killed a 15th-level Angel Divine Offspring in a lucky break. His confidence was sky-high. He believed his mechanical arsenal could easily overcome even a five-level gap.
But he didn’t know—Kalen’s Challenge Rating was 21.
Ten levels above him.
The gap wasn’t just difference in strength. It was unbridgeable.
As a Marquis of the Sacred Fedran, Kalen was among the elite of the Angel Divine Offspring. Decades ago, during his Ascension, he had reached Legendary status—nearly touching the peak of Legend.
Even after the Great Collapse of the Holy Phaldran Empire, when Lord Karren’s power waned and his strength faded, Kalen remained a force beyond mortal reach. A being of legend.
Steel Tide’s hands trembled as he watched the Angel Divine Offspring walk forward, one step at a time.
He pressed the “Emergency Shield” button.
“Shhhhh—”
A shimmering barrier—glowing with electric arcs—flared into existence before him, enveloping his entire mech.
It could withstand Fifth-Level Spells.
But it offered no real safety.
Because now, the Angel was already soaring into the sky, wings beating hard. His Longsword pulsed with blinding light.
“BOOM!”
A column of golden-red flame descended from above—ripping through the shield like paper. The entire mech was pierced, vaporized in an instant.
“My armor—!”
Steel Tide’s cry was cut short.
The flame column reduced him to ash. Not a single scrap remained.
“Infinite Resurrection.”
Kalen stood motionless, staring at the charred wreckage. He knew—this wasn’t over.
The man would respawn. Soon.
Because in his eyes, Kalen had seen only regret over lost equipment—not a shred of desire to survive.
He turned his gaze to the battlefield—now descending into utter chaos.
Dragon-scaled warriors were slaughtering Allied soldiers in waves, tearing through the frontline like a storm.
And worse—these Dragon’s Favored were treating the war like a game.
They mocked the soldiers who fought to the death to defend their homeland—those heroes worthy of every honor.
“Spines!”
A sharp crack echoed. Blood sprayed.
A Dragon-Scaled Cultivator laughed maniacally as he tore an Allied soldier in half—still screaming, still alive.
He wiped blood from his face, grinning.
“Hey, you know what? The moves from those Divine Drama scenes? They actually work! If you’ve got enough strength, you can rip a person in two!”
“Damn, that’s sick. Gotta try that later.”
“Hey, save some points for me! You’re clearing out everyone in range!”
“Can’t you pick another spot? We’ve got tens of thousands of soldiers—why are you hogging this one? Get lost!”
Kalen’s grip on his Longsword tightened. His voice was ice.
“Damned Dragon’s Favored… they’re humiliating our soldiers!”
“SWOOOOOSH—”
He spread his wings, eyes blazing with fire. With a roar, he dove toward the laughing cultist—leaving a trail of light behind.
But then—a Fire Dragon erupted from the ground, coiling around him like a living whip.
Kalen twisted mid-air, wings flaring, barely dodging the attack.
“Fadalan people. Your opponent is me.”
Ash swirled. Dragon aura filled the air.
A young woman hovered in midair—her face delicate, her crimson hair whipping in the wind. Despite her slender frame, her back was spread with vast, broad Dragon Wings.
Her eyes—golden vertical pupils—burned with firelight. Cold. Calculating. Like a hunter staring down prey.
This was Misha—the Dragon Blood Baron of the Empire of Ashen, Master of the Tower of Conflagration, Chief Dragon Oath Mage.
Kalen narrowed his eyes. He studied her—this girl barely twenty, yet radiating power beyond comprehension.
And then—he saw it.
A towering, arrogant Red Dragon unfurled its wings, roaring in the air.
Kalen smirked.
“I was wondering… how a girl this young could carry such an aura.”
Then his voice hardened.
“…Now I know.”
“You’re not a human.”
“You’re a monster wearing a human skin.”
With a roar, Kalen surged forward—wings slashing the air, his Longsword blazing with divine energy. He tore through space, a streak of light aimed straight at Misha.
“Arrogant Fadalan fool.”
Misha didn’t flinch. She spread her wings, hovering in place. Her face twisted—scales erupted across her cheeks and forehead. Flames writhed around her body. Her palms glowed like miniature suns.
In that moment, she looked less like a warrior… and more like a god of fire.
“BOOM—”
The energy burst forth.
A column of searing flame tore through the sky, splitting the clouds. It raced toward Kalen like a divine punishment.
The heat wave warped the air. The sky turned crimson.
Kalen gritted his teeth.
He snapped his wings upward—climbing vertically at impossible speed—barely dodging the blast.
Seizing the moment, he soared above Misha, swinging his Longsword with impossible speed.
“SWOOOOSH—”
But his blade passed through nothing.
Just a fiery phantom.
The real Misha had teleported—appearing behind him.
Before he could react—several Fireballs exploded along his flight path.
Each blast sent charred feathers spiraling from the sky.
Then—more Flame Portals opened in the air.
From them emerged Dragon Oath Mages—flying in formation, surrounding him.
High above, the battlefield became a maelstrom:
Spines-like explosions.
Hundreds of meters of radiant fire.
Roaring Fire Dragons.
Pressure waves that shredded clouds.
Two figures—Kalen and Misha—danced through the storm, moving faster than the eye could follow.
“BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”
The explosions shook the earth.
Allied soldiers on the ground looked up in terror, their faces pale.
This was a battle between Legendary Strongers.
A true cataclysm.
Even the aftermath could destroy mortal soldiers.
In the past, the Empire of Ashen had been weak at the mid-to-high tiers. When facing Legendary enemies, only Emperor Kai Xiusu himself could stand against them.
Now—after fully absorbing the Anzeta Great Wasteland and claiming multiple Extra-Dimensional Colonies—the Empire had grown powerful enough.
Its Imperial Army could now match even the legendary Angel Bloodline Legion.
The sky battle raged on.
Flame clouds churned.
More Dragon-Blooded Nobles and Celestial Beings joined the warband.
And on the ground—another group of players began their advance.
Smoke. The stench of Hellfire.
Cracks in the earth spat forth molten fire.
Cawing. Screaming.
“Damn, you’re ugly. Look like a giant spectacle!”
“You don’t get it. This is a Massive Mound Demon Incarnation. Beauty’s irrelevant—strength is everything!”
“Huh… actually, kinda cute. After a while, you start to like it…”
“Human experience points can be grounded—but not underworld grounded. Wait—no, not underworld. Hell!”
“My Devil says if I give him the Spirit Soul of an Angel Divine Offspring, he’ll get me a Desire Demon!”
“Seriously? Then I’m launching a full assault!”
These players radiated black, malevolent spiritual energy. Their skin bore twisted crimson runes. Some had ragged, torn bat wings sprouting from their backs.
Their forms were grotesque—some were bloated, stitched-together figures. Others were beautiful, seductive women. One held a steel fork, skin red as blood—classic Devil form.
They were the ones who had made pacts with the Devil.
Imperial officials called them the Ember Infernal Legion.
They stormed the Allied frontline like a plague—burning, slashing, tearing.
They severed limbs with cleavers.
Pierced soldiers with spiked chains.
Stabbed hearts with bone tails.
Used Enchantment Abilities to drive entire squads mad.
They had the powers of Demons—but far more chaotic. More inventive. More unpredictable.
And when over ten thousand Hell Warriors joined the battle, the scales tipped completely.
On the main battlefield, artillery roared.
Iron Beasts and Dragon-Scaled Cultivators tore through the defensive lines.
Behind them, Imperial infantry advanced with precision—dividing and encircling, systematically eradicating entire Allied units.
Meanwhile, the Hell Legion, Undead Legion, and Fire Elemental Legion struck at the weakest points of the front—spreading fear, panic, and despair.
“BOOM!”
Another shell plummeted toward Collins City.
Mid-air, it exploded—but was blocked by a Light Screen forged by the Arcane Legion.
On the rooftop of a building, Walter watched.
He saw endless explosions.
Fallen Angels raining from the sky.
Allied soldiers retreating, one after another.
The past “Wings of Fadalan” frowned.
A soft sigh escaped him.
“Dragon bloodlines… powerful weapons… even pacts with Hell… In just ten years, the Empire of Ashen has grown to this?”
Beside him, a Gold Dragon trembled on the city wall.
“Duke Walter! It’s time to intervene!” the dragon urged. “The Allied Forces are on the verge of collapse!”
“No, Titus.” Walter shook his head firmly. “I know you’re righteous, altruistic—wanting to support them. But compared to the Ember Army… the real threat is their Emperor. That Red Dragon.”
His voice grew colder.
“You’ve seen him. Brutal. Powerful. But also… like a serpent. Cunning. Patient. We strike only when he appears.”
Titus roared in frustration.
“Are we just supposed to watch helplessly as the Allied Forces are annihilated? Watch as these unscrupulous villains turn Northern Aether into an Ashen Wasteland?”
The Gold Dragon paced frantically. His gills twitched. The city wall trembled.
“No,” Walter said.
He looked toward the horizon—toward the rolling hills.
His golden eyes blazed with resolve.
“Just as you said, Titus… the endless night will one day give way to dawn.”
“Justice… and order… will ultimately prevail.”
He stood tall.
There was no turning back.
(End of Chapter)
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