https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-652-Siege-and-the-Two-Headed-Dragon/13677501/
Chapter 651: The Roaring Earth
"Boom—"
With the thunderous roar of its engine, the Steam Tank advanced in tight formation, marching like a living mountain range, its wake churning up a storm of dust that billowed across the plain. Behind the armored legions, the Empire’s Infantry Legion surged forward under the cover of the tanks, moving with relentless precision toward the city walls.
Above, Wyverns flapped their leathery wings, screeching shrilly as they circled like dense, dark storm clouds, spreading out across the sky and converging on Aivendeldan.
The plain before Aivendeldan’s city wall had been completely overrun by the Ember Legion. The Empire’s assault came like a catastrophic deluge—overwhelming, unstoppable, crashing down upon the dwarves’ fortress with merciless fury.
“Damned…,” muttered a dwarf, his voice thick with disbelief. “These… these homegrown brutes… really—”
Even the ever-valiant dwarves, hardened by centuries of war, felt their throats tighten in awe. Bearded faces, usually grim and unyielding, now bore expressions of shock and unease. The sheer scale of the enemy’s might was staggering.
At that moment, Aid returned to the battlements under the reverent gaze of his subjects. His heavy armor was splattered with bloodstains, and his metal war hammer now gleamed crimson with the ichor of a two-headed dragon.
“His Majesty! Aid, our King!”
“Praise the Mountain Lord!”
“Did you see? He slaughtered over a dozen Empire Crawlers by himself!”
“Only our King could do such a thing! Long live Aid, our King!”
The dwarves’ morale soared. A chorus of roaring cheers erupted from the walls, echoing across the battlefield.
There, atop the stone ramparts of Aivendeldan, stood the King of the Dwarves—his gaze piercing through the smoke and gunfire, his broad shoulders bearing the weight of a kingdom’s last hope. Though facing an endless tide of enemies, his face showed no fear. His eyes burned with unwavering resolve.
This was the same moment, the same unyielding spirit, as fifty years ago—when Aid had stood alone against the armies of Fadalan.
But now, the fire in his soul flickered. The mighty Pillar of Stone Hammer was gone. Only nine thousand dwarven warriors remained in Aivendeldan.
The situation was worse than ever before. With no hope left but their king, the dwarves placed their final faith in him.
Aid’s voice was low, deep, like the rumble of distant mountains, echoing across the stone walls.
"Comrades! Today we face a challenge unlike any other. These arrogant invaders seek to crush our land beneath their iron hulks, to burn our homeland with fire! But I ask you—has the courage of the dwarves, our unbreakable will, been consumed by fear?"
"No!" the dwarves roared in unison.
Artillery fire raged on, but Aid stood unmoved, his gaze sweeping over every dwarf below. This was a battlefield—no honor, no mercy. The Empire’s snipers cared nothing for fair play.
They seized the moment, firing with cold precision. Dozens of bullets screamed through the air, aimed at the king’s head, heart—vital points.
Then, shells fell from above like vengeful stars, homing in on the very spot where Aid stood.
“Look out!” a dwarf shouted in alarm.
But Aid didn’t flinch. He raised his war hammer high. Behind him, a mountain of shadow loomed—massive, unyielding—shielding him from the storm of lead and fire.
Explosions detonated behind him, shaking the walls, but he stood firm, shouting:
“Excellent! We shall never surrender this land—this land passed down through generations! Our iron hammers will shatter their claws! Our wrathful fire will melt their iron armor! Long live the High Mountain Kingdom! Aivendeldan shall never fall!”
The dwarves clenched their weapons, tears streaming down their faces. His words ignited their hearts. A deafening roar erupted from the ramparts:
“Aivendeldan shall never fall!”
“Long live the High Mountain Kingdom!”
“Victory!”
Aid’s voice was a hammer strike on every dwarf’s soul. They knew—behind them, Aivendeldan was more than a fortress. It was their lifeblood, their homeland, the shield that had protected their people for thousands of years.
They would give everything—soul, blood, life—for this city. For their king.
Their cries mingled with the thunder of artillery, weaving into a tragic symphony across the smoke-choked battlefield.
But their defiance could not stop the Ember Legion’s advance. Aid timed his speech perfectly. As he finished, the enemy legions surged into range.
Under the king’s call, the dwarves rekindled their spirit. They threw themselves into repairing the walls, preparing the defenses, diving back into the grim, tense battle.
"Boom!"
"Boom! Boom!"
The lead Steam Tanks roared to life, their main cannons firing in rapid succession, hammering the outer wall. Shells exploded with violent force, sending ripples through the magic shield surrounding the city. The once-bright yellow glow dimmed, flickering like a dying flame.
Yet the dwarves did not falter. From the walls, dwarf steel crossbows, trebuchets, and stone-throwing cannons unleashed a furious counterattack.
"Crush them flat!"
"Let the dragon’s favored taste our wrath!"
"Fire at will!"
Thousands of dwarven archers drew their bows, loosing a storm of flaming arrows. Arrows rained down like a firestorm.
But the flaming bolts struck the cold, unyielding armor of the Iron Beasts—mere sparks, leaving only faint white marks, bouncing off with sharp, metallic clangs.
"Such a pathetic counterattack!"
"The so-called High Mountain Kingdom has nothing left!"
"Looks like we can go home in time for Coronation Festival!"
"Hah! Even my grandmother’s spit is more dangerous!"
The tank drivers mocked them, refusing to activate their shields, charging forward with careless arrogance. What use were arrows meant for flesh and blood against war machines forged in steel?
"Boom—"
The Steam Tanks’ treads churned the earth, carving deep tracks across the plain as they advanced relentlessly toward Aivendeldan.
“Damn it! These iron hulks are as hard as obsidian!” growled a dwarf commander, furious but undeterred. He barked orders to his comrades.
On the towering walls, master dwarven artisans had already aimed their precision steel crossbows at the advancing tanks.
The dwarves loaded bolts, heaved the winding mechanisms, muscles straining, voices raw with effort:
"Fire! Pierce their iron hides!"
"Whoosh—"
A piercing whistle split the air. The two-meter-long bolt tore through the sky, a silver streak cutting through the clouds—aimed straight at a Steam Tank.
"Slash!"
The crossbow bolt struck with devastating force. The tip pierced through the thick composite armor, driving straight through the crew compartment, pinning the driver to his seat. The tank instantly died, belching gray smoke.
"Boom!"
"Damn it! Bad luck!"
Another massive bolt struck the tread of a second tank—locking it in place, immobilized.
Engineers rushed forward to replace the damaged tread. As they worked, the dwarves seized the moment, unleashing hidden arrows.
"Whoosh—"
A Empire engineer, mid-replacement, was pierced through the heart. His comrade stepped in without pause, taking his place.
Aivendeldan was a fortress built by dwarven hands—every turret, every mechanism, every hidden trap designed to overwhelm invaders.
In the high turrets, dwarves launched massive trebuchets crafted by the famed Cui Lant Division. They hurled molten iron balls—forged from scrap weapons—into the air.
Arcing through the sky, the balls screamed past the clouds, bursting into flame as they fell. They struck the Empire’s armored cluster with explosive force.
"Boom!"
Fire erupted in all directions. Metal fragments flew like shrapnel. One Steam Tank was crushed flat, its engine igniting, then detonating in a cataclysmic explosion. Thick steam poured from the wreckage, and the tank was reduced to charred remains.
The dwarves cheered, ecstatic. They hurled more burning iron balls, raining destruction upon the cursed "iron hulks."
Another tank was hit—detonated—spewing thick, black smoke.
Seeing this, Drool clenched his jaw and roared into his walkie-talkie:
"Never underestimate them! Those tanks are Empire property!"
"Yes, General!"
The drivers snapped to attention. Forced to abandon their pride as Empire soldiers, they now focused entirely on the siege.
"They won’t surrender… and they dare to fight back?!" Bill, inside the cockpit of "Emperor’s Wrath," slammed the control panel in rage.
A fanatic for steam tanks, the dragon-vein gnomes felt more pain at the destruction of a machine than the death of a kin. To see dwarves—using crude, primitive weapons—destroy a finely engineered war machine? It was an insult. A naked humiliation.
"Unforgivable!"
The runes within the tank flared to life, pulsing violently. A shimmering, unbreakable field shield formed before the armor.
Another massive bolt screamed through the air—only to be blocked mid-flight, shattered by the shield.
Bill snarled: "You want to hurt my baby? Damned dwarf—blow him to hell!"
"Boom!"
"Boom! Boom!"
The Steam Tank went wild, its main cannon firing in rapid, relentless bursts. The barrel glowed red-hot from the strain. Shells fell like a storm of fire, pummeling the city wall.
The magic shield flickered, cracked, then finally shattered under the relentless barrage.
"Crack!"
"Shatter!"
The last shell struck. The protective barrier collapsed into a shower of glowing particles—dissolving into nothing.
The Empire’s ogre artillery had waited for this moment. They’d calculated their angles, aimed at the key fortification equipment, loaded their shells, ready to unleash concentrated fire.
"Boom—"
Cannons roared. The earth trembled. Flames and smoke filled the sky above the Empire’s front lines.
Hundreds of heavy cannons fired simultaneously. Shells trailed fire as they streaked through the air, plummeting down like divine judgment.
"Boom! Boom!"
"No! They’re destroying our trebuchets!" the dwarves screamed in panic—but there was nothing they could do.
Explosions tore through the walls. Debris rained down. The ground shook. Even the mountains seemed to tremble.
In an instant, the trebuchets crafted by Cui Lant’s division were reduced to rubble. The turrets collapsed. Dozens of dwarven warriors were buried beneath the ruins, missing in action.
The city walls shuddered. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone. The entire fortress swayed, on the verge of collapse.
Every defensive weapon—steel crossbows, arrow towers, trebuchets—was destroyed in a relentless, precise bombardment.
"Boom!"
The Steam Tanks were now within a hundred meters. They roared forward, firing shells that blasted gaping holes in the city gate.
Machine guns sprayed bullets in a torrential storm, mowing down dwarven defenders. Dwarves fell from the walls, crashing to the ground below.
Behind the armored units, engineers and infantry surged forward. Armored tanks carrying ladders rolled in from the rear.
The Ashen Empire’s assault was methodical, layered, almost artistic. Their staff officers refused to waste lives—too costly. They preferred to break the enemy’s spirit first with steel and artillery, then claim the city with ease.
Watching the destruction, a dwarf commander knelt on the ground, face twisted in sorrow. "No… this was our city… our life’s work…"
"Boom!"
A bomb struck beside him. He was thrown into the air, vanishing into the smoke—missing in action.
Then—dark shapes swept across the sky.
Wyverns had returned.
"Boom!"
Dust exploded as a monstrous shadow slammed into the city wall. The cloud cleared. A towering figure stood, rising slowly.
Three meters tall, covered in scales and bone-plated biological armor, his body rippled with iron-hard muscle beneath. In his left hand, a blood-stained chain saw sword spun with a spine-chilling whine. In his right—unusual, monstrous—was a 27-millimeter explosive rifle.
The creature grinned, its face hidden beneath armor, yet unmistakably fierce.
"Hahahaha! For the Emperor of the Ashen Flame and the Empire! Dwarves—repent before us! Flesh is weak!"
The chain saw roared. The rifle’s barrel glowed.
This was not just bombs. This was something far worse.
A new terror had landed on Aivendeldan’s walls.
The ultimate creation of the Empire’s biotech: the Vitajis Dragon-Scale Warrior.
(End of Chapter)
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