Chapter 656: Divinely Chosen One
"Impossible!" Aid’s voice rang out with unwavering resolve, his war hammer raised high toward Misha. "The Shield Dwarves were forged in the Fire of the Furnace! Our bones are harder than the finest steel, and we will never bow to any Evil! Even if I die today, centuries from now, our descendants will reclaim this land, and avenge us upon that accursed Dragon!"
Misha, seemingly expecting such defiance, merely arched a brow. No anger flickered in her eyes—only cold calculation. "Since you are so foolishly stubborn, then let it be said that we have no choice but to act without mercy. Whether you are Children of the Mountains, Children of the Earth, or Descendants of the Sun God—before the Empire of Ash, you are but a regiment of ash soon to be consumed."
"Arooo!" Smaug roared, descending from the sky like a storm of wrath. "Misha, no need to waste words on this damned Dwarf—kill him!"
Misha gave a faint nod. Closing her eyes, she slowly reopened them—golden vertical pupils glowing with unearthly light. Above her, a phantom dragon eye materialized in midair: Heaven's Judgment Dragon Eye—capable of brief foresight, and serving as a conduit for devastating dragon breath.
Then, her back erupted with vast, leathery wings, and a palpable aura of draconic power radiated from her, like a living storm. Starlike scales—like fragments of fallen constellations—danced around her body. Energy Scales, Enhance Attribute, Graceful as a Dragon, Protection from Energy Damage, Aerial Maneuverability—a full suite of enchanted effects, identical to the legendary "Monkey Tricks" once wielded by the past Kai Xiusu.
"Powerful sorcerer," Aid muttered under his breath, gripping his war hammer tighter as the surge of arcane energy washed over him. His focus sharpened completely. This delicate-looking girl before him was a far greater threat than the monstrous wyvern—her power was deeper, colder, more dangerous.
The storm of sand and dust roared once more, blurring the battlefield, amplifying the earth elementals’ presence. Misha’s towering gaze pinned the King of the Dwarves, her slender hand rising, palm open. A massive, searing fireball swelled in her grasp—its heat warping the air.
"Rebels of the Empire... shall face annihilation!" she declared, voice like ice.
"Boom!"
A pillar of white-hot flame tore through the air—like a divine punishment descending from the heavens—lancing toward the shadow within the dust storm. Eighth-Rank Spell: Scorching Inferno!
With the power of Dragon Bloodline and Child of the Elements, Misha’s Solar Flame Burst now rivaled a Nine-Ring Spell, distorting the very air around her.
Smaug dove from above, claws outstretched, intent on avenging the arrow that had struck him earlier.
"Crack!"
Aid slammed his war hammer into the ground—his body fusing with the earth itself, vanishing into the rock like a fish diving into the sea. Earth Travel Technique.
Misha’s fire blast and Smaug’s lunge both missed—only molten rock craters remained.
Aid had vanished.
Yet Misha did not flinch. Using Heaven's Judgment Dragon Eye, she saw the future—predicting his next move with flawless precision. She was already prepared.
"Boom!"
The ground beneath her exploded—sharp, crystalline rock erupted upward like a greatsword. Immediately behind it, a dwarf wielding a war hammer surged forth.
"Dragon’s Favored—die!"
But Misha was ready. With a single, fluid motion, she unfurled her massive dragon wings and leapt into the air. A gale of scorching wind erupted beneath her, forming a churning, white-hot cloud of ash in the sky—Burning Cloud Technique.
The searing smoke burned the dwarf’s eyes, blinding him, obscuring his vision—giving Misha the perfect moment to summon her next spell.
She pointed skyward, then brought her hand down in a swift, decisive arc. Her golden pupils flared with fire.
"Whoosh—"
A blazing meteor screamed from the heavens, descending vertically with a shriek that tore through the sky. It detonated in a massive explosion, engulfing everything within a hundred-meter radius—reducing the entire area to ash.
Nine-Ring Spell: Meteor Storm!
"Boom—"
The earth trembled violently. Aivendeldan City shuddered as if the world itself were breaking apart. Burning stones flew in all directions. The sky darkened beneath a thick veil of black smoke. The ground boiled with rising clouds of ash, while rivers of flame and embers danced through the air—painting the world in the colors of apocalypse.
"Gods..."
"Aid, Your Majesty!"
On the city’s ruins, the remaining Dwarves—still fighting with desperate courage—paused, their eyes reflecting the inferno’s glow. Fear and dread filled their hearts.
"Aha! That dwarf’s nothing but dust now!" Smaug bellowed, tail lashing with glee.
But Misha remained solemn. She shook her head. "No. He’s not that easy to kill. This battle... is far from over."
The air stank of scorched earth, thick with the metallic tang of smoke—like the deep tunnels of a mine shaft.
Yet within the haze, a familiar figure stood tall, unyielding.
A deep, resounding voice echoed:
"I told you—Dwarves are born from Father God Moradin’s furnace. We fear no fire. Shield Dwarves never submit!"
"Boom!"
The figure raised his war hammer. Thunder roared from the earth, tearing through the smoke like a storm wind. The dust storm cleared—revealing a vortex of swirling rock and debris, a maelstrom of destruction that swallowed everything in its path.
Misha narrowed her eyes, using Heaven's Judgment Dragon Eye to see the truth.
Aid was still in dwarf form—but his flesh, his skin, had been replaced by solid rock. Molten lava oozed from his cracked body, veins of gemstones and precious metals glinting beneath the surface. Smoke, white-hot and scorching, poured from fissures in his stone limbs. He looked like a twisted, living statue of the mountain itself—something akin to a Stone Giant reborn.
Yet unlike the mindless earth-born monsters, Aid now seemed to command the land itself—his presence was that of a semi-god, a guardian of the mountains.
Misha spoke calmly, warning: "Beware. His body has undergone complete Earth Element Transformation. Keep distance from the ground. Maintain flight. And be careful—only destroying his Elemental Core can kill him. Severing limbs is useless."
"Yes, Misha!" Smaug replied quickly, flapping his wings and rising higher, his eyes wide with unease. The sight of the dwarf’s wrath was enough to stir fear in even a wyvern’s heart.
"Relax," Misha continued. "Just hold him off. This form cannot last. Without divine endurance, his will will be consumed by the Earth’s edict—his spirit will break."
"Then let him run himself into the ground!" Smaug snarled.
"Boom!"
"Boom! Boom!"
The sandstorm expanded, devouring more land. Massive monoliths rained from the sky, crashing into the earth with deafening force, carving deep, jagged pits.
Misha and Smaug darted through the air, evading falling debris with practiced precision. Then, from within the storm, another thunderous roar shook the sky.
"I have given my flesh, my soul, my very spirit—unto this mountain! For thousands of years past, for thousands yet to come, the Shield Dwarves are the eternal masters of this land! Leave! Now!"
"Boom!"
The earth split open. A colossal hand of stone erupted from below, clawing toward the sky—reaching for the wyvern.
Smaug flailed wildly, barely escaping the grasp, but the force of the shockwave dragged him into the storm. He struggled in the gale, filled with sand and stone, screaming in agony.
"Arooo!"
Rocks rained down. Smaug dodged frantically—but still, a jagged boulder tore through his wing membrane, leaving multiple gaping holes.
Atop a rising ridge of rock, Aid raised a war hammer that stretched fifty meters into the air. With a roar of fury, he brought it down—aiming to crush the wyvern’s head.
"Damned Dwarf!" Smaug roared, teeth bared. In his final moment, his dragon blood surged—unleashing a power beyond reason. His chest erupted in flames, pulsing like a miniature sun. From his throat, a torrent of fire unlike any before—white-hot, blinding—spewed forth.
"Boom!"
The stone body blackened, cracked, and split open. Fire poured from the fissures, consuming the rock from within. The hammer was nearly reduced to ash, cracking and groaning under the strain.
Smaug screamed, eyes blazing with fury:
"I’ll burn you alive! You’ll witness the strength that the Master has granted me!"
Fire roared again.
Aid, face twisted with rage, bellowed:
"Useless monster! You know nothing of the strength of Earth and mountain!"
"Boom!"
The ground split again. Rock spires shot skyward, piercing the air like spears, aiming for Smaug’s fragile underbelly.
Now, Smaug had no time for fire. He flapped his wings desperately, weaving through the air—yet his movements were not in vain. They bought Misha precious time.
A deep, ancient dragon tongue echoed through the sky, drawing Aid’s gaze upward.
"You are the sole Master of the Anzeta Great Wasteland. You are the Supreme Emperor of the Empire of Ashen, Lord of Catastrophe—bearer of Thunderbolt and Flame."
High above, hundreds of meters in the sky, Misha stood motionless, eyes closed. Her crimson hair danced behind her like living flames, whispering prayers to the void.
"Swish—"
Her eyes snapped open. The golden vertical pupils burned with celestial fire.
Instantly, a tangible aura of draconic might spread across the land—crushing every living being beneath its weight. A scorching wind howled forth. An endless sea of fire erupted from the sky—painting half the heavens in blazing orange and crimson.
"What... is that?"
"By Molradin!"
"The Gods!"
The Dwarves stared in terror. Their hearts raced. They could not look away. Behind the Dragonborn girl, a phantom of the Red Dragon loomed—wings spanning the sky, shadows swallowing the sun. The very world trembled beneath its gaze.
The Empire’s soldiers, however, erupted into frenzy. Morale soared. Their attacks grew fiercer. Officers and men alike roared in unison:
"For the Ember Empire! For Emperor Kai Xiusu!"
"Quick! Siege it! His Majesty is watching us!"
They sang without restraint, and on the crumbling walls of Aivendeldan, the melody of the Hymn to Kai Xiusu rang out—echoing across the wasteland.
Under the scorching wind, Aid’s dust storm vanished. Debris and sand rained down like a dying world’s final breath.
Smaug finally wrenched himself free from the rock’s grip, flapping his wounded wings. He hovered in the air, smugly declaring:
"Dwarf! You’re terrified, aren’t you? This is the might of His Majesty!"
Aid looked up—unfazed, unafraid. His eyes met the phantom dragon in the sky. His voice was calm, resolute:
"So this is our enemy. This is the Emperor of the Ashen Flame."
Misha, perched above him, her golden eyes blazing, the phantom Red Dragon staring down in silent judgment.
"Submission to the Empire... or death. This is your final choice."
Her voice was cold, clear—cutting through the storm.
At that moment, Misha was no longer herself. Her body was controlled by the Emperor, thousands of miles away.
Kai Xiusu knew it would be hard to break the Mountain Lord. But he would try. And perhaps, just perhaps, he could uncover secrets buried deep within the dwarf.
"Impossible!" The King of the Dwarves spoke with finality.
Misha—no, Kai Xiusu—laughed coldly. "Aid, why struggle? Look around you. Because of your stubborn pride, Aivendeldan lies in ruins. Your people have been slaughtered. Few remain."
Under the voice’s command, Aid turned—forced to see.
The once-great city, forged from Dwarf wisdom and crystal, was now a wasteland. Walls reduced to rubble. Bodies piled high. Blood pools dyed the city walls crimson. The once-mighty army—ten thousand strong—was now fewer than eight hundred.
And still, the Empire pressed on. Soon, even these last defenders would be torn apart.
Was it worth it?
For a moment, doubt flickered in Aid’s heart. But then—faster than thought—resolve returned.
The High Mountain Kingdom was not gone. He still had Zhen. He still had the Shield Dwarves who had fled. They would carry the civilization forward. One day—one day—they would return.
And Aid? He would give his life to prove the unyielding spirit of the Shield Dwarves. To preserve their legacy for generations.
"Go to hell!" Aid roared, unleashing a torrent of Dwarven curses. "You filthy mongrel, born of Ogres! A disgrace like the Drow Elves! You don’t even know what honor is!"
He spat the filth—every vile word in his tongue—letting it fly like a storm.
Then, he raised his war hammer, pointing it straight at the phantom Red Dragon in the sky.
And once more, he spoke—his voice thundering across the wasteland:
"Evil Dragon! Shield Dwarves never submit! The High Mountain Kingdom never submits!"
Misha’s gaze remained cold. Slowly, she raised her hand.
"Very well. Then take your kingdom—down with you—into destruction."
"Boom—"
A blinding flash of flame lit up half the sky.
(End of Chapter)
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