Chapter 673: The Star of Death
"Boom—"
Jushan roared in fury, slamming his massive fist into the ground with overwhelming force. Cracked earth erupted like a volcano, sending waves of sand and dust spiraling high into the sky.
But this time—he missed.
"Shhh—"
A streak of motion shot upward, piercing through the thick smoke and ash. In the blink of an eye, George soared tens of meters into the air, his Dragon Wings flaring wide. The golden light blazing from his eyes—piercing, radiant—locked onto the monstrous Ogre below.
Instantly, a wave of overwhelming Dragon Sovereignty surged forth, pressing down upon the earth like a crushing weight. A scorching gale whipped up from the motion of his wings, spreading across the battlefield, devouring everything in its path.
"This is..."
George felt the surge of Bloodline Strength pulsing through his veins, the resistance of his vast Dragon Wings cutting through the air. At first, he was bewildered—then, a thrill of pure excitement surged through him.
Half-Dragon.
In this moment of life-or-death, the Bloodline inherited from the Emperor of the Ashen Flame had awakened. Breaking through the very limits of his genes, he had ascended—reaching the rare tier known as Half-Dragon.
Within the Empire of Ashen, Dragon-Blooded Nobles were ranked with rigid precision. But their Bloodline potential varied. Those bearing Dragon Scales, vertical pupils, and clawed hands were collectively known as the "Emperor’s Bloodline"—or "Dragonborn." This elite group made up just 5% of the nation’s population. George had been one of them—until now.
Only those who had grown actual Dragon Wings were deemed Empire’s Chosen—true Half-Dragons.
Their numbers were scarce. Nearly all were at the apex of imperial power: Marshals like Dolo of the Military Bureau, Misha, the Flame-Wielder of Wildfire’s Tower, even the Imperial Prime Minister Lanpu bore a pair of delicate, hidden Dragon Wings beneath his robes.
Each Half-Dragon was a chosen one—blessed by the Emperor himself. Almost all were veteran legends, pillars of the empire with blood-stained records of glory.
And now, after enduring multiple baptisms in Dragon Blood, surviving near-certain death—George had ascended into their ranks.
He was a Half-Dragon.
A wave of disbelief washed over him. He remembered the vision in his mind—the figure. The gaze. Was it possible... had the Emperor seen him?
The thought sent his heart racing. Euphoria surged through him, so intense it nearly drowned out the world. For a moment, he forgot the Ogre below.
That moment of distraction enraged Jushan beyond measure.
With a thunderous roar, the Ogre slammed his war hammer into the ground again and again, cratering the earth with each strike. Massive pits split the soil like wounds.
"Damned Crawler! You can't escape! Think you can hide behind a pair of wings? I’ll still kill you!"
Jushan bellowed to the sky, lifting his hammer high, pointing it like a finger of doom. His Aura burned with righteous fury.
The words came back sharper, colder.
"And you should be saying that, in the face of His Majesty’s power—your roots are nothing but dust!"
George’s voice cut through the air like a blade. His eyes gleamed with disdain. The Dragon Wings snapped open wide, casting a colossal shadow across the earth. Behind him, a phantom crimson dragon seemed to form in the air—a vision of divine might.
The Dragon Sovereignty poured down like a tidal wave, pressing upon Jushan’s shoulders. The Ogre staggered under the weight.
Jushan’s eyes widened in shock.
Impossible. How could another being possess an Aura stronger than his own? That was his greatest strength—his pride!
His face twisted in rage. Veins bulged across his arms, muscles swelling like boulders. With a roar, he hurled the war hammer forward. The hammer’s head erupted in flame, spinning like a whirlwind as it flew toward George in midair.
George didn’t flinch.
He flapped his wings, rising another ten meters with effortless grace—dodging the attack with ease.
The hammer spun past, then returned to Jushan’s grip. The Ogre grinned—a cruel, toothy smile. Perfect.
"Boom!"
The hammer crashed into the ground. Jushan used the recoil to launch himself skyward—leaping with impossible speed.
In an instant, he closed the gap. He was above George now, war hammer raised high, roaring, “Crawler! Eat this hammer!”
George, finally releasing the pressure in his chest, opened his mouth wide—his entire body vibrating with power.
A monstrous, roaring flame column erupted from his maw.
Boom!
The searing beam of fire tore through the air, striking Jushan square in the chest.
Jushan’s face twisted in horror.
Why…?
At the moment George opened his mouth, an unnatural fear gripped him. It felt as if that fire could annihilate him.
He was one of the most powerful among the millions of orcs. A singular, unique existence.
Thousands of bullets. Hundreds of shells. Artillery barrages that could level mountains—none had touched him. How could a flame—a mere fire—kill him?
But in the next breath, rage consumed reason. Something stirred within the pulsing mass of spores that made up his body.
"I will not lose! WAAAGH!"
His eyes flashed with a sickly green light. He swung the hammer down, meeting the flame with a furious roar. A thick, tangible green Force Field erupted from his body—thousands of writhing spores forming a toxic mist.
The field expanded violently, corrupting the very fabric of magic and reality. Imperial soldiers’ weapons shorted out, their spells fizzling into nothing.
Yet George felt no weakening.
Instead, his body burned hotter—his lungs swelling as if holding a miniature sun. Light blazed from his flesh, and within it—faint, but unmistakable—a thread of silver, pure and divine, like the glow of heaven itself.
Just as Jushan’s hammer struck, George’s flame column pierced through his chest.
The fire burned through skin, melted flesh, seared bone. Jushan’s body tried to regenerate—spores rapidly healing wounds—but the rate of destruction outpaced recovery.
The Dragon Sovereignty clashed violently with the Ogre’s Force Field, creating chaotic space distortions in the sky. The two forces warped the air, tearing at the very laws of the world.
In an instant, the Ogre’s heart—pulsing like a war drum—was reduced to ash. The flame column pierced through Jushan’s entire body.
George had burned him clean through.
"Boom!"
Inside the body, a core of rare spores detonated, consumed by fire.
Jushan, still roaring, lunged at George—determined to crush his enemy—when suddenly, his strength vanished.
No pain. Just nothing.
And nothing was worse than pain.
Without strength, existence meant nothing.
"…How?" Jushan looked down, stunned.
His massive body was torn apart—his chest now a gaping, charred hole, the fire having torn through him completely.
As his heart exploded, the green Force Field collapsed—dissolved into nothing, replaced by George’s overwhelming Dragon Sovereignty.
The Ogre’s massive hand dropped the hammer. It fell from the sky like a stone, crashing into the crater below.
On its face—twisted by wrath and madness—was the first expression of something new: Despair.
A creature without strength was less than a dog.
George didn’t hesitate.
He tucked in his wings, diving like a meteor from the sky. His longsword gripped tightly in both hands, he plunged downward, his body a streak of fire.
"Shhh—"
The blade sliced through the air, tearing through the atmosphere. George’s descent was like a falling star.
"Boom!"
The impact shook the earth. A giant pit split open, debris and dust flying in all directions. Jushan lay broken in the crater—motionless, barely breathing, yet still managing a rasping whisper:
"I… haven’t… lost…"
Then—George landed.
The longsword, still glowing from the heat of the fall, plunged down with the force of a falling star—slamming straight into the Ogre’s forehead.
Crack!
The skull shattered. Brain matter splattered across the ground. Blood mist burst out in all directions.
George knelt, gripping the sword with both hands. Jushan’s massive head was impaled, the blade buried deep into the earth. The Ogre’s face—still twisted in hatred—froze in its final moment.
"Finally… over," George sighed, rising to his feet.
But his legs gave out. He couldn’t lift the sword. No matter how hard he tried.
"Whew…"
The battle had been a blur—a nightmare that felt like a dream. Even now, he trembled, heart pounding.
He stared at the corpse—massive, monstrous, inhuman.
Could it really have been him who did this?
As an Imperial Officer, he’d trained in tactics and command, not combat. His victories had come from leading armies to slay enemy generals—not from personal duels.
Before joining the Empire, he’d been a lowly peasant laborer—someone anyone could push around. Combat arts? He’d never even heard of them.
And yet—now… he had killed this beast.
No. That wasn’t possible.
Not with his own strength.
The memory of the sun-like heat in his chest returned. A sudden, electrifying realization struck him.
That wasn’t me.
It was Him.
"His Majesty."
George sank to his knees, remaining there. He looked up through the smoke-choked sky, toward the sun.
Around him—beyond Jushan—lay tens of thousands of Ogre corpses. Some burned to ash. Some beheaded by shrapnel. Some turned into sieves by machine guns. Others crushed under the feet of advancing troops.
They lay piled high across the wasteland, forming mounds like tombs. The stench of burning flesh and rotten spores hung thick in the air.
Anzeta Great Wasteland. Dragon Blood Peak.
Kai Xiusu, standing atop the mountain, watched through the Heaven’s Judgment Dragon Eye. His gaze lingered on Jushan’s corpse as he rubbed his chin.
"Interesting. The Beast Kill Credit appeared just now. They value me, then?"
He smirked.
"The essence of that strength… familiar. Hmm. Orcish Deity and the Abyss, united. A troublesome enemy."
The Red Dragon shook his head, sighing softly.
But this was the Prime Material Plane—the heart of the Empire of Ashen. Here, even a coalition of Dark Deities and Demons would not move him.
George had been right.
By himself, he could never have killed a Beast Kill Credit—a being whose power had been amplified by countless Ogre spores, nearly reaching Legendary status.
The truth? Kai Xiusu had intervened.
Through the Bloodline Gift’s connection, he had infused George with a spark of ordered fire—enough to deliver the killing blow.
It looked simple. But behind the scenes, Kai Xiusu had been locked in battle—countering the Chaos Power and Evil Divine Energy left behind by Ghuush and Lady Zuggmoi within Jushan’s body.
The Beast Kill Credit was no mere monster.
In past lives, it had brought ruin to the Feiansuo Continent’s northern regions—an unstoppable war machine, capable of evolving to Legendary levels.
When the density of Ogres reached critical mass, and death piled high, their spores would gather around the strongest among them—triggering a transformation.
Each Beast Kill Credit was a bloodthirsty, relentless war beast—growing stronger with every battle.
Kai Xiusu glanced at the corpses surrounding George, chuckling.
"Who’d have thought the infamous Newbie Nightmare would fall to my subordinate so soon?"
Jushan.
The name was familiar.
Kai Xiusu had heard of this creature in his past life—though not just Jushan, but Bonecrusher Jushan.
A legendary name, one of the Four Great Calamities, alongside Big Tooth.
Jushan was known for collecting discarded weapons and armor, forging himself a suit of impossibly heavy gear.
In the original timeline, it was Jushan who led a vast army of green-skinned Ogres in the conquest of Aivendeldan. He seized the Dwarf Vault’s weapons and plans, then expanded his territory—plundering everything in sight.
And yes—Jushan had been one of the key architects behind the destruction of Northern Aether.
He led multiple massive assaults, slaughtering millions of Aethel people. The suffering was so great that many new players in that world quit in despair.
And now—he was dead.
(End of Chapter)
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