https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-711-True-Sun-The-Red-Dragon-s-Descent/13677596/
Chapter 710: The Holy Guard from Hell
Yet, from afar, the Steel Tide instantly locked onto the enemy Battalion's Player — a figure clad in jagged Bone Armor, its face obscured by grotesque, interlocking plates. A smirk curled across the masked visage, a classic villainous grin.
"Hehehe... What a delightful surprise — another Player joining the Thrace Battalion?"
The Dragon-Scaled Cultivator's Chain Saw Sword whirred to life, emitting a high-pitched, nerve-wracking hum that made even the air shiver. Kneeling slightly, he coiled like a spring, ready to leap.
The [Royal Knight Commander], staring in horror at the monstrous figure before him, stumbled backward, his voice cracking with panic:
"Sir! I’m just a Newcomer! Don’t kill me!"
"Newcomer?"
The Steel Tide didn’t even blink. With a roar, he raised his Chain Saw Sword, leaping skyward — ten meters, fifteen — and launched himself toward the Royal Knight Commander on the opposite side of the City Wall.
"Let me teach you a lesson!"
"Wait — don’t come any closer!"
The Royal Knight Commander frantically raised his double-barreled Hunting Rifle, firing at the charging Dragon-Scaled Cultivator.
But the Bone Armor was impenetrable. The ancient shotgun pellets barely left a white scorch mark — like a scratch on stone.
"Stop him!"
"Kill the Empire bastard!"
Thrace soldiers, armed with swords and blades, surged forward, swarming like locusts, hoping to overwhelm him through sheer numbers.
But the Steel Tide charged straight into the melee. Twisting his body like a top, he swung the Chain Saw Sword in a wide, brutal arc. Dozens of Helm-clad heads flew into the air, crimson geysers erupting from severed necks.
The Royal Knight Commander watched in horror as his comrades were torn apart — then turned and fled in blind terror, his mind screaming:
"This is a Player?! Even a Boss wouldn’t be this terrifying!"
"Trying to run?"
The Steel Tide grinned, his eyes fixed on the fleeing back. He raised his Blast Arrow Rifle.
"Bang!"
A flash. Darkness.
The Royal Knight Commander felt his body explode — the metallic shrapnel tore through his back, shredding flesh and bone. His Remnant Body was flung like a ragdoll, slamming into the City Wall with a sickening thud, splattering blood across the stone.
> [You have slain a [Thracian Junior Officer]. Gained 1 gold coin, 250 Faction Contribution, and 500 Experience Points.]
The Steel Tide casually blew smoke from the barrel of his rifle, grinning.
"Easy pickings. Much better than filing reports in the office. Nothing beats the thrill of killing for gold — a paycheck that’s worth far more than a lifetime of slave labor."
"Monsters! You— you don’t dare!"
"Kill him!"
"All together — he’s just a beast cornered by us!"
The Steel Tide scoffed. Spinning like a gyroscope, he fired again and again, unleashing a storm of metal shards that carved through the Thrace ranks. In moments, the ground was soaked in blood, littered with torn limbs and guts. Not a single Thrace soldier remained standing.
Meanwhile, on the other side of August, deep within the Elemental Tower, lightning, fire, and frost erupted in a relentless cascade, slaughtering every Player within a hundred meters.
"Boom!"
Another thunderbolt — the size of a bowl — struck the earth, reducing several Players to charred, lifeless husks.
"Foolish Mortals! How could you ever comprehend the depth of magic? The legacy of the sacred Fedran is a peak you will never even glimpse in your entire lifetime!"
The Thrace Arcane Legion's Mage, hovering high above, spoke with icy calm. His Crimson Gold Robe of Arcana flared in the wind, his staff raised. Around him, Thunderbolts and Fire danced like serpents, descending from the heavens to obliterate anything that dared approach.
Then — a thunderous roar split the sky, shattering the clouds above. The Mage nearly lost his balance mid-air.
"Impudent fiend!"
From beneath the City Wall, a towering figure emerged — five meters tall, muscles like coiled steel, radiating an aura of primal fury. The monstrous Monk, with six thick arms, each ending in fists the size of cauldrons, stood with a skull that gleamed under the light — Great威 Tianlong, the legendary Monk Player.
Damn… what in the world is that? A Human Monk? No — this thing is over five meters tall, with six arms… it’s not even remotely human.
The Mage squinted against the glare, his brow furrowed in confusion. But he raised his staff anyway.
"Boom!"
A massive lightning strike tore the earth, carving a blackened crater — but the Monk was gone.
Suddenly, a colossal six-armed shadow loomed above the City Wall. The Mage gasped, looking up — and saw the Six-Armed Monk plummeting from the sky, fists raised, eyes blazing with rage.
"Bodhisattva, the Two-Headed Dragon flies above! Demons, perish!"
The Mage reacted instantly, raising a pale Blue Protection Ward before him.
But the Monk swung — his fists blurred into afterimages. A rain of punch-force energy hammered the barrier, shattering it in an instant.
The Mage channeled the Elemental Tower's power, summoning countless Thunderbolts that writhed like silver serpents, converging into a Lightning Prison that trapped the Monk.
"Pathetic tricks. You dare challenge me?"
Great威 Tianlong remained unshaken. With a surge of spiritual energy, he broke through the Lightning Bind with a single step, his cauldron-sized fists flying toward the Mage's head.
"Boom!"
The Mage couldn’t dodge. His skull exploded — bone fragments and brain matter sprayed across the air. Blood and white matter splattered the ground.
"Kill him! God above — he’s slain Lord Karl!"
"Fire! Shoot!"
The Thrace soldiers, finally recognizing the intruder, unleashed a barrage — Sun Divine Trebuchets fired massive, glowing bolts, and hundreds of Bullets rained down.
Great威 Tianlong tossed the Mage's headless corpse like a shield, blocking most of the incoming fire. Then, with a powerful leap, he soared across rooftops, dodging with fluid grace beneath the Elemental Tower.
He began hammering the base — fist after fist — cracking the foundation. The Tall Tower trembled, its structure groaning under the assault.
"Crack—"
Lightning crackled through the spire. Fire danced across the stone. The Elemental Core at the summit pulsed erratically, unstable and furious.
"Help me!"
Great威 Tianlong roared.
Instantly, eighteen towering Monks, their bodies coated in Golden Powder, stepped forward — the Eighteen Arhats of the [Shaolin Temple] Guild.
"What are they doing?!"
"Madmen!"
"Kill them! They’re trying to bring down the Tower!"
Bullets and arrows flew — but the Golden Light-glowing Monks were impervious. Their bodies were like iron, their limbs unbreakable.
"Hahahaha! I’m delivering you a gift!"
Great威 Tianlong bellowed, veins bulging across his six arms. With a roar, he pushed — and the Eighteen Arhats joined him, all driving their strength into the Tall Tower.
The structure tilted. It groaned. Then, with a final, deafening crack, it collapsed — toppling toward the City of August wall.
"No — don’t!"
"Boom!"
The Elemental Core detonated in a cataclysmic explosion, tearing a massive hole in the City Wall. Every Thrace soldier guarding the wall was vaporized — no survivors.
"Abbot Majestic!"
"Legendary!"
Great威 Tianlong stood tall, hands on hips, smirking.
"Well, saving a life is worth building seven levels of a Buddhist pagoda. We’ve cleared hundreds of mobs — should’ve built over a thousand levels by now."
A nearby Player, watching the blood-drenched Monk, grimaced.
"Hmph… the Abbot truly practices compassion. He must be close to perfect merit."
The Players were no longer the battlefield riffraff of old.
This was an army of thousands — veterans of level ten and above — backed by hundreds of thousands of Professionals. No matter the realm, such a force was undeniable.
With Players now joining the battle, the Empire's assault grew fiercer. More Empire troops were seen scaling the City Wall.
On the Sun God Tower, Wilhelm’s face twisted with growing distortion, his golden eyes — ringed with solar pupils — burning with uncontainable rage.
He drew the Spear of Final Judgment, a beam of Golden Light piercing the sky. His six wings unfurled, and the sacred Hymn began anew.
"By the will of Thrace's sovereign, Fadalan’s heir — Holy Guard, destroy them!"
Hundreds of Winged Angels, clad in radiant armor, soared into the air, their Flame Swords gleaming. They charged toward the Empire forces breaching August.
"Shhh—"
A golden blade cleaved through the earth, slicing through the ground and splitting the air. Dozens of Players were cut into Meat Scraps.
Chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around Players, dragging them down into the abyss — their screams swallowed by darkness.
"Watch out — these Elite Monsters are strong!"
"Don’t get hit — one strike and you’re dead!"
The Six-Winged Holy Guard Chieftains raised their Longswords, emitting beams of golden light that pierced the sky. In unison, they chanted:
"Sinful Souls Consumed, My Lord Endures Forever—"
"Boom!"
A torrent of crimson fire rained down from their blades — a blazing Divine Punishment that incinerated every Empire Kill Credit within the city.
But then — a new sound.
A thunderous War Drumbeat echoed across the battlefield.
A Dragon-Bound Holy Knight, clad in heavy armor, marched forward with perfect Uniform March, stepping into the chaos.
"The Dragon Lord Above All!"
Anthony, spear raised, banner fluttering, roared.
Flames erupted from the sky — not fire, but the凝聚 of Paladins' Willpower, swirling into a massive, crimson Dragon Phantom that emerged from the heavens, lunging at the Holy Guard.
"No! Stop it!"
The Chieftains flinched — but the Dragon Phantom was too fast. Its jaws opened, unleashing a torrent of Dragon Flame, reducing several Holy Guard to ash.
The massive claw slashed through the air — not just a physical blow, but a spiritual strike. The white fire at its tip burned not flesh, but essence, soul.
"Sssss—"
The golden Auras around the Holy Guard were torn apart — their pristine Disguises shattered.
Countless white wings fluttered down — but turned to bloodstained black feathers. Their golden armor dimmed, glowing red like Hell Iron. Their perfect faces cracked, blood oozing from the fissures. Their smiles twisted into eerie, broken grins — like puppets with frayed strings.
"Heavenly Feather Blazing Eyes, Blazing Sword Shattering Armor; Sacred Chant Seals the Forehead, Divine Eyes Like Torches…"
Yet they continued their hymn — blind, deaf, unseeing.
They sang of Wilhelm, praising him, swearing loyalty — even as their bodies betrayed them.
A Hellish Army, soaked in Blood, reeking of Sulfur, singing a sacred Hymn — the scene was grotesque, surreal.
"What… what is that?"
"Could those monsters… be His Majesty Wilhelm’s Holy Guard?"
"Is that… my brother? Did I see wrong? How could he be here?"
"Are they… still alive?"
"By Amanata — it’s Baron Zolman! The traitor, the Divine Offspring who vanished — he’s in that army too!"
The Thrace soldiers stared at the sky, their faces pale, voices trembling with shock and fear. Whispers spread across the City Wall.
Curiously, those reacting the most were newcomers, recently transferred from other regions. The August locals, however, stood silent, their faces blank — as if they had known this all along.
Deyef, staring at the hollow-eyed Hell Puppets, suddenly saw a familiar face — Baron Clarence, his old friend, missing for years, presumed dead in the Holy City Battlefield. And now… here he was.
His heart froze. A heavy hammer struck his chest. His hand trembled around his Longsword.
"This… this can’t be. How could His Majesty have gone so mad?"
He whispered in disbelief.
Then, piecing it together with General Karell's words, he understood.
Every Thrace soul who resisted the Pact from Hell had been captured by Wilhelm, their Spiritual Souls stripped — turned into hollow shells, bound to serve as Hell Puppets. Their souls sacrificed to the Devil.
A cold dread washed over Deyef — a plunge into an icy cavern.
But he felt a strange relief.
If he hadn’t been demoted to the Border, he’d be one of them now — his soul trapped in Hell, screaming for eternity.
Now, the truth was laid bare.
The Holy Guard were no longer warriors.
They were Hollow Shells, crafted from living Thracians, stripped of soul, bound to Hell, and loyal only to Wilhelm — the most fanatical of all.
"What are they?!"
"What is the Kingdom colluding with? Where are our fallen comrades?"
"His Majesty… this is blasphemy!"
The faithful Sun God worshippers screamed, demanding answers from their king.
But Deyef knew — they would get none.
For the king they served was already lost.
Insane.
Beyond salvation.
(End of Chapter)
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