Chapter 796: Ulrichia's Wrath
“Do you see it?” Singo stood atop the colossal, mound-like corpse of a Green Dragon, pointing downward with a voice that rang out like a war horn. “These so-called Dragons aren’t any different from ordinary beasts. They bleed. They fall. They die!”
“And what we must do—” He drove his finger toward the distant altar, his voice blazing with fervor, “—is destroy the evil dragons that plague the world, terminate the altar of the Dragon Worship Church, and end this catastrophe!”
His words ignited the long-oppressed civilians. A wave of roaring fury surged through the crowd, a unified cry rising like a storm.
“Destroy the Dragon Worship Church!”
“Kill the evil dragons!”
With hearts now alight with defiance, the people surged toward the very altar they had once feared above all else. Axes and war hammers rose high, smashing down upon the sacred stone with unrelenting fury—shattering not just the altar, but the chains of fear that had bound them for so long.
“Humans will never be slaves!”
“Smash it to pieces!”
Amidst the chaos of shouts and roars, the deep, thunderous crack of war hammers striking stone echoed across the land. The dragon-headed altar—symbol of the Church’s divine sovereignty—was reduced to splinters, scattered across the ground like broken bones.
Xia Ye Qiu Yu hovered midair, effortlessly commanding flames that flared to life, illuminating the depths of a distant, hidden cavern. His voice was low, grave, and resolute.
“Within Linying City, there are sixteen more dragon breeding grounds. We will destroy them all. We will cut the wings of evil dragons so they no longer obstruct the sky!”
And so, with cheers, roars, and battle cries, thousands of former sacrificial offerings—once cowed, now fierce—became an unstoppable flood. Joining forces with the players, they charged forward, relentless, toward the next breeding ground.
The cultists guarding the altars were thrown into panic. Utterly bewildered, they could not comprehend it—these humans they had treated as livestock, as expendable, had suddenly unleashed such ferocity in their darkest hour.
Gunfire screamed through the air. Cultists wailed in terror. One altar after another crumbled under the onslaught. The ranks of the resistance swelled with every passing moment.
Their cries grew louder, fiercer—so powerful they seemed to shake the very ground, tremble the sky, and make the entire Inner District shudder uncontrollably.
On the city’s towering spire, Ulrichia’s face darkened further, her expression a storm of fury and disbelief. Her eyes—slitted, golden, vertical—burned with rage.
“Grotar… killed by Empire forces?” she muttered, lips curling in contempt. “That worthless fool.”
Even if Grotar was her least capable son, he had still been a full-grown Green Dragon—no small asset in the Green Dragon Sect. The loss was a wound to her pride, a blow she could not bear.
How could a mere mortal kill a mature Green Dragon?
And as she sensed the steady collapse of the altars, watching the five spectral shadows of the ancestral dragons fade from the sky, her despair deepened.
Without Queen Tiamat’s protection, the tide of war was turning. Linying City itself was now in real danger of being captured.
Then, sensing the weakening of the dragon shadows, the skyships re-engaged. Dozens of luminous beams descended from above, boom after boom, striking the dragon hordes with devastating precision—crushing half-formed dragons from the air, sending them spiraling down in flaming ruin.
At the same time, the Empire’s army surged forward. Steam tanks roared across the earth in thunderous clusters, crushing the corpses of dragon beasts beneath their treads, raising dust storms that shook the ground. The distance to Linying City was now less than a kilometer.
“This cannot continue,” Ulrichia growled, her voice tight with resolve. “I must intervene. I must stop these damned Empire scum.”
If nothing works… I’ll have to awaken Father.
She knew her father—Lord of the Putrid Marsh, Erebus—was in the final stages of ascension, poised to become a true god. Only through the sacrifice of countless mortals and the gathering of immense faith could he claim his place as a subordinate deity of Tiamat, the ruler of the new era of draconic dominion.
But if she awakened him now, he would unleash his full, towering rage.
And yet—should Linying City fall, and Tiamat’s faith anchors be severed, Erebus would be unable to complete the ritual.
With a final, cold decision, Ulrichia spread her vast dragon wings and let out a long, thunderous roar—then launched herself into the sky, diving toward the heart of the city.
Without her presence, the strength of the Dragon Worship Church’s cultists and their dragon beast army faltered dramatically. And without the terrifying five-colored beams of divine light, they lost all ability to launch long-range attacks. Now, they were helpless—forced to endure the merciless bombardment of Empire artillery, with no means to fight back.
Boom!
Boom! Boom!
Shells trailed thick smoke, arcing through the sky like a deadly net. They detonated midair in a storm of fire and shrapnel—explosions that tore apart walls, shattered stone, and reduced men to bloody mist. Flames engulfed cultists, while molten fragments severed heads, leaving only broken torsos behind.
Under the relentless artillery barrage, the ground before Linying City became a graveyard of dragon corpses and cultist remains. But the players pressed on—riding steam tanks, driving modified vehicles, charging forward in full force.
“For Tiamat!”
“Long live the Dragon!”
Led by the evil dragon priests, cultists surged forward, bearing longswords, shields, and bows emblazoned with the five-headed dragon sigil. They climbed the city walls, determined to fight to the last breath.
But then—BOOM!—shells exploded overhead. Bodies were torn apart, reduced to ash and splinters, flying into the air like ragdolls. Men were vaporized, limbs scattered, flesh turned to pulp.
Boom—
The city gate groaned open.
Out poured over a thousand cultist cavalry, riding guardian dragon beasts. They raised the banner of the Green Dragon Sect, roaring as they charged toward the players, their beasts bellowing low, earth-shaking roars.
Dust rose in every direction. The ground trembled. Such a charge could have shattered any army in the realm of Seleucus—except for those from the North.
“Tiamat lives!”
“Crush them!”
Inside the cockpit of a massive steam tank, a player known only as “AAA Heavy Tank Driver Liu Division Fu” let out a cold, mocking laugh.
“This is what you call a cavalry? These meat sacks weighing less than ten tons? You really think they can stand against my hundred-ton Emperor’s Wrath?”
He slammed the accelerator to the floor.
The armored titan roared like a storm given flesh. With unstoppable force, it charged headlong into the dragon horde—like a mountain crashing into a wall.
Boom!
The engine’s roar. The grinding crunch of treads crushing flesh. The sickening crack of bones snapping beneath steel.
The tank plowed through the charge like a blade through silk. Bodies were crushed beneath it, reduced to pulp. Blood smeared the tracks. The ram was coated in crimson, dragging behind it the twisted, broken corpses of dragon beasts and cultist riders—mangled beyond recognition.
The player grinned, flashing a row of white teeth. “I thought it was a speed bump. Tell my insurance company to send the claim form!”
And so it was with the others. Thanks to decades of refinement by the Empire’s Academy, these iron beasts were flawless—unmatched by the blood-bred creatures of the cult.
In just a few charges, the dragon cavalry was shattered, drowned in a tide of steel.
“God…”
“By Tiamat, what is that thing? How can it have strength like a dragon?!”
The cultists finally broke. Panic set in.
“Just a bunch of weak humans! Damned fools—why are you afraid?!”
From the city’s peak, several Green Dragons emerged, their heads raised, letting out rasping, mocking roars. They dove toward the steam tanks, their spines brimming with corrosive liquid—ready to unleash a death breath.
To the dragons, these slow, ground-bound machines were easy prey. They mocked the idea of being challenged in the air.
But as they dove, several tanks suddenly raised their small-caliber barrels skyward. A stream of fire erupted from their muzzles—pew-pew-pew—a barrage of rapid-fire shells screaming into the sky.
In an instant, the leading adult Green Dragon’s wing membranes were torn apart. It shrieked in agony, plummeting to the earth.
“No! That’s impossible!”
“Damned humans!”
These were modified versions of the Emperor’s Wrath tanks—transformed by the Empire’s Division, now equipped with four 20mm anti-aircraft cannons. For the first time, the Emperor’s Wrath revealed its fangs.
And it had already claimed several dragons.
Then, with a synchronized roar, dozens of heavy tanks swung their main cannons toward the weakest section of the city wall.
Boom!
Flame tongues lashed out. Thick smoke billowed. Armor-piercing shells, devastating in power, struck the wall with explosive force.
The ground shook. Dust rose like a storm. The wall exploded—a gaping, hundred-meter-wide breach now torn into Linying City.
“Charge!”
“For the Empire! For the Emperor of the Ashen Flame!”
“Reclaim Linying City! For Sacred Fedran! For the Eternal Lord of Light!”
The horn blast echoed across the sky. Tens of thousands of players and human soldiers surged forward, charging through poison mist and acid rain, determined to seize the city.
---
Linying City – Dragon Breeding Ground
Deep beneath the earth, in the shadowed tunnels, the “Sacrificial Offering Army” led by the players advanced with unstoppable momentum. They had slaughtered countless cultists, destroyed several altars, and freed over ten thousand human sacrifices—each victory swelling their ranks.
Stuffed Bun toyed with a dragon horn in his hand, smirking. “See? That Green Dragon wasn’t so tough. All that noise, and we still killed it.”
But Xia Ye Qiu Yu’s expression darkened. He spoke in a low, urgent tone. “Be careful. Don’t speak. Not yet.”
“What’s wrong?”
“How… how is it possible? I’m sensing a presence—immense. Far stronger than that mature Green Dragon. It’s… terrifying.”
Stuffed Bun frowned. “Come on. The frontline is this intense? That ancient Green Dragon wouldn’t abandon his post…”
Then—his voice cut off.
A scent drifted through the air—sharp, acrid, like decay and ozone.
Far ahead, two glowing eyes emerged from the darkness.
Golden vertical pupils. Cold. Unnerving. A shadowy figure loomed—vague, immense, like an entire army wrapped in mist.
Trembling, the people raised torches, casting weak light. The glow barely illuminated the truth.
A monstrous head. A crown that stretched down the spine, almost as long as the dragon’s body. Emerald scales, green as jade, shimmering in the dim light. The sheer size of the creature blocked the entire cavern tunnel.
It was a Green Dragon.
An ancient one.
One that had lived for nearly a thousand years.
“Humans…”
Ulrichia stepped forward from the shadows, her form terrifying, her gaze cold and deathly. Her vertical pupils locked onto the group.
“You… you killed my son. You destroyed the altars of Linying City?”
The sight of such a beast sent panic through the crowd. In terror, they fired their weapons—bullets flying—but bounced harmlessly off her scales.
Even the players froze, hearts pounding. They had seen the enemy’s stats.
> [Toxic Emerald – Ulrichia (Challenge Rating: ???)]
A creature capable of level advantage against current players. This dragon’s challenge rating was at least 20—unprecedented, terrifying.
“Holy crap, there’s a hidden boss!”
“It’s an Ancient Dragon! We’re dead—no way we can beat this!”
“Didn’t the Mechanical Divinity kill one before? Get the fleet here now!”
“Don’t panic! We’ll never know if we don’t try. That adult dragon died, didn’t it?”
“Screw it—let’s go!”
A dozen mage players raised their wands, chanting spells, trying to replicate their previous victory—binding the dragon in magic.
But the ancient Green Dragon’s spell resistance was beyond imagination. Even high-level magic failed to scratch it.
“Pathetic humans,” Ulrichia sneered, flicking her claw. The spells were severed mid-cast.
Her eyes glowed. She spoke in an ancient dragon tongue.
> [Hate Gaze]
Instantly, every caster was struck by a wave of dark green light. Their bodies began to decay—rotting from within—before collapsing into pools of foul, black liquid.
Singo, far away, drew his dragon-hunting bow, drawing back with every ounce of strength. A multi-enchanted arrow flew like a meteor—aimed straight at the ancient dragon’s heart.
But Ulrichia swung her wing. A storm of acid and poison erupted—shredding the arrow mid-flight.
Then, the storm surged forward—engulfing the crowd.
Hundreds were caught in the gale. No screams. No time to react. Bodies were torn apart, limbs scattered, shredded into fragments.
Singo used Phantom Step, vanishing hundreds of meters away—just in time to escape.
But as he landed, he saw Ulrichia smirk—then open her maw wide, drawing in a deep breath.
“Roar—”
An ancient, powerful roar spell—a sonic shockwave in the shape of a cone.
It tore through everything in its path—rock cracked, walls shattered, even the ground split.
Singo was caught in the blast. His body cracked open, blood pouring from every orifice. His ears and nose bled violently.
Only his Death-Defying Barrier Amulet saved him—barely keeping him alive through the assault.
“Hardcore player! I’m coming to save you!” Stuffed Bun yelled, sprinting toward him.
“Down!”
A black, sword-like force field sliced through the air—crack—and cleaved the air where Singo had stood, splitting him in two.
Stuffed Bun dropped to the ground, heart racing, sweat pouring down his back.
He had just survived.
That was no ordinary spell.
That was a Seventh Circle Spell—the Sword of Darkness.
(End of Chapter)
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