Chapter 812: Friction and Conflict
Seleucus, Lock Great Rift.
This rift stretches across the heart of Seleucus, the largest fault line on the Feanso Continent, winding over a thousand kilometers like a colossal scar etched into the land. From above, it resembles a gaping wound in the earth. The southern end of the Lock Great Rift begins in the lower reaches of the Doyl River valley, curving northward through the Twaey River gorge to the Lake of Sunset. To its southwest lies the endless Taliro Great Desert—the cradle of the Gulann Empire and the primary domain of the Blue Dragon Sect.
At this moment, two titanic, chaotic Floods have converged at opposite ends of the rift, their sheer presence overwhelming.
In the north, the sky above the Lock Great Rift teems with countless Wyvern Circles. Dozens of hundred-meter-long Flying Warships and Magic Ships hover like giant whales adrift in the clouds. Dozens of Gold Dragons, Silver Dragons, and Copper Dragons roar fiercely toward the opposite side. Gunsmoke thickens the air, sharp and biting, while hundreds of Steam Tanks remain stationed atop the high plateau, churning thick plumes of smoke that rise like the breath of primordial beasts. Human, Half-Dragon, Dwarf, Elf, and Great Goblin forces stand at the Allied Forces' frontline positions, alert and disciplined, their ranks unwavering. Behind them, tens of thousands of Howitzers, Cannons, and Mortars line the battlefield, their muzzles all trained directly on the enemy across the chasm.
To the south, a vast horde of monstrous Dragon Beasts—varying wildly in form—charge forward in a furious stampede, kicking up dust storms that swallow the earth. Dragonborn and Half-Dragon Warriors ride atop the beasts, raising their spears, swords, and blades high, their battle cries thunderous and resonant. Dozens of Cultists in black and gray long robes surge forward like a relentless wave, chanting in unison, their voices rising in a fevered, hypnotic roar.
High above, a hundred Heretical Dragons have already gathered in the sky—colorful, chaotic, and terrifying. Alongside the familiar Five-colored Dragons—Red, Blue, and Green—there are rarer hues: Purple and Brown Dragons, their presence rare and ominous. The massive Dragon Circle hovers above the rift like a living, swirling regiment of iridescent clouds, their wings flapping erratically, their roars shaking the cliffs and sending debris cascading down the rock walls.
These are no illusions. These are authentic Dragons—offspring of Tiamat!
As the most powerful beings in the Material Realm, a single mature Dragon can effortlessly destroy a village or even a small town. A pack of ten or more can unleash devastation capable of toppling nations. And now, a hundred? That’s not war—it’s a Dragon Cataclysm. A disaster that could sweep across the entire continent, plunging it into chaos. Only powers like the Sacred Fedran or the Empire of Ashen could stand against such a force.
Clearly, the Dragon Worship Church has poured everything into this battle—determined to crush the Allied Forces, led by the Empire, in one decisive blow.
High above the rift, an Ancient Red Dragon circles in fury, its voice a thunderous bellow:
"Empire scum! You are traitors! You feast on the Dragon Queen’s Dragon Vein Power, yet you betray Her!"
From the Allied Forces’ frontline, a towering Half-Dragon officer steps forward—George, now a Major General of the Empire and commander of Dolo’s subordinates. His military coat, a deep forest green, flaps in the wind as he draws his blade, pointing it skyward.
"Betrayal? How laughable. Our bloodline flows from the Supreme King Kai Xiusu. What claim do you have over us?"
The Ancient Red Dragon snarls, enraged:
"You filthy half-breed! You have no right to speak! All Five-colored Dragons carry the blood of Queen Tiamat. And your Emperor is the most despicable traitor of all!"
"Unforgivable!"
The Giant Ogre Marshal, commander of the expeditionary force, spreads his wings and ascends into the air, locking eyes with the Ancient Red Dragon—no fear, no hesitation in his gaze.
"King Kai Xiusu never submitted to your Dragon Queen. The Empire’s vast lands were won through His Majesty’s victories, not your cursed bloodline. What right do you have to claim them?"
"As long as the Empire of Ashen endures, your deity will remain chained in Hell—never allowed to descend into the Material Plane!"
The Five-colored Dragons erupt in fury, cursing and screaming in unison. The Empire soldiers, outraged by the insults to their Emperor, fire back with equally venomous words. The air crackles with hostility, but neither side moves—both waiting for their full strength to be assembled. After all, a conflict of this scale cannot be mobilized in mere hours.
Dolo watches the sky, his gaze sharp and unyielding. His mission—fulfilling King Kai Xiusu’s orders—was clear: annihilate the Dragon Worship Church’s active forces in one decisive strike.
But beyond the main battlefield, countless players have formed spontaneous parties, crossing mountains and rivers to reach the heart of the Taliro Desert—the hidden stronghold of the Blue Dragon Sect.
Deep within the Taliro Desert, in the Irl River Valley.
The season is dry. The riverbed lies exposed, cracked and barren, with only a few sparse, brittle clumps of yellowed grass clinging to the mud. Beyond that, only endless dunes stretch into the horizon, whipped by relentless winds that carry sand like a scourge. The sky is empty, save for the occasional shadow drifting across the sand—faint, distant, and ominous. The rasping cries of Lion Scorpions and Sky Lion Beasts echo through the air, hunting across the wastes.
And then—something strange. In the midst of the shifting sands, three patches shimmer unnaturally, distorting the air around them in subtle, unnatural ripples.
"Hardcore Player," murmured Stuffed Bun, his cloak shifting colors to blend with the desert, "you’re not lost, are you?"
Singo glanced down at his wrist map, confident:
"No mistake. It’s right here. My map just detected life-force signals—strong and active."
Whoosh—
A sudden gust of wind howled across the dunes, stinging their faces with grit. Stuffed Bun spat, spitting out mouthfuls of sand.
"This dump of a place is nothing but sand and more sand. Let’s just get out of here. Stop using that magic version of Gaode Maps!"
Singo placed a finger to his lips.
"Shh. Wait. Just a little longer."
Stuffed Bun was about to protest when he noticed a strange distortion in the distance. Three Desert Dragon Beasts burst from a spatial vortex, their scales perfectly camouflaged against the desert. Behind them, vehicles dragged by their tails carried crates of weapons and armor.
His breath caught.
Ah! So that’s what those sand dunes were—mirage illusions. We’ve actually found the Blue Dragon Sect’s logistical supply convoy!
Moments later, the crunch of footsteps echoed as a group of Goblinoid mercenaries emerged on both sides of the convoy—about twenty to thirty in number. Clad in crude animal hides, wielding wooden spears and club-like weapons, they looked like weak, ill-equipped mercenaries.
Stuffed Bun’s eyes lit up.
"Look at that! Guarding such a weak supply line? This is like walking into a gold mine!"
But Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang, crouched beneath his color-shifting cloak, sighed with quiet despair. To him, fighting such weak foes was meaningless—worse than practicing on wooden posts.
Singo, however, remained serious. He raised a hand, frowning.
"Wait. Don’t rush. My map still detects several unusual life-force signatures. This enemy isn’t as weak as it seems."
Suddenly, a deep, labored breathing echoed from afar—accompanied by the crackling of electricity.
Three towering Humanoid figures stepped into view. Each stood four or five meters tall, their bodies massive and armored in blue scales. In one hand, they gripped massive Bone Swords; in the other, Dragon Skull Shields. Their heads bore a striking resemblance to Blue Dragons. As they ground their teeth and clashed their weapons together, electric sparks burst from their mouths and blades like miniature lightning storms.
"These guys don’t look friendly…"
Stuffed Bun frantically scanned his character sheet.
> [Blue Dragon Descendant Slayer]
> Challenge Rating: 10–14
> Ten Thousand Years Ago, Tiamat created the Blue Dragon Descendant Slayer to hunt enemies from another realm and Metal Dragons.
> These beings are her most favored Heretical Dragons—born only from Dragon blood, and they hear her distant roar in their dreams.
> They instinctively recognize all Heretical Dragon descendants as her children… yet they believe the Slayer is superior to all others.
> But all of Tiamat’s Heretical Dragons and Color Dragons remain wary of the Slayer—after all, their reputation as Dragon Assassins is well-known among her followers.
"I’ve heard the Empire’s Northern forces have entered the Taliro Desert. We must be cautious."
The largest of the three, the leader, spoke with a voice like rolling thunder—deep, resonant, laced with crackling electricity.
"I know. Nawi."
Another Blue Dragon Descendant growled, teeth clenched.
"Those damned traitors! I heard Mother God’s roar in my dreams. How dare that Emperor openly blaspheme Her? Unbelievable!"
The third, eyes blazing with fury, clenched its Bone Sword.
"By Tiamat’s name—if I ever meet those Empire scum, I’ll tear them apart!"
Just then, a heavy Iron Ball rolled across the sand, tumbling toward the front of the convoy.
Nawi frowned, scanning the horizon.
"Watch out—this could be an enemy trap—"
Before he could finish, the Iron Ball exploded with blinding force. A flash so intense it turned the sky white—dazzling, disorienting, temporarily blinding even the most seasoned warriors.
In an instant, the Goblinoid mercenaries and the three Blue Dragon Descendants all flinched, eyes squeezed shut, panic rising.
From the shadows, the four players shed their color-shifting cloaks, removed their darkened sunglasses, and revealed themselves. Without hesitation, they charged.
"I’ll handle the mercenaries!" Singo drew his bow, releasing a specialized arrow. It screamed through the air, piercing the head of a Goblinoid—brain matter splattering, blood spraying. But as the arrow exited through the back of the skull, it split mid-flight into three sharp, barbed heads, each lancing toward the next three targets.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
Three more heads exploded. The arrow fragments continued splitting—like petals scattering in the wind—raining down on the remaining mercenaries.
With a single Multi-Target Arrow, Singo had already slain over a dozen. He drew again, firing volley after volley. The Goblinoids fell like wheat before a scythe—cut down in waves, until not a single one remained.
In the chaos, Stuffed Bun, Xia Ye Qiu Yu, and Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang launched their attacks on the three Blue Dragon Descendants.
Xia Ye Qiu Yu’s eyes flared red. She thrust her finger forward, gathering energy into her fingertip. A blazing column of flame erupted from her hand, roaring toward the Blue Dragon Descendant.
But the creature—its hearing sharper than any weapon—dodged at the last moment. The flame tore through its shoulder, missing vital organs.
"Die!"
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang leapt skyward, soaring over ten meters, his massive battle-axe spinning above his head. His target: the leader, Nawi—the strongest and oldest of the three.
Just as the axe descended, Nawi heard the wind scream. Reacting with instinct born of battle, he raised his Dragon Skull Shield.
Boom—!
The axe struck with crushing force. The shield held—but barely. The impact sent Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang flying backward, skidding across the sand.
"Rebels! It’s you!"
Nawi’s eyes snapped open, electric arcs dancing across his pupils. With a roar, he swung his Bone Sword, lightning crackling along its edge, aiming to cleave Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang’s head.
"Come on, then!" Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang laughed, swinging his axe upward in a desperate counter-attack.
Clang—!
The metal met metal in a thunderous clash. Nawi’s sword was forced aside—its edge chipped and cracked under the full-force strike.
But the electricity surged through the axe, coursing up Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang’s arm. His body convulsed, paralyzed, trembling with shock.
"Die, traitor scum!" Nawi grinned fiercely, driving the electrified blade forward—aimed straight at Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang’s heart.
And then—Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang reached out.
With a roar, he caught the Bone Sword in his bare palm.
"What?!"
"How is this possible?!"
The Blue Dragon Descendant stared, stunned. Blood streamed from Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang’s hand, electric arcs dancing across his skin. His body was blackened, scorched—like a demon risen from Hell.
But Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang only grinned, a feral, terrifying smile spreading across his face.
"Now… this is starting to get interesting."
A thick cloud of sulfur smoke engulfed the battlefield.
In the haze, Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang’s body began to swell—his form expanding rapidly. Behind him, a pair of massive bat wings unfolded, dark and leathery, unfurling into the air.
(End of Chapter)
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