Chapter 845: Siege
Grimagoss’s eyes burned crimson, his entire body shrouded in a flickering red glow. Scorching steam poured from his maw like a furnace’s breath, transforming him into a demon from the depths of Hell. Every movement he made radiated destruction, shaking the very air. The sky above churned with flame-laden clouds, swirling violently with his every motion. Pillars of fire rained down from the heavens like divine punishment, booming into the cavern and melting the rock into a honeycombed wasteland of holes.
Where his gaze fell, stone liquefied, leaving behind a desolate ash field. Dragon-Scaled Cultivators scattered in panic, rolling and dodging, but three were too slow—struck by his beams, their thick scales pierced through in an instant, reduced to smoking ruin.
As the Empire’s most elite individual warrior, Vigitas, the Dragon-Scale Monk, possessed an iron will and an unyielding life force. Even if his heart were destroyed, he would not die. But under Grimagoss’s single strike, both his pulsing hearts—along with his backup—were utterly incinerated. His chest was left a gaping ruin, a massive hole where his torso once stood.
The Dragon-Scaled Cultivator army had suffered its first casualties.
And Grimagoss showed no mercy. Crimson light flared from his eyes, a merciless beam lancing forth—the origin of the “Deep Crimson Eye.” Blessed by Kazul, he now wielded a gaze capable of annihilating all.
“Stop him!”
Led by Emon, the heavily armored Dragon-Scaled Cultivators surged forward, forming a wall before Grimagoss. The monstrous dragon wing swung, delivering a thunderous slap.
“Shield up!”
Boom—
The sound was a crushing, heart-stopping impact. The two frontmost Cultivators were sent flying, their heavy armor twisting grotesquely in midair before crashing into a scorching rock wall with a sickening crack—bone shattering, life extinguished without awareness.
Emon barely managed to raise his shield in time. The raw physical force surged through the metal, jolting his entire body. His internal organs shifted, his throat flooded with blood, which he choked down, suppressing the urge to vomit. The sheer strength shoved him backward, feet scraping the ground, his body sliding like a ship in a storm.
At the precise moment Emon lost his balance, a flicker of cold, cunning malice flashed in Grimagoss’s molten gold vertical pupils. His dragon wing hadn’t even fully retracted—yet the fearsome, scale-covered claw had already shot upward like lightning, fingers splayed.
At its palm, a pinpoint of light—white-hot, infinitely compressed—ignited in a fraction of a second. It collapsed, then exploded with apocalyptic fury.
Instant Cast · Inferno Blast
The timing was flawless—perfectly timed to strike when the Cultivators were reeling from the wing’s impact, formation shattered, defenses at their weakest.
The concentrated ball of destruction screamed through the air, tearing space itself as it slammed into the ground just five meters in front of Emon—where several Cultivators still tried to regroup, shielding one another.
The world dissolved into blinding, annihilating white light.
Then came the explosion—deafening, earth-splitting. A shockwave tore through the cavern, ripping open the ground like a living wound. A searing pressure wave, like an invisible giant hammer, slammed into every living thing.
Emon barely had time to slam his cracked, broken shield across his body. Then he was flung backward, tossed like a ragdoll, crashing down with a bone-jarring thud. His ears rang with a high-pitched whine. The world spun, inverted. The stench of burning flesh filled his nose.
“Shit…”
Dazed, Emon struggled to lift his head, heart pounding with terror.
At the epicenter of the blast, a charred, crater-sized pit still bubbled with dark red magma. Scattered around its edge were twisted metal fragments and human remains—some vaporized instantly by the heat, others reduced to blackened husks.
Their ranks had now lost six.
But even as Grimagoss unleashed that devastating attack, he let out a ragged, heavy breath—exhausted, recovering.
Emon’s face hardened. With every ounce of remaining strength, he hurled his cracked sacred sword—“Dawn’s Vow”—like a spear.
The blade flared with a light so intense it rivaled a miniature sun. No longer golden warmth, but a blazing, white-hot inferno—the primordial fire of life itself, a judgmental flame that burned with divine fury.
The sword became a streak of light, tearing through a dust cloud, streaking forward with unrelenting precision, aimed straight at Grimagoss’s head.
Grimagoss lunged with his claw, trying to catch it mid-flight.
Thwip!
The sharp, wet sound of a blade piercing scales, muscle, and bone echoed through the cavern—distinct, horrifying.
The white-hot sword plunged deep into the fragile joint where Grimagoss’s claw met his forearm. It sank in almost to the hilt, leaving only a violently trembling handle and a geyser of blood.
“ROOOOOOOOOOOOAAARRR!!”
Grimagoss roared—a scream of agony so deep it seemed to tear reality. It blended disbelief, unbearable pain, and the fury of a beast struck by a mere insect. His claw froze mid-air.
The holy fire burned through his flesh and sinew. White smoke hissed from the wound.
His entire body convulsed violently. The molten gold pupil snapped toward the source of the attack—Emon, kneeling on the ground, armor shattered, bloodied, breath ragged.
That gaze—filled with vile hatred, madness, and soul-chilling malice—could have frozen even the deepest abyssal demon.
But Emon met it without fear. Only euphoric resolve, and an iron will that refused to break.
His body trembled under the strain of the Holy Light he’d overdrawn. Veins bulged beneath his skin like burning, intricate carvings. Blood poured from his mouth and nose, streaked with golden, luminous particles.
The Paladin roared, voice cracking with divine power:
“Now! Burn him to ash!”
A storm of bullets, missiles, and beams erupted from the players—dense, relentless, like a gale of rain.
Several Dragon-Scaled Cultivators swung chain saw swords, power swords, and powered spears, hacking and slashing at Grimagoss’s body with near-frenzied desperation. Flesh tore, scales exploded in a spray of shards.
Grimagoss’s massive frame heaved with each breath—like a broken bellows. Each inhale brought a wet, gurgling sound from within his chest cavity.
His left membrane wing hung limp, torn open along the edge, revealing a deep gash. Dark, nearly black dragon blood—like molten iron—dripped steadily, hissing as it struck the scorching ground.
His fearsome head drooped. Scales were missing from his forehead, exposing charred flesh and fractured bone. A thick, viscous stream of blood traced down from his temple, winding past his molten gold pupil.
The fury in his eye had dimmed. In its place—pain, wild rage, and something far more chilling: a cold, calculated, soul-freezing intent to kill.
“Get out of my way—”
A surge of crimson light erupted from him, blasting the dozen or so Dragon-Scaled Cultivators toward the cavern walls, sending them flying over a hundred meters away.
His claw, pinned by the sword, writhed in agony. The burning blade strained against the force, groaning under the pressure.
His molten pupil locked onto Emon—deadly, unyielding. He would crush this cursed insect first.
The pupil began to gather intense heat—focused, deadly energy, aimed at Emon, now defenseless.
“Die, insect!”
At that very instant, Singo pulled out a black sphere—no bigger than a baby’s fist, its surface etched with countless intricate spatial rift runes. He hurled it forward.
It was the Empire’s secret weapon: the Dimensional Collapse Bomb.
Boom—
No thunderous explosion. Instead, a deep, sickening crack—as if space itself had been ripped open, crushed, and collapsed inward.
At the point of impact, a miniature black hole—pitch black, devouring all light—snapped into existence. A terrifying gravitational pull erupted.
Crack!
The sound of bone and tendons snapping under impossible spatial distortion.
Grimagoss’s claw—still pinned—was severed cleanly at the wrist by the black hole’s spatial shear. The limb tore free, flying into the void.
His entire body trembled in the warped space, flailing like a torn rag, on the verge of being torn apart.
“No! I will not die here! I am Kazul’s faithful! I shall ascend to the Divine Realm!”
His eyes flared with crimson light. Behind him, a massive, distorted phantom of a red dragon materialized—more savage, more brutal than even Kai Xiusu’s version. It seemed ready to annihilate everything in its path.
This was “Deep Crimson Embers” Kazul, one of the Three Gods, the legendary Dragon of the Dragon-Worshiping Church—the Dragon that burned the old world to ash.
In an instant, rock cracked. Molten lava surged. The cavern collapsed. Kazul’s divine power opened its maw—dragon flame, carrying the power to destroy all, lashed out toward the Cultivators. Even the miniature black hole was crushed beneath the force.
But Xia Ye Qiu Yu was ready.
She had already awakened her Emperor Bloodline, unleashing the Dragon Oath Mage’s ultimate skill—Cross-Dimensional Breath, commonly known as Summoning Dad.
A column of unbearable heat and light tore through the sealed space, breaking through the Apocalypse Zone’s blockade, spewing outward—directly meeting Kazul’s infernal fire.
Boom—
The two flame columns collided. A shockwave of apocalyptic magnitude erupted, obliterating the entire cavern. Rocks exploded, collapsing in a storm of debris, burying players beneath tons of stone.
Grimagoss was hurled backward, his ten-meter frame slamming into the rock wall like a battering ram. His chest scales were burned through, leaving a gaping, charred hole.
He was exposed.
Kazul’s supposedly unbreakable defense—shattered.
“Damn human! Kazul’s Majesty will not—”
Grimagoss tried to rise—when a shadow, wreathed in fire, stepped forward. Smoke poured from its weapon. It was Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang, avatar of the Deep Hell Forgemaster.
“Die!”
With a roar, the blazing greatsword plunged deep into Grimagoss’s chest—right through his pulsing heart.
As a favored of Kazul, Grimagoss’s life force was nearly indestructible. Even pierced, he didn’t fall. Instead, he raised his remaining claw, aiming to tear the warrior apart mid-air.
But another shadow surged forward—strong, armored in thick scales, wielding a spear that glowed with destructive energy. Volga Riverbank, the先锋 of the Dragon-Scaled Cultivators.
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!
The ten-meter-long powered spear tore through the air, impaling Grimagoss’s remaining wrist and driving it into the rock wall.
Stone shattered. Blood erupted. Grimagoss reared back, screaming in agony—his face twisted in horror, his pupils flickering with crimson fire, ready to unleash another death beam.
But Steel Tide was already upon him—silent, swift. He leapt forward, shouting:
“Two eyes shooting lasers? You think you’re Superman? I’m gonna blind you!”
His chain saw sword—razor-sharp, spinning violently—plunged into Grimagoss’s left eye, twisting and churning inside the massive socket.
The divine power meant to be unleashed was disrupted, creating a maelstrom of chaotic energy. His skull trembled on the brink of shattering. A column of flame burst from his right eye, blasting through the earth, shooting into the sky.
“ROOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRR!”
His roar shook the mountains. Fire mountains trembled. The cataclysmic force grew wilder, the flame clouds churning. Several nearby fire mountains erupted, spewing magma.
Singo didn’t hesitate. He drew an arrow from his back, nocked it in one fluid motion, and fired.
The dragon-hunting arrow screamed through the air, shriek-shriek-shriek, piercing the last unharmed eye.
Grimagoss’s roar turned into a shriek of utter agony. The earth trembled violently. Scorching gales howled, and a thick, black ash cloud swallowed the sky—like the end of the world was descending.
But Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang roared again—his infernal greatsword blazing with hellfire, devouring Grimagoss’s body in a torrent of flame.
The Dragon-Scaled Cultivators swarmed forward, relentless. Chain saws, power swords, and spears hacked and stabbed—methodically, efficiently, tearing the half-dragon apart. They wanted to reduce him to a meaty pulp.
“You will all die beneath Kazul’s wrath!” Grimagoss roared, straining against the combined strength of the dozen warriors. Even with their efforts, he still fought with terrifying might—flinging two Cultivators aside like toys.
Flame columns erupted from the ground where he moved.
But Steel Tide pulled out a massive personal cannon—its barrel absurdly wide—and shoved it into Grimagoss’s mouth.
“Shut up!”
He pulled the trigger.
Boom!
The explosion blew Grimagoss’s head apart in a spray of gore. His heart, already ravaged by the infernal sword, was torn to shreds.
The former favored of Kazul—the cataclysm controller of a hundred-mile radius—died in utter humiliation, crushed beneath the siege of mortal players.
Heaven and earth trembled. As if the world itself mourned the fall of a once-great servant.
The flame clouds dissipated. Smoke was swept away by the wind. Molten lava cooled, hardening into dark stone. The earth began to heal, reborn.
“Success!”
“Shit… did he actually die?!”
“Damn, that’s insane!”
Players stood atop Grimagoss’s corpse, slapping each other’s backs, shouting in victory. Even Steel Tide and Singo stood side by side, grins spreading across their faces—uncontrollable joy lighting their eyes.
Their quest boards flickered with new messages.
> [You have collectively slain [Deep Crimson Eye – Grimagoss]. Apocalypse Zone Experience Point Progress increased to 15%. You have earned the Special Reward Selection Right. Please distribute accordingly.]
In the next instant, the once-bonded pair locked eyes. Caution flashed across their faces. Without a word, they both reached for their weapons, leaping back ten meters—ready to defend against a sudden ambush.
Their expressions were cold. Eyes filled with hostility.
In unison, they roared:
“The reward is ours!”
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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