https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-849-Rifle-Cannon-Steel-and-Dragon/13677798/
Chapter 848: Ritual and Battle
The Allied Forces’ bombardment continued unabated. Shells rained down upon Altar, detonating with explosive force, their dazzling flame-light swallowing countless Dragon Worship Cultists whole.
“Gregory!” A furious cry tore through the air as Kargass blurred into a phantom-like afterimage, moving at a speed far beyond mortal limits—enhanced by Dragon Vein Energy—lunging toward the old man.
In Gregory’s clouded eyes, the last flicker of confusion vanished the instant Philippe struck. Fear, bottomless and absolute, consumed him. He seemed to try screaming, to retreat, to draw his weapon—Rebellion—but it was too late.
Philippe’s Scepter of Woe, its tail adorned with scorpion-like poison spines, pierced through the old man’s chest with chilling precision, accompanied by a shriek that split the air.
“Gah—!” A short, guttural cry escaped his throat. His body convulsed violently.
Then, horror unfolded.
The red scales covering his body suddenly seemed to come alive—like countless hungry worms, writhing in reverse, burrowing into his flesh with ravenous greed. His skin rapidly withered, turning gray and desiccated, as if drained of all moisture in an instant.
Gregory’s eyes bulged, his final vision a reflection of Philippe’s shadow—those inhuman eyes, glowing with wild crimson fire.
Then—light. Pure, unrelenting crimson.
Not from outside, but erupting from within the rapidly decaying man. The crimson glow surged from his very core, consuming every last trace of flesh, bone, and even the faint echo of his soul.
In an instant, nothing remained but an empty set of red scales, collapsing to the ground with a clatter.
From the altar’s peak, a column of condensed, annihilating crimson light erupted—like a pillar piercing heaven and earth—driving straight into the center of the Five-Headed Dragon silhouette above.
“Praise Tiamat! Cataclysm descends!” Philippe spread his arms wide, raising the Scepter of Woe. Another surge of light erupted from the altar—five beams, each radiating a different hue.
White light surged upward, freezing the soul with its extreme cold.
Black light spread, thick with corrosive acid.
Green light churned, releasing lethal toxic mist.
Blue light crackled, lashing the air with frenzied electric arcs.
Five beams—symbols of sacrifice, each representing a different form of destruction—converged upon the phantom of the Five-Headed Dragon, merging into one.
“Roar—!” The silhouette in the sky let out a thunderous roar that shook heaven and earth.
Anvil City trembled as if struck by a giant hammer.
The five beams, twisted and bent by the dragon’s howl, arced downward—interweaving in midair above the city, not attacking, but weaving together.
White frost, black acid, green poison, blue lightning, crimson flame—five opposing forces of destruction, forced into unity by Tiamat’s will—fused into a colossal, inverted bowl-shaped barrier.
This shield, descending from the five-colored dragon shadow high above, engulfed the entire city in its vast dome.
This was the Five-Color Cataclysm Barrier.
“Damned Dark Deity!”
“Concentrate fire!”
“If they’re going to resist to the end, then blast this city to rubble—leave nothing standing, at all costs!”
From the Allied Forces’ front lines, the air screamed with the shriek of incoming shells. Thousands of projectiles shot skyward like a storm of steel, tearing through the air with violent force, raining down upon the newly formed barrier from every direction.
The moment they struck, the barrier first froze them solid. Then, strong acid dissolved them. Next, frenzied lightning tore them apart. They shattered into iron dust, only to vanish entirely in a final wave of flames.
The relentless barrage created a continuous hissing sound—like a thousand blades of steel weeping as they were annihilated in the face of divine presence.
Not a single shell left so much as a ripple on the barrier’s surface, which shimmered with the breath of the Five-Color Dragon.
“Praise the great Mother of All Dragons! Five-Colored Dragon Queen!”
“Miracle!”
The cultists below stared up at the sky, their faces alight with ecstatic frenzy and devotion. They screamed in euphoric ecstasy, their battle cries echoing through the city.
“How is this possible?” Even the Allied Forces’ commander stood frozen, his disbelief echoing in a hollow exclamation.
Every offensive from the Allied Forces was swallowed whole by the barrier. Not a single ripple disturbed its surface.
“Damned Dark Deity! Don’t stop! Keep bombing! I won’t believe their divine energy protection can last forever!”
Inside the barrier, the scene was no less terrifying.
The crimson sky, warped by the barrier’s distortion, cast an eerie, shifting glow over the city. Survivors on the square felt strange, stabbing pains and tingling sensations beneath their skin—as if countless tiny scales were growing beneath their flesh.
The air was thick with the scent of dragon, each breath like swallowing hot sand.
Worse still, countless low, malicious whispers—dragon tongues filled with greed and malice—drilled directly into their minds like venomous serpents, gnawing at their reason.
Those with weak wills began to lose focus. Fingers twitched uncontrollably, clawing at their skin. Eyes glowed with unnatural light. They muttered incomprehensible phrases, their madness spreading like a plague.
“This… is the Blessing of the Dragon Queen!”
“Hahaha! I’m a Dragonborn now! I’ve grown scales! I’ll become a noble dragon!”
“Thank the heavens—finally, finally I can shed this fragile human shell! Praise Queen Tiamat!”
“Long live the Five-Colored Dragon Queen!”
“Look! Look at my arm—what beauty, what nobility!”
A cultist staggered down the street, proudly displaying his newly sprouted scales, laughing wildly, his face a mask of manic excitement.
Years of indoctrination had driven these followers into a frenzy. Their longing for dragons, for Dragonborn ascension, was beyond comprehension. And now, their wish—twisted, distorted—had come true.
Even those who had once secretly rebelled against Tiamat were now swept up, utterly consumed by the willpower of the barrier.
This barrier was not just defense—it was a divine curse, wrapped in sweet illusion. A slow, insidious poison.
Philippe stood at the center of the altar, beneath the convergence point of the five-colored light column. He gasped heavily, each breath exhaling a faint, sulfurous mist.
Slowly, he lifted his head, scanning the futile attacks from the Allied Forces beyond the barrier, then turning to the suffering citizens within.
A grotesque smile stretched across his lips—hidden in the shadow of his five-headed crown.
“Come on, little ants,” he rasped, his voice hollow, devoid of warmth, filled only with the cold indifference of one who looks down upon dust. “Enjoy the suffering the Dragon Queen grants you…”
He paused deliberately. Something seemed to crawl beneath his neck—visible to all. A monstrous dragon’s head tore through his skin, bleeding freely, emerging from his shoulder in a grotesque, unnatural display.
“Then… become the fuel for the Dragon Queen!”
With a roar, he raised the Scepter of Woe once more, proclaiming, “Offspring of Tiamat! Fulfill your destiny—annihilate these desecrators!”
His voice was drowned by the frenzied roar of countless monsters.
The earth split open with deep, jagged fissures. From below, the long-buried devotees stirred—awakening.
Bones, skeletons, and charred remains crawled from the depths, converging, forming monstrous shapes—half-dragons with fearsome features, hill-sized dragon beasts, and massive serpents, all wrapped in molten lava. They emerged from the abyss like creatures returning from hell.
“Roar—!”
A thousand monstrous roars echoed across the land. Thousands of beasts surged from the earth, charging forward like a tidal wave, aimed straight at the Allied Forces’ frontline.
“Hold them!”
“Open fire!”
Dolo barked the order, cold and sharp. “What pitiful creatures. Send them back to hell!”
His command triggered an inferno.
The battlefield erupted in a storm of gunfire. Thousands of bullets poured forth, forming a terrifying steel tempest. Shells rained from the sky, exploding among the beasts. Distant aerospace warships fired beams of destruction—wherever they struck, nothing grew.
High above, wyverns screeched as they dove, dropping countless bombs. Their machine guns unleashed torrents of bullets, adding to the storm.
In mere minutes, thousands of lava monsters lay dead.
Philippe raised the Scepter, pointing at the Allied line. “Offspring of Tiamat! Destroy these contemptible desecrators!”
Before he could finish, his voice was drowned by the roar of an endless tide of monsters—thousands pouring from the earth, surging forward through the hail of bullets, trampling over corpses, relentless.
They were nearly at the defensive line.
Then—across the distance—a deep, echoing horn blast.
Footsteps followed—steady, powerful, shaking the ground.
From the horizon emerged a line of crimson-armored paladins—each clad in heavy, battle-worn armor. They marched forward like a moving wall of steel, a living fortress. The banners of the Oath of the Dragon Holy Knight fluttered in the wind, bearing the sacred vow.
Each paladin radiated intense heat. Their auras merged into a towering wall of energy, blocking the path before them.
The first wave of Dragon Blood monsters crashed into the wall—exploding into flames, screaming in agony as they turned to ash.
Simultaneously, the paladins raised their long spears, driving them forward again and again. The sharp, quenched fire spears pierced through the monsters like sieves. Corpses piled high before them, dripping with filthy blood—forming a gruesome fortification.
“Roar—!”
A thunderous cry echoed from afar.
A full-grown Red Dragon rose from Sunset City, diving toward the paladins with a roar. Flames erupted from its throat, its presence alone suffocating the air with dragon power.
“It’s Lord Atix!”
“That’s a famed, powerful Red Dragon! The Empire’s finished!”
The cultists screamed with ecstasy, pointing at the crimson silhouette in the sky.
More young dragons followed, roaring and clawing at the air, diving toward the frontline.
But the Oath of the Dragon Holy Knights stood unmoved. Their expressions remained calm, their eyes fixed on the sky.
Anthony raised his head, a cold smirk on his lips. “Such foolish beasts.”
He did not call it a “Red Dragon.”
In the doctrine of the Oath of the Dragon Sanctuary, only Kai Xiusu, the Emperor of the Ashen Flame, deserved the title of “Great Red Dragon.” All others were mere pseudo-drakes, born of Tiamat—nothing more than pretenders unworthy of comparison to the Emperor.
Anthony swung his long spear, tied to the war banner. “Aim at that damned beast! Voluntary Volley—preparation!”
The front rank held their heavy shields, maintaining the defensive line. The three ranks behind them drew personal rocket launchers from their backs, shouldering them, aiming skyward.
The leadership of the Oath of the Dragon Sanctuary had long recognized the lack of long-range firepower. Now, these armored ironclads were each equipped with a rocket launcher.
“Fire!”
With Anthony’s cry, thousands of flaming arrows—trailing thick smoke—shot into the sky, streaking toward the dragons.
The Red Dragon flapped its wings in surprise, but it couldn’t evade the relentless barrage.
“Boom!”
“Boom! Boom!”
Explosions roared, flames and smoke blanketing the sky. Two young dragons were severely wounded, screaming as they tumbled from the sky. The remaining dragons were scorched and slowed, barely holding on.
But the offensive was far from over.
“Enforcement of Order by Iron Hand!”
“The Dragon Lord Above All!”
In unison, the thousand paladins roared, their voices resonating with divine aura. Anthony raised his spear high. The molten-gold eyes blazed with light.
Their combined willpower—faithful, unyielding—coalesced in the sky, forming a phantom image of the Red Dragon, vast and overwhelming. The dragon’s power surged, shaking the earth.
Though only one percent of the Emperor’s true strength, this phantom was still the might of Kai Xiusu, the Emperor of the Ashen Flame.
To the Dragon Worship Cultists, the Dragon Blood monsters—even true dragons—the image was invincible.
The colossal phantom roared, wings spreading wide, jaws opening wide. A beam of pure white light scoured the sky.
Instantly, three dragons fell—burned, shattered, one split in two, dying in agony.
(End of Chapter)
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