https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-849-Rifle-Cannon-Steel-and-Dragon/13677798/
Chapter 850: The Fanatical Devotees
“Boom!”
In an instant, a beam of energy plummeted from the heavens, tearing open the impenetrable scales of the Color Dragon Beasts with explosive force, carving countless horrific wounds across their colossal bodies.
Yet the Color Dragon remained unyielding. It reared its head high, jaws wide open, unleashing a torrent of breath so terrifying, so utterly destructive, that it obliterated an aerospace warship still without its force field intact—engulfed in flame, it exploded midair, trailing thick smoke as it spiraled toward the ground.
“Maintain the Shield Barrier!”
“Watch out! They have devastating long-range firepower! Activate Level 3 Defense Intercept Systems!”
Transparent barriers flickered into existence high above the battlefield, pulsing with a soft blue glow, deflecting the dragon’s breath. Onboard the warships, beams of light lashed back in retaliation, painting the sky with streaks of radiant fury.
Light beams crisscrossed the air, dragonfire raged, and explosions of immense power detonated everywhere. The massive Color Dragon Beasts, steam tanks, and aether-armored units rampaged across the earth, their sheer size and power making every footstep a tremor. Mortals who hesitated even for a breath risked instant death.
The worst situation unfolded along the western defensive line, held by the Seleucus forces. Under the relentless assault of the Color Dragon Beasts, their heavy infantry—armed with long spears and great shields—were reduced to fragile targets, screaming in agony as lightning, frost, and fire rained down upon them, their ranks crumbling under the onslaught.
A few of the largest Color Dragon Beasts charged unrelentingly across the battlefield, shrugging off the torrential arrows from the Seleucus lines, their massive forms shaking the earth as they advanced. The ground trembled beneath them.
Panic spread through the ranks. The Seleucus troops lost all cohesion. Shrieks, cries of distress, and mournful wails filled the air.
“Look out! They’re coming!”
“Run! Run for your lives!”
“By Amanata, this thing is a mountain!”
“Hold on! This is the final war! Kill these evil offspring of the Dragon Queen—we will reclaim our homeland, and honor the souls of our fallen family and comrades!”
“Look! They’re here!”
“Roar—!”
Four Color Dragon Beasts roared in fury, their thick limbs driving forward as a dust storm swept across the battlefield, their overwhelming presence crushing everything in their path. Hundreds of heavy infantry were flattened into bloody pulp, mixed with shattered armor fragments.
The Seleucus soldiers fought back desperately—arrows flew, longswords flashed, spears thrust—but their attacks could not pierce the beasts’ thick, armored hide. As creatures forged by the Dragon Worship Church for war, blessed by Tiamat’s divine favor, these were evil existences beyond the reach of common soldiers. They were doomed to die beneath the monstrous might of these beasts.
“Ah!”
“We’re just mortals! We don’t have the strange, odd inventions of the Empire! Our flesh and blood bodies… how could we possibly stop these monsters?!”
“Help me!”
“Great Eternal Lord of Light, hear my plea!”
The frontline collapsed into chaos. Screams echoed as soldiers fell, their bodies torn apart. The wave of death was unrelenting.
But then—
A golden blade sliced through the sky from afar, cleaving open the thick scales of one of the beasts. Blood erupted in a geyser, and the giant creature shrieked in agony, its roar filled with fury.
The soldiers looked up in stunned surprise. A figure draped in radiant gold, wings spread wide, descended from the heavens. It was the Divine Noble Duke, the leader of the Sereus Interim Government—Duke Adrian.
Behind him, hundreds of silhouettes shimmered in golden light, each wielding weapons, emanating a sacred, awe-inspiring aura. They looked like angels descending from eternity itself.
They were the faithful followers of Amanata—the last remaining divine warriors of Seleucus. They had gathered here not for glory, but to reclaim their kingdom’s capital, capture the final fortress of the Dragon Worship Church, and avenge the countless innocent citizens of Seleucus who had died.
“For Amanata!”
“For Sacred Fedran!”
Adrian raised his longsword high, his voice thundering across the battlefield. The hundreds of divine warriors plunged from the sky, charging forward in relentless waves, determined to face the four Color Dragon Beasts head-on.
Golden light flooded the heavens, interweaving with fire and lightning. The divine warriors descended upon the frontlines, surrounding the four beasts in a furious, unyielding assault.
“Let’s go!”
“These Dragon Queen’s abominations cannot stand against warriors chosen by the Sun God!”
“Forward! For the Kingdom of Seleucus! For Sacred Fedran!”
Inspired by the miracle above, the common Seleucus soldiers found their courage renewed. For a moment, they forgot their fear, following the radiant figures like a tide, marching forward into the jaws of the monstrous beasts.
The battle became a tangled maelstrom. The aftermath of combat raged with a storm of dust and debris. The true state of the fight was obscured—but the sounds remained: chaotic war cries, the beasts’ agonized roars, and the thunderous roar of explosions.
Even so, these few hundred Color Dragon Beasts held off the entire allied army of a million soldiers, locking the battlefield into a stalemate.
Philippe leapt from the city wall, but a monstrous, two-headed dragon—its wingspan nearing a hundred meters—swept down from the sky, its body a seamless fusion of flesh and spirit, riding the gale like a storm itself. It landed with a crash, casting a terrifying shadow across the earth, and caught him midair with perfect precision.
Standing atop the dragon’s towering spine, Philippe raised his arms, his scepter of woe held high. From the sky, he laughed—a cruel, triumphant laugh.
“Scum of the old era! Savor the last fleeting breath of your life! Tremble beneath the strength of Tiamat! The new world is coming!”
With a wave of his scepter, a wave of black light erupted outward, spreading like a storm of divine fury, engulfing hundreds of square kilometers.
High above, the phantom image of the five-headed dragon seemed to smile—its lips curling into a grotesque, mocking grin. The sight sent shivers down the spine, as if plunging into an endless ice cavern.
Within the city, the Dragon-Worshiping cultists trembled uncontrollably. Their flesh writhed. Skin cracked open with a sound like snapping spines, blood gushing out. Thick, filthy mucus oozed from their mouths.
But they felt no pain. Instead, their eyes burned with ecstatic frenzy, their faces twisted into wild grins of euphoria.
“It’s the Dragon Queen! I see Her! She’s staring at me!”
“Great Mother of Dragons…”
“Hahahaha! I see the majestic form of the Mother God! This is Her divine favor! I’ve been chosen!”
“I am chosen!”
“I see it too! I’ll evolve into a noble dragon, ascend to the divine realm!”
“You see it? I’ve succeeded! I told you killing you was right, Father! I’ve succeeded! I’m favored by His Majesty!”
They screamed, danced, knelt in blind devotion—some even laughed maniacally. To them, the Supreme Five-Colored Dragon Queen had manifested before their eyes, granting them infinite divine power.
With a relentless, sickening tearing sound, their backs burst open. Fleshy wings, distorted and grotesque, tore through their flesh, flapping wildly as they surged into the sky on a stench-laden gale.
Thousands of cultists now soared above the city, their wings flailing, eyes glowing with mad light. They formed a swirling, chaotic mass in the sky, darkening the sunset sky above Sunset City, rushing toward the allied defensive lines with terrifying momentum.
And at the same time, the allied soldiers under Tiamat’s divine influence were suffering just as badly.
Many collapsed to their knees, writhing in agony, tears and snot streaming down their faces. They whispered over and over:
“No… don’t…”
“I couldn’t save you…”
“You cursed monsters, stay away from her!”
They were haunted by visions—images of their beloved family members being slaughtered by Dragonborn. Their minds fractured, their wills breaking under the psychological torment.
Even the Imperial soldiers, whose willpower was normally strong, fell victim. Tiamat’s divine office was that of the Dragon—any creature with Dragon blood was vulnerable. Even the soldiers of the Ember Empire were not immune.
“King Kai Xiusu…”
“Dragon Queen… Your Majesty?”
“Who am I fighting for? I carry Dragon blood… the Mother of Dragons?”
In their hearts, the statue of the Emperor of the Ashen Flame was replaced by the fearsome, five-headed divine image of the Dragon Queen. Mortal willpower wavered, lost in the fog between reality and illusion—like a tiny boat adrift in a storm.
The entire frontline descended into chaos. Soldiers ran wild, screaming, collapsing. The once-impregnable defensive line was now riddled with holes.
Philippe nodded in satisfaction, raising his Scepter of Woe and shouting:
“Behold! Fear has consumed these lowly humans! Go, offspring of Tiamat! Tear them apart! Let their blood flood like a river! Let these pitiful weaklings burn as kindling for the birth of the new world!”
The Color Dragon Beasts, mountainous in size, charged once more, rampaging through the frontline. Tens of thousands of Dragon-Worshiping followers, their backs now sprouting dragon wings, dove at breakneck speed, swallowing the frontmost allied troops in an instant.
These former humans—now barely recognizable—were like ravenous beasts. Their eyes gleamed with bloodlust, claws and fangs bared. They tore apart the soldiers, already weakened by divine influence, rending them limb from limb, leaving only mangled remains.
These followers, blessed by Tiamat’s “Divine Favor,” had long since lost their humanity. They were now more cruel, more vicious than the dragons themselves.
“Enough—”
“Wretched cultists! Do you truly believe you’ve been granted the Mother of Monsters’ blessing? No. That is an eternal curse!”
A soft, solemn voice echoed from afar.
A woman descended from the sky—clad in a white robe edged with gold, her face serene, her aura pure and radiant. She was Ingrid, the legendary priestess, former Honorary Bishop of the Amannata Church, and now the Archbishop of the Oath of the Dragon Sanctuary.
Since the Emperor of the Ashen Flame ascended to semi-divinity, her strength had grown significantly. She could now draw upon his power, surpassing most other legendary warriors.
“By the name of the Emperor of the Ashen Flame—Purify the Will!”
Ingrid raised her ornate Dragonhead Scepter. An invisible wave radiated outward from its tip, spreading like sunlight at noon. Golden light poured down upon the earth.
Instantly, the soldiers trapped in the black light screamed as black smoke erupted from their bodies, sizzling like burning flesh. Their gazes cleared, their minds sharpening—purified by the divine light.
Even the monstrous cultists, now reduced to dragon-like abominations, were affected. Their wings and claws retracted, their scales peeling off in large patches as they fell from the sky.
“No—!”
“This can’t be! I was chosen by the Dragon Queen! I’ll become a true dragon!”
“No! You lowly creatures—how dare you kill me, the divinely chosen?!”
With agonized wails, the forcibly de-dragonized cultists plummeted toward the ground. They were immediately overwhelmed by waiting allied soldiers, hacked to pieces and reduced to a bloody mess.
On the back of the massive two-headed dragon, Philippe’s face darkened. He clenched his Scepter of Woe, snarling:
“Utterly ridiculous! How can a mere envoy of the Arch-Spirit stand against the great Five-Colored Dragon Queen, Lord of Ten Thousand Scales?”
He raised the scepter, preparing to unleash another divine spell—when a sudden, piercing shriek split the air.
Three dark silhouettes shot through the sky, tearing through the air with terrifying speed. They pierced Philippe’s body with a sickening crunch, throwing him backward. He staggered, nearly falling from the dragon’s back.
“Who? Who dares?”
Philippe’s voice was venomous. Veins bulged on his forehead. From the wound in his chest, he pulled out several bloodstained bullets. He narrowed his eyes, his vertical pupils locking onto distant figures.
“Just… a few of the lowest, weakest mortals?”
“Is that all it takes to kill me?”
His voice grew colder, darker. He raised the Scepter of Woe—its tip now glowing with power capable of distorting space.
But his healing was near-instantaneous. Within seconds, the wound sealed shut.
Then—
A searing beam of light, hotter than a star, shot from afar, striking straight for Philippe’s head.
He reacted instantly, jerking his head aside. With a flick of the scepter, he coalesced a massive golden shield of divine energy—blocking the attack.
Hovering in midair, a dragoness with fiery red hair and golden eyes, her slender wings spread wide, stared coldly at the pope. Her fingertip danced with crackling flame—pure, destructive energy.
It was Misha.
Misha’s voice was ice.
“I never thought the former royal family of Fadalan would sink so low… reduced to puppets of Tiamat. How pathetic.”
“Are you the oath sorcerer of that traitor?”
Philippe glared at her, his voice dripping with malice, chilling the very air.
“Serving the great Queen Tiamat is my honor. But you—how could you ally with a cowardly traitor, a thief?”
He stepped forward, smirking.
“Sorcerer… you have great natural talent. Abandon that doomed wretch. Submit to the great Five-Colored Dragon Queen, Lord of Ten Thousand Scales. You will gain greater strength—ascend to the vast heavens and earth!”
“Daring to insult my master.”
Misha’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze turned colder than winter. Flames erupted once more from her fingertips.
“Unredeemable heretic puppet. You will die—now.”
(End of Chapter)
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