novelhk Page 148
Page 148
boom!
A fiery shockwave swept across the sky, sending the two ancient dragons flying as if struck by a giant hammer. They tumbled through the air, barely managing to regain their footing.
Before they could react, the fire dragon had already appeared before Vicaritura. A dragon wing made of flames gently brushed against its face; the seemingly gentle movement contained terrifying power. (The last two lines appear to be unrelated and possibly machine-generated text.)
Boom!
A dull sound echoed in the air, and a clear dent appeared on Vikaritular's hard, steel-like scales. The immense force sent it spinning several times in the air, swaying dizzily.
Ksiltevis tried to escape, but the fire dragon appeared in front of it in an instant.
Boom!
Another dull, thunderous slap landed, and Khirtevis followed in his companion's footsteps, spinning in the air.
Silence fell over the ground. Those who arrived later were speechless with shock at the scene, while the "residents" of Deepwater City acted as if it were perfectly normal. The two majestic ancient dragons were being swatted around like flies.
The fiery dragon continued its "performance." It weaved back and forth between the two ancient dragons, delivering a slap with its wing each time it appeared. The movements were elegant and fluid, as if it were performing a magnificent dance on the sky's stage.
Rumble…
Muffled explosions rang out repeatedly, and the two ancient dragons spun like tops in the air. They tried to retaliate, but faced with absolute speed and the difference in distance, all their attacks missed.
59. Humiliation
Vicaritur finally roared, his dragon-like voice almost tearing the air apart: "You are humiliating us!"
"Insult?" The fire dragon spoke for the first time, its voice swirling with the surrounding flames, as if Kashus—or more accurately, the fire dragon god Galix—had himself descended upon them. Each syllable was scorching hot like molten lava, causing the air to distort and dance: "Am I insulting you, or have you brought this upon yourselves?"
A strange hissing sound suddenly echoed in the sky. It was the corrosive droplets formed from the acid mist that had lost its magical effect and the frost mixing high in the air. The acid rain, like the tears of death, fell upon the scarred plain, stirring up puffs of pungent white smoke. Vegetation withered and turned black upon contact, the soil was corroded into countless tiny pits, and the entire battlefield was filled with a nauseating stench.
The crowd began to stir. The Watchers of Waterdeep quickly deployed magical shields to repel the drifting acid mist. Elminster frowned, waving his staff to create a transparent barrier above the stands, uttering a meaningless remark: "The last time I saw elemental chaos of this scale… well, the last time."
The fire-elemental dragon once more flapped its massive wings, this time aiming at Vicaritura, who had just regained his footing. Considering the chromium dragon's superior physique and its natural weakness to fire, Casalos precisely adjusted the intensity and power composition of his attack. When the fiery dragon's wings made contact with the ancient chromium dragon's body, the terrifying physical impact unleashed an explosion even more deafening than before, a muffled thunderclap that made spectators thousands of meters away feel a stinging pain in their eardrums.
Boom!
The deafening roar, like the collapse of the heavens and the splitting of the earth, spread in all directions. In the southern Adip Forest, thousands upon thousands of birds and beasts were terrified by the terrifying sound. Flocks of birds rose like dark clouds, while wild animals fled frantically to distant places. The treetops shook violently, as if an invisible giant hand was shaking the entire forest.
At the moment of impact, a blinding white light flashed, like lightning exploding in the clouds. The shockwave spread outwards from the point of contact, swirling into a spiraling ring of fire that propelled outwards at a visible speed, several times faster than when dealing with Khiltevils, and its range expanded exponentially. Due to the Chromium Dragon's innate fire resistance, the fire elemental attribute in Casaloz's attack was significantly weakened, revealing its solid, lava-like dragon wings—a true mechanical collision, without any elemental damage buffer.
The fire cloud, propelled by the shockwave, began to drift downwards, and scorching fragments of fire elemental energy rained down like meteors. The parched winter grasslands were instantly ignited, and orange-red flames greedily licked the earth. The fire spread rapidly, forming several enormous rings of fire, with thick smoke billowing up and mixing with the acid mist in the air, creating an apocalyptic scene.
Vicaritura spun rapidly through the air like a top, its silver scales shimmering with chaotic light and shadow in the sunlight. It tried to stabilize itself, but the immense angular momentum caused it to completely lose its balance. It simply lacked the ability to handle such an unbalanced flight.
Deep within the Krypt Gardens forest north of Waterdeep, a pair of enormous, vertical green pupils gleamed in the shadows. "Old Bone Chewer," huddled in a makeshift lair dug anew from its destroyed burrow, greedily watching the distant battle through its crystal ball. Its crocodile-like jaws twitched slightly, savoring the half-eaten elven corpse within, and the pervasive fear and rage in the air.
"Interesting, very interesting," Old Chewer muttered in a voice only he could hear, his long tongue licking his sharp fangs. "This little iron dragon looks even more dangerous than when he fought Old Roar. Luckily, I didn't act impulsively..."
Seeing this, Ksiltevis tried to escape, but the fire dragon's speed far exceeded its expectations. Almost teleporting, Casalos appeared in front of the Primordial Nickel Dragon, leaving a burning trail, and unleashed another wing sweep. This collision was relatively minor, but the fire elemental form was completely preserved. Large swaths of burning fire clouds erupted from the point of impact, filling the gaps created by the shockwave and dyeing half the sky orange-red.
Boom!
Ksiltevis also lost control, tumbling helplessly in the air. The two majestic ancient dragons were now like spinning tops being whipped by a mischievous child, completely losing their former majesty.
In a secluded corner of Waterdeep, a peculiar dragon was watching the battle with great interest. Grantil, the magnificent tongue of a mature female dragon, half topaz and half bronze, was curled up on the rooftop in the form of an orange-furred house cat. Her unusually large tongue darted out from time to time, as if savoring the lingering afterglow of the battle in the air.
"Hehehe," she chuckled softly in dragon language, a roll of top-quality cheddar cheese still clutched in her fat cat paws, "This is much more exciting than stealing cheese. But speaking of which, this little guy's strength... this seems to be its territory now? Hmm, looks like I'll have to be more careful when stealing things from now on."
The orange cat was unaware that not far from her, a black cat shrouded in shadow was constantly watching her—every dragon in the vicinity of Waterdeep, known by name but not registered as a resident, was under close surveillance by Charleson's intelligence network. (The last two lines appear to be unrelated and possibly machine-generated text.)
"The two of you have lived for a combined total of six thousand years!" The fire dragon's voice erupted like a volcano, each word shaking the air. "Six thousand years! What a long time that is!"
Casalos's voice suddenly turned low, carrying a chilling coldness: "An ordinary human's life is but a few decades, five hundred years is considered old for a dwarf, and a thousand years is considered long for an elf. And you? You possess a lifespan that mortals cannot attain!"
"All this time—" the fire dragon suddenly raised its voice, its rage almost setting the sky ablaze, "has it all been living off pigs?!"
The last few words resounded like thunder, the sound waves spreading outwards in visible ripples. The burning plain was suppressed by this power, the flames instantly shrinking by a third, as if trembling before supreme majesty.
In a dilapidated ancient mage tower on the western slopes of the High Forest, the ancient green dragon Grinnostadrano observes the battle through a massive mirror. This ancient dragon, known as the "Dragon of Puzzles," is renowned for its obsession with magic and riddles. At this moment, its intelligent eyes gleam with excitement.
"Brilliant!" Grinnos paced excitedly through its lair, piled high with ancient books and magical scrolls. "The way this power is wielded...it's not just brute force, nor pure magic, but some higher level...divine power? Destiny? I don't understand, it's a truly exquisite mystery!"
It summoned a magical quill, which frantically scribbled on the parchment: "The construction of the fire elemental form is based on... no, that's not right. This isn't just ordinary arcane magic; it should combine the legendary advancement of an elemental master, and there seem to be traces of divinity as well... It's said that this iron dragon is a chosen one of the Dragon God of Destiny. Is it the influence of Chronips? Or... a dual chosen one?"
The fire dragon's tone grew increasingly furious, its disappointment almost tangible, causing the surrounding fire clouds to rage even more violently: "I thought that after being bullied so badly by those foreign colorful lizards, you should at least have learned your lesson!"
"I thought you would weep! You would be furious! You would endure hardship and bide your time to unearth the hidden power within the bloodline of Asgrath!" Every word struck like a warhammer against the souls of the two ancient dragons. "I will show those arrogant lizards what a true dragon is!"
Boom!
Another fiery dragon wing slap landed, this time Casaroz held nothing back. The terrifying power penetrated Vicariturar's scales, reaching deep into its skull. The Ancient Chromium Dragon let out a scream, plummeting hundreds of meters from the sky like a meteor, its massive body crashing heavily onto the plain.
The earth trembled. As an ancient dragon weighing nearly 200 tons, Vicaritur's fall was equivalent to the impact of a small meteorite. The shockwave spread outwards from the point of impact, and the ground within a ten-kilometer radius could feel the tremors.
A huge, irregular impact crater appeared on the plain, with a depth of ten meters and a diameter of over fifty meters.
The earthquake-like impact fueled the already raging fire on the plains, whipping up dust and thick smoke that formed swirling, rising columns of smoke. Acid rain continued to fall, hissing piercingly as it touched the flames, transforming the entire battlefield into what seemed like a legendary inferno.
A cloud of dust was whipped up, and a gray-brown sandstorm instantly enveloped an area spanning thousands of meters, shrouding the entire battlefield in a hazy mist. Flying stone fragments rained down in all directions, the larger rocks whistling through the air with a force comparable to low-to-mid-level spells.
The spectators panicked. The Watchers of Waterdeep quickly deployed magical shields to protect the curious onlookers. Several archmages from the academy joined forces to cast protective spells, intercepting all the stone fragments flying towards the stands. Elminster waved his staff, instantly reinforcing the transparent barrier originally used to protect against acid rain; the high-speed flying stones shattered into powder upon impact.
"Such strength," Kelben Black Staff commented expressionlessly. He maintained the protective magic array while observing the situation on the battlefield. Since he began studying magic under Ilminster, he had seen countless powerful individuals, but he had never seen anyone capable of causing such destruction with mere physical strength.
The tungsten dragon Fiona Milon spread her wings, shielding those gathered around her from flying debris and drifting acid rain. Her yellow-green scales shimmered faintly in the dust and mist: "Is this Casaroz's true power? I thought I knew it well enough."
As the dust settled, Vicaritur struggled to its feet from the massive impact crater. Its once-glorious mirror-like scales had lost their luster and were cracked in several places; one of its horns was broken off. More seriously, its left wing was visibly twisted and deformed, clearly indicating that it had suffered severe injuries in the fall.
"And the result?" The fiery dragon's voice pierced through the dust, filled with utter despair. "So many years have passed, and you're still the same as before!"
"Three thousand years! Each of you has lived for a full three thousand years!" The roar exploded again, and even the old man with the crystal ball watching the battle couldn't help but shrink his neck.
"The rise and fall of a human kingdom lasts no more than three hundred years, the glory of an elven dynasty no more than a thousand years, yet you have lived through the cycles of three elven dynasties!"
Ksiltevis seemed to want to say something; it opened its dragon mouth, preparing to defend itself or utter some threatening words. But what greeted it was a dragon claw burning with flames—no, it was no longer the enormous dragon claw in its fire elemental form, but rather the forepaw of an abnormally developed young iron dragon that had regained its physical form.
The forepaw didn't appear particularly large, even somewhat tiny compared to the size of the Ancient Dragon. But the moment it pressed down on Ksiltevis's head, the Ancient Nickel Dragon understood what absolute power suppression meant. That oppressive feeling didn't come from size or magic, but from the suppression of the dragon's soul.
Click!
A crisp cracking sound rang out in the air. Ksiltevis's skull cracked under the immense pressure, and the excruciating pain caused it to let out a piercing scream. Then, its entire dragon body was slammed into the ground, its massive form carving a deep trench in the earth before finally crashing heavily into a small hill, completely collapsing it.
"And so you just live your lives in a daze!" Casalos's voice turned icy cold, "Besides letting age decay you with time, leading you step by step into old age, and waiting for the dragon god of fate to call you..."
It slowly withdrew from its fire elemental form, the scorching light gradually dissipating, replaced by a chilling aura emanating from the dragon god Chronips. This chill was not merely a low temperature, but a deeper, more profound force, directly affecting the very core of the true dragons' souls—an absolute pressure rooted in the essence of the dragon gods, concerning death, end, and destiny that could not be defied.
"You did nothing!"
"Look at your magic. Slow! Inefficient! Weak and feeble!" Each word was like a judgment. "Look at your fighting style—" Casaroz let out a contemptuous sneer, turning his head to look at the herd of beasts galloping across the horizon, "What's the difference between you and those fleeing wild boars?!"
Grantil nearly choked, the cheese in her paws falling onto the roof: "Wild boar? Oh my god, that's a metaphor... those are ancient dragons... but yes, their charge just now did look a lot like a wild boar."
Grinnos stopped recording altogether, a thoughtful expression on the ancient green dragon's face: "Thousands of years of accumulation, yet so easily defeated. This isn't just a matter of power, but also... a matter of understanding?"
Old Bone Chewer let out a low growl from the shadows. Based on its understanding of Casaloz, it believed that the Iron Dragon cub had even insulted it—even if it hadn't, the Iron Dragon cub had used the term "colorful lizard" more than once before. At this moment, however, it had to admit that the young Iron Dragon before it was right.
Casalos, still in his youthful Iron Dragon form, looked down at the two ancient dragons who were almost unable to fight. His silvery-white scales reflected a cold, sharp light in the sunlight, and his indigo vertical pupils held no pity, only deep disappointment and indifference.
Acid rain continued to fall, flames continued to burn, and the entire plain had become a wasteland. But in this apocalyptic scene, the relatively small iron dragon stood like a king, exuding an unquestionable majesty.
In the audience, the old Araneosaurus who had followed the Ancient Dragon fell completely silent. The younger Araneosaurus, on the other hand, were more focused on recalling the Battle of Damara, remembering how this young Araneosaurus had defeated them one by one and led them to rout the demonic legions time and time again.
Now they understand that Casalos was far from showing his true strength back then.
"Is this the power of the Supreme Dragon?" a young chroma murmured to himself, his dragon eyes filled with awe.
"No, this is stronger than the prophesied Supreme Dragon," Loris corrected, her voice tinged with a strange pride. "This is our leader, the true future of the Atheros."
On the plain, Casalos continued his slow and methodical questioning, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching the ears of every spectator:
"Once I entered adolescence, I was already able to pin you all to the ground and beat you to a pulp. With your kind of character, you dare to covet the Supreme Dragon?"
60. The Supreme Dragon
On the plains outside Waterdeep, the traces of battle continue to erode the icefield. Acid-eroded pits remain on the scorched earth, flames flicker on the frozen, withered grass, and the air is filled with the pungent smell of sulfur and coke.
Casalos returned to its original form, peaceful like a young dragon that had just woken up from a nap and stretched. Its silvery-white scales shimmered with a metallic luster like water under the gradually setting sun, completely concealing the dim flames and the intricate patterns on its scales and skin.
Vicaritur struggled to his feet from the impact crater, dark blood still seeping from his broken horn. This ancient chromium dragon, who had lived for three thousand years, now resembled a fledgling dragon just learning to fly, utterly pathetic. It slowly lowered its massive head, emitting a deep dragon roar: "I, Vicaritur, acknowledge your power. By ancient tradition and a vow whose details have long been forgotten, I am willing to follow you, a true powerhouse among the Atheros, the prophesied new supreme dragon!"
Ksiltevis struggled to its feet a short distance away, its dark green scales cracked. Complex emotions flickered in its eyes, which had been melted into spheres of light by dragon magic: anger, resentment, and a deep-seated fear hidden beneath—who knows how two spheres of light could express so many emotions? Perhaps that was the allure of magic… The Primordial Nickel Dragon opened its mouth, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately only let out a muffled growl.
With its head down and its wounded body dragging, it slowly crawled away into the distance like a defeated old dog, until it was far from the battlefield before flapping its wings and taking off unsteadily.
The dozen or so nickel dragons that followed it exchanged glances, an eerily silent atmosphere filling the air. An elderly nickel dragon turned first, flying off in another direction without looking back. This seemed to be a signal; most of the nickel dragons chose to leave alone, going their separate ways. Only three nickel dragons hesitated for a moment before silently following Ksiltvis's footsteps—the light in their already melting eyes was dim and unsettling, and no one knew what they were plotting.
To Long's surprise, two elderly Nickel Dragons remained in the same spot. Even the cunning and ruthless Nickel Dragons had their share of those who believed that strength was everything and admired power.
"Hmph." Vicariturar snorted disdainfully at the departing figure of Ksiltevis, "A nickel dragon is a nickel dragon, it will never change its nature."
Casalos ignored the feud between the two ancient dragons; such a hierarchy of contempt between subspecies was impossible to correct, especially when the Iron Dragon itself stood at the top of the Iron Dragon hierarchy. It turned its gaze to the old dragons watching the battle. Most of them remained in human form, standing on distant hills, their faces filled with confusion and hesitation.
An elderly cobalt dragon broke the silence first, slowly stepping forward and reverting to its gleaming, slender dragon form: "I, Ozmithras, have lived for eight hundred years and am willing to follow you. Before that, I want to know, do you truly believe in that prophecy?"
"A prophecy?" Casalos clicked his iron beak. "I don't need prophecies to prove anything."
Another elderly chrome dragon stepped forward: "But without the bloodline of the Supreme Dragon, how could you..."
"Bloodline?" Casalos interrupted it, his voice laced with self-righteous sarcasm. "You old fogies, even now, all you think about is bloodline and tradition? Look at the chromatic dragons, what noble bloodlines do they have? Yet they've driven us to the brink of despair!"
These words silenced the old dragons present. Indeed, in terms of bloodline nobility, the Atheros far surpassed those foreign, colorful lizards. But what was the result?
"And look at those two-legged humans. The strongest among them—not to mention the others, just those few standing there: Ilminster, Kelben Orosan, Lyra Silverhand, and Piergalen—what noble bloodlines do they possess? Yet any one of them could slaughter an ancient dragon like a chicken!"
Elminster glared and blew on his white beard, while Kelburn, with his black staff, pulled Lyra into the Black Staff Tower with a teleportation. Piergaren shrugged indifferently—if Casaloz's words got out, ancient dragons would definitely come looking for trouble, but what could they do now? Anyway, they were hiding in Waterdeep, and if the ancient dragons came, Casaloz would be there to hold them off.
Fiona Milon flew over at the opportune moment, her yellow-green scales standing out vividly in the setting sun: "Gentlemen, as you have all seen, Casaloz not only possesses formidable strength, but more importantly, it led us in repelling the demonic legions in Damara, opening up a second home for us homeless dragons, and now establishing a firm rule in Waterdeep. These are truly tangible achievements."
Loris and Azukmizes joined in the persuasion. They recounted their experiences over the past period, how Casalos had led them to grow, and how he had fought for the survival of the Atheros.
Gradually, some of the old dragons began to waver. In the end, eight old dragons, including Ozmithras, chose to stay. The rest dispersed and disappeared into the twilight.
As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, nearly forty Atheros gathered on the plain. These included the twenty-odd young dragons who had originally followed Casaloz, Vicaritura and his three elderly Chromium followers, the three Nickel Dragons who had chosen to remain, and eight other old dragons.
Casalos surveyed the dragons, his indigo vertical pupils flashing. "Very good. From today onward, Deepwater Territory will be the second official stronghold of the Atheros in Faerûn. Including Damara, it's more than enough to easily accommodate the current Atheros. Vicariturar, I order you to continue to consolidate the power of all the Chromium Dragons. If possible, contact your old friends..."
Its gaze shifted beyond the horizon, watching the scattered old dragons. Many birds, beasts, and fish followed their paths; Charleson's intelligence network had already located them, and one day, they would surely return to the Atherosaurus clan.
"Yes, sir." Vicaritulal lowered his head, the once invincible ancient dragon now as submissive as a newly grown dragon.
The following morning, the residents of Waterdeep reacted differently when they saw the enormous chrome dragon hovering above the city. Most commoners and the emerging artisan class merely glanced up before continuing with their work—to them, the dragon's rule brought unprecedented prosperity and opportunity. Steam still rose from the factories, the sound of students reciting their lessons filled the public schools, and new healing spells were saving lives in the hospitals.
But in some corners of the city, the reaction was quite different.
Inside the secret chamber of the Black Staff Tower, several white-haired archmages sat together, the atmosphere heavy with tension. Interestingly, the current Black Staff Master, Kelburn, was absent from this secret council.
"Another ancient dragon." The leading archmage, Kaindel, spoke in a hoarse voice. "Gentlemen, we must face reality."
"What reality?" another mage scoffed. "Admit that that reptile understands magic better than us? Admit that our millennia of research are no match for a single spell it casually casts?"
"Marcelos, put away your arrogance," the third mage spoke. "You've witnessed its improved spellcasting techniques firsthand. Although its current spellcasting level isn't high, its understanding of arcane magic is something even I admire."
"So what?" Marcellus stood up abruptly. "We are the founders of the Waterdeep City Mage Guild! Our families have protected the magical heritage of this city for generations! And now we're going to bow down to a dragon?"
Kandel sighed. "The problem is, the people don't think that way. Look outside, the common people are cheering for free education, the artisans are getting rich from new technologies, even some young Black Staff Tower mages are starting to idolize Casalos's magical theories, not to mention the large influx of foreign mages... We've lost the hearts of the people."
"Popular sentiment?" Marcellus scoffed. "When have the ideas of the ignorant masses ever been worth considering?"
"When even the children of the ignorant masses can perform magic tricks," the third mage murmured, "the educational reforms in Casalos are cultivating a new generation of spellcasters who will never accept our ideals from the start. In twenty years—no, perhaps only ten—the traditional Mage Guild and the Black Staff Tower will be utterly obsolete."
Silence enveloped the entire secret room. Finally, the eldest member, who had remained silent until now, slowly spoke: "Perhaps we should consider the Delamont family's options."
You mean...?
"Retire." The old man wearily closed his eyes. "Rather than lingering in this new era, unable to bring myself to relinquish my interests and join it, it's better to gracefully exit the stage with what I have now. At least it hasn't treated us like some nobles have, so we can still retain our last shred of dignity..."
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, in the basement of an abandoned aristocratic estate, the last of the diehards are plotting.
"The opportunity has arrived!" a masked figure exclaimed excitedly. "The battle on the plains has caused panic among many, and more and more dragons are entering the city. Many fear becoming their prey. We can take advantage of this!"
"Don't be silly," another voice said bitterly. "Can't you see? Most people don't care at all. They only care about whether their wages will increase tomorrow and whether their children can get a better education."
"That's because they've been deceived! Once we reveal the truth—"
"What truth?" the third person interrupted him. "That Casalos rebuilt half of Waterdeep? That its policies made the slums disappear? Or that its healthcare system saved tens of thousands of lives during the plague?"
"But it is still a dragon! A different race! Its purpose in ruling Waterdeep is to treat us like sheep, to fleece us, milk us, and eat us!"
"So what?" a new voice joined in, and everyone turned to see a young nobleman remove his mask. "I'm withdrawing. Enough of this pointless struggle. On my lands, the farmers have new tools, and yields have tripled. My second son is learning more profound knowledge at the new academy than my family's traditional tutors ever taught him. Why should I oppose any of this?"
"Traitor!" someone roared.
The young nobleman sneered, "Say what you will. But I must remind you, the Pierce family was raided and their property confiscated last month for inciting rebellion, and Baron Roderick was stripped of his title for mistreating his subjects. Do you really want to follow in their footsteps?"