Ashen Dragon

"End of the line!"

The Dragon Scale Cultivator blew away the gunpowder smoke from his barrel, wiped the blood off his face again, and exclaimed rather cheerfully.

By now, the corpses of dwarves had piled high around him, the choking stench of smoke and blood saturating the air atop the battlements, while the surrounding walls were awash in pools of crimson.

In this short span of time, he had already slain nearly a hundred Dwarf Warriors, and similar scenes were unfolding across the Aivendel City Wall.

Derol had deployed over a dozen Dragon Scale Cultivators through the dragon swarm, intending for them to tear through the front lines, drawing fire, while the main force used this opening to scale the walls.

—But the results were far better than he had imagined. These Dragon Scale Cultivators were practically like a dozen bombs thrown into the fray, pulverizing the Dwarf Garrison into chaos.

As a culmination of the Ashen Empire's gene-engineering fused with Magic technology, a single Dragon Scale Cultivator costs an average of ninety thousand Gold Coins to create—an Ultimate Creation that excelled in both offense and defense, an unparalleled force in battle.

By Imperial standards, the Challenge Levels of these Dragon Scale Cultivators averaged between Levels 12 and 14, reaching the ranks of minor bosses.

That said, Dragon Scale Cultivators were not invincible. In terms of numbers, quality, and prowess, they were far inferior to the Holy Fadlan's Divine Descendant Legion—at least for now.

"Boom!"

With a rumbling shock and dust billowing, a sharp rock thrust violently upward, punching through a Dragon Scale Cultivator from below like a sword piercing the earth.

"Urgh...!"

The Dragon Scale Cultivator was skewered on the jagged spike, his scalding Dragon Blood dripping incessantly, eroding the ground beneath him.

Up on the wall's crest, the Dwarf King Ed raised his Warhammer single-handedly, his face twisted in brutal resolve as his gaze swept forward, then locked onto another Dragon Scale Cultivator wreaking havoc among the garrison.

Another thunderous roar followed as Ed leapt high into the air, soaring nearly a hundred meters with ease. His Warhammer swung downward with a deafening whoosh, crushing the Cultivator into a pulp with a single blow.

The Dwarf King surveyed his surroundings and shouted in a booming voice, "Comrades—Aivendel has reached the hour of life or death! We must fight with all our might!"

"Lord Ed!"

"Praise the mighty and majestic Master of High Mountains!"

Seeing two Dragon Scale Cultivators fall to swift deaths, the dwarves regained their morale, cheering loudly in unison.

Meanwhile, on the southwestern sector of Aivendel, another renowned Dwarf Warrior, Bren Farrell, stepped up, impaling a Dragon Scale Cultivator with brute force.

Under Ed's command, the strongest among the dwarves surged out of their ranks, unleashing their fury—Rune Warriors of indomitable might, Dwarf War Fanatics who feared no death, and Combat Masters with unparalleled skills... all entered the battlefield.

But alas, even mighty heroes cannot outmatch sheer numbers. The dwarves could slay Dragon Scale Cultivators, yet they struggled to withstand the tidal onslaught of the Ashen Empire.

Engineering Vehicles followed in the wake of tanks, rolling up to the base of the walls. The dwarves released Rolling Stones and hurled burning barrels, yet their efforts yielded little effect.

By contrast, the Empire's artillery seemed unnervingly precise, raining fire from the skies to destroy hidden mechanisms with pinpoint accuracy, leaving the dwarves helpless.

"Buzz—"

From the Engineering Vehicles rose massive cloud ladders, reaching dozens of meters high and hooking onto the walls of Aivendel. Imperial Infantry began ascending the ladders rapidly, wave after wave, seizing control of the outer battlements.

The Dragon Scale Cultivators ahead had already drawn the dwarves' fire, carving out a bloody path for the Infantry. What remained was simply to consolidate their hold on the walls and claim Aivendel entirely.

Even the skies over Aivendel had fallen to the Ash Dragon Swarm. Bipedal Wyverns and Fire Drakes flapped their wings, spewing Dragonflame upon the dwarves, occasionally swooping down to pounce, grabbing dwarves into the air only to release their grip...

The dwarves fought back valiantly, shooting arrows into the skies, forcing wyverns to plunge to their deaths one after another.

"Reclaim our positions! These walls were built by our ancestors—we cannot let them fall into enemy hands!" Bren raised his Great Sword high as he roared, leading the dwarves in a fierce counterattack.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The Imperial Soldiers fired consecutive shots, but Bren raised his sword horizontally as a shield, deflecting the bullets with ease, before sprinting headlong toward their ranks. His Great Sword swept wide.

"Swish—"

Blood splattered everywhere as several Imperial Soldiers were cleaved in two at the waist. Emboldened, the dwarves behind Bren surged forward, shouting "For Aivendel!" as they counterattacked.

Yet the Imperial Infantry remained unshaken. Following their officers' commands, they calmly adjusted their formation, dispersing into staggered positions that allowed them to fire from multiple angles.

"Bang!"

One dwarf after another fell to the hail of bullets, collapsing on the spot, their fates uncertain.

But even as they lay in pools of blood, the stubborn dwarves clung desperately to their enemies' legs, delivering one final bite with their teeth.

"Buzz—"

The blare of a horn echoed as a group of dwarven mountain goat cavalry charged into the Empire's formation, swinging horse sabers and Warhammers wildly. After brief cries, they were soon swallowed by a storm of bullets.

By now, the Aivendel City Wall had truly become a meat grinder, with both sides fiercely contesting the towers and battlements.

At moments, Imperial Soldiers would slaughter dwarves and seize positions, while Bren and other heroes would rally the dwarves, retake the positions through sheer tenacity, and battle on amidst bloodshed. The blood of both sides stained the bricks of the walls deep red.

But there was no denying that this attrition was crushingly unfavorable for the dwarves. The Ashen Empire brought six thousand Infantrymen, whereas Aivendel had barely over ten thousand dwarves at the start of the battle.

Now, after being baptized in blood and fire, the Dwarf Warriors likely numbered less than six thousand—if this continued, Aivendel would soon become a dead city!

"Fellow kin, charge with me and reclaim that tower!" Bren grasped his Great Sword, leading a charge from the front as countless Dwarf Warriors followed.

His armor was battered and blood-smeared, riddled with bullet holes and cracks—by now, this was his umpteenth charge.

Yet the frail Imperial Soldiers, reliant solely on their weapons, showed no signs of breaking, not retreating even an inch, and completely unperturbed as comrades perished before their eyes.

"What a bunch of... monsters." Bren gritted his teeth, squeezing the words out through clenched jaws.

"For Aivendel!"

With a hoarse roar, he swung his Great Sword with both hands, slashing toward the Ashen Empire's lines.

At that moment, an ominous feeling struck Bren's heart—and he was right. The sky darkened as an enormous shadow enveloped him, followed by scorching smoke rushing toward his face.

"Boom!"

Gigantic claws descended, smashing downward toward the Dwarf Warrior. Bren rolled backward, narrowly evading the strike after tumbling several times.

Gasping, Bren turned to see a massive Bipedal Wyvern perched atop the tower, glaring down at him. Its pale golden pupils shimmered dangerously as they locked on him.

It was none other than the leader of the Bipedal Wyverns—Stieg!

Anxiety rushed through Bren's veins—judging by its size, this monstrous wyvern was at least twenty meters long. This was no ordinary sub-dragon!

Stieg raised its head high, extending its neck as it emitted an earth-shaking roar. Then, it lowered its gaze, fixing its eyes on the dwarf.

"Roar—"

I see fire, blood in the breezeAnd I hope that you'll remember meOh should my people fall then, surely I'll do the sameConfined in mountain halls we got too close to the flameCalling out father hold fast and we will watch the flames burn auburn on the mountain sideDesolation comes upon the skyNow I see fire, inside the mountainI see fire, burning the treesI see fire, hollowing soulsI see fire, blood in the breezeAnd I hope that you'll remember meAnd if the night is burning I will cover my eyeI see fire, blood in the breezeAnd I hope that you'll remember meOh should my people fall then, surely I'll do the sameConfined in mountain halls we got too close to the flameCalling out father hold fast and we will watch the flames burn auburn on the mountain sideDesolation comes upon the skyNow I see fire, inside the mountainI see fire, burning the treesI see fire, hollowing soulsI see fire, blood in the breezeAnd I hope that you'll remember meAnd if the night is burning I will cover my eye