Ashen Dragon

In this turbulent era, the world hides brewing undercurrents: Orcs, the Abyss, the Nine Prisons, the Death Triad... Those forces that once lurked under the sun's radiance are now stirring restlessly.

Amid such a situation, for the Ashen Empire to become the true hegemon of Fianso—or even to surpass the former Holy Fadlan and claim ultimate dominion over this continent—is no easy feat.

Moreover, the Ashen Empire lacks divine backing, with only Cassius—a patched-together, barely passable "demigod"—as its pillar, often needing to mediate among various divinities.

But even so, in the face of his chosen goal, Cassius would never hesitate or retreat by even half a step.

Cassius let out a sinister laugh and briskly shook the Dragon Wings behind him, standing tall: "I'd like to see... after I wipe out these green-skin Orcs, whether you all can continue holding back."

"The apocalyptic 'Orc Calamity' of a bygone era ends here and now!"

Swish—

The Dragon Wings flapped, stirring a scorching tempest. That boundless Dragon's Might surged skyward, making all creatures tremble.

In an instant, the Half-Dragon soldiers, Bipedal Wyverns, and stone Dragon Beasts stationed around Dragon Blood Mountain all lifted their heads in unison, gazing up at that lofty figure in the sky.

...

"That... that's actually Dragon Wings! Those are traits only possessed by great figures like Duke Ramp or Duke Dolores!"

"Cassius above, General George has ascended to Half-Dragon status!"

"Look at that massive corpse—he, he even slew that Orc! Truly deserving of the title, Lord George!"

"General George!"

Watching George, who had grown Dragon Wings and taken down the Giant Mountain, the surrounding Imperial Soldiers erupted in astonishment. Waving their weapons, they cheered furiously.

Slash—

With a faint ring, George finally mustered the strength to pull the Longsword embedded in the Orc's skull, holding the bloodstained blade aloft, its tip pointing straight toward the heavens.

George flashed a mysterious smile: "Everyone—slaying this mutant Orc today isn't my achievement alone but His Majesty's!"

"It's thanks to the great Ashen Emperor! He watches over us like the sun, shelters us, and bathes all Imperial citizens in the radiance of victory!"

Under the sunlight, blood trickled along the blade, forming droplets that fell like crimson beads.

"Long live the Empire!"

"Long live His Majesty Cassius!"

In an instant, a thunderous wave of cheers erupted from the surrounding Imperial Soldiers, their voices surging like a tide, one wave overpowering the next, echoing across the battlefield.

From afar, the Orcs surged forward once again in an overwhelming tide. Although their leader, the Giant Mountain, had fallen, they still charged fearlessly, releasing their lust for war as they braced for a death-defying clash with the Imperial forces.

"Comrades—"

George flapped his Dragon Wings, soaring into the sky. From above, he gazed down at the distant green tide before raising his Longsword and pointing toward the Orcs.

"Crush them!"

The Empire's officers and soldiers, filled with high morale and fiery enthusiasm, unleashed bullets like torrential rain. Artillery shells rained into the Orc ranks, felling them by the masses.

Soon, however, George's called-for reinforcements finally arrived—

Boom—

A deep rumble echoed across the ground as steel behemoths stormed the battlefield, their treads crushing Orc corpses underfoot, spraying green blood in all directions.

In the skies, sharp screeches pierced through as a formation of armored Bipedal Wyverns glided into view from the horizon, like a blade slicing through the heavens.

George was slightly surprised, but soon, Derol's powerful voice came through his communicator: "All forces, advance! Prepare for a counterattack!

These damned green-skin scum really think they can break our lines with sheer numbers? What a joke!

Soldiers, show them the Empire's strength. Let them experience the baptism of blood and fire! Wipe out these vulgar, insolent green-skin Orcs—utterly and completely!"

At Derol's command, the heavens and earth trembled and quaked instantly. The sky became shrouded with Sub-dragons and Wyverns, while the ground was dominated by infantry, Steam Tanks, and Dragon Beasts.

Even the Orcs' flanks and rear were infiltrated by Imperial forces, clearly ensnaring them in an inescapable trap.

At this moment, the Imperial Army surged forth in a mighty wave!

Derol had been waiting for this opportunity!

First, he had constructed an impregnable defense line with landmines, traps, and fortifications, grinding down the green-skin Orcs' living forces like a gruesome, living meat grinder.

Then, when the enemy was at their weakest, Derol launched a decisive counteroffensive, delivering a fatal blow! He planned to annihilate the millions of Orcs on the frontlines completely!

And as for those landmines and traps?

They had long since been triggered by the tide of green-skin Orcs, leaving vast fields of Orc corpses sprawled across the battlefield, creating an entirely new landscape of death.

...

Boom!

The Empire's artillery unleashed its full fury. Shells dragged smoky trails through the sky, forming a dense web of crisscrossing trajectories.

The shells rained down like storm droplets, exploding and nearly tearing the ground asunder. Against this overwhelming firepower, in this one-sided massacre, even the Orcs—usually unafraid of death—found it impossible to muster enthusiasm.

They reveled in war, but they did not revel in mindless death, nor did they enjoy being obliviously reduced to smoldering embers by explosions.

"We can't even see the enemy!"

"Dying like this is too much of a loss; I haven't even killed enough yet!"

"Damn it, those old bastards want us to serve as cannon fodder so they can enjoy the slaughter later!" snapped a green-skin Orc, clapping a hand to its forehead as it reached this realization.