Ashen Dragon

"Kill him! Oh God, that monster killed Lord Karl!"

"Fire!"

The Thrace Soldiers also spotted the uninvited guest. In an instant, several Sun God Crossbows aimed at him, launching bursting Giant Arrows trailing light, while hundreds of bullets were also fired at him.

The Mighty Heavenly Dragon threw the headless corpse of a Thrace Mage, blocking a barrage of bullets, then kicked off with both legs, performing Wall Climbing to nimbly dodge at the base of the Elemental Tower.

Then, he furiously swung his fist, smashing the supports at the base one by one, causing the Elemental Tower to tremble slightly and sway precariously.

"Crack—"

Electric sparks crackled and crossed on the tower, and the Energy Core at the top of the Elemental Tower flickered madly, becoming extremely unstable.

"Quick, help me!"

The Mighty Heavenly Dragon shouted, and in an instant, eighteen tall Martial Monks smeared in gold dust stepped out briskly behind him—they were the Eighteen Arhats of the [Shaolin Temple] guild!

"What are they trying to do?"

"Madmen!"

"Kill them quickly! These lunatics want to topple the Elemental Tower!"

Bullets and Arrows from the Thrace Soldiers rained down, but these golden Martial Monks were invulnerable to swords and spears, seemingly unattainable.

"Hahaha, I, the humble monk, will give you a big gift! Monks of Shaolin—push for me!"

Laughing loudly, the Mighty Heavenly Dragon bulged the veins on his six arms, using tremendous force to push the Elemental Tower.

With his command, the eighteen golden Martial Monks also exerted force, pushing the tower. The dozens of meters high Magic Tower first tilted slightly and rumbled nonstop, eventually irreversibly collapsing toward the August City Wall.

"No, don't—"

"Boom!"

The Elemental Core, filled with Magic Energy, exploded terrifyingly, blasting a huge hole in the city wall, and none of the defending soldiers survived.

"The Abbot is mighty!"

"Impressive!"

The Mighty Heavenly Dragon stood confidently with hands on hips, saying smugly, "Saving one life is better than building a Level Seven pagoda. With this, we Shaolin have probably built over a thousand levels of pagoda underground."

The nearby players looked at this blood-soaked Martial Monk monster, twitching at the corners of their mouths, "Uh, Amitabha, the Abbot truly has a compassionate heart, probably already achieving perfect virtue."

Today's players are no longer the battlefield novices of the past.

This legion, composed of over a thousand Tenth Level Transcendents and hundreds of thousands of Professionals, is a formidable force in any dimension.

Once players joined the battlefield, the Empire's offensives became more fierce, with signs of Imperial People appearing in multiple areas of August City Wall.

"Imperial People..."

Atop the Sun God Tower, Wilhelm's expression grew increasingly twisted and sinister, the fury erupting from his golden eyes with sun wheel pupils was unstoppable.

He drew the Final Judgment Spear, a golden light shot straight into the sky, six wings unfurled behind him, and the majestic sacred hymn resonated once more.

"As the Lord of Thrace and the successor of Fadlan—Holy Guard, destroy them!"

In an instant, hundreds of angels with wings soared into the sky, wielding their Flame Longswords, charging toward the Imperial People who had invaded August.

"Slash—"

Golden Light Blades tore through the sky, instantly cleaving the earth, slicing over a dozen players into pieces.

Chains emerged from the ground, tightly binding the players and, despite their struggles, dragged them underground.

"Watch out, these Elite Monsters are very strong!"

"Don't get hit, they will one-shot you!"

The leaders of the Six-winged Holy Guard raised their Longswords together, emitting golden beams that shot up to the sky, chanting in unison, "Burn the Sin Soul, my Lord prevails—"

"Boom—"

In an instant, countless streaks of golden-red flames descended from their Longswords, the brilliant light dyed the night sky golden-red.

Immediately, these flames, as though Divine Punishment descending from the heavens, fell on the Imperial People's heads within August, incinerating them entirely.

However, the resonant sound of war drums echoed, and Dragon Sanctuary Holy Knights clad in Heavy Armor marched in unison, appearing on this chaotic battlefield.

"Dragon Lord above all!"

Anthony raised the Spear with the Empire's banner, letting out a roar.

Flames imbued with the Will and Faith of the Paladins soared into the sky, gradually forming a Scarlet giant dragon, materializing in the sky, swooping towards the Holy Guard.

"Not good! Stop it!"

The Holy Guard leaders' expressions changed slightly, but the giant dragon's speed was indeed too fast, its sinister dragon head spewed torrential Dragonflame, charring several Holy Guards to ashes.

The giant claws swung, slicing through the air, the claw tips emanating pure white flames—a strike not merely physical, but targeting the Essence and Mind.

"Sizzle—"

It tore the golden Aurora coating from the Holy Guards, thoroughly shattering their gleaming disguise.

Numerous pure white Feathers fluttered down from the sky, yet turned into blood-stained black feathers, and the Holy Guard's golden armor dimmed into red-hot Hell Iron.

Their perfect visage contorted, twisted, filled with cracks seeping dark red blood, their mouths curling into eerie smiles, like broken puppets.

"Heaven Feather Gaze, Blaze Sword Split Armor; Holy Chanting Brand, Divine Eye like a Torch..."

Yet they remained oblivious to any anomaly, continuing to sing the so-called "sacred hymn," narrating Wilhelm's deeds, and expressing their Loyalty and Sanctity.

They were a blood-soaked army exuding sulfurous Hell scent, yet singing an enchanting sacred hymn—the scene was particularly eerie.

"What are those..."

"Could these monsters—be His Majesty Wilhelm's Holy Guard?"

"Isn't that my deceased brother? Am I seeing things, how could he appear here?"

"Are they still alive?"

"Amanata above, that is the missing Count Zorman! The traitorous Divine Descendant, he is actually in that army!"

The Thrace Soldiers gazed at the dramatically transformed Holy Guard in the sky, many wore expressions of shock and fear, the chaotic discussions reverberated above the city walls.

Interestingly, those with the greatest reactions were usually soldiers transferred from other regions, while the August native defenders seemed indifferent, apathetic, as if they knew everything already.

Thrace noticed a familiar figure among those empty-eyed Hell Puppets—Baron Clarence, his former friend, missing for years, reportedly already sacrificed on the Holy City battlefield, yet now present here.

Instantly, he felt as though his heart had been struck by a Heavy Hammer, his face turned deathly pale, and his hand holding the Longsword trembled slightly.

"Thi...this...how is it possible, how could His Majesty go so mad?" he muttered in disbelief.

Combining General Carrel's words, he had roughly pieced together the truth:

All in August City who resisted the Hell Contract were seized by the insane Wilhelm, turned into puppets, and the souls of these Thrace People were sacrificed to the Devil!

Dayev felt a chill sink deep into his heart, like falling into an ice pit, yet also a bit relieved.

If he hadn't been demoted to the frontier back then, he might now also be one of this terrifying army, his soul condemned to eternal torment in Hell.

At this moment, the Holy Guard finally revealed their true nature.

They were hollow shells without souls, Hell Puppets crafted using live Thrace People as materials, and Wilhelm's most "loyal" confidants!

"What are they really!"

"What has the Kingdom allied with? Where did those dead compatriots go?"

Those devoted followers of the Sun God asked loudly.

These Spirit Sucking Monsters were clearly tactically trained. Two feigned attack entities used tentacles to slap the water's surface, creating a mist barrier covered in corrosive liquid to obscure vision; a third descended from the ceiling, attaching its sucker to a guard's skull, tentacle tip precisely piercing the foramen magnum