Translator: AnubisTL
A brilliant runic light flared on the Red Dragon Samantha, her scales taking on a metallic, steel-like sheen. Then, with a violent beat of her wings, she charged like a living weapon, slamming into the stone guardian.
Boom!
The red dragon collided with the stone guardian's raised arm and was sent flying backward by the impact. The guardian's arm cracked, spiderwebbing like a tree's branches, but as earth and stone surged together, the wound healed in the blink of an eye.
Garos noticed that the stone guardian shared some kind of connection with the mountain below.
It seemed that as long as it wasn't destroyed in a single blow, and as long as the altar's energy remained, it would regenerate endlessly.
"To have held out in the Frontierlands for centuries... they certainly have some deep-rooted means."
The goblins had the Grand Artificer's Palace in addition to their alchemical legion, and the Dawn Tribe's ancestor spirit altar was no less impressive.
"Too bad they ran into me."
Golden lightning crackled and leaped across the red-iron dragon's body, leaving cracks in the Cold Exploding Scales on its surface. He absorbed the heat generated by his frenzy state, storing a portion of it within himself.
His thermal energy value soared.
"Samantha, Solgorn, use your dragon breath on me."
He spoke.
The red dragon and iron dragon didn't hesitate for a second, respectively unleashing their flaming dragon breath and electric fire dragon breath upon Garos.
Enduring the damage from the two dragon breaths, as well as the stimulation of the frenzy state on his Cold Exploding Scales...
His thermal energy value surged, skyrocketed, and then exploded.
In an instant, the Cold Exploding Scales on the red-iron dragon shattered, revealing the inner dragon scales that had turned red-hot like branding irons. Heat waves rolled off his body, distorting the surrounding air.
Thermal Energy Amplification—Destruction Dragon Breath!
BOOM!
The scorching dragon flame transformed into a torrent of destruction, erupting from the red-iron dragon's maw. With unstoppable, all-destroying power, it swept toward the stone guardian.
The stone guardian had invested all its attributes into defense.
Its movements were sluggish. The moment the Destruction Dragon Breath descended, it curled into a ball to defend itself, the totem tattoos on its rocky skin glowing with their most brilliant light.
But it was futile.
The Destruction Dragon Breath tore through its defenses like dry wood, dismantling and melting the stone guardian inch by inch. Finally, it was reduced to a pile of high-temperature semi-solid lava crystals. The ancestor spirit altar, which the stone guardian had protected within its body, also turned to ash and was completely destroyed.
In an instant...
Every ancestor guardian barbarian of the Dawn Tribe who had ever offered sacrifices to the ancestors and received their blessing or protection—including Chief Brunhilde—felt a sharp pain in their hearts, as if they had lost something precious.
The Ancestor Spirit Altar was passed down through generations of the Dawn Tribe, serving as the focal point of their spirit and the symbol of their tribal culture.
The Ancestor Guardian path also required the Altar for advancement, achieved through prayers or offerings to the ancestors.
Now, with the Ancestor Spirit Altar destroyed, it would be nearly impossible for the Dawn Tribe to produce new Ancestor Guardians. Furthermore, when the barbarian chieftain were injured, they could no longer rely on the Altar for easy regeneration and recovery as they had before.
A strategy of attrition at the bottom combined with a decapitation strike at the top.
It had been a resounding success.
"You dare destroy our Ancestor Spirit Altar?! We will fight you to the death!"
The barbarians' eyes turned bloodshot. Among them was the tribal chief, Brunhilde. She and a group of high-ranking barbarian chieftain were charging frantically toward the site of the Ancestor Spirit Altar, closing in on their target.
But then...
A deafening, low-frequency boom echoed through the air. The night sky was nearly turned to day by a towering inferno that erupted from the earth.
Immediately after,
Massive wings that blotted out the sky tore through the night, obscuring the moonlight and casting a dense, colossal shadow over the ground. The wings swept past Brunhilde as she charged forward.
She looked up to see several draconic figures flying away from the altar, their forms growing smaller in the distance.
"You cowardly, treacherous evil dragon! Come down and fight me to the death!"
Pain. It hurt so much.
Brunhilde's eyes burned crimson. The thick veins on her neck bulged as she slammed her battleaxe into the ground, shattering it into a web of cracks.
This barbarian chieftain, renowned for her composure, had completely torn off the mask of rationality. She roared hysterically at the heavens.
The sound waves shook the nearby pine needles, sending them fluttering down, yet they couldn't even disturb the air currents at the tips of the red-iron dragon's wings.
Garos merely lowered his vertical pupils, as dark as the night, and swept his gaze over the raging figure as if looking down on an ant before continuing to soar leisurely in the high sky.
The curses, laced with ancient barbarian slang, were nothing more than hymns of praise delivered by the night wind to him.
An enemy's curses never angered Garos.
To him, they were an affirmation of his methods, a form of praise.
Barbarians, the embodiment of rage and frenzy, gained terrifying power through their Rage Frenzy State, but they also bore a fatal weakness—the angrier they became, the more their rationality melted away like snow.
Even the usually wise and steady Brunhilde had now been reduced to a beast controlled by fury.
They had clearly sensed that the ancestor spirit altar was beyond salvation, yet in their blind rage, they still made the wrong choice. The high-ranking chieftains all rushed toward the now-ruined holy land, neglecting another strategic stronghold they had been closely monitoring just moments before.
"The stars are so bright tonight... It would be a waste to return to the nest and miss such a beautiful night."
The red-iron dragon unfurled its wings, its scales clashing with a metallic ring. It roared with laughter, "Solgorn! Samantha! Follow me to Blackrock Pass to patrol the moonlit lands!"
The night wind swept over the juvenile dragons' wings, producing a clear, whistling sound.
Behind them, the barbarian tribe's torches, like a frenzied swarm of fireflies, receded into the distance in another direction. Ahead, the silhouette of Blackrock Pass gradually sharpened under the moonlight.
Blackrock Pass.
The gates were still stained with fresh blood. The Dawn Tribe guards laughed as they kicked away the severed heads of hyena-men, completely unaware that the ancestral spirit altar on the other side had already been reduced to scorched earth.
Only a few chieftains held their suddenly dimmed message stones, their expressions darkening with uncertainty.
On the plains south of the pass, the Ironblood Tribe's orc berserkers were still unleashing their bloodlust, hunting down the remnants of the Ironforged Tribe.
Suddenly, the most ferocious orc chieftain stopped in his tracks, his rough hand pressing against his pounding heart.
A shuddering sensation, as if being stalked by a predator, caused cold sweat to break out on his scarred neck.
The moment he looked up, two pairs of dragon wings, large enough to blot out the sky, were reflected in his pupils.
Iron Dragon Solgorn's steel scales reflected the cold moonlight, while Red Dragon Samantha's body blazed like a crimson flame.
BOOM!
Before anyone could react, the ground shook violently, as if a meteorite had struck the earth.
The berserker spun around to look and saw that the once-indestructible Blackrock Pass, which had stood firm upon the land, had collapsed like a pile of building blocks. It was now a ruin engulfed in flames. An impossibly powerful dragon shadow raged within, crushing the remaining defenders like ants.
The red-iron dragon casually swiped its claws, shattering three shield-bearing barbarians.
Where its dragon wings swept, guards in fine steel breastplates were severed at the waist. A berserker seized the opportunity to leap onto the dragon's back, but before his feet could land, a spear-tail pierced his chest. With a gentle shake, his upper body exploded into a bloody mist.
After the incident at the Ancestor Spirit Altar, the high-ranking bosses here had rushed over in desperation, leaving the mid-level bosses completely unable to withstand the dragon's ferocious might.
The enraged barbarians, unafraid of death and fighting for glory, roared as they charged the red-iron dragon. The dragon showed no mercy, granting their wish to die in battle.
"The great Lord of the Crimson Wings has arrived! Counterattack! Counterattack!"
Doug the kobold roared.
The dragon's appearance instantly revitalized the Ironforged Soldiers, whose morale had been on the brink of collapse. Their fear vanished completely as they turned and charged at the orc berserkers. Aided by the powerful iron and red dragons, they completely annihilated the elite berserker force.
Meanwhile...
"Blackrock Pass is under attack!"
The urgent message arrived. Just as Brunhilde was about to ask for more details, a massive explosion echoed from the other side of the message stone, followed by absolute silence.
The destruction of the ancestor spirit altar was now inevitable.
The victory they had previously secured at Blackrock Pass had been reduced to ashes.
Brunhilde's eyes, which had just begun to calm, turned bloodshot once more. He took a deep breath, pressing his fingers against the throbbing veins on his face. Slowly, he brought his rage under control, preventing reason from being completely consumed.
Things had come to this.
He could only carefully consider his next move, striving to minimize the losses and launch a counterattack.
(End of the Chapter)
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