Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Caledal swooped down like a crimson spear of death, tearing through the sky. Her target was crystal clear—the Silvermoon Dragon that had broken away from the formation and was attempting to flank Marathex.

The air was forcefully cleaved by her sharp body, swirling with fiery red currents due to the intense friction. Flames flickered on her armor plates, reflecting menacing red patterns, as if the entire space itself was being suffocated by her imposing aura.

Her vertical pupils remained motionless, calm and deadly, like a hawk eyeing its prey.

Just moments before she entered the deadly range, the Silver Moon Dragon's instincts sounded a piercing alarm—a sense of crisis deeply ingrained in its blood, from ancient times.

The Silver Moon Dragon suddenly twisted its long neck, the lines of muscle and scales shimmering in the sunlight, its cold vertical pupils locking onto the red figure tearing through the sky behind it in an instant.

That wasn't prey, it was death itself.

The energy cavity in the throat swelled violently, and orange-red destructive energy gathered and took shape in just a few moments. The air trembled due to the energy accumulation, and the prelude to an explosion roared deep within the dragon's throat.

The next second, the dragon breath was unleashed!

It was a fiery storm powerful enough to melt steel, like a torrent bursting its banks, spewing from the Silver Moon Dragon's massive maw. The intense light darkened the sky, and the temperature instantly soared to the scorching heat of magma, turning everything in its path to ashes.

However, Caledall reacted faster.

Almost at the same instant the dragon's breath erupted, she launched a counterattack with unparalleled skill. Her enormous wings suddenly folded asymmetrically, the left wing locked and the right wing spread out. Her dragon body tilted abruptly in the air, using the momentum of the dive to complete an extremely tricky side roll. The movement was so fluid that it seemed as if she had rehearsed it a thousand times.

A torrent of scorching, destructive energy swept past her flank armor, its burning breath only inches away from her in a suffocating manner. Where the energy passed, the air was scorched, crackling and creating a brief, distorted, vacuum-like trail of light and shadow.

Seeing that its attack had missed, the Silver Moon Dragon thrashed its neck like a giant python, trying to catch up with the crimson figure with its continuously spewing dragon breath. The deadly breath, like a divine whip of light, drew a huge fan-shaped death zone in the air, relentlessly pursuing Caledel.

Meanwhile, Caledall performed an elegant yet deadly dance.

With each tremor of her wingtips and each sway of her tail, she seemed to calculate precisely the gaps in airflow and energy. At times, she drifted like a falling leaf, letting the dragon's breath sweep over her from above; at other times, she swooped down, causing the light whip to strike the space where she had just been, stirring up a chaotic energy turbulence. She always teetered on the edge of destruction, constantly adjusting her position by taking advantage of the slight delay created when the Silver Moon Dragon turned its neck and the obscuring effect of the dragon's breath.

Crimson and azure light and shadow intertwined, chased, and entwined wildly in the air.

Finally, after another extreme barrel roll evasion that caused the scorching breath to miss by a hair's breadth, a glint of absolute calm flashed in Calladelle's burning dragon eyes as she made one last, almost imperceptible adjustment to her dive angle.

At this moment, there were no longer any obstacles between her and the end of the hunt.

Almost at the same moment, Marathex unleashed Wings of Fire from afar.

The next moment, with this millisecond-precise maneuver, Calledale's body suddenly thrust forward!

The massive dragon body, in an almost impossible manner, pressed close to the side of the silver moon dragon that had just finished exhaling and was in a brief state of paralysis, and fiercely cut in!
The air was torn apart by a series of shrill screams. The wings of the two dragons almost collided at a breathtaking speed. The edges of the armor plates scraped against the tough scales, producing a piercing metallic scraping sound. Sparks exploded in the air as arcs of light, as if stars were being crushed by their battle.

With astonishing precision and control, Calladelle perfectly pierced the opponent's flight path. Her figure clung to the Silvermoon Dragon's spine, a shadow following it relentlessly. At this moment, she wasn't chasing—she was hunting!

There was no lengthy grappling, no pointless roaring, and no savage biting or energy clashes.

The core of this duel is precision, efficiency, and a decisive, one-hit kill.

In her panic, the Silvermoon Dragon struggled, and in the instant she lost her target, her long neck twisted violently from left to right. She attempted to cover the area where Caledar was with her dragon breath; her breathing became rapid, and her dragon breath chamber swelled again.

But at that moment, Caledall had already made his move.

She unleashed a barrel roll, her massive dragon body tracing a spiral trajectory through the air with an almost unreal elegance, like a red fish gliding freely through flames and storms. Using centrifugal force, she slid downwards, the airflow whistling on either side of her wing membranes, tearing at the air like knives, flames and steam intertwining behind her to form a crimson vortex.

She vanished from Silvermoon Dragon's sight, completely and without a trace, disappearing into that brief blind spot.

While the Silver Moon Dragon's head was still thrashing wildly, and her consciousness was still desperately searching for that red afterimage, Caledal had already reappeared on her left side like a ghost.

There, her dragon eyes, burning with the desire to hunt, looked at the wide-open eyes of the dragon mage on the back of the silver moon dragon, eyes agape in horror.

The dragon mage's face was deathly pale, his lips trembled slightly, and his staff flickered with an unstable light. He was futilely accelerating his chanting, desperately trying to complete the final formation amidst the chaotic air currents and the swaying dragon's back in order to stabilize the situation.

Her eyes, and indeed her entire dragon head, were covered by thick armor plates, so the dragon mage couldn't see them. But that didn't stop the undisguised, contemptuous, and cold intent from piercing the dragon mage's mind like an invisible thorn.

It was not merely a visual sight, but a spiritual gaze; the light burning in the dragon's eyes seemed to penetrate matter and will.

At that moment, the dragon mage's spell faltered, his voice swallowed by the wind. His heart suddenly clenched for no apparent reason, as if gripped by some irresistible force. A chilling coldness rose from the depths of his soul; it was not the erosion of magic, but pure fear.

At the same time, Caledal's enormous dragon wings suddenly extended fully, the wing membranes fluttering in the gale, like two battle flags made of flames and steel, instantly filling the air, and the air pressure formed a huge reverse vortex under her wings, emitting a muffled roar.

At this moment, she wasn't accelerating, but braking and changing direction.

As the runes on the armor plates lit up rhythmically, rings of scarlet light shimmered and flowed along the vein-like cracks.

boom--!
A muffled blast of air exploded.

The air was forcibly compressed by her manipulation and then released in an instant. With the help of the powerful reaction force that could tear apart the wind layer, her dragon body suddenly shot to the side and back with an agility that defied common sense.

The speed was so fast that even the air couldn't react, leaving only a long red streak of light and a scorched, distorted wave of air.

In an instant, Caledal created distance between herself and the Silver Moon Dragon. Her movements were fluid and graceful, without any unnecessary tremors or hesitations, like a dancer who knew every inch of airflow and angle perfectly.

This series of lightning-fast maneuvers left onlookers barely able to breathe, while the Silver Moon Dragon appeared like a fool being toyed with.

However, the Silver Moon Dragon was not truly a fool. She was imposing, of pure blood, and possessed formidable strength; she simply lacked combat experience. Before she could recover from that fatal imbalance, her mind was momentarily confused and hesitant amidst the humiliation.

However, hesitation means death.

She had just realized that her opponent had reappeared on her left side and was preparing to roll and maneuver desperately to get rid of the deadly close proximity when, at that very moment, a tearing pain originating from her back, like a belated judgment, violently surged into her nerves and consciousness!
The pain almost made her vision go blank for a moment, all sounds disappeared, and only the echoes of her heartbeat and the cracking of her bones remained.

It wasn't until that excruciating pain exploded in her back that she finally realized what had actually happened during that seemingly casual touch.

The instant they made contact, Calledall ruthlessly and precisely pierced and severed the base of her left wing from her body!

That wasn't a simple scratch; it was a disintegration attack designed to destroy the balance of flight.

The claws traced almost silently through the air, yet possessed a sharpness comparable to magical cutting. They tore through the tough wing membrane, sliced ​​through thick flight muscles, and, ignoring the defenses of scales, viciously pierced the core joint bones supporting the wings!
Click...

A soft, yet terrifying, cracking sound was drowned out by the howling wind, but to her, it exploded like thunder.

That was the sound a flyer least wanted to hear: wing bones breaking.

The left wing instantly lost all power and control. It was no longer a glorious wing of soaring flight, but a heavy, painful wreck, connected only by a few strands of muscle and blood vessels. The wing membrane billowed in the gale, like a tattered flag, each flap causing excruciating pain. Blood mist was flung out, turning into tiny red arcs in the sunlight.

The balance that maintained its flight was completely broken. The air support tilted instantly, and the Silver Moon Dragon's massive body shuddered violently, losing control of its center of gravity.

She let out a heart-wrenching scream, a sound like thunder tearing through the night sky, echoing across the battlefield and causing the hearts of all witnesses to clench simultaneously.

Her massive body was completely out of control, tumbling and tilting violently to the left. She desperately flapped her still-intact right wing, trying her best to steady herself, but the wing membrane seemed incredibly lonely. Each flap created a turbulent, skewed current, as if she were struggling, or making a final prayer before crashing.

However, everything is in vain.

The excruciating pain emanating from the base of her left wing penetrated deep into her bones and even her soul. Each exertion widened the wound, causing blood mist to spray out, sliced ​​into countless red lines by the wind, scattering into a cruel rain in the sunlight. Each flap of her wing became an even more intense torment, twisting her posture more and more distorted. Her body spun faster and faster in the air, like a burning star collapsing.

She began to spin, like a bird shot down, dripping with scalding dragon blood and wailing in agony, as she irrevocably plummeted towards the lagoon below, which seemed to open its icy embrace. The lagoon, now shimmering with deathly light in her shadow, its rippling surface seeming to mock the fall of this noble creature.

The dragon mage on her back frantically tried to cast spells, but each incantation was interrupted by the swirling air currents, the incantations shattering into syllables, which then turned into the sound of wind. He didn't even have time to scream; he could only grip the handrails tightly, his hands numb from fear and centrifugal force, his knuckles scraping blood from the metal, yet he was still mercilessly dragged toward his doom.

Don't be fooled by the small number of red dragons; every single one of them is capable of doing something.

Called the Firescythe, the dwarves have an entire book of hatred for her, the most indignant entry detailing how she obtained star iron to coat her claws. Star iron, in the Khazarid language, is "meteorite iron," a rare and precious metal.

During the test of the armor plate's strength, she performed better than the Imperial Dragon, but that was all. Her anger, her roar, her ferocity were enough to tear apart a storm, but she still couldn't tear open the cold steel forged by warlocks, Vaal priests, and red dragons.

But as the saying goes: If I can't beat him, can't I beat you?

Although Calladelle is not yet at the Emperor Dragon level, her claws, enhanced with Star Iron, can break through the scales and armor of an Emperor Dragon, as smoothly, cleanly, and thoroughly as a hot knife cutting through solidified fat.

Dealing with beings of the Silver Moon Dragon's caliber is a piece of cake; one strike is all it takes.

With just one strike, almost every life touched by her claws meets a terrible end.

Just as Maratex unleashed his beam, Ashdaron and Calledal reunited, forming a twin-plane formation that swirled and burned like a binary star.

They can understand each other's intentions with almost no communication.

While Calledale was hunting Silvermoon Dragons, Ashdaron was not idle either.

Along with the Silver Moon Dragon, three Fiery Sun Dragons launched a flanking attack.

Ashdaron's target was the Sun Dragon that was at the very front of them.

His dive was not the elegant, deathly dance of Caledall's, but a pure, savage, and ruthlessly calculated catastrophe.

He locked onto his target with precision, his figure swooping down from the sky like a falling comet, leaving a long trail of flames in his wake.

There was no roar, no warning.

There was only that one sharp whistling sound as the air was torn apart and the sudden red shadow cast on the scales of the blazing sun dragon.

In the blink of an eye, just as the Sun Dragon sensed the terrifying pressure coming from above and tried to raise its head to breathe fire, Ashdaron's armored head, carrying all the momentum of its dive, suddenly shot out!

Click.

It wasn't tearing apart, but rather closing like a guillotine.

The air seemed to be compressed to its limit at that moment, even sound was swallowed up. His massive mouth, filled with dagger-like fangs, snapped shut on the relatively slender neck of the Fiery Sun Dragon with devastating precision in an instant.

It was an extreme kind of ruthlessness, without warning, without roars, only the predator's instinctive, perfect calculation and absolute confidence.

The tough dragon scales shattered like paper in this violent closing, accompanied by the muffled sound of bones breaking and the sharp friction of muscles tearing. Each shattering was like striking an anvil in the sky, with sparks and drops of blood flying at the same time, forming a brief scarlet rain in the air.

The fiery pupils of the Blazing Sun Dragon suddenly dilated, their light rapidly dimming as if two lamps had been extinguished. In that instant, its pupils were filled with disbelief, utter despair, and the pain of being instantly annihilated.

Ashdaron didn't even give his opponent a chance to struggle. His terrifyingly strong neck muscles suddenly tensed, tendons bulging beneath his armor like steam-filled steel cables. With a teeth-grinding tearing sound, he actually ripped the Sun Dragon's head completely off its neck!

At that moment, the sky seemed to freeze.

Scalding dragon blood, like an erupting volcano, gushed wildly from the severed neck, completely dyeing Ashdaron's jet-black head a scorching crimson.

The blood mist was torn into streaks of red by the high-altitude turbulence. They shimmered in the sunlight like cursed light, creating a magnificent yet terrifying scene.

The headless dragon's body convulsed and stiffened violently in the air, blood gushing from the severed wound. Then, its body completely lost its strength, and together with the dragon mage on its back who didn't even have time to react, it plummeted into the lagoon below.

The trajectory of its fall drew a red arc in the air, like death signing its name in the sky.

After Ashdaron finished his attack, he released the still-dripping corpse from his mouth, his head tilting slightly, the blood splattering around him in a crimson mist. He didn't look at his spoils, nor admire the fallen body; his breathing was steady, like a butcher wiping his blade after yet another precise kill.

His cold, abyss-like gaze had already turned to the other two Fiery Dragons, who were stunned by this sudden, almost brutal scene.

At that moment, the temperature in the air seemed to drop several degrees. The predator could hear the prey's heartbeat clearly, and even the wind dared not breathe between them.

One of the Fiery Sun Dragons witnessed firsthand the horrific scene of its companions being instantly torn apart and bitten off by a guillotine. But the extreme fear did not deter it; instead, it ignited the most primal madness in its bloodline.

He let out a roar of grief and despair that shattered the air, carrying an rage that threatened to consume the heavens. Abandoning all tactics, formations, and techniques, he unleashed the full power of his wings and charged relentlessly towards Ashdaron. From his gaping maw, dragon breath churned in his throat, and flames spilled from between his teeth, as if to incinerate the entire world.

However, madness is meaningless in the face of absolute power and ruthlessness.

Ashdaron didn't dodge; he merely lowered his head slightly, a disdainful red glint flashing in his eyes as he precisely calculated the trajectory and speed of his opponent's attack. Just as the burning dragon claws were about to touch his armor plates, his tail, which had been poised for a long time, was already ready.

The dragon's tail, as thick as a giant log, was covered in segmented armor, its end inlaid with forged barbs and engraved runes. At that moment, it swept through the air with lightning speed, creating a series of sharp, piercing whistles, as if a giant chain hammer were tearing through a storm.

Bang! ! !
The dragon's tail struck the Fiery Sun Dragon with perfect precision, blasting it between the chest and abdomen. In that instant, the air was completely compressed and exploded, and the terrifying force surged into its body like a collapsing mountain, directly shattering its ribs and internal organs. The hard scales caved in and deformed under the impact, scales flew everywhere, and the sound of bones breaking, like the crisp sound of crushed gravel, was clear and chilling in the wind.

His attack came to an abrupt halt, his massive body stiffened abruptly, and the dragon breath brewing in his mouth was abruptly interrupted, turning into a chaotic flame and scorching smoke that weakly spilled from the corner of his mouth, flickering and extinguishing in the wind.

Those eyes, which were originally filled with madness and murderous intent, were now like a flame extinguished by cold water; the pupils quickly dilated, and the light shattered into a murky dark color.

Ashdaron gave his opponent no chance to breathe. Almost simultaneously, his body launched a second attack, his powerful forepaws lashing out like two bolts of lightning tearing through the sky, gripping the Sun Dragon's vulnerable neck tightly. In that instant, the cracking sound of bones echoed in the wind, chillingly clear.

Its other claw pierced deep into the base of its wing, tearing open scales and tearing flesh apart. Flames and blood gushed forth simultaneously, turning the space between the two dragons dark red.

It was an undisguised massacre, precise, cold-blooded, and ruthless.

Then, he jerked his head back, his neck muscles exploding with terrifying power in an instant. With a teeth-grinding cracking sound, the thick neck bone snapped completely, and blood mist and bone fragments scattered in a blinding arc in the air.

He tossed the still-twitching dragon corpse downwards as if it were a broken toy.

As Ashdaron's head, dripping with dragon blood, slowly turned towards the last remaining Sundragon, that surviving Sundragon completely collapsed.

His scales trembled all over, the flames on his wing membranes flickered in the wind, and even his breathing became broken. An indescribable sense of oppression, like an ice pick, pierced his soul from his chest.

Honor, anger, oath...

All the things that made him proud crumbled in the face of his survival instinct, and he let out a short, mournful cry that was almost a sob, his voice trembling with utter despair.

Immediately, he abruptly changed direction, his wings expanding to their maximum size, his muscles emitting a tearing, explosive sound. He no longer attempted to attack, nor did he dare to look back. He was merely a golden arrow, driven by the fear of survival, desperately fleeing into the distance, seeking only to escape that walking body of death.

Ashdaron watched the fleeing figure grow smaller and smaller with indifference, his eyes showing neither anger nor pity.

He did not pursue them.

The fleeing Sun Dragon no longer posed a threat; his mission was complete, and the threat on his flank had been completely eliminated.

He slowly flapped his wings, black flames flickering at the edges of the wing membranes like embers of war. With a low rumble, he turned and rejoined Caledall. (End of Chapter)