Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

While the Evil Guard and the Sentinel Guard were locked in fierce close combat, a battle between a seafood feast and the Fang of Death suddenly broke out in the sky and on the sea not far away.

The first to approach the dragon were five deep-sea steeds.

They are like five spears shooting out of the abyss, arranged in a triangular formation, cutting in from the left side of the dragon.

The dragon adopted this angle because it was an adjustment made according to the orders given by Asanil before engaging the intruders on its back. It deliberately kept its body relatively stable in the air, providing Asanil with a stable platform for combat, while also trying to disengage from this combat zone to avoid being surrounded by the seafood feast.

As a result, the seafood feast that had been heading straight for the dragon had to quickly adjust its direction, rearrange its formation, and approach from a new angle.

However, before they could take another step closer, the Fang of Death unleashed a furious roar that shattered the heavens. The roar was like a thunderclap exploding between the sea and sky, tearing the air apart, shattering the wind, and even causing the water mist floating in the air to ripple.

The atmosphere on the battlefield froze instantly, as if time itself had stopped.

At that very moment, Asanir died.

Entering a berserk state, Death Fang seemed to have forgotten all reason in an instant. He forgot that Asanir's corpse still lay across his back, forgot his wounds that had not yet stopped bleeding, forgot that he was utterly powerless against the seafood feast at this moment. Rage and instinct flooded his consciousness, engulfing all calculation and rationality.

He suddenly rolled, his massive body twisting in the air, scattering not only dragon blood but also all the creatures on his back. Tyrandor, Alaros, Athanir, and Kadir—three alive and one dead—fell from the shadow of the dragon's wings like stars suddenly struck down, plummeting into the void.

This time, Kadir didn't reach for anything to save him as before; Tyrandor was also left with nothing, their strength and energy almost completely depleted after killing Asanir. As for Alallos, he had just inserted his spear into the dragon's scales at the neck, but because he was a fraction too slow, the barbs didn't fully embed themselves in the flesh, thus preventing him from securing himself.

Just as they lost their footing and were tossed into the boundless sky, Dol Blackwing, who had been flying alongside the dragon, swiftly slashed in from the dragon's right side. Its wings, like those of an iron sculpture, swept across the air; it first caught Kadir by turning its body sideways, then with a downward slam, extended its claws to firmly hook Tyrandor. Between two final rightward slams, Tyrandor reached out and gripped Alaros tightly as he prepared to activate the ring.

Asanir's body, having lost all resistance, plummeted straight into the churning sea.

However, just as the giant eagle was about to leave the airspace, the dragon's breath appeared.

In a rapid, minimal-radius spin, the Death Fang forcefully twisted its massive body, its neck arching like a giant bow, pointing its ferocious head toward the direction of the giant eagle. After only a moment of gathering momentum, a destructive dragon breath erupted, like a burning green river, rushing straight toward its prey in the air.

The giant eagle had nowhere to hide; the shockwave, a mixture of flames and poisonous breath, was so close that the air itself seemed to shriek.

Tyrandor and Alaros stared wide-eyed at the overwhelming green torrent before them. They didn't even have time to breathe; they could only accept the reality deep within their consciousness: death was imminent!
Unlike them, Kadir did not need to face this calamity directly, because the brief moment of lucidity had already exhausted his spirit and will; after being caught by the giant eagle, he used his last strength to fasten the shackles on his body to the eagle's saddle; at this moment, he had sunk into unconscious darkness.

However, in a daze, the billowing dragon breath suddenly vanished before their eyes, as if forcibly erased by some force. The dragon's figure also disappeared from their sight. Everything happened so suddenly and unbelievably that they even doubted whether what they had seen was just an illusion, or a vision before their death.

But they knew it was not an illusion.

As warriors, the aura of death they felt in that instant was absolutely real—it was an absolute pressure that made their very souls tremble.

They glanced at each other and then turned their heads almost simultaneously.

"The Bridge of Shadows!"

Tyrandor spoke upon seeing the dragon behind him, then turned his gaze to Viltri Riel, who was riding on the back of the deep-sea steed.

He knew very well that it was Veltrie who had saved them. Just a moment ago, the high priestess of the Stormweavers had decisively activated the Bridge of Shadows, dragging them from the front where the dragon's breath was about to engulf them to behind the dragon.

The feeling of sudden spatial displacement still gives him the illusion that his feet are unsteady, even though they are indeed unsteady at this moment.

He took a deep breath, glanced at the entire view behind him with suppressed pain, and then called out in a deep voice.

"Our mission is complete, disengage."

His right arm had almost completely lost its strength, making it impossible for him to continue fighting. As for Alalos, although he could still move, there was no need for him to—the mission was complete, and the dragon rider was dead.

The battlefield will now be entirely taken over by the Seafood Feast, as they embark on the final, most dangerous, and most glorious mission—to slay the dragon.

The giant eagle let out a high-pitched, long cry, flapped its wings, and flew in a huge arc towards the black ark.

Almost simultaneously, multiple deafening roars that tore through the air erupted behind them: the breath of a dragon, the neighing of a deep-sea steed, and Vilteri's angry and oppressive shout. The three sounds exploded in the sky at the same time, as if the air itself had been forcibly compressed to a lower level.

Death Fang adjusted its massive body, locking onto the Deep Sea Steed that appeared before it like a predatory beast. The moment its prey escaped from the dragon's breath, it made its already enraged state even more ferocious; at this moment, it was filled only with pure rage and killing intent.

The enormous dragon head suddenly tilted forward, and green flames surged in its throat.

Riding atop the Deepsea Steed, Veltley's furious roar was sharp and unyielding. Her right hand was raised high, her left hand firmly supporting her, like a cavalryman charging into battle with a lance, except that she held the Deepsea Staff.

In that instant, the staff transformed into a high-pressure fire hose, its tip erupting with a torrent of water and condensed energy, as if the weight of an entire ocean had been compressed into a slender water gun. The water whistled through the air, heading straight for the scorching dragon breath spewed forth by the Fang of Death.

Opposite wave!

At this moment, the legendary scene appeared on the battlefield—two celestial rivers spanning the sky collided head-on in the air with absolute force.

On one side, the dragon's breath spewed from the Fang of Death, scalding green flames carrying a pungent stench and corrosive aura, rushing towards you as if to burn the entire world, along with the air and the earth, to ashes; on the other side, the raging waves surged from the Staff of the Far Sea of ​​Veltley, the water tinged with silver light and the deep blue of the ocean, as if Matheran himself had rolled up the entire ocean surface, condensing the vast waves into a giant fist that slammed straight into the sky.

The moment the scorching torrent of toxic flames collided head-on with the high-pressure, raging waves of the deep sea, the air seemed to be choked. Immediately afterward, a deafening roar, like a thunderclap, exploded—the sound of a steam explosion, sharp, muffled, and bone-chilling.

The terrifying heat contained in the dragon's breath instantly transformed a massive amount of seawater into ultra-high temperature and ultra-high pressure white steam.

The power of this explosion far exceeded that of ordinary battlefield impacts, instantly generating a rapidly expanding, incandescent spherical shockwave. The shockwave, with its destructive force, spread violently in all directions like an invisible giant hammer, tearing, compressing, and distorting the air wherever it went, producing a low, rumbling sound like bending steel plates.

The epicenter of the explosion was engulfed in a dense, almost solidified cloud of white steam in an extremely short time. This was not ordinary water vapor, but a deadly mixture born from the violent fusion, collision, and annihilation of the highly toxic substances in the Death Fang Dragon's Breath and the energy released by Veltrie.

As the steam cloud formed, it spun and expanded at an incredible speed, its edges churning with surging air currents, instantly swelling into a massive, tumbling mushroom cloud. Inside the cloud, lightning flashed and thunder roared, silver-blue and emerald green intertwined and shimmered—a terrifying phenomenon created when two extremely opposite energies bit, tore, and annihilated each other.

The annihilation point released a sharp, piercing, high-frequency hissing sound, like the screams of countless souls being crushed, burned, and torn apart. It pierced the minds of everyone who heard it, making their teeth ache and their eyes sting. It even drowned out the aftershocks of the explosion, like a cold steel needle piercing the auditory nerves of every listener.

Deep within the steam cloud, the energy that had not yet been instantly annihilated continued to fight desperately. The foul-smelling dragon breath, like a dying but still frantically writhing giant snake, struggled and thrashed in the scalding steam, trying to corrode everything around it. Meanwhile, the silver light and deep blue water light, like pure holy light, surged like tides, enveloping, cutting, and shattering the green poisonous flames.

The entire steam cloud presented a bizarre yet magnificent chaotic scene, with vast swathes of blazing white steam churning, enveloping swirling clumps of emerald-colored poisonous gas. These gases were in turn entangled and constantly impacted by layers of silver-blue light veins and eerie, water-like energy. The light was refracted and scattered within the steam, transforming into eerie yet brilliant halos, bands of light, and sudden flashes of lightning, sometimes illuminating half the sky, and sometimes being swallowed up by the thick fog.

The advancing army soldiers held their breath, as if even the expansion of their chests would invite some unbearable calamity. They felt as if they were caught in a battle between gods, each heartbeat like a knife's edge, each breath potentially their last. That power was not something mortals should look directly at, yet their gazes were as if nailed to that dividing line by some force.

And so they ran, watching water and fire tear at each other, devour each other, and vie for dominance in the sky, until all that remained in their ears, eyes, and even chests was the roar, the white light, and the tremor that emanated from their very bones.

And the navy...

Many of them had witnessed this scene more than once. In Ashreyel and Chapeyuto, they had seen similar scenarios firsthand during exercises. Having read the script, they knew exactly what would happen next; they could imagine the next turn of events even with their eyes closed.

Even so, they couldn't help but look forward to it, because they understood very well that exercises and actual combat were two completely different things.

During exercises, the discussion usually stops short of the actual battle, leaving room for maneuver. Everyone knows that it is just a simulated war; but in real combat... that is another matter. There is no way out, no rehearsal, and no chance to back down.

This is the first time I've witnessed this scene in a real life-or-death battle.

Violet's furious roars continued, making her own chest tingle. The voice seemed to carry some ancient rhythm, each roar as if to increase the pressure of the water gun, as if to force the raging waves to their limit.

But she knew very well that it was just an illusion.

Her power was waning, like the receding tide. But that no longer mattered, for she had already neutralized the dragon's most lethal attack. Her mission was at least half complete.

Next, all she had to do was wait.

Wait for that fool on the other side to rush over and emerge from that deadly byproduct of the wave attack—the acid rain.

The deep-sea steed beneath her had its muscles taut to the limit, like a fully drawn bowstring, still struggling forward. But the oppressive force, as if it wanted to grind the entire universe into dust, like an endless, raging tide, came crashing down on it, forcefully pushing it back. But it did not retreat. Even as its forepaws slipped in the waves, even as its muscles trembled from excessive tension, it remained frozen in place, as if an invisible giant hand had pressed down on its head, leaving it only able to struggle futilely yet unyieldingly in this small space.

The dragon on the other side wasn't in much better shape either.

The dragon's breath erupted as if pushed to its limit by a nitrous oxide accelerator, roaring and surging forward. But unlike true nitrous oxide acceleration, in this clash of forces, the dragon gained neither a speed advantage nor was it forced back. Its massive form was forcibly fixed in the air, as if locked by invisible shackles, until the scorching dragon breath finally ceased.

The moment the breath subsided, the dragon began to move again, flying slowly and steadily forward, heading straight into the acidic rain.

The scorching steam cloud rose rapidly, swirling and cooling in the air, its highly toxic contents condensing into countless tiny droplets. The next moment, a deadly acid rain poured down.

The rain was scorching hot, carrying a pungent stench that could burn your throat—a mixture of sulfur, rotting biomass, and strong acids powerful enough to corrode steel. Anything touched by this rain, whether rock, metal, plant, or flesh, would be instantly corroded, leaving behind charred, smoky pits.

For a dragon, this kind of corrosion is nothing. But for a seafood feast, it could be a deadly disaster.

The moment the Fang of Death emerged from the acidic rain, the outcome was revealed.

The difficulty of the entire dragon hunt lies in the aerial tug-of-war between the two sides and facing the dragon's first wave of breath. Once the battle begins, it becomes easier.

The Death Fang, which had been charging forward at breakneck speed, suddenly slowed down. This time, it wasn't a physical collision, nor was it a matter of forces canceling each other out; rather, it was magic at work.

countercurrent!

Like Evil, the Tidecallers and Spellweavers, who were also familiar with this script, cast the spell at just the right moment.

In past exercises, the Stormweavers discovered that spells that originally only worked underwater could also be effective within the special radiation range of their land-based drones. Therefore, they directly applied these anti-current spells, originally used for ocean currents and tides, to the aerial combat arena.

Finally, the dragon's form was abruptly halted in mid-air by the invisible force of the reverse current. The next moment, it began to retreat, slowly but irresistibly.

Like an airplane suddenly shifting into reverse mid-air, a bizarre scene that shouldn't exist in reality is now clearly playing out on the battlefield.

Meanwhile, in the airspace opposite the dragon, a seafood feast and raiding ships awaited their arrival.

High in the sky, nine giant armored tortoises hovered in formation, their massive shells reflecting a cold light in the sunlight, resembling floating shield walls guarding the forefront of the array. Behind them, twenty-two long-tailed war sharks swam through the air like sharp swords, their tail fins whipping out ripples in the air, conveying a tense sense of impending attack.

In the airspace almost perpendicular to the dragon's body, five deep-sea steeds were waiting, their manes billowing in the wind like waves, surrounded by nearly a hundred sharp-toothed eels of various colors.

These eels are shaped like lightning bolts, their scales shimmering with a metallic cold light. Some are dark purple, and some are deep blue. They are like a group of water arrows that are about to burst out at any moment, hovering quietly, yet carrying an uncontrollable ferocity.

At low altitude, thirty-five demon crabs and the overloaded raiding ship had already formed an attack formation.

The crab's six legs powerfully stomped through the air, advancing like a siege engine, while the cannons at the bow of the raiding ship were already aimed at the dragon's exposed lower abdomen.

This seafood feast represents the full force that the Stormweavers Order can muster. As for the others... they are reserves, quietly nurtured in Chapeyuto as a trump card.

Unfortunately, this force isn't composed of mass-produced machines on an assembly line; it's made up of living organisms. Gathering them is a longer process than building an entire fleet of aircraft. They need to be captured, raised, bred, trained, and adapted to the battlefield—each step is time-consuming and irreplaceable.

Among this biological force, the most numerous are the Demon Crabs.

The reason is simple: crabs usually inhabit shallow waters. Once the location of the crabs is determined, the tide chaser only needs to call out gently from the shore, and they will emerge from their shells or crawl directly onto the beach to join the seafood feast.

As for the other members—Deepsea Steed, Giant Armored Turtle, Longtailed War Shark, and Sharp-Toothed Eel—obtaining them is not so easy. They must be searched for and captured by Tidecallers, Trainers, Soul Splitters, and Calamities who venture deep into the ocean.

Each one is an irreplaceable fighting force.

This force is undoubtedly valuable and powerful.

The Navy and the Stormweavers always adhere to a tactic of operating in groups when using them. When needed, they are directly deployed to the Black Ark.

Of course, the exception is the Crab.

According to Dakos's plan, even in the future, when aircraft are invented and naval aviation is established, this seafood feast will still be preserved and will continue to expand.

Although the limited range of land-based aircraft restricts their combat radius in air combat, and they are inferior to aircraft in terms of turning, speed, maneuverability, and numbers, this does not mean that they are outdated.

Because their true battlefield has always been underwater.

Compared to spending huge sums of money designing and building submarines, Darkus preferred to invest resources in developing this underwater biological army.

The next moment—the all-out attack began!

At low altitude, the attached raiding ships and the Demon Crab launched fire at the dragon's belly almost simultaneously.

The sound of machinery exploded in the air, the heavy vibrations of metal mixed with the howling of air being torn apart, forming a roaring ocean.

The Evil Guards, positioned at the bow of the raiding ship and atop the Demon Crab's shell, skillfully maneuvered ballistae and harpoons, unleashing a barrage of arrows and javelin-like projectiles. Unlike the raiding ship, which remained suspended in the air, the Demon Crab, guided by its trainers, maintained its movement, launching continuous belly attacks against the dragon's lower and lateral sides.

High in the sky, the two ballistae mounted on the giant tortoise's shell fired simultaneously, the heavy strings and muffled thuds of the firing creating a continuous, drum-like chorus. The drummer at the rear of the shell pounded the war drum with all its might, the thunderous sound conveying the rhythm of the firing; while the trainer at the front gripped the chains, driving the giant tortoise to charge at the dragon with its massive body. The Tidecaller, sandwiched between the two ballistae, remained focused on maintaining the reverse current, ensuring that the invisible torrent of magic continued to suppress the dragon's flight path.

The long-tailed war shark following behind the giant tortoise suddenly erupted. Under the roar of its trainer, every muscle in its body bulged and trembled like a noose, its tail fin lashing out fiercely at the joints of the dragon's wings, just like Matheran himself wielding a trident. The shark's head suddenly rose, its huge mouth opening to its limit, its cold fangs reflecting the light, as if it wanted to tear a rift in the sky.

At the same time, the five deep-sea steeds that had been waiting in formation moved and headed straight for the dragon's head. Even more deadly were the nearly one hundred sharp-toothed eels, whose formation resembled a tightening metal net as they charged toward the dragon's exposed joints and abdomen.

High in the sky, three forces converged at the same moment—a rain of arrows poured down like a sudden downpour, splashing up large amounts of sparks and blood mist; followed by the iron and teeth of a seafood feast, as if the entire ocean had transformed into countless sharp weapons, enveloping the dragon in a vortex of roaring death.

The drums thundered, the roars surged like a tidal wave, and the crashing of the drums and the thunder of the waves intertwined, drawing the battlefield into a frenzied vortex. Arrows clashed with sharp teeth, pincers with fangs, and blood churned with seawater, enveloping the battlefield like a cloud of smoke.

Seeing the dragon once again puff out its breath, Veltrie's eyes turned cold. She clenched her hands and transformed the power of her aquatic lungs into invisible chains that bound the dragon's throat.

The dragon's breath, which was originally hot and formed, froze and disintegrated in the throat, turning into steaming mist that scattered in all directions.

The dragon, now devoid of breath, roared and thrashed, but the next moment—the swooping giant tortoise had already crashed into its back, while the deep-sea steed, the sharp-toothed eel, the long-tailed war shark, and the demon crab, like swirling spikes, relentlessly attacked every weak point of its body, and crimson exploded in the air, bursting into dazzling spots of light.

The continuous crashes, bites, and roars were overwhelming; every struggle of the dragon was accompanied by ripples, as if the whole world was trembling at his fall.

Every second, the battlefield reached a climax, assaulting the senses of everyone present.

Finally, under the siege of the seafood feast, the dragon, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to escape, let out a final, heart-wrenching roar. The roar pierced through the clouds and shook the sea, its sound carrying an apocalyptic oppression.

Then, the dragon's wingspan suddenly contracted, its body lost its balance, and it plummeted heavily towards the sea. (End of Chapter)