Red dragon: in charge of natural disasters

The ear-splitting sound of crackling electricity reached the ears of the Imperial soldiers: "Azimuth 175, altitude 3500, prepare to fire!"

Accompanied by the grinding of metal, the gun barrels rose sharply. The ogre loaders expertly rammed armor-piercing rounds into the breech, the clatter of brass casings as crisp as silver coins falling to the ground.

And the crosshairs of the scope locked onto the blurry figures with wings sprouting from their backs in the high sky.

The longswords in the Holy Guard's hands blazed fiercely, as heavenly fire and divine light rained down continuously, burning the Imperial soldiers on the ground like divine punishment.

In the eyes of ordinary mortals, they were lofty angels, messengers of gods worthy of worship, but in the eyes of the Imperial soldiers—they were merely enemies, enemies that could be converted into military merit.

"Fire!" The commander's roar and the first shell leaving the barrel exploded simultaneously, the blast of air from the muzzle blowing off the Imperial soldiers' helmets.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Instantly, accompanied by a dense, low roar, countless orange-red lights blossomed in the sky. Fragments wove a burning net between the clouds, howling towards the Thracian Holy Guard in the high sky.

To counter the Angelic descendants, the Empire had also inscribed runes specifically targeting the power of the Sun God on many of the armor-piercing rounds.

The leader of the Holy Guard—an angel with six wings—wore a detached expression. Flames surged within his golden pupils, and the brand between his brows lit up.

"Sacred Chant Branding, Divine Eye as Torch."

He chanted the hymn in a low voice, slowly waving the blazing longsword in his hand. The tip of the sword drew a circle in the air, and a scarlet magic circle formed from sparks appeared before him.

The other Holy Guards followed suit, chanting hymns and drawing circles with their longswords. More and more scarlet magic circles appeared in the air, eventually converging into an inverted pentagram formation hundreds of meters in diameter, dyeing the sky orange-red.

"Boom!"

"Boom! Boom!"

The armor-piercing rounds from the anti-aircraft guns bombarded the magic circle, causing explosions one after another, but failing to shake the formation in the slightest, only stirring up ripples of energy.

The magic circle was vast and complex, but not at all sacred, instead presenting a blood-like crimson color, revealing a hint of eerie aura.

Tar on the ground frowned, muttering to himself: "Inverted Pentagram..."

The Holy Guards swung their longswords, and accompanied by a muffled rumble in the sky, burning meteorites poured out from the magic circle, crashing down towards the Imperial soldiers.

Even more terrifying was that the bottom of each meteorite was enveloped by a constantly rotating inverted pentagram formation.

Even the shells were kneaded into a ball, turning into a huge metal sphere nearly ten meters in diameter, plummeting towards the ground.

The sky trembled, the earth shook, and the full-force strike of the Holy Guard was no less powerful than a forbidden spell above the ninth circle, far beyond what mortals could withstand.

"Buzz—"

But at this moment, under the full-force strike of the Holy Guard, they themselves had become victims, people in despair before the arrival of disaster.

Watching the meteorites falling from the sky, Tar was shocked and quickly ordered: "Anti-aircraft guns, intercept them! Open fire!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The muzzles of dozens of anti-aircraft guns erupted with fire, and the shells, trailing smoke, soared into the sky, once again weaving a dense net in the air.

But these meteorites were all enveloped by the inverted pentagram formation. Even if they were attacked by shells, they would not explode in mid-air, and would even absorb and wrap the metal of the shells.

Scorching rubble rained down on the earth like raindrops, easily taking the lives of Imperial soldiers and even piercing through steam tanks.

Before the meteorites even landed, the scorching airflow swept across the earth, the heat searing the skin, the sand stinging the eyes, and the air filled with a burnt smell.

The Imperial soldiers wanted to turn around and run, but found that the meteorites seemed to be everywhere, already covering the entire Imperial position.

"Burn away the sinful souls, may our Lord exist forever—"

The earth cracked open, and countless red-hot chains rose, dancing wildly in the air, cutting off the roads leading to the outside world, and trapping this Imperial army.

Fear eventually turned into despair. Many Imperial soldiers knelt on the ground, praying to the god in their hearts—Emperor Keshus the Incinerated—to come forward and save them from the death trap.

"Great Red Dragon..."

"May His Majesty Keshus bless us, we will survive!"

The half-dragon officer looked at the meteorites constantly approaching the ground, gritted his teeth, and showed unwillingness on his face. Sweat had already soaked his back.

Tar knew that once these meteorites completely landed, the mixed division he commanded would probably be annihilated.

This might be the first time since the founding of the Empire that an Imperial army had been wiped out in an organized manner. As the supreme commander of this army, he would be nailed to the pillar of historical shame.

Tar shouldered a rocket launcher and fired at the meteorites overhead, while roaring: "Magic defense team, hold them back for me!"

More than a hundred burly ogres raised the giant shields in their hands, and the runes inscribed on them suddenly lit up, releasing an anti-magic force field, forming a hemispherical domain hundreds of meters in diameter, covering the Incinerated Empire's position within it.

But soon, the huge meteorites smashed down, like shattering an eggshell, easily crushing the anti-magic shield.

"Boom!"

With a deafening roar, fire soared into the sky, and billowing smoke swept across the earth, swallowing everything on the ground—whether it was Imperial soldiers, cannons, or steam tanks.

The heat wave sweeping across the earth overturned everything, and countless charred limbs and fragments flew everywhere, forming a terrifying storm.

Just then, ripples appeared in the distant space, followed by spatial rifts appearing in the sky. A dozen airships and hundreds of wyverns poured out from them, like surging clouds, instantly occupying most of the sky.

"Roar—"

Alger soared in the high sky, riding the Dragon Vein Great Eagle. He looked at the soaring fire and smoke, and his pupils shrank sharply: "Not good, we're still too late..."

He raised his longsword and pointed it at the Holy Guard in the distant sky, shouting: "We must not let them leave! Avenge the fallen warriors!"

Instantly, the wyverns raised their heads and roared, flapping their wings and spewing out scorching dragon flames, like a surging tide, heading towards the Holy Guard with great momentum.

The elemental heavy cannons under the airships also aimed at the Holy Guard in the distance, firing beams of extremely powerful light, erupting with a surge of elemental fury mixed with lightning, frost, and flames.

Countless missiles flew through the air, as dense as raindrops, and bombarded the Holy Guard.

After unleashing that terrifying meteor cataclysm, the Holy Guard's energy was almost depleted, making it impossible to sustain further combat.

Many members of the Holy Guard underwent bizarre transformations, their skin cracking to reveal crimson flesh, even the feathers on their wings falling off and burning in mid-air.

The leader of the Holy Guard turned his head, fanning his six wings, and gazed expressionlessly at the Empire's reinforcements, his voice indifferent: "Our purpose has been achieved. There's no need to entangle ourselves with them. Let's go."

"Yes, sir."

Upon hearing the order, all the Holy Guard members raised the longswords in their hands. Their movements were uniform, almost like puppets being manipulated.

"Buzz—"

Beams of light soared into the sky, scattering the clouds, like giant pillars supporting the heavens and earth.

The ethereal sacred song resounded again, and the inverted pentagrams beneath the Holy Guard's feet spun rapidly. The surrounding space gradually twisted, shattered, and was enveloped by a layer of faint light.

"Damn it, they're going to teleport! We absolutely can't let these Thracians escape!" Alger roared anxiously, his diving speed increasing, transforming into a streak of crimson afterimages.

"You guys try to seal off the space as much as possible, I'll go disrupt them!"

On the airships, the Empire's court mages also raised their staffs, chanting incantations, and constructing complex and intricate magic models, trying to seal off the surrounding space.

[Dimensional Lock]

Only to see thick magic chains stretching out from the void, shimmering with faint light, gradually closing to surround the surrounding space.

And the distance between Alger and those Holy Guards was getting closer and closer.

"Roar—"

He came aggressively, the dragon-veined giant eagle beneath him let out a heart-wrenching roar, exuding boundless dragon might, even a massive, majestic red dragon phantom appeared behind it.

As the Empire's Dragon Blood Duke, one of Emperor Scoria's earliest retainers, Alger's strength was extremely terrifying, capable of creating the momentum of hundreds of Crimson Scale Conquerors charging with a dragon roar simultaneously by himself.

Before long, accompanied by a streak of afterimages streaking across the sky, the distance between Alger and the Holy Guard leader was only five hundred meters. At the giant eagle's speed, it would only take a moment to cross.

"Prepare to die—"

Alger roared, crimson scales appearing on his face, veins bulging on his forehead, and fury erupting from his dragon-like golden vertical pupils.

The Holy Guard leader also turned his head, meeting his gaze in the air. Also golden eyes, but revealing an indifferent expression, and two inverted pentagrams slowly rotating within them.

Those pupils were extraordinarily mysterious and profound, as if they could devour a person's soul, causing Alger to lose his mind for a moment.

The Holy Guard slowly fanned the six wings on his back, raised the flaming longsword, pointed it at the dragon knight, and then said in a cold voice: "Dragon lackeys, you will eventually be destroyed by our Lord."

One hundred meters.

Fifty meters.

Twenty meters.

Just as Alger's longsword swung up, about to cleave towards the Holy Guard leader's head—hundreds of Holy Guards, under the shroud of light, first became ethereal, like phantoms, and then disappeared into thin air, completely vanishing without a trace.

And the sound of that sacred song gradually twisted, evolving into a low, hoarse laughter, echoing in the sky.

"Swish—"

Alger's longsword struck empty air, the blade tearing the air, his full-force strike even causing fine cracks to appear in the surrounding space.

He reined in the giant eagle, hovering in mid-air, overlooking the scorched corpses and tank wreckage on the ground, his face incomparably gloomy: "Damn Thracians! They still got away."

Alger spiraled down to the ground, carefully observing the wreckage, smelling the pungent sulfurous odor in the air.

He picked up a pinch of ashes from the ground, unable to help frowning: "The aura of souls? This doesn't seem like something granted by the Sun God, but more like power originating from hell.

This was an entire composite division, the military is probably going to cause a sensation." Alger sighed, his gaze shifting upwards, looking towards the Western Front Army headquarters, his expression becoming even more solemn.

Isaac Valley, the temporary command post of the Empire's Western Front Army, the Empire's senior military officers who received the news from the front were in an uproar, arguing endlessly.

Since the founding of the Empire, this was the first time a division-level unit had been annihilated in its entirety. In a sense, it could be considered a historical first.

If this news were to spread domestically, it would definitely cause a huge uproar, enraging countless Imperial citizens.

"What? The Third Composite Division was completely wiped out?"

"By Keishus! That's fifteen thousand people, equipped with complete armored and air force regiments, how could they be completely eaten by those Thracians!"

"I said long ago, that Tal is a damn incompetent! He simply doesn't have the ability to command a division-level unit!"

"Great Red Dragon, a composite division annihilated in its entirety—this is probably the first time the Empire has suffered such a loss since its founding! This is the Empire's shame! What face do we have to meet His Majesty Keishus!"

"Enough!"

Arturo slammed the table, stood up, and roared with a ferocious expression: "The matter has already happened! Whether it's arguing or shirking responsibility, it's meaningless!

I am the supreme commander of the Western Front Army, I will take responsibility for this matter!"

Arturo glanced around, sweeping his stern gaze across the officers' faces, each with different expressions, before softening his tone and saying through gritted teeth: "We underestimated the Kingdom of Thrace, and we also underestimated the foundation of Fadellan.

Faced with Thrace's deep defensive system, we divided our forces and advanced, like we did when attacking the Northern Lands and Athel, causing the Third Division to become detached from the main force, resulting in such a loss.

Their Holy Guard is capable of unleashing forbidden-spell level attacks. Without high-level combatants like Duke Alger and Duke Misha to resist, they could instantly destroy one of our divisions!"

Another officer said: "We must change our tactics. As one of the three kingdoms that inherited the Holy Fadellan, Thrace has no shortage of trump cards. We should advance steadily and avoid reckless advances that cause unnecessary losses."

"But we are fighting on Thracian soil! If the advance speed is too slow and we get bogged down in a war of attrition, subsequent supplies will be insufficient..."

"Then we will leave those scattered cities to the Starfallers, and concentrate our main forces to attack Augusta with all our might!"

The Empire's officers once again fell into a heated debate, arguing incessantly.

Arturo stared intently at the huge Thracian map in front of him, his hands almost clenching blood, his voice hoarse: "Holy Guard..."