Translator: AnubisTL
At the point of impact, red-hot sparks cascaded like a waterfall.
In his Colossal Form, Rhode's body had swollen to the size of a giant, his strength augmented to a terrifying degree. Thanks to his superior life grade, he wasn't sent flying by the dragon's direct assault, but the immense force still drove his greaves deep into the bedrock beneath his feet.
"Ugh!"
Rhode let out a low snarl, the veins in his left arm bulging as he unleashed a fresh burst of power. The mountain greatshield slammed upward with a heavy whoosh of wind, smashing brutally into the iron dragon's lower jaw.
CRACK!
The sound of shattering horn echoed clearly.
Solgorn roared in pain, his head snapped back by the colossal force as he stumbled backward.
Yet, at the exact same moment, Rhode felt a searing pain erupt in his own jaw, as if struck by an invisible sledgehammer.
Mind Magic—Forced Pain Link.
This spell, a signature of the mind mage path, dealt no physical damage. Instead, it perfectly synchronized and transmitted the pain the caster endured directly to their target.
"Die!"
The red dragon's roar boomed in his ears.
The Vicious Wolf General had barely managed to turn around, too slow to raise his greatshield or heavy sword again. Samantha's claws, wreathed in fury, slammed into his chest.
Boom!
A dull thud echoed as the red dragon's sheer, brutal force tore through him.
Even the mountain rune's formidable reinforcement couldn't fully absorb the blow. A web of deep cracks instantly spiderwebbed across Rhode's breastplate, and he was sent hurtling backward like a stone launched from a catapult.
Sh-sh-sh—!
The White Dragon Treacy's spellcasting never wavered. A dense rain of razor-sharp ice blades descended from the sky, barraging Rhode in mid-air.
Rhode gritted his teeth against the agony, struggling to turn and raise his greatshield to protect himself. But the point of impact on his chest suddenly erupted in uncontrolled bursts of chaotic flames.
It was the Explosive Brand, an alchemist's skill left by the red dragon.
His defense shattered instantly.
Countless ice blades seized the opening, piercing his barrier and clanging against his body, leaving deep gouges and white scars across his heavy armor.
The extreme cold of the ice clashed violently with the residual heat on his armor, producing a fierce hissing sound as thick white mist billowed out.
He slammed into the ground, his chest heaving violently. Using his sword to brace himself, he slowly rose to his feet.
Shield raised in one hand, sword gripped in the other, the rune knight's gaze shifted warily between the three circling dragons, his eyes those of a wounded lone wolf. He dared not make another rash move.
He was a level-16 rune knight, an elite even among his peers.
Yet his opponents—three dragons—all had life grades below 13.
If they were humans, he would have annihilated them all by now, even while outnumbered.
But these three dragons, all around level 12, were using their innate racial superiority to drive him to this desperate state.
What weighed even more heavily on his heart was the realization: a red dragon, an iron dragon, and a white dragon... all three had taken up classes. This was far beyond anything he had anticipated.
A prime-age white dragon, and two juvenile iron and red dragons.
He had expected to be outmatched, but never to be this utterly overwhelmed.
Who could have imagined? They weren't relying solely on their naturally powerful bodies. Each had mastered a distinct and formidable class skill, making them a nightmare to fight.
Under normal circumstances...
Only the prime-age white dragon, who might have lived longer, should have possessed a class. The other two juvenile dragons shouldn't have had one at all.
The most terrifying detail was that the intelligence report explicitly stated the true king of the Ironforged Tribe was a hybrid... a red-iron dragon. Yet even now, in the heat of battle, he hadn't glimpsed a single scale or claw of that red-iron dragon.
His heart sank further, fully realizing they had gravely underestimated the Ironforged Tribe's terrifying strength. These dragons were nothing like the chaotic evil dragons of legend, who knew only destruction. They could not be judged by common standards.
"Crawl, your time has come!"
Red Dragon Samantha let out a low growl of impending victory, beating her wings again as she dove toward the rune knight.
Under the coordinated assault of three dragons with classes, the Vicious Wolf General was already on the verge of collapse, barely managing to hold on.
The other officers and elite soldiers in the army were anxious to help, but they were too deeply embroiled in their own desperate battles to break free.
From high-level combatants to mid-level commanders and rank-and-file soldiers, the Albert Family's proud private army was completely overwhelmed by the Ironforged Tribe's monstrous horde.
Meanwhile...
Atop a nearby hill, the red-iron dragon stood silently among the shadowed crags.
His calm gaze pierced the tumultuous night, indifferently fixed upon the chaotic and bloody battlefield below.
As things stood, his personal intervention was entirely unnecessary. With core top-tier bosses like the Serpentfolk Blademaster and the dragonblood ogre still guarding the Frontierlands, the high-level familiars deployed here did not constitute his full main force.
Yet even so, the Ironforged Tribe's army was already overwhelming the noble's private army, leaving them struggling to hold their ground.
The dragon pack was gradually growing stronger amidst blood and fire, and the Ironforged Tribe's edge was becoming sharper by the day. Garos clearly realized that his own wings were steadily filling out.
Not every war required his personal participation.
Admittedly, if he intervened, he could end the battle with the swiftness of a thunderbolt. But he had invested his heart and soul into cultivating his familiars precisely to lighten his own burden, not to serve as their eternal babysitter.
Challenges within his familiars' capabilities were meant for them to face and resolve; doing so was a tempering and a test in itself.
If the Albert Family had no other tricks up their sleeve, this privately raised army—cultivated at great expense—was destined to be annihilated here.
Is this all the army they have on the surface? No other hidden blades lurking in the shadows?
The red-iron dragon pondered, his thoughts churning.
He had remained here to hold the line, his primary purpose being to guard against any hidden trump cards the enemy might possess.
Yet, with the battle at this stage, no unexpected developments had occurred.
Could I have been overthinking it?
No!
The moment the thought crossed his mind, the red-iron dragon's gaze sharpened to a blade's edge. He then calmly turned his massive head, his eyes lowering to fixate on a patch of shadow beneath the hill.
A figure was approaching at an incredible speed.
His face was young and handsome, not even inferior to Gold Dragon Alberto's human form. It was none other than the Flower Knight who had been investigating Creekwood Town not long ago—Charles Haynes.
Charles had intended to continue his covert observation, especially hoping to gauge the red-iron dragon's true strength.
However, witnessing the mounting casualties and blood on the battlefield, his compassion finally outweighed his tactical considerations.
Even knowing that revealing himself now would instantly plunge him into a dire situation and potentially draw him into a dangerous, besieged confrontation, he still chose to appear, hoping only to stop this bloody slaughter.
"Respected Ironforged Lord," Charles said, keeping his sword sheathed as he stood his ground. His tone was almost a plea. "I come on behalf of the Albert Family, but I mean no harm. Can we... talk?"
(End of the Chapter)
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