Ember Dragon

Chapter 705: Cultivators and Angels

"Hahaha! My chainsaw sword is starving!""Give me your life!"

The Dragon Scale cultivators charged toward Saint Michael City wielding explosive guns and chainsaw swords.

As products of the Empire’s genetic engineering technology, their charging method differed from ordinary soldiers. While others ran on two legs, they loaded themselves into "sky cannons" and launched themselves.

Others grabbed the claws of wyverns, releasing their grip as they neared Saint Michael, calculating the landing precisely to drop themselves straight in.

Just crashing into crowds caused hundreds of casualties, smashing the flesh-and-blood soldiers of Thrace to pulp, their limbs flying.

"Boom!"

A steel storm descended from the sky, crashing onto the city walls with a roar, flattening over a dozen Thrace soldiers.

"Hahaha! A great day starts with boarding the enemy ship!"

This guy was fully immersed in role-play, forgetting his identity as the leader of the Mechanic Church—now a full-blown war maniac.

"What a beast!"

"Quick, kill him!"

"Damn wyvern lackey! Why is he even here?!"

Although terrified, the nearby Thrace soldiers closed in, firing outdated double-barrel shotguns, obsolete by Empire standards for years.

"Bang! Bang!"

The hot lead bullets bounced harmlessly off the Iron Frenzy’s exoskeleton armor without leaving even a scratch.

"Still fighting back?"

Iron Frenzy raised his explosive gun, its barrel nearly the size of a small cannon, and aimed at the Thrace soldiers.

"Bang!"

The muzzle flashed. The bullet shattered into fragments before hitting, unleashing a storm of metal shrapnel that tore the panicked Thrace soldiers to pieces.

"Bang! Bang!"

More roars followed as Iron Frenzy fired into the crowd, spraying blood and flesh. A fan-shaped web of fire shredded everything nearby.

"Amanata above, that thing’s a monster!"

"Don’t get near it!"

"Solar God help us! How can something exist that bullets can’t hurt?!"

Facing their friends’ mangled corpses, the Thrace soldiers lost all courage, faces pale, knees trembling, instinctively retreating.

"Tsk, tsk, that’s the feeling I want." Iron Frenzy blew away the gun smoke, then drew his chainsaw sword and grinned savagely: "Since you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you!"

Iron Frenzy leapt directly into the chaotic crowd.

"God!"

"He’s coming!"

The Thrace soldiers, like frightened sheep, panicked under the onslaught of the Dragon-Scale Professional.

"Hyaah!"

With a fierce punch, Iron Frenzy exploded a soldier’s head like a watermelon, spilling red and white everywhere.

Then he grabbed another by the neck and hurled him off the towering wall.

"No, no, help me—"

The soldier screamed in terror, but within seconds, a heavy thud echoed—he was no more.

Soldiers scattered in terror, shoving each other, crying and screaming.

But some Thrace soldiers saw the truth and resisted with death-defying resolve, slashing at the Dragon-Scale Professional’s back: "Kill him! If we don’t stop this bastard, we’re all dead!"

"Yeah! All together! I refuse to believe this guy has no weak spot!"

Blades and swords swung, targeting Iron Frenzy’s neck and head.

"Perfect timing! It’s time to go unmatched on the battlefield!" Iron Frenzy roared in laughter, spun around, and slashed with his spinning chainsaw sword.

"Screeech—"

The sound of flesh being torn apart echoed, chilling to the bone.

The chainsaw sword ripped through the ambushing soldiers like wet rags, blood gushing and splashing over Iron Frenzy’s face.

"Hell yeah!" Bathed in blood, Iron Frenzy charged into the crowd like Baal’s chosen, slaughtering wildly.

"Vrrrr—"

Another slash cut through flesh and bone, shearing off a soldier’s shoulder and much of his upper body, innards spraying.

This was the violent beauty of Dragon Scale cultivators—primitive, soul-shaking fear for any mortal soldier.

"Monster!"

"Amanata!"

Soldiers now couldn’t even summon the will to resist, consumed by instinctive panic.

"Bang!"

Another blast from the explosive gun mowed down rows of Thrace soldiers.

With his victims butchered, Iron Frenzy turned to another batch, glowing eyes fixed on them.

"Wh-What’s he doing?"

"No way."

The targeted soldiers stood frozen, legs trembling—they’d witnessed his brutal carnage.

"BOOM!!"

A black shadow streaked overhead. Iron Frenzy laughed: "Come! Who dares fight me one-on-one?!"

The city wall of Saint Michael was now breached in several places, corpses piled everywhere.

At the same time, the Empire’s bombardment intensified. Wyverns carrying ammo dropped dense clusters of bombs.

Explosions echoed constantly, making even those hiding inside the city tremble in fear.

Next came the whale-sized airships. They flew in formation, casting enormous shadows that blotted out the city below.

Any Thrace soldier who showed their head was bombarded by the ships’ elemental laser cannons and machine gun fire—no survivors.

"Help!"

"God, save us!"

The Thrace soldiers huddled in the corners of the city, desperately praying for mercy from their god.

But heavy footsteps followed as giant armor suits appeared on the streets, lowering their heads and extending autocannons into the alleys.

"Bang!"

"Blasphemers! You will be judged!"

A wrathful voice echoed above. Angelic descendants flapped wings, swung flaming swords, and unleashed golden blades of light.

Wyverns were sliced mid-air, steam tanks split on the ground, even Dragon Scale cultivators lost their heads.

"Surround her!"

"That’s an enemy duchess!"

"Hurry, we got a big one here! No visible level!"

Hundreds of players surged forward, casting flame, lightning, frost, and other spells at the angelic descendant.

Some players even latched onto her, layering bodies inside and out.

"Judgment—"

The angelic descendant roared, raising her sword, golden flames flaring in her eyes.

"Whoosh—"

Her wings spread wide. Thousands of blinding beams burned nearby players to ash.

But soon, more Empire soldiers and players gathered, unleashing bullets and shells.

"Bang!"

A bullet engraved with piercing magic ripped through her wings, spraying golden-red blood and dropping bloody feathers.

Furious, she spun around and roared: "Foolish mortals, courting death—"

But then a silver arrow pierced her shield and shoulder, exploding and charring half her body.

The angel howled in pain, but players only got meaner.

Dragon-Oath Paladins in heavy armor and giant shields tanked hits, while archers, mages, and warlocks bombarded from afar.

Among them, the infamous rogue player [Ballad of Night] aimed a sticky-black hand crossbow at the angel’s crotch—somehow, it worked.

"Screeech—"

A black arrow struck bullseye—right in the butt.

Her expression twisted from shame to rage, wings trembling.

"Got her!" Ballad of Night cheered.

"You shameless filth! You should burn in the Solar God’s fire for eternity!"

Enraged, the angel flew at Ballad of Night and beheaded him with a single flaming sword strike.

"Holy shit?!"

The onlooking players gasped—no surprise, one of the infamous "Four Beasts" had aggroed her that hard.

At that moment, a dragon roar echoed above—Singo descended on his wyvern, bow drawn, a magic mark glowing on the angel’s chest.

Wounded, the angel raised her sword and glared.

"Whoosh—"

With a thunderous roar, a glowing arrow shot from the heavens like a meteor.

It pierced her chest, skewering her beating heart—final blow delivered.

"How could this..."

Coughing golden blood, she knelt. Her wings drooped—how could mere mortals kill one as noble as her?

"Holy shit, the boss is about to die!"

"Singo again!"

"Damn it, we worked our asses off and he sniped it again!"

"Hurry, maybe we can still get some EXP!"

"Git gud. Can’t kill-steal, blame yourself, not me." Singo scoffed mid-air, then flew off.

Angry players unloaded all they had on the dying angel.

But then her eyes glowed, her heart lit up, nearly turning her body transparent—energy surged.

"Wait—that’s—"

"She’s gonna self-destruct!"

"Run!"

Players nearby panicked—but too late.

Blinding light burst from within. Her divine core exploded, engulfing all, blowing a massive hole in the city wall.

"My lady, we must go! Leave this place!"

"But it’s Saint Michael City! If it falls, August and His Majesty are in danger!" Tyrena hesitated.

She came on Wilhelm’s mission. If she failed, her prestige would collapse.

At that moment, Misha spotted her, riding Smaug and pointing: "Chase her! That’s Thrace’ angelic duke, Wilhelm’s confidant! Don’t let her escape!"

"Boom!"

A massive fireball surged through the air.

Tyrena folded her broad wings, blocking it.

Another angel defended against wyvern attacks, shouting: "My Lady, we must return to August! See His Majesty!

You matter more than this city. Only the Angelic Descendants and Amanata’s power can save Thrace!"

"Go!" Tyrena gritted her teeth, raised her flaming sword.

A beam shot skyward. Holy chants echoed. Space warped.

"Lock the space around them!" Misha snapped, waving her hand. Chains wrapped the magic web, solidifying it.

"Mere wyvern lackeys dare stop me?! I am Amanata’s vassal, Duke of Thrace!"

Tyrena’s divine sword light pierced the sky. The angelic descendants turned to holy light and vanished.

By the time Misha arrived, they were gone, leaving only ruins.

Riding Smaug, Misha looked down at the shattered Saint Michael, eyes icy as she stared at the wounded soldiers.

"Your so-called Thrace will soon vanish beneath the Empire’s iron heel."