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33. The Regent Queen
The ensuing battles were devoid of flashy clashes or the strategic maneuvering and skillful maneuvering that Sulfur had been so eager to engage in.
The barrier, like an invisible cage, firmly confined the Smoke Dragon Beast within. The twelve magic ships were arranged in a regular polyhedral array in the air, each occupying a vertex. Eisen and Svent remained stationed on the flagship's deck, directing and controlling the fleet's magical power to maintain the dynamic balance of the barrier.
"Doesn't the magic ship run for free?!" Trapped in the center of the barrier, the Smoke Dragon Beast finally couldn't contain itself any longer. Its fiery red hair danced eerily in the windless air. "Don't you care about the magic power consumed to maintain this barrier? What exactly do you want?"
Its voice carried obvious anxiety; this passive waiting state clearly made this undead creature, accustomed to taking the initiative, extremely uncomfortable. As a legendary spellcaster, "Sulfur" certainly had the ability to break through this barrier, but only if there weren't two other legendary spellcasters specifically controlling and altering it.
Eisen coldly stared at the trapped Smoke Dragon Beast, his fingers lightly stroking the hilt of his spear: "Your provocation is useless. Stop yelling. We won't engage in any pointless magical duels with you."
Svent added, "Our mission is to trap you. With the support of the array of twelve magic ships, you are destined to lose this game. We have plenty of time..."
Just then, two dragons and one human figure flew in from afar. It was Fionamiron and Agatha, who had reverted to their dragon forms, followed by Tagan Nightwind, who was also flying with outstretched wings. The winged elf's expression remained gloomy, and his pale golden eyes burned with the fury of revenge.
"The key issue isn't what we want to do," Fiona landed gracefully on the flagship's deck, her golden vertical pupils coldly fixed on the Smoke Dragon within the barrier, "but rather, what do you want to do?"
She slowly walked towards the edge of the barrier: "What exactly was your purpose in disguising yourself as a harpist and instructing Göstag to infiltrate the Cult of the Dragons?"
"Sulfur's" expression instantly turned subtle.
It carefully sized up the group of newcomers, judging their strength and origins from their equipment and aura. After a long pause, it finally spoke: "You are not the Dragon Worship Cult. I've heard of you, the dragons and half-dragons of Sword Coast..."
Its voice held a hint of surprise and... something akin to hope: "You're the reinforcements Gerstagg brought. Where is he?"
Upon hearing the mastermind recite his disciple's name, Tagan's face instantly turned ashen. He strode to the barrier, gripping his sword hilt tightly: "Dead."
The Smoke Dragon Beast's expression froze, a fleeting, indescribable emotion crossing its face.
"My disciple, Gustag," Tagan's voice trembled, not from fear, but from anger, "that kind and righteous young man, under your influence, successfully infiltrated the Dragon Cult, learned certain secrets, only to be exposed at the last moment, and then hunted down by the Dragon Cult's lackeys..."
His voice grew louder and louder, until it was almost a roar: "He died right in front of me!"
The winged elf released her grip on the sword and eagerly pulled two heavy books from her backpack: one was Samaster's journal, and the other was the Dragon Shamanic Codex. The book covers gleamed with an ominous dark red light in the sunlight, as if stained with Gestagg's blood. "You, Lin Yongyong, are you free? You, Lin Zaizai, are you free...?"
"In his final moments, he entrusted these two books to me, hoping I would protect them," Tagan said, his wings fluttering slightly, each feather trembling. "The very next day, a key pawn planted by the Dragon Cult within Lolebane risked exposing his identity to retrieve the books."
He raised his head, his violet eyes burning with a hatred as fierce as a raging fire: "Now, if you cannot answer my questions, I will send you to the underworld to personally answer to the soul of my disciple."
Upon hearing this, "Sulfur's" expression shifted from shock to pain, finally settling into a self-deprecating bitter laugh: "Don't be ridiculous, a rare winged, pointy-eared creature. If your disciple was killed by the Dragon Worship Cult, his soul probably won't be able to reach the underworld."
As if a sharp blade had pierced his heart, the winged elf's face turned even paler, and his body swayed slightly.
But "Sulfur's" tone suddenly turned serious: "Since you're not part of the Dragon Worship Cult, at least our goals are aligned."
It paused, its gaze sweeping across the faces of the crowd: "Do you know what the enemy you face—the Dragon Worship Cult—is?"
Fiona sneered, her wings trembling slightly in the wind: "Samaster, the chosen one abandoned by the goddess of magic, the Dragon Cult, the Dragon Lich, 'The dragon of death will ultimately rule the world'..."
She paused, then said, "I know more than you think, Smoke Dragon Beast. Don't try anything funny..."
The Tungsten Dragon Paladin's voice grew even colder: "If you can't tell me anything useful, then I'll have no choice but to imprison you here until you cooperate. Rest assured, our magical reserves are enough to keep you imprisoned until your lifespan ends..."
"Sulfur" let out a disdainful sneer: "Heh."
Fiona suddenly stretched her neck, her face, covered in bright red thorns, contorted in a human-like expression of sudden realization: "Ah, my mistake."
Her tone lightened, but the content sent chills down one's spine: "I almost forgot, you've already been transformed by Samass into a half-dead, half-living being, almost like a vampire? The power of death has replaced your life; your natural lifespan is extremely, extremely long..."
The tone shifted abruptly, turning sinister: "But... what do you think those bronze dragons might do, knowing that an evil half-dead smoke dragon has been dwelling near their sacred grounds for hundreds of years?"
The sulfur-coated dough twitched.
Fiona didn't stop, turning to Tagan: "Master Tagan, when we talked about Lorba's faith and temple last time, you seemed to mention how much holy water the priests of the Weeping God stored in the temple?"
Tagan's voice became unusually calm: "Five hundred cubic meters."
He continued, "After the demonic invasion of Damara, the bronze dragons have been preparing for war against the invasion of the evil army. With their help, the priests of the Weeping God created a total of five hundred tons of holy water, which was stored in the temple's back garden, like a pond..."
Sulfur's expression clearly changed, but it still tried to remain calm: "You're threatening me? That's not like something a paladin would do."
Agatha Dorothy Long stepped forward, her divinely bestowed radiance turning her vibrant scales golden: "Given your status and what you've done, don't you find it laughable to say such things?"
Her voice was like that of a celestial attendant, sacred and solemn: "We shouldn't have threatened you, but rather taken you directly to the light of dawn, driven the Demon-Slaying Nail imbued with the Evil-Breaking Slash into your heart, then cut off your head and soak it in holy water, until your body and soul were completely burned away."
Even faced with such a direct threat of death, the Smoke Dragon Beast remained silent. Its lips were tightly pressed together, its gaze sweeping across the faces of the crowd, clearly undergoing a fierce internal struggle.
Fiona observed "Sulfur's" expression and nodded to herself.
So far, everything she has experienced and discovered falls within the scope of the young supreme dragon's speculation, the Iron Dragon who forcibly took her as its mate: this Smoke Dragon Beast does know some secrets, but it also doesn't know many more core secrets.
"Since you're unwilling to cooperate," Fiona flicked her tail, "then you can stay here and think it over. We'll go take care of other things."
Three hours later, in the audience hall of the Royal Palace of Loreba.
Fiona Milon and Agatha Dorothyron, now in human form, formally presented the activities of the Cult of Dragons and the threat posed by the Grey Forest to Queen Imbutu and the Council as diplomatic ambassadors and paladins of the Deepwater Territory.
"Your Majesty," Fiona bowed gracefully, her voice echoing clearly in the hall, "according to our investigation, the Cult of the Dragons has established a significant stronghold in the Grey Forest and infiltrated the city of Loleba. This poses a serious threat to the entire Kingdom of Inbutu."
Queen Imbutu, seated on her throne, was a strikingly beautiful woman with long, silver-grey hair and deep blue eyes. She wore a magnificent bronze robe, with a bronze dragon emblem pinned to her chest. The Queen's expression was serious and focused, indicating that she took this news very seriously.
Fiona knew that this was not the case. Since the year dr1336, Princess Sambril had been married off by King Rilinbula to her second cousin, Infilas IV. Infilas IV was a traitor who was under house arrest in the Royal Tower of Feru, while still being the Crown Prince of Imput.
In 1338, the Year of the Wanderers, King Rilinbula, Prince Velinlauen, and Crown Prince Infilas IV perished in a mysterious fire in Firu. The infant Prince Solinbula, a descendant of Velinbula, was crowned King of Imput, with Infilas's wife, Sambril, becoming regent. In 1351, King Solinbula of Imput and his entire retinue were assassinated by a group of unknown assassins while riding through the fields outside Lorba. His infant nephew, Infilas V, succeeded to the throne, with Sambril continuing as regent.
In the year dr1363, the year of the Wyvern, Infilas V died of a wasting disease before the succession to the throne of Imbutu could be announced. His younger brother, Imbra II (age 5), succeeded to the throne. Sambril continued as regent queen.
A few short historical chronologies of Inbutu are enough to demonstrate what kind of person this queen was.
Fiona couldn't comment on this power struggle among humans; she could only cautiously deal with this ruthless queen. And indeed...
The old nobles on the council were a completely different story.
"The envoy from Deepwater Territory," an elderly count with a white beard and sharp eyes rose to his feet, "you claim the Dragon Cult is a threat, but what concrete evidence do you have? Isn't it a bit hasty to order our troops based solely on rumors?"
Another marquis chimed in, "Moreover, as far as I know, Deepwater Territory has recently expanded quite rapidly in the Sword Coast region. Now they're asking us to send troops to the Grey Forest; isn't that an attempt to weaken our military strength?"
"That's right," the third duke said with a sneer, "Now that several cities in Butu are under attack by dragon hordes, we've already dispatched a large army to fight them. If we send our already stretched forces to the Gray Forest to search for the so-called dragon liches, Loleba will fall to your army."
The council's questions rose and fell, these stubborn and conservative old nobles making things difficult for Fiona at every turn and accusing her of plotting something sinister. The atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly tense, almost to the point of drawing swords.
Fiona maintained her elegant smile, but Agatha's hand had already subtly rested on the hilt of her sword. Just as a conflict was about to erupt, the Queen suddenly spoke.
"Enough." The Queen's voice, though not loud, carried an undeniable authority. "Silence, elders."
No one dared to challenge the authority of the queen who had risen to power over countless corpses at this time—the council was nothing more than a puppet playing the good cop, and now the queen felt it was her turn to play the bad cop.
Human politics is so boring, Fiona sighed inwardly.
The audience hall fell completely silent. The Queen rose and walked to Fiona. "Emissary from the Deepwater Territory," she said, "please forgive the rudeness of my subjects. The recent war has indeed put everyone on edge."
The Queen bowed deeply: "On behalf of the Kingdom of Imbutu, I apologize to you."
Fiona quickly returned the greeting: "Your Majesty, you flatter me. I understand everyone's concerns."
No matter how boring she was, she had to play along. Years of living in human society had made her accustomed to this kind of hypocritical activity—which is why she could act as Casalos's ambassador.
The Queen straightened up, but her expression clearly showed signs of fatigue: "Let's adjourn today's meeting. I need time to consider your suggestions."
After saying that, she quickly left the hall, clearly wanting to end this awkward meeting as soon as possible.
After leaving the palace, Agatha finally couldn't help but ask, "How is it?"
Fiona's expression turned serious: "I saw it clearly. Quel'Thuzad, the captain of the Bronze Dragon Knights of Imbu, a companion of the legendary paladin Lanrim, who was guarding the Queen, has indeed been tainted by a power he shouldn't have..."
She paused for a moment: "Casaloz is right, there is a traitor in the Inbutu Palace."
Agatha gritted her teeth: "It's the Dragon Cult again. Those lunatics have been getting more and more active lately."
Fiona nodded: "It seems that simple diplomatic negotiations won't work. By the time we convince this queen, Imbu will probably have already become the backyard of the Dragon Cult... I think it's time to demonstrate our strength and sincerity."
34. Dragon War
Above the gray forest, more than ten giant dragons formed a standard wedge formation, their various metallic lusters reflecting each other in the sunlight—the tungsten dragons, dark green adorned with bright red and yellow, the silvery-white chrome dragons like mirrors, the slender blue-purple cobalt dragons, the short and stout gray nickel dragons, and the most numerous, blue or purple, mottled dragons, like flowing metallic rainbows streaking across the sky.
Two hundred Iron Dragon Bloodline Half-Dragon Warriors followed closely behind in several small teams, their uniform silver-white scales reflecting large swaths of shimmering light.
Fiona Milon was positioned at the very front of the formation, leading the entire formation to maintain a spearhead shape.
"Target confirmed, three kilometers ahead," a cobalt dragon reported via telepathy.
Fiona nodded slightly: "All units, lower your altitude to 300 meters, disperse according to attributes into wave-based ground attack formations, and completely destroy this stronghold."
"Understood!" the dragons responded in unison.
The formation began its descent, the air currents whipped up by the massive dragon wings causing the treetops below to sway wildly. As they descended, the full panorama of the Dragon Worship Cult's stronghold gradually came into view—black spires, twisted altars, bustling cultists, and the pale purple protective array that enveloped the entire camp.
"The magic array's strength is moderate, so it seems they don't have many spellcasters, and their levels aren't very high..." Agatha said from the right flank of the formation, "but the stronghold is quite large, with at least three hundred people."
"Exactly, leave no one alive." Fiona's voice was icy. Her sensitivity to evil, coupled with the pent-up anger she felt towards the Regent Queen, fueled the paladin's murderous intent: "First wave, Dragon Slayers, target the magic circle node!"
The five dragon heads immediately broke away from formation and began to dive. As they descended to a height of 100 meters, they simultaneously opened their enormous mouths, and blue-white lightning erupted from their throats. Five thick, silver bolts of lightning tore through the air, eclipsing even the blazing sun.
Boom!
Amidst the deafening explosion and the pungent smell of ozone, the protective shield of the Bailong Cult stronghold contracted violently, its surface riddled with cracks from the strain.
"Second wave, Nickel Dragons, acid suppression!"
The three-headed nickel dragon followed closely behind, its dark green acid mist cascading down like a waterfall. Corrosive liquid seeped in along the cracks, the array base crumbled, and the entire protective shield began to melt rapidly.
"Third wave of attack, half-dragon troops, electric sparks everywhere! Chrome dragons block the retreat!"
The electric sparks unleashed by two hundred half-dragon warriors simultaneously were far more spectacular than the breath of several dragons. Dense arcs of electricity and red flames converged in the air, cascading down towards the stronghold like a waterfall. At the same time, the chromium dragons created a ring of ice around the stronghold, completely cutting off the cultists' escape route.
The shrieks and wails of the undead rose and fell, while the cultists not yet transformed into undead creatures were carbonized by the electric sparks, unable to utter a sound. Those who tried to escape crashed into ice walls and were melted by the acid spreading across the ground. The entire stronghold was instantly much cleaner.
Just then, a dense surge of negative energy erupted from the top of the black tower in the center of the stronghold. A gigantic giraffe skeleton, resembling a crocodile's head and wings, burst forth from the tower, carrying with it a chilling aura and the scent of death.
It was a female green dragon lich, with some decaying flesh still clinging to her skeleton, and eerie green soul fire burning in her empty eye sockets. Most bizarrely, her spine was riddled with black bone spurs, like barbed needles.
"It's Omaragas's 'Needle'." Fiona recognized the dragon lich, then looked at Agatha, "Are you sure you want to fight it alone?"
Agatha took a deep breath, her dragon roar burning with fighting spirit: "This is my trial. If I can defeat a fully grown dragon lich, my path of the paladin will reach its pinnacle."
Fiona paused for a moment, then finally nodded: "I respect your choice. But remember, your life is more important than any breakthrough."
"Don't worry." Agatha spread her wings and broke away from the formation. "I won't die easily; we don't have many compatriots left."
Omarags had fully ascended, her decaying dragon wingspan reaching forty meters. Each flap unleashed a stench of death, even more repulsive than the green dragon's usual pungent chlorine odor: "Just some more ignorant insects!"
"Enough with the nonsense!" Agatha roared, accelerating towards the dragon lich. "Today is your death day!"
Omaragas, being older and stronger than the subspecies, had a clear advantage in size. Her robust basic strength, combined with the dragon lich's immortality, allowed her to completely outpace Agatha in flight speed.
"Little girl, I've killed plenty of tungsten dragons while I was alive!" Omaragas grinned maliciously. "You self-proclaimed righteous fools are always so naive! I've decided to use you as a new resurrection vessel!"
When the distance was reduced to two hundred meters, Agatha suddenly turned right.
Seeing this, Omaragas also turned to the right, separating the two dragons flying head-on. The dragon lich planned to use its superior physical strength to enter the double circle and suppress its opponent—whoever completed a full circle first would gain an attack angle sooner.
The two dragons entered a horizontal spiral pattern resembling an "8". Omaragas's judgment was correct; she was indeed faster. Although she made a larger circle, she was almost finished with a full circle, while the tungsten dragon, which had turned first and was drawing smaller circles, had only just passed the halfway mark.
Just as she was about to aim her outstretched dragon head at the tungsten dragon's exposed back, Agatha suddenly pulled herself up in a graceful high-flying motion, flying higher and slower, completely escaping the attack range.
"Trying to escape?" Omaragos roared, changing course and recklessly climbing in pursuit. "Altitude won't save you!"
Agatha recovered from her inverted flight, tilting her head back as she continued to climb, achieving a minimal turning radius at low speed, once again avoiding the green dragon lich's attack axis. During the chase, the two dragons entered a scissor maneuver, flying in a crisscross pattern on the vertical plane.
Agatha's smaller size and slower speed became an advantage, making her more agile than Omaragas with each turn. On the third crossroads, she seized her opportunity. She opened her mouth, and dragon breath, shaped into a sphere and imbued with divine power, roared forth, aiming straight for the dragon lich's abdomen.
Omarags reacted extremely quickly, dodging the attack with a rapid barrel roll. However, this maneuver caused her to lose her spiral ascent and a significant amount of height and speed, negating her initial energy advantage.
"Damn it!" She realized something was wrong.
Agatha gave her no chance to adjust, using her height advantage to swoop down and cleverly cut into Omaragas's tail blind spot.
"Where? Where are you?" The dragon lich shook its head frantically, but the enormous wind resistance prevented its slender neck from turning its head at any angle, and its vision remained limited, making it impossible to find the tungsten dragon's location.
Agatha remained behind the dragon lich's right wing, which was draped in tattered membranes. Using a sharper turn, she gradually closed the distance to attack. Taking a deep breath, golden light flashed, and three fan-shaped breaths erupted in succession, each containing a deadly, holy power against evil creatures. The scorching flames struck Omaragas's neck and back, instantly igniting the decaying flesh and turning the black bone spikes glowing red.
"Aaaaah!" The dragon lich let out a shrill scream, completely losing its balance and falling to the ground like a bird with broken wings.
Without hesitation, Agatha folded her wings and swooped down to pursue. The wind whistled past her ears, and the ground rapidly enlarged in her vision.
As Omaragas plummeted, she fought back desperately, her bone claws aimed at the swooping tungsten dragon. A jet-black ray shot out, one of the most vicious instant-death spells among the liches' signature moves, instantly annihilating the soul of the one struck.
A crimson glow emanated from Agatha, the intricate patterns of the Carved Skin Dragon flowing beneath her scales. The death ray struck the barrier, both dissipating into specks of black light.
The next instant, the two dragons collided violently in mid-air.
The immense impact shook the surrounding air. Agatha's fangs bit deep into the dragon lich's neck, the holy power of the Evil Slash burning the undead creature's very essence like a raging fire.
"Impossible!" Omaragas struggled frantically. "I am immortal! I received Samaster's blessing!"
Agatha didn't respond, only biting harder. Her claws tore through her opponent's wing membranes, her wings like two giant scissors, slashing fiercely across the dragon lich's body. Each attack was imbued with a purifying strike, holy light erupting at the point of contact, purifying the evil undead power bit by bit.