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But this team of twelve half-dragons is special.
They are a force specially created by Casaloz for hunting. Each of them has completed the evolution of the hide with the body of a half-dragon, and has combined arcane and psionic energy with the experience of the world of Ares. Their individual strength is enough to rival most ancient dragons or even primordial dragons.
Building upon this, Casalos spared no expense in equipping them with a complete set of gear, incorporating the pinnacle of Dragonlord's current technology: the dragon-striking spears they wielded, resembling giant halberds, were actually "electromagnetic railguns" powered by both psionic and arcane energy, primarily used for long-range attacks on armored targets. Thanks to the robust mechanical properties of materials like mithril and adamantite, even when used as melee weapons, the dragon-striking spears were among the most advanced magical weapons.
In actual combat deployment, the three halberd blades unlock and expand radially. The composite electromagnetic track, protected by the adamantine shell, is enough to accelerate the astral projectile summoned through psionic energy to a speed unimaginable to the beings of Faerûn, piercing through the chest cavity of an ancient dragon like Karituraar in one strike. And the astral energy from the astral plane, when penetrating into the interior of beings in the prime material plane, will inevitably lose the restraint of psionic energy due to high-speed collision, and will react most violently with the elemental basis of matter, thus becoming the most effective killing medium.
This operation marked the first public appearance of the Dragon Territory's hunting team. They were not wearing matching armor, nor did they carry most of the customized functional equipment, nor did they travel in their own mobile vehicles. Simply displaying the dragon's might was enough to send the "hermits" into hiding, and Casalos was very satisfied with his results.
This hunting party's targets aren't just dragons; fanaticism is Casalos's best guarantee of their loyalty...
More dragon-like beings emerged from all directions, venturing into the serpent dragon's lair to serve as porters. The spellcasters began setting up teleportation arrays, taking out various materials—gems, precious metals, ink—from their robes to draw intricate patterns on the ground. Their movements were professional and efficient, each stroke precise, clearly indicating they had been prepared for this situation.
With the foundations laid, the kobold dragonvein sorcerers began chanting incantations, their movements energetically providing the energy for the teleportation. Their voices blended together to create a strange harmony, and the omnipresent magic and elements began to stir.
The daring, meticulous, and powerful goblins were responsible for applying various mechanical restraints to the skeletal serpent dragon—not to restrict its freedom, but to ensure the safety of the teleportation process. After all, teleporting such a massive creature required extreme caution.
The restless trolls stood on the outermost edge, vigilantly observing their surroundings to ensure no unexpected incidents occurred. Their weapons remained constantly engaged, ready to respond to any potential threats.
The shattered serpent dragon offered no resistance, allowing them to do as they pleased. It even actively contracted its body, allowing the teleportation array to better envelop it. This cooperation made the entire process exceptionally smooth.
Kara watched quietly from the side. The events that had just transpired still had a profound impact on her. Casalos's display of power and control sent shivers down her spine; that absolute dominance stirred within her a primal urge, whether from the depths of her blood or the romanticism she had cultivated over years as a bard in humanoid society.
Her wings opened and closed slightly, her neck twisted unnaturally, and the tip of her tail curled into a spiral, swaying suggestively. Her scales twitched slightly, emitting a peculiar scent... but she quickly realized that now was not the time and forcibly suppressed the surging desire within her.
Even so, her gaze towards Casalos carried a different kind of warmth. It wasn't just lust; it was mixed with deep admiration and adoration. Filtered by hormones, she completely ignored Casalos's shortcomings that didn't satisfy the dragon—for example, Casalos still hadn't given her any rituals in accordance with dragon tradition. From the mother dragon's severely distorted perspective, that became a symbol of some kind of individuality.
The teleportation array began to glow, and magical power surged through the air. The massive body of the Shattered Serpent Dragon began to turn transparent, and the creatures parasitizing it let out their final screams. A few breaths later, a dazzling light flashed, and the Shattered Serpent Dragon and the twelve half-dragons vanished from their spot.
“The cost of transporting such a large amount of supplies is still too high. Valaksaks, where are you hiding?” Casalos murmured helplessly. The black dragon that built the Dragonclaw portal was really too hard to find. Even though Charson and Kenneth’s intelligence networks covered most of Faerûn, they couldn’t find a trace of it.
The valley returned to tranquility, with only the remaining traces of magic circles on the ground and the lingering magic indicating that an extraordinary long-distance teleportation had just taken place.
"Where do we go now?" Kara asked, trying to make her voice sound normal. But it was still much gentler than usual, mixed with a softness she herself wasn't aware of. She instinctively moved closer to Casalos, her long neck lowered slightly, adopting a submissive posture. Her tail swayed unconsciously towards Casalos. "Continue tracking Samaster?"
"I'm not a stalker, why would I track it..." Casalos glanced at her. The dragon's body language was too obvious—slightly open wing membranes, rhythmically swaying tail, and the faint scent of pheromones in the air.
The dragon race's aesthetic sense is diverse, but sometimes it's so direct—power is beauty, dominance is charm. And the power and wisdom it just displayed clearly struck a chord deep within Kara's heart.
However, now is not the right time. Although Kara was its mate obtained through force, now that the relationship has been established, the proper ceremony still needs to be held. After this matter is settled, it plans to hold a formal wedding flight for Kara, and the same goes for Fiona.
"Finding Samasser's original whereabouts is just to determine the progress of his plan." Casalos snapped out of his thoughts, his tone becoming serious.
It looked up at the sky, its indigo eyes seeming to pierce through the clouds and see into the distance: "If the time and information provided by the hermit are correct, then I roughly know where Samass is now—it went to Dragon's Well two years ago, and should have almost completed all its preparations by now."
Casalos didn't explain what the Dragon's Well was. Some things can't be revealed even to one's closest companion. Even though the gods have received new rules and restrictions, it's best to avoid mentioning keywords that might attract their attention, especially since the final boss they're facing, Samaster, is a pawn in the hands of multiple gods.
"Our strength is far from enough to deal with him," Casalos continued. "Samasser's power far exceeds what people imagine..."
"At most a month," Casalos's voice deepened, each word carrying immense weight, "the curse of Dragon Madness will gradually descend upon the continent of Faerûn!"
"A month, so fast!" Kara gasped, her previous romantic thoughts vanishing instantly. Her wings flapped nervously, kicking up clouds of dust. Gravel flew everywhere under the wind pressure. "What should we do? Are we just going to wait for the dragon madness to descend?"
The last dragon frenzy wasn't that long ago. Even though its impact was small, it was still a nightmare for the victims. The dragons fought each other or attacked any creature they could see. Although she was on the periphery at the time and wasn't greatly affected, the bone-deep madness she felt still haunts her.
However, according to predictions, the dragon frenzy unleashed by Samaster will cover the entire continent of Faerûn, and its influence will multiply. Even more terrifying is that this dragon frenzy will not end!
Casalos pondered for a moment, then turned to face her: "Kara, I want you to return to Damara immediately, and publicly, so that all the dragons know you've returned."
"Public?" Kara asked, somewhat puzzled. (The rest of the text appears to be gibberish and unrelated to the question.)
"Yes, the more high-profile, the better." Casalos nodded. "Also, you need to keep an eye on those troublemakers. There are too many young dragons in Damara; they're hot-blooded and impulsive. Once the effects of dragon frenzy begin to appear, they'll be the first to lose control."
It paused, then continued, "What you need to do is, before the Dragon Frenzy truly descends, pick out those who are restless, especially those who are usually difficult to control and like to cause trouble. Gather them together, and have Vicaritular take them, along with their chosen paladin companions, to 'station' in Waterdeep."
"Waterdeep?" Kara was even more confused. "Why there?"
"Waterdeep..." Casalos chose his words carefully, "That city was built on the ruins of an ancient elven empire. You know, the ancient elves were far more skilled in magic than any race today. They set up certain... protective measures there."
It wasn't explicitly stated, but Kara understood. The Dragon Frenzy Lock, as the Great Casalos had said, was actually created by the ancient elves to end the dragons' rule, so it was inevitable that their important cities would have barriers to shield them from the effects of Dragon Frenzy. Although those ancient elven empires had long since collapsed, and the continent of Faerûn had even been torn apart by elven magic, the ancient and powerful magic beneath Waterdeep still held sway—no wonder Waterdeep harbored so many dragons even before Casalos brought it under his rule.
Casalos continued, "Tell Vicaritulal that no one is allowed to leave the territory of Waterdeep without my permission! Those who disobey..."
It didn't finish its sentence, but the coldness in its tone sent a chill down Kara's spine. She knew Casalos meant what he said, and if any dragon dared to disobey his orders, it would certainly not have a good end.
"I understand," Kara nodded solemnly. "I'll keep an eye on them."
"Once the effects of the Dragon Frenzy begin to manifest," Casalos changed the subject, "the Golden Dragon Court will, as usual, convene the Metal Dragons to discuss strategies for dealing with the Dragon Frenzy. As long as you are openly within the Frigid Lands, they must invite you, the open leader of the Damaraja Iron Dragonflight, to the Lead Mountains for a meeting."
At this point, its outer eyelids narrowed into a mocking expression: "Just like every 'natural' dragon frenzy that has ever occurred before, they'll pretend to discuss it for days and nights, arguing endlessly. Then, after wasting a great deal of time, they'll come to the foolish conclusion that all the metal dragons should hide in the barrier and slumber until the frenzy passes."
"Those old fogies..." Kara scoffed. As a rare bard among the dragons, she had many friends and knew the old dragons' ways well. Especially the golden dragons of the Golden Dragon Royal Court, they were always hesitant and afraid of disrupting the existing balance, so they did nothing and let things develop on their own.
"You go to the meeting," Casalos said. "Your task is to stall for time until I've finished what I need to do, then I'll come and meet you."
Kara asked, "What else do you need to deal with?"
Casalos suddenly spread his wings, unleashing a storm that howled throughout the valley, filling the air with a chilling aura:
"What I need to do now is to eliminate as many of Samass's external supporters and destabilizing factors as possible within this window of opportunity that is less than a month long..."
12. A Tumultuous Time
The so-called destabilizing factors naturally refer to those forces or individuals that may seriously affect Casalos's plans and safe areas such as Deepwater Territory in the future—this is not just referring to the Dragon Cult.
The prevailing westerly winds, carrying warmth and moisture from the Sword Coast, converge with the polar easterlies crossing the world's ridge in the subpolar low-pressure zone near the Nether Mountains, forming a rising, strong convective polar front. This creates the vast, warm, and humid frigid habitable region of the Silver Moon Alliance. (The remaining text appears to be unrelated and possibly machine-generated gibberish.)
The humid rain carried the salty smell of Sword Bay, but it couldn't mask the sulfurous and bloody odor that permeated the northeastern part of the High Forest and the southern foothills of the Nether Mountains.
Casalos folded its wings and hovered at an altitude of ten thousand meters above the ground, hidden in the lightning-filled cumulonimbus clouds, overlooking the steel defensive line that stretched across the edge of the High Forest.
The current war is merely the prelude to an even greater crisis to come.
According to the original timeline, Samass's final Dragon Frenzy should have occurred in DR1373. However, if Casalos's prediction is true—which is undeniable—then the final Dragon Frenzy will occur a full four years earlier. And in the original timeline, this year, DR1369, the Year of the Gauntlets, is anything but peaceful.
As Casalos's disruption of the world line becomes increasingly apparent, many major events have undergone radical changes, but indications gathered through the two intelligence networks suggest that many major events will still occur as scheduled.
Hellgate Fortress is such a threat.
If this problem isn't resolved quickly, once the dragons descend, the entire continent of Faerûn will face a dire situation of being attacked from both inside and outside – the crazed dragons are already troublesome enough, but if the demons from the abyss invade, it will be a catastrophe.
From this perspective, the defensive fortifications built by the Deepwater Territory engineering force in just two months are nothing short of a miracle. A 15-kilometer-long, arc-shaped steel wall winds through the valley like a giant python, its thick, barbed steel plates covered in bloodstains and burn marks that rain cannot wash away. The wall is 20 meters high, topped with rows of menacing gun emplacements, and every 50 meters there is a tower, on which fortress cannons, mounted on activated turrets, slowly rotate, searching for their next target.
The design of the defense line fully demonstrates its advantages over its time. The main structure of the city wall adopts a standardized modular design. Each section is produced in Deepwater City, then transported to the front line by train, and then assembled like building Lego bricks.
The interior of the walls consists of a honeycomb-shaped steel frame filled with magically reinforced high-strength cement. The outer layer is covered with a composite armor plate, half a meter thick, composed of layers of aluminum, carbon, ceramics, and rubber, reinforced with multiple layers of mithril or adamantite plating. This design not only resists physical attacks from demons but, more importantly, provides extremely strong resistance to infernal magic.
Hundreds of tracked steel golems were deployed in front of the city walls. These war machines, with their adamantite skeletons and mithril conductive structures, were engaged in a primal carnage with the swarming demons. Each construct was larger than a dragon, standing twelve meters tall and weighing over two hundred tons. Six mechanical arms swung nimbly like steel pythons, wielding various specially designed weapons—a massive warhammer weighing ten tons, each spike on its head imbued with anti-magic power, capable of smashing Balrogs and their decapitating greatswords into a sulfurous pulp with a single blow; a bandsaw longsword equipped with a high-frequency vibration from an eccentric rotor, capable of easily slicing through the weapons wielded by six-armed serpent demons; and of course, many more were "casting arms" that used magic scrolls as ammunition, spewing mottled, fleeting offensive spells at the demon horde as if magic scrolls were free.
Casalos's thoughts drifted to the history of Hellgate Fortress. This terrifying fortress was once Cape Asker, the capital of the elven millennium-old kingdom of Yerran, a shining jewel of the moon elf civilization. After the fall of Netheril, human refugees occupied it, unaware that the Bart'zul had quietly infiltrated and secretly controlled the rulers and commoners. It wasn't until a group of mages realized what had happened and summoned demons to destroy the Bart'zul that the warring monsters tore the city apart, and the victorious demons transformed it into the dreaded Hellgate Fortress.
That happened in DR882, more than four hundred years ago. During that time, the Harpists' Alliance attempted to seal the fortress many times. In DR886, the Year of the Fire Passage, they successfully erected a barrier to prevent the demons from opening the interdimensional gate. However, this seal was not perfect. In DR912, the demons dug underground tunnels, bypassing the barrier and launching a new invasion of the North. It wasn't until the counterattack of the Northern Allied Forces that they were resealed within the fortress.
But now, the seal has been broken once again. Two months ago, Charson's intelligence network discovered that an unidentified figure in black robes crossed the Nether Mountains into the northeastern part of the High Forest, subsequently opening the seal of Hellgate Fortress. Even more terrifying, this time it wasn't the demons sealed away years ago, but a new legion directly from the Abyss—clearly, someone had reopened the portal to the Abyss…
A dozen or so astral constructs hovered low in the sky below the clouds. These creations from the astral plane appeared within the prime material plane like a fluid formed from condensed silver starlight, lacking a fixed shape and constantly changing configuration as needed. Sometimes they transformed into streamlined delta wings for high-speed attacks, sometimes they unfolded into massive platforms to guide firepower for the magical ships and dragon hordes in the air, and sometimes they contracted into compact spheres to evade the pursuit of flying demons.
The "pilots" who pilot these astral constructs are all elites who practice both psychic and arcane magic. They themselves do not have the ability to fly efficiently, but they must learn and train to master complex flight techniques. They also rely on psychic energy to interact with astral matter, continuously inputting psychic energy to maintain the physical form of the astral matter, and using arcane magic to coordinate with the entire military system.
The steel walls were densely covered with various defensive structures. Besides large, construct-driven cannons, there were thousands of smaller weapon stations. Most of these stations were operated by dragon-blood kobolds, firing standard projectiles amplified by magic. Each bullet was engraved with exorcising runes, specifically designed to counter demonic defenses.
A deeper layer of defense relies on a magical network maintained jointly by the Dragonvein Warlocks and the Silvermoon City Mage Order. They constructed a complex array of protective barriers within the walls, transforming the entire defensive line into a massive magical focal point. This array not only provides magical amplification to various weapons but also unleashes wide-ranging buffs and debuffs. Like a maze, it prevents demons from using teleportation spells to breach the defenses and slaughter the vulnerable humanoid spellcasters.
Casalos assessed the current strategic situation. According to intelligence provided by the Charson intelligence network, besides the direct threat of Hellgate Fortress, another potential danger was brewing—Iachtu Silvim, the demigod son of Bane, had likely been freed from the prison beneath the ruins of Santyr Fortress. Under the manipulation of Bane's former followers, Iachtu would soon gain slivers of divine power, becoming the second demigod to roam the continent of Faerûn after Chassa!
Although Charson's spies are still keeping a close watch, once this demigod regains his divine power, he will inevitably become a major threat to the Deepwater Territory. For both personal and professional reasons, if Bane's son wants to cause trouble after gaining power, he will likely target Casalos and the Deepwater Territory first.
However, prioritizing by threat level, Hellgate Fortress remains the highest priority. If the demonic invasion isn't stopped in time, it could escalate into a large-scale war affecting the entire Sword Coast, dragging Deepwater Territory into an inescapable quagmire. While the Sons of Bane are in danger, they need time before regaining their divine power, and Charson's surveillance network is sufficient to provide early warnings.
And if it's just a demigod...
"This is the 173rd wave of attacks," it muttered to itself. It had taken half a week to leave the front lines to deal with the old snake; these demons were truly persistent.
The demon legion's attack pattern has become quite regular—launching a large-scale charge every two to three hours, each time deploying between eight thousand and twelve thousand individuals. The main force of the attack consists of a vast number of cowardly demons and quass demons. Although these low-level demons are not individually strong, their sheer numbers and fearlessness make them formidable.
The cowardly demons and the Quaserfs charged at the forefront, forming a combined air and ground assault formation, their hideous bodies surging like a tidal wave within the demon army. These lowest-ranking demons possessed little intelligence, driven entirely by chaotic instincts, but it was precisely this frenzied charge that placed immense pressure on the allied forces. They would relentlessly pounce on the nearest enemy, attempting to inflict final damage with their claws and teeth even when their bodies were riddled with bullets.
The succubi serving as officers were even more cunning. They typically mingled behind hordes of flying Kwasser, using their allure to try and control the spellcasters of the allied forces. Although the warriors of both Deepwater Territory and the Silvermoon Alliance had received relevant training and possessed a certain resistance to charm spells, prolonged mental attacks would still cause fatigue and impaired judgment.
Interspersed among the offensive are the mid-level demons, who are even more dangerous. Spider-hunters appear in swarms at the weak points of the defenses, and a volley of their demonic beams can melt away half of the armored modules of the city wall; Spider-hunters' unique power can destroy the metallographic structure of steel, thus causing continuous damage to constructs; while the Flomos, which serve as the main force of the demon army's air force, focus on the aerial targets of the allied forces, engaging in fierce aerial battles with astral constructs, half-dragons, and dragon hordes.
As for the Berserkers, Temptresses, Soul-Breaking Demons, and even the Six-Armed Serpent Demons and Balrogs, these high-level demons not only possess formidable individual combat power but also serve as the "brains" of the demon army. The appearance of each high-level demon often signifies an increase in the intensity of the attack—chaotic and eccentric demons gathered together are not frightening, but as long as there is unified command, the name "demon army" takes on meaning.
In fact, the allied forces performed remarkably well in terms of casualty ratio. Each wave of attacks resulted in the loss of between four and six thousand demons, while the allied forces typically suffered fewer than one hundred and fifty casualties. Such an exchange ratio would be considered brilliant in any war, let alone a war against powerful individual abyssal demons.
But Casalos was far from satisfied; what it truly cared about was not the number of demons lost, but the losses of its own troops.
While those tracked steel structures were formidable, each one cost the equivalent of a small magical ship. Although the Deepwater Territory's industrial production capacity was sufficient to quickly replenish lost equipment, the real problem lay in the personnel operating these war machines. The entire Deepwater Territory had no more than five hundred qualified operators, and the number of trainees was less than five figures; each one was a precious strategic resource.
A week of continuous combat had already left the operators visibly fatigued. While the construct itself could achieve all-weather continuous combat capability through rapid maintenance and replacement of worn parts, the operators' mental and physical strength had their limits. Prolonged mental connection caused severe mental strain, with some operators even exhibiting symptoms of neurasthenia. To maintain combat effectiveness, command had to implement a rotation system, but the number of available replacements was dwindling.
The situation with astral constructs is even more complex. While these creations from the astral plane are virtually indestructible in the prime material plane—they can be rebuilt almost instantly regardless of damage, provided the pilot survives—the requirements for their pilots are far more stringent. The entire Deepwater Territory has fewer than two hundred half-dragon pilots with this ability, and training a qualified astral construct pilot takes a full three years. Without the restraint of these constructs, the fragile magical ships of the Deepwater Territory and the Silvermoon Federation would be exposed to the clutches of demons.
Half-dragons and dragon packs, being part of the aerial force, are good at fighting, but as for protecting a magic ship... achieving that goal would require much longer training.
What worries Casalos most are still the spellcasters on the city walls. From Deepwater Territory, the Silvermoon Federation, and the High Forest, these spellcasters—warlocks, dragon vein warlocks, academy mages, war mages, bards, and priests from various temples—are the core of the defense line. They not only maintain various protective barriers but also provide buffs and debuffs and ranged fire support for the front lines. A week of intense combat has already left many showing signs of fatigue, with mental exhaustion becoming increasingly frequent.
"Even if we could eliminate demons at a ratio of one to a thousand," Casalos rubbed his upper and lower jaws together, "I still couldn't afford such a loss. Each warrior requires years to train, while demons can be replenished infinitely from the abyss."
This is the fundamental dilemma facing the Deepwater Territory and indeed the entire continent of Faerûn. While the Deepwater Territory possesses formidable production capabilities, enabling it to rapidly replenish lost equipment and supplies, the training of highly skilled troops and advanced professionals cannot be rushed. Each qualified warrior requires a significant investment of time and resources, and once fallen in battle, they are difficult to replace quickly.
Its gaze swept beyond the battlefield ruins, settling on the terrifying fortress shrouded in black mist in the distance. Hellgate Fortress, like a malignant tumor, was embedded on the edge of the High Forest, its twisted spires pointing skyward, surrounded by an inextinguishable green flame. The fortress's architecture was imbued with the sinister aesthetics of the abyss—sharp edges, twisted lines, and decorations that appeared to be made of bone and flesh.
The most terrifying thing was the enormous portal—a pitch-black vortex over a hundred meters in diameter, suspended above the central plaza of the fortress. Eerie purple lightning flickered at the vortex's edges, while its center was a bottomless abyss of darkness. From this portal, all sorts of demons poured out endlessly, like pus flowing from a wound.
Anyone could sense the evil aura emanating from that portal; it was a power of pure chaos and destruction that Casalos's dragon soul, which leaned towards order, instinctively felt disgusted by.
The stability of this portal far exceeded expectations. Normally, interdimensional portals have strict usage restrictions, but it is unknown what the unidentified black-robed figure did, as this portal of Hellgate Fortress seems to be able to operate without limit.
This is the crux of the problem. As long as that portal remains operational, the number of demons will never decrease. And closing the portal... however exactly it may be, is by no means an easy task.
The defenses of Hellgate Fortress are extremely formidable. In addition to a large garrison of demons, at least three great demons of the Abyss Lord level are stationed within the fortress. These ancient and powerful demons possess near-divine power, and even without the support of the abyss's quasi-divine power, each one is capable of single-handedly fighting an army.
Casaloz, the Abyss Lord, had killed others before. Casaloz, disguised in a golden dragon's hide, along with Gaelos and others, killed Okus, who was considered the Abyss Lord closest to a god. However, Casaloz relied on tactical superiority built on information advantage and on power derived from a true god; Okus was also in a weakened state at the time.
Faced with three completely unknown Abyss Lords—the "bottomless" of the Abyss is no exaggeration; its layers truly seem to extend infinitely. It is known that each layer of the Abyss has one Abyss Lord, meaning the actual number of Abyss Lords far exceeds the numerical understanding of the Forgotten Realms scholars. The sudden appearance of several unknown Abyss Lords is perfectly normal…
13. Sacrifice
Casalos folded its wings, its massive body slowly descending behind the defensive line. The nearly twenty-meter-long iron dragon slammed into the solid ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. A few raindrops still clung to its silvery-white metallic scales, gleaming coldly under the magical lights.
"My lord," Kassarak immediately stepped forward, the scales of this half-dragon kobold guard slightly raised, "The 174th wave of attacks has just been repelled. The demons suffered approximately 7,000 casualties, while our side suffered 187 casualties and 12 constructs were destroyed."
Casalos nodded, a silvery-white light emanating from his body. The aura of the form-changing transformation rippled outwards like water, and the massive dragon body rapidly contracted within the light. Moments later, a human male dressed in a dark robe appeared in the spot. He had short, iron-gray hair and deep indigo eyes, appearing to be no more than thirty years old, yet his eyes held a world-weariness that contradicted his appearance.
"Notify everyone I'm back. There will be an emergency meeting at headquarters in half an hour," Casalos ordered as he walked. "Invite Lady Elasdra, General Forel, and that mysterious Lord of the Mist."
"Understood." Kassarak immediately turned to relay the order.
Casalos walked through the bustling camp, where the marks of war were everywhere. The elite troops of Deepwater Territory were resting methodically—Dragonvein kobolds were maintaining their weapons in small groups, and half-dragon warriors were inspecting damage to their armor. In makeshift workshops, engineers were busy repairing damaged constructs, and massive golem bodies hung in mid-air, magical sparks flashing constantly.
In one corner of the camp, several anacondas lay panting on the ground, their scales covered in scorch marks. Not far away, a singing dragon hummed a healing song in melodious dragon language, trying to ease the fatigue of its companions. The other dragons of Deepwater City also showed signs of exhaustion; a week of intense combat had taken its toll on these powerful creatures.
The spellcasters of Silvermoon City gathered on the other side, most of them pale-faced, showing clear signs of mana depletion. They sat in a circle, meditating to recover their strength. The elite knights of Mysdrono were less concerned with appearances, sitting directly on the ground, their disheveled appearance a far cry from their former glory. As for the dwarven shield warriors… Casalos shook his head; these guys were sprawled out on the ground, snoring loudly.
The smell of raindrops and mud mingled with the stench of gunpowder, blood, and sulfur. This strange odor had persisted for a whole week, leaving everyone exhausted.
The command center was located in a fortress constructed of steel and magic. It was the masterpiece of the Deepwater Territory engineering team—standardized modules that could be assembled into a sturdy fortress in hours. Casalos pushed open the heavy metal door; someone was already waiting inside.
The command center was located in a fortress constructed of steel and magic. Casalos pushed open the heavy metal door; someone was already waiting inside.
Elasdra Silverhand sat at one end of the long table, maintaining her elegant demeanor even in times of war. She wore a deep blue robe, her long silver hair cascading down like a waterfall, and her wise eyes were intently studying the map on the table.
"Lord Casalos," Elasroz raised his head, a gentle smile on his face, "I am deeply gratified to see you return safely..."
"Thank you for your concern, ma'am." Casalos sat down opposite her. "Unfortunately, I don't have any good news to bring."
People entered the meeting room one after another. Forel Blackhammer strode in; even in the standard armor of Deepwater, the lord of the Three Pigs dungeon couldn't conceal his fierce aura. As one of the few legendary warriors of the North, Forel had fought on this land for over forty years. His warhammer, "Skullcrusher," was etched with the marks of slaying powerful enemies; from giants to demons, none trembled before its might. Even more remarkable was that this veteran had fully embraced Deepwater's military doctrine, perfectly combining individual bravery with collective tactics—a key reason why he was chosen as the rotating commander of the Allied Forces.
Following closely behind was a figure shrouded in a gray cloak—the Lord of the Mist. Even indoors, a faint mist always enveloped him. No one knew what lay beneath the cloak, not even his gender. This mysterious spellcaster ruled the Mist Fortress, wielding unfathomable arcane power. Legend had it that he also possessed countless lost artifacts and forbidden knowledge.
"Is everyone here?" an old voice rang out from the corner. Elminster was already sitting there, holding his never-ending spellbook, his long white beard and wide mage hat conveniently obscuring his expression.
"A few more are needed," Elasdra said. "The storm should be approaching soon; she's assisting the Seventh Mage Order in treating the wounded."
The words had barely left her lips when the conference room door burst open. Storm Silverhand strode in, her silver hair still carrying the scent of battle. Behind her followed Kelben Blackstalker and Lyra Silverhand, a married couple.
"Sorry I'm late." Storm casually found a seat. "The corrosive toxins from those demons are more troublesome than I expected."
Finally, representatives from other factions entered: Helm Dwarf Friend, the dwarven lord of Sandaba City, his legendary warhammer "Mountain Crash" leaning against his chair. This legendary warrior was not only a master of combat but also one of the few dwarves to have mastered the art of rock defense, capable of petrifying parts of his body in battle, gaining near-invincible defensive power. His beard was braided into intricate plaits, each plait representing a glorious victory. As the lord of Sandaba City, he had led his dwarves in their battle against dark creatures deep underground for over two hundred years; his presence on the surface to participate in the war demonstrated the gravity of the situation.
Tulang, the treant representative of the High Forest, slowly entered the conference room. Even in human form, he was over three meters tall, and each step seemed to tremble the earth. This ancient treant had lived in the High Forest for over a thousand years, witnessing the rise and fall of countless dynasties. His true form was a colossal oak tree, said to have roots extending hundreds of meters underground, its canopy capable of shading the entire sky. Tulang rarely left the forest, but this demonic invasion threatened the balance of nature, forcing him to reveal himself. As allies of the Lord of the Mist, their friendship dates back to a mysterious event hundreds of years ago.
Finally, Eros Krujipala entered. This druid dragon chose the form of a middle-aged elf—long, brown hair casually draped over his shoulders, green eyes gleaming with wisdom, and dressed in simple druid robes. As a golden dragon who had lived for nearly several hundred years, his choice stood out among his kind. He relinquished the dragons' obsession with treasure, instead pursuing harmony with nature, earning him the title "Goldfire." He once attempted to protect the High Forest by stopping forest fires; though his methods were somewhat extreme, his intentions were benevolent. Now, as the successor to the Archdruid Mekari, he represents the will of all druids in the High Forest.