Under the Red Dragon

Night. The capital of the Freehold, a powerful Valyrian city. Lights shone everywhere, not far from the foot of the towering Fourteen Flames.

These volcanic peaks were unlike ordinary volcanoes, which typically alternate between eruption and dormancy. The Fourteen Flames were uniquely different.

Many parts of this mountain range seemed perpetually wreathed in inextinguishable flames, yet they never erupted. It was as if some magical force had altered these eternally burning peaks.

Even just a few miles away at the foot of the mountains, one could still feel the heat of the volcanoes constantly erupting from the earth, bringing warmth and magic to the world.

Using an imperfect transformation spell, the black dragon Rosani transformed into a handsome young man in black robes, standing in a vast slaver's estate, gazing up at the perpetually burning peaks at the base of the mountains. The bright lights of the estate illuminated his distinct profile.

Handsome and heroic, every dragon in the High Gomorrah Dragon Clan, regardless of appearance, form, or strength, was among the most outstanding of their true dragon kin of the same age.

Although the black dragon Rosani had some comical moments in his daily interactions with the dragons, his appearance seemed far more noble than those pretentious nobles.

Rosani was looking towards the place that the spellcasters had identified as the most concentrated source of magic in the Freehold area near the continent of Essos, also a crucial magical node.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that this was one of the sources of magic for the nearby continent.

This place was also the most suitable for establishing a planar coordinate tower, opening a permanent passage connecting two planar worlds.

The spellcasters only needed to follow the established procedures, build the planar coordinate signal tower, and then use a magic array to draw upon the vast magic beneath the Fourteen Flames to open the passage.

They would then bring in the Empire's subsequent support legions, and then, according to the known information and plans, conquer the entire world, turning this world into a provider for the Golden Empire.

Most importantly, in the black dragon Rosani's mind, the wyverns of this world would make excellent food for the dragon clan.

Consuming these wyverns would allow the dragons to develop more perfectly. After this period of feeding, the black dragon Rosani's body had already grown to sixteen meters long.

This size was equivalent to the juvenile size of many large dragon species in the world of Akani, and some small-sized true dragon species could only hope to reach this size after adulthood.

The black dragon Rosani had already conceived the idea of ​​turning this world into a pasture for the dragon clan, raising these wyverns so that the dragon clan could freely hunt them.

Perhaps, this is what Kalon originally intended, to devour all things and strengthen the bloodline.

The black dragon Rosani occasionally flashed this thought.

The true dragon species of the past were originally astral creatures, free and powerful, preying on creatures from countless worlds. Perhaps the reason why the original dragons were so powerful was because of this.

It must be said that the dragons in the High Gomorrah Dragon Clan always wanted to amplify these benefits with the power of the dragon clan and were happy to share them when faced with some benefits.

The black dragon Rosani turned his gaze to the dark sky. Even as it approached late at night, dragon knights still patrolled the sky, riding wyverns of various appearances and scale colors.

Some had golden eyes and silver scales, with gorgeous appearances, some had red scales and bronze crests, with swift postures, and some were slender, fierce, and terrifying beasts.

These behemoths were ridden by tiny humans, patrolling around like hounds, trying to find the traces of those outsiders.

The black dragon Rosani sneered, "Pitiful inferior species, since you are willing to be under the crotch of mortals, you might as well become food in the mouths of the great true dragons, dedicating your last remaining value to the noble dragons."

In the endless planes, even with the legendary dragon knights, those true dragons only considered the knights on their backs as pets they raised. The vast majority were willing to partner with other races only for the amusement of the dragons.

Even the famous astral pirates, the Githyanki, a race that liked to ride red dragons to rob and plunder throughout the astral sea, could only ride red dragons to do what red dragons liked to do most because they embraced the thighs of Tiamat after immortality and signed a contract with the five-colored dragon god.

Even so, the average Githyanki could only control young red dragons, because once the red dragons reached adulthood, even the contract after immortality could not restrain the arrogant hearts of these red dragons.

Adult red dragons often simply quit or choose to strike out on their own after accumulating enough experience, growing bigger and stronger. Even so, the Githyanki had to pay a lot of money to adult red dragons.

Although the Golden Empire had hundreds of bat-winged dragons serving in the legion, ridden by human and various race warriors, the black dragon Rosani still displayed the double standards characteristic of the dragon race.

This was also related to the powerful pressure brought by these dragon knights.

Although the black dragon Rosani was a perfect true dragon, at least in front of these wyverns, he could not directly confront the siege of thousands of wyverns.

Even with the collective siege of dozens of wyverns, the black dragon Rosani only had the option of avoiding their sharp edges.

Although these wyverns did not have the power of magic, the powerful physical strength brought by their tens or hundreds of meters of huge bodies was enough to make the black dragon vigilant.

Moreover, due to the hunting during this period, twenty wyverns had died in Rosani's hands, not including those wyverns that the powerful warriors had shot down with crossbows and armor-piercing spears.

A wyvern knight of the Imperial Dragon Knight Corps, tempered by war, these elite wyvern knights were enough to hunt a wyvern alone.

The speed of the wyverns was not only much slower than that of the true dragons, but once the bat-winged dragons exerted their full speed, the wyverns could not even eat the exhaust fumes of the dragon knights.

The head of the Dragon Knight Corps, Bartoli, had already cut off more than five wyvern heads. According to incomplete statistics from scholars, these wyverns had lost nearly sixty heads in the hands of the Imperial Legion warriors.

Even though the Forty Dragon King families possessed a huge wyvern legion, they had also increased their vigilance during this period.

Because not only was the number of wyverns changing, but also the clansmen with the blood of the Dragon King and the dragon knights who were qualified to control the wyverns were constantly disappearing in the dark.

The entire Valyrian city was constantly raising its defense level. The Dragon Road leading to Valyria had been sealed off by a large number of mercenary warriors and Unsullied, undergoing strict inspections.

The slaver estate owners and nobles had guarded their residences and estates tightly, with layers of guards protecting them.

But these defenses, in the eyes of the Empire's legion warriors, were just obstacles that could be swept away with ease. What they were afraid of was only the huge wyvern legion.

And these Valyrian rulers would send hundreds of wyverns every day to search for the traces of outsiders on the Valyrian peninsula, wanting to find these outsiders.

There were also hundreds of wyverns searching for traces in the Long Summer Land outside the Valyrian peninsula, but perhaps those nobles could hardly imagine that the real enemy had already come to their side. The magic of the world of Akani was far higher than the level of this world.

But, the best defense in the world is offense, the black dragon Rosani looked at the bright moon in the sky, learning from a certain red dragon, putting his hands behind his back, and exclaimed.

I chose to be in this city to avoid the advantages of those wyverns. Here, it is not us who need to be afraid, but those rulers. Wyverns may be able to see clearly in the dark, but those knights are just blind.

The brightly lit Valyria was already surging with undercurrents.

In front of the once-luxurious Valyrian Great King's Fortress, the Dragon King maintaining order today sat on the throne, quietly waiting for the result.

The warriors and attendants around him surrounded the front of the fortress tightly, and the wyvern knights in the sky were also circling over the Great King's Fortress.

During this period, the Dragon King families, who used to fight each other and compete for power, finally temporarily put aside their disputes, united, and took turns governing, integrating the power of the entire Freehold.

The red-robed priests who believed in the Red God and the red-robed priestess Nalia were gathered in front of the burning torches, holding a ceremony to worship the god.

One after another, slaves were bound with their hands tied, tied to wooden stakes. These were all sacrifices to the Red God R'hllor, to pray for the power of the Red God to descend.

But Nalia had tried before, and the separate sacrifices were not powerful enough to find the traces of the outsiders, as if the mysterious magic of the outsiders shielded their own existence.

Therefore, if they wanted to borrow the power of the Lord of Light R'hllor, they had to hold a more grand sacrifice, obtain more powerful power, and let the true god bestow a more powerful miracle.

Blood and fire are of the same origin, using the blood of life to exchange for the fire of power. Therefore, there were a total of one hundred and sixty-six slaves here, as sacrifices.

The red-robed priestess Nalia nodded to the Dragon King sitting on the throne, walked around the huge torch, and the other red-robed priests chanted mysterious prayers, praying for the light and beauty of the great true god R'hllor.

The red-robed witch Nalia sprinkled potions and powders from her wide sleeves, and orange flames lit up at her fingertips. The orange flames ignited the powder, turning into scarlet blood flames and falling into the woodpile of the altar.

The scarlet blood flames suddenly rose up, and the sounds of fear and screams of the slaves in the fire also sounded at the same time.

The red robe worn by this gorgeous priestess was unfastened between her white fingers, and then fell from top to bottom to the ground, revealing a body as white as a lamb.

At this moment, the eyes of this naked witch were as bright as light red candles.

At this moment, the aura of this witch became obscure and solemn, and beauty and danger were mixed into one, complex and abrupt.

Shadows are servants of light, descendants of flames...

The priestess, who was blooming with a dazzling white halo, exposed her beautiful figure. She stepped on her slender feet and sang ancient languages ​​in front of the torch, dancing a sacrificial dance, agile, beautiful and sacred.

The fire burns fiercely...

With your fire of life, create...

The ruby ​​necklace around the beautiful witch's neck bloomed with a bright color at this last moment, as if it had been supplemented with something, and the luster became more translucent and rich.

Even the witch's face and skin became smoother.

The Dragon King and the warrior attendants held their breath, and one after another, blurred and clear shadows were struggling, making silent howls, and squeezing out of the body of this beautiful witch.

It was like the legendary gate of hell was opened on the body of this beautiful witch, and countless terrifying ghosts crawled out of the witch's body and were born into the world.

The Dragon King and the warrior attendants could no longer distinguish the faces of the shadows, nor could they recognize the individuals reflected in the shadows, but they all knew that those were the slaves who had just been burned to death in the flames and became sacrifices to the Red God R'hllor.

Countless shadows intertwined and condensed at this moment, like many wronged ghosts howling, killing and devouring each other, scaring the surrounding attendants to tremble, their faces pale, and their teeth clattering.

In the end, countless shadows turned into a huge distorted ghost face, roaring and floating in mid-air, and then, like a hunting ghost dog, sniffed in mid-air, and finally floated in one direction.

Follow it, quickly, send out all the elite warriors to wipe out those outsiders, the Dragon King sitting on the throne glanced jealously at the priest who was lying on the ground and re-dressed in her red robe, and quickly ordered his warriors to lead the team to attack.

As soon as the Dragon King issued his order, he saw a brilliant rainbow flashing from the distant night sky, and the dragon knights and dragons of his family made terrified cries at this moment.

The Dragon King couldn't help but raise his head to look into the sky. In this instant, his eyes suddenly widened, his mouth opened, and shock and fear completely overwhelmed his body, making it difficult for him to move.

The wyvern in the sky had its head cut off by the dazzling streamer, and the huge dragon head only let out a brief wail before breaking away from its huge body.

A wyvern of more than thirty meters fell from the sky, bleeding, carrying the knight on its back and its lost head.

A dozen unlucky attendants had no time to react before being smashed into meat paste by the dragon corpse falling from the sky, and gurgling dragon blood spilled on the square in front of the Great Army Fortress, causing countless attendants to scream.

Many maids and slaves fled in terror, and some of the warriors who had not gone far were also alarmed by the huge movement and hurried back.

Bang, bang, bang,

One after another, warriors wearing huge and strange armor seemed to fall from the sky, blocking in front of these warriors.

Each of these armor-clad warriors was more than three meters tall. For these Valyrian slave warriors and mercenaries, the other party was simply like a giant, making them somewhat timid.

Stop, live, go forward, die!

The centurion of the Burning Hooves Legion deeply inserted his giant greatsword into the stone slab in front of him, and a cold voice sounded from under the mask. The cold murderous intent in his tone made even the Unsullied, who were trained with barbarity and blood, dare not launch an attack easily.

Saha, the Dragonborn Warg, flapped his burning wings and descended from the sky, landing in front of the Dragon King guarded by the warriors.

Dragon blood dripped from the werewolf's claws, each drop corroding the stone floor, leaving tiny holes.

He watched the Dragon King retreat, trying to escape into the Great Fortress, and chuckled softly, "You don't need to look for us; we've already arrived."

The werewolf's wings fluttered, his figure vanishing in an instant, the violent gust blowing the surrounding torches and candlelight, causing them to flicker and dim, plunging the light into darkness.

The next moment, the lights rekindled, and heads rolled onto the ground, blood beginning to spread.

The screams inside alarmed the slave warriors and Unsullied outside, these warriors exchanged glances, then raised their spears, roaring as they thrust them at the blocking warriors, "Kill!"

The eyes on the "Burning Hoof" centurion's helmet, crafted from magic crystals, flashed red as he drew his greatsword.

The heavy greatsword felt weightless in the centurion's hands, unleashing a brilliance that the darkness couldn't conceal.

The slave warrior who initiated the attack couldn't even track the greatsword's movements; he only saw a flash of cold light before his entire body was split in two from head to toe, even his iron armor cleaved perfectly in half.

The process was so swift that the warrior's two halves took two steps forward with their spears before collapsing, his internal organs realizing they were no longer contained, scattering red and white across the ground.

The remaining slave warriors and Unsullied were stunned by the ferocious attack, halting their advance.

"Truly foolish people deserving of death,"

The centurion's tall figure stood like a demon god, his helmet flashing intensely red, his cold voice like a death sentence.

"Even with our lord's forgiving virtues, your foolishness cannot be excused," the centurion said, leaning on his sword, "Slaughter them all, leave no one alive."

Thump, thump, thump,

A dozen or so warriors stepped past the centurion, heading toward the wary slave warriors.

Although the "Burning Hoof" only deployed two squads, totaling twenty men, these warriors believed that one of them alone would be enough to deal with these weak opponents, were it not for the need to prevent the Dragon King from escaping.

The centurion leaned on his sword, closing his eyes, listening to the sounds of steel cleaving through enemy armor, weapons, and bodies, the boiling battle blood within him gradually calmed.

These scraps of garbage were not worth his attention, and how to control one's will and conserve stamina in battle was a required course for every legion warrior.

The centurion was powerful because he treated every moment as his training time.

The clash of steel, the flow of blood within his body, and the panicked noises coming from the city were all captured by the centurion's mind, eventually solidifying into an image in his heart: a unique dragon.

"For the glory of the Emperor,"

The centurion whispered, opening his eyes. The scene before him was already calm, only imperial warriors, blood, and broken limbs remained; no enemies.