Chapter 221: Chapter 206: A Guy Who Doesn’t Fight Isn’t Worth Wasting Time Discussing

In the Holy Dragon Mountain Range stood Darkness Fortress.

Viewed from high above, the colossal fortress straddling both sides of the chasm resembled an ancient behemoth crouching over the abyss. Its grayish-black walls rose from the chasm’s southern bank, stretching northward until they disappeared into the cliff face on the northern side.

Between the crenellations, the dark red figures of Dragon Race soldiers swarmed as densely as ants.

Below the fortress walls lay a scorched earth that stretched for several kilometers.

The ground had been repeatedly seared by the flames of war. Layers of blackened earth and dark red bloodstains had congealed into a thick, hard crust that crunched underfoot.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and gunpowder, mingled with a nauseating, burnt odor.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A muffled thunder of war drums suddenly erupted, rolling in from the rear of the coalition’s position.

Heavy Siege Golems marched out from the coalition lines in perfect lockstep.

These giant Alchemy Puppets, crafted by the Dwarves, each stood five meters tall. A thick tower shield, covered in reinforcing runes, was embedded in their left arms. Their right arms were short, thick Magic Crystal Cannons, their barrels glowing faintly red and radiating intense heat, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Behind the Golem Legion, hundreds of Siege Towers were slowly pushed to the front. Their towering, hundred-meter-tall frames looked like mobile fortresses, carving deep ruts into the scorched earth.

On the top level of the Siege Towers, Archers and Casters stood ready, waiting only for the towers to approach the fortress walls before launching their attack.

Farther back, the long arms of catapults were raised high. Boulders and magic projectiles were loaded one by one. The massive winches creaked as hundreds of soldiers worked together to slowly pull the arms down, the taut ropes groaning with a teeth-grinding friction.

The Dragon Race, for their part, were also making hurried preparations to meet the assault.

The dense array of runes on the fortress walls suddenly lit up. A piercing red light flowed across the stonework, and in that instant, the entire fortress seemed to come alive, like a thousand-year-old behemoth opening its crimson eyes.

Magic projectors began to charge, the light gathering at their muzzles shifting from dark red to incandescent white, scorching the surrounding air until it warped and distorted.

On the walls and in the towers, tens of thousands of Dragon Race soldiers took their positions.

They were clad in standard-issue, dark red Scale Armor and armed with Enchanted Spears and heavy crossbows. They drove soldiers from the Vassal Races onto the walls to serve as cannon fodder, meant to absorb the enemy’s arrows and Magic.

The distance between the two armies shrank bit by bit.

When the Siege Golems stepped into the range of the fortress’s first volley, the Dragon Race commander no longer hesitated and swung his arm down fiercely.

"Fire!"

Thousands of ballistae and magic projectors roared in the same instant.

A dense volley of Crossbow Arrows rained down like a torrential storm, screaming through the air toward the coalition’s position.

Magic projectiles, trailing tails of colorful flames, carved dense arcs through the sky, crashing down like a meteor shower.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The explosions were deafening, and plumes of smoke soared to the heavens.

Dozens of Siege Golems at the vanguard were focus-fired. Their tower shields instantly cracked and shattered under the continuous impacts. Projectiles and crossbow bolts pierced their steel armor and detonated inside.

Sparks and shrapnel burst from the Golems’ joints as their massive bodies crashed to the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.

But more Golems pushed forward to take their place.

They raised their tower shields, using their iron-gray bodies to form a moving steel barrier for the troops behind them, advancing slowly but steadily.

At the same time, they raised the short Magic Crystal Cannons in their hands and fired rays of magical energy at the fortress walls, suppressing the enemy’s fire.

From the rear, the coalition’s siege engines unleashed their own power.

Hundreds of boulders and magic projectiles soared into the air at once, tracing dense arcs as they smashed violently against the walls of Darkness Fortress.

RUMBLE!

The boulders slammed into the walls, exploding into showers of stone fragments.

The rune arrays on the walls flickered, absorbing and dispersing most of the impact, but each hit still made the fortress tremble slightly, sending fine stone dust trickling from the cracks between the blocks.

Meanwhile, having closed to a certain distance, the Archers and Casters atop the Siege Towers began to return fire.

A hail of arrows and Magic poured down from above, crashing mercilessly upon the Dragon Race soldiers on the walls.

The firepower unleashed by both sides crisscrossed and collided in mid-air. Arrows and projectiles flew past each other, each landing in the opposing army’s lines and stirring up a storm of blood and gore.

The war drums beat without pause, and the sound of horns rose and fell in succession.

Charge, retreat, charge again.

After paying a heavy price, the Siege Towers finally reached the fortress walls.

The wooden planks at the top of the towers crashed down, landing between the crenellations to form a narrow bridge.

Coalition soldiers surged from the towers, charging across the planks toward the fortress wall.

"Kill!"

The war cries shook the heavens.

Soldiers brandished their weapons, engaging the Dragon Race defenders in close-quarters combat.

Swords clashed and blood sprayed. Severed limbs and broken blades fell from the walls, crashing into the crowds below and splashing up a mist of blood.

The battle was a stalemate; every inch of the wall had to be bought with blood.

There was no retreat, no hope of luck—only the line between life and death.

「...」

「Behind the Coalition’s lines.」

A towering city stood upon the plain like a crouching beast.

This was the temporary frontline camp the coalition had built at astonishing speed after arriving here a year ago.

The city contained various functional buildings such as granaries, barracks, weapon forges, medical tents, and a command headquarters, all tasked with supplying the frontline army, repairing equipment, and treating the wounded.

It was also the place where the coalition’s high command and representatives from the major races discussed matters of war.

At this very moment, atop the highest point of the camp’s northern wall, three figures stood side by side. Their gazes pierced through the smoke-filled battlefield toward the black fortress barring the entrance to the chasm in the distance.

Grant leaned with both hands on a crenellation, his hair tousled by the wind, his robes snapping loudly in the breeze.

Standing to his right was a Beastman of immense stature.

He was over two and a half meters tall, with shoulders as broad as a mountain, and his entire body was covered in grayish-white fur.

A vicious scar ran from his left forehead to his right cheek, crossing most of his face. Yet, it didn’t make him look ugly; rather, it added a terrifying, heart-stopping aura about him.

And standing to Grant’s left was a Dwarf with fiery red hair and a beard to match.

He was chugging strong liquor while watching Darkness Fortress in the distance. He grinned and said, "The Dragon Race may be a bunch of obnoxious bastards, but I have to admit, their skill in Alchemy is outstanding. The defensive systems of Darkness Fortress are flawless. This won’t be an easy nut to crack."

Similar bloody battles had been playing out on the distant battlefield almost every day recently.

The coalition was going all out to conquer Darkness Fortress, committing massive forces daily, but the fortress was a tough bone to chew.

So far, the most the coalition had managed was to reach the top of the walls. Actually breaching Darkness Fortress remained a distant, unattainable goal.

The Beastman shot him a sideways glance and said mockingly, "Ignatius, don’t you spend all day bragging about how amazing Dwarven Alchemy is? How come you’re so willing to admit you’re second-best to the Dragon Race now?"

"I’ve never denied that fact."

Ignatius didn’t get angry. On the contrary, he seemed completely unbothered—a temperament that was extremely rare among Dwarves.

"No matter how skilled Dwarves are at alchemy and forging, we can’t compare to the foundation the Dragon Race has built over nearly ten thousand years of harvesting the continent."

"If we were given the same conditions as the Dragon Race, I guarantee our Alchemy skills would far surpass theirs."

The Beastman curled his lip but said nothing more.

Grant smiled. "Regardless, we’ve finally made it this far. Now, as long as we take Darkness Fortress, the path ahead will be clear. It’s only a matter of time before the coalition annihilates the Dragon Court."

"When we first established the Fallen Dragon Association, we never thought we’d actually get this far."

Hearing this, both the Beastman, Rek’sa, and Ignatius wore incredibly complex expressions.

Back when they, the Five-Star Pillars, founded the Fallen Dragon Association, they didn’t actually hold much hope of destroying the Dragon Race. It was just that, driven by hatred or other reasons, they felt they had to do *something*.

Who would have thought the day would come when they could actually fulfill their organization’s purpose?

"Speaking of which, it’s all thanks to Anton."

"If it weren’t for him, who knows how long we would have been kept in the dark by the Dragon Race," Grant said with a tone of deep emotion.

’I never thought the Fallen Dragon Association would see a day like this.’

"Just a lucky guy, that’s all." A trace of contempt flashed in the Beastman’s eyes as he looked at Grant. "Aren’t you a big admirer of his? So how come now that the coalition army is at the gates, there’s no sign of him or his Clan?"

Grant calmly replied, "War isn’t a one-man show. Anton has to consider his Clan; it’s perfectly normal for him to choose not to join the battle on the front lines. Besides, they’ve been contributing by consistently supplying the coalition with low-priced materials."

The Beastman sneered. "The ones who truly decide the course of a war are the soldiers on the front lines, with their courage and sacrifice—not some merchants hiding in the rear, making deals in safety."

Sensing the tension in their tone, Ignatius quickly tried to mediate. "Speaking of which, I’ve had a look at those supplies."

"The quality of those metal ingots is truly impeccable. Even the metal produced by the best master smiths of the Heart of the Mountains, repeatedly tempered with the finest magic flames, is only of this caliber."

"And those weapons... what are they called... Rune Equipment? I’ve studied the runes on them for a long time and still can’t make heads or tails of them. They’re completely different from the runic system passed down by us Dwarves. It’s its own unique system, so intricate it’s breathtaking."

"I hear Anton created all of this. It seems he’s not just a master of Swordsmanship, but a master of Alchemy and Enchantment as well."

By the end, Ignatius had gotten carried away, completely forgetting his intention to mediate as he heaped praise upon Anton.

Grant agreed. "Anton is certainly an innovative person."

The Dwarf stroked his beard and remarked with admiration, "To come up with a system like that, he must have an extraordinary mind. I’m getting more and more curious about this Anton. I’d really like to meet him if I get the chance."

Rek’sa, sick of listening but not wanting to sour things with Grant, gave a cold snort and leaped from the city wall.

"A guy who won’t fight isn’t worth my time discussing."

"Instead of wasting time chatting here, I’d rather go kill a few enemies on the battlefield."

His grayish-white fur flared out in the wind as he crashed onto the ground outside the walls like a falling meteor, sending stone fragments flying.

Rek’sa stood up, brushed the dust from his body, and strode with great purpose toward the battlefield ahead, soon disappearing into the smoke and chaos of the plains.

Grant and the Dwarf looked at each other and shook their heads helplessly.

’He’s still the same as ever. He hasn’t changed a bit in all these years.’

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