Ashen Dragon

"Boom!"

In that instant, the armor-piercing shells trailed with thick smoke pierced through the Light Shield, mercilessly bombarding into the crowd, the violent explosion flinging several soldiers into the air, fragments of armor, broken spears, and charred remains appearing mid-air.

The noble officer used the Giant Shield to forcibly block an armor-piercing shell, gritting his teeth and shouting, "Maintain formation! We absolutely cannot let them advance into August—"

However, at this moment, most of the Radiant Legion was blasted dizzy and dazed, with many feeling deaf in their ears, unable to hear any sound, their formation becoming fragmented.

Thick smoke pervaded the interior of the Radiant Legion's position, making it difficult for them to see their own comrades—and of course, they could not see the approaching enemy.

Given no time to breathe, the steam tanks charged rampantly across the land, like roaring giant beasts, rushing toward the chaotic Radiant Legion.

The heavy infantry of the Radiant Legion could only rely on instinct, thrusting into the enveloping smoke, attempting to fend off those "Iron Lumps."

"Boom—"

Engines roared, artillery fire screamed, steam tanks broke through the thick smoke, the sturdy tracks crushing the bodies of heavy armored infantry, turning them into meat patties.

"We can't hold them off!"

"These things can't be broken at all!"

Over a hundred steam tanks divided the battlefield like ferocious and rapid floods, completely collapsing the Radiant Legion, leaving a ground littered with corpses and track marks before the August City Wall.

"Victory!"

"Crush these cowardly Southern people! They are simply hopeless!"

The humans and goblins inside the steam tanks were extremely excited, raising their arms and shouting, seemingly already seeing their glorious future with titles of nobility and merits.

But then, the Thrassian Arcane Army once again showcased their terrifying essence.

Dozens of mages in crimson gold robes hovered above the Elemental Tower, raising their magic wands and murmuring incantations, their voices growing clearer, and the surrounding Magic Web fluctuations becoming more intense.

Legendary Mage Aquiles stood atop the city wall, his red robe fluttering like raven wings in the fierce wind. He rotated his wand, golden liquid runes emerging at his fingertips.

Accompanied by ancient elf language incantations chanted from his mouth, each rune on the August City Wall shone brightly, the scent of sulfur permeating the air.

Aquiles suddenly opened his eyes.

"Boom!"

The ground before the August City Wall suddenly cracked open, revealing abyssal fissures spewing white smoke, swallowing dozens of steam tanks and several giant armors.

At the instant the wand descended, scorching magma surged out from those fissures, enveloping the entire August City, forming tsunami-like waves, spreading madly toward the Imperial Armored Corps.

Even the indestructible steam tanks, when consumed by the subterranean magma, would instantaneously be reduced to molten iron, leaving not a single trace of their occupants.

The tank armors melted like wax, crew members becoming flesh carvings embedded in steel.

In merely a dozen seconds, over thirty tanks and several giant armors were engulfed by the magma tide—this was a forbidden curse-level spell!

Yet, magma inevitably could not distinguish friend from foe, and those Thrace Soldiers left on the wasteland were also consumed in despair, leaving no bones behind.

"Worthy of Aquiles! Worthy of our Thrace Kingdom's Arcane Army!"

"Kill all these Imperial people!"

"Counterattack!"

The Thrace Soldiers atop the city wall cheered fervently, their tone filled with the relief of surviving a disaster.

The Imperial Armored Corps swiftly organized a retreat, pulling back nearly a kilometer in distance, while the Imperial spellcasters also cast various cold, water-element spells, causing the magma to solidify.

The airships in the sky released thick freezing rays, the sweep of freezing light turning everything into solidified volcanic rock.

Finally, a relatively flat volcanic rock wasteland appeared in front of August's city walls, displaying a wavelike form, with the wreckage of steam tanks, giant armor, and Thrace soldiers all buried deep underground.

"August will never fall!"

"Damn Imperial people!"

Thrace officers raised their arms and shouted, rejoicing for holding off an Imperial assault.

Dayev looked at the black wasteland, tearing off his blasted clothes, his mood became increasingly heavy.

Is this worth celebrating?

A nation that could potentially bury alive its own soldiers in lava, a country that brutally exploits its people, is it still worth following?

In their previous attack, the Empire's armored corps suffered heavy losses, with one-fifth of the tanks swallowed by magma.

This time, after deliberation and discussion, they didn't rush in recklessly but first sent out a motley army composed of Starfallen.

The milestone engraved with the Ancient Teleportation Circle appeared in the Imperial territory, next, thousands of players surged from the array, eagerly heading to the battlefield.

"Brothers, charge!"

"Make way! Going to give BOSS a retirement ceremony!"

"Damn, is the reward title of nobility for being first to scale the city official? Explosive joy!!"

Once the players appeared, the entire battlefield became lively, it seemed like they were heading not to a bloody killing field but rather a leisurely amusement park.

As the Leopard tanks of the 101st Armored Division rolled over the ruins of the Belgian countryside church, Captain Hoffmann saw through his periscope the scene overturning military academy dogma: three kilometers away, seven inverted pyramid-shaped obsidian structures hovered above Antwerp Port, the purple energy streams on their surface filled radio communications with infant-like cries.

"Notice three o'clock direction! What the hell is that?" Loader Karl trembled as he pointed to the right field.

Twelve five-meter-high granite statues were rising from the soil, their pupils inlaid with glowing rubies, and their chests engraved with runes unknown to the SS Army—that was the "War Stone Guardian" of the Ancient Celtic Priesthood, magical creations dormant for thousands of years awakened by the Black Magic Association's "Blood Moon Eye".

The first armored company's 37mm anti-tank gun fired first. Armor-piercing bullets hit the statues' chests, only leaving dents, while the flying gravel in mid-air reforged into a stone spike rain, turning two half-track vehicles into honeycombs.

"Switch to high-explosive shells! Aim for the joints!" Hoffmann's roar was drowned by the marching sounds of the statues.

As a statue swung a fist towards the tank, vines suddenly stabbed from underground, entangling its wrist—accompanying Nazi wizards activated the "Corrupt Roots" spell. The ruby pupils of the statue flickered thrice before self-destructing, shrapnel piercing through ten grenadiers' steel helmets.

FW-190 fighter jets were ordered to bomb the inverted pyramid but encountered interception from the Griffin Knights. These magical creatures had a wingspan of eight meters, their feathers' hardness comparable to armor plates. Squadron Leader Hans's machine gun bullets ignited sparks on the Griffin feathers until he riskily dove to a 50-meter altitude to drop SD2 butterfly bombs.

Explosion fragments cut off a Griffin's right wing, but the falling knight at the last moment threw a Thunder Spear, turning Hans's engine into a burning fireball.

The 23rd Grenadier Regiment charged, encountering the Magic Army's most brutal weapon: flesh puppets. These creatures crafted from the corpses of captured soldiers, stitched with parchment excerpts from the "Book of Undead". Bullets from MG42 machine guns pierced their bodies, wounds spraying corrosive maggots.

"Flame throwers! Burn these bastards!" Major Schneider had just shouted when bone spikes shot from a puppet's mouth, pinning him to an oak tree.

When the Allied Intelligence Officer's deciphered telegram showed the inverted pyramid as a "Plane Anchor Point", SS Army mystics activated the "Dusk of the Gods" protocol.

Six V3 rockets with Uranium 238 cores were secretly brought to the front line, the rocket bodies painted with virgin blood, reversing the Solomon Seal. Meanwhile, the Magic Army unfolded a hexagram array one kilometer in diameter on the port, three hundred Jewish children were tied to the central altar—their souls would be refined into "Boundary-breaking Light".

V3 rockets launched, tail flames traced a poisonous green trajectory in the night sky; High Priest Angmar tore children's throats, blood flowed into array grooves, summoning projections of a hundred-meter-high Abyssal Lord; rocket and magic simultaneously struck the inverted pyramid, causing dimensional collapse.

At the explosion center, phenomena science could not explain appeared:

Griffin knights and FW-190 debris fused in the air into abnormally feathered metal creatures;

Gravity fields within a five-kilometer radius reversed, the church bell tower plunged into the earth, blood flowed along walls towards the sky.

Captain Hoffmann, in his final moments, witnessed a surreal sight: Nazi Swastika emblem and magic hexagram twirling into a spiral symbol in the singularity, intertwining like DNA chains, ascending. The last page of his unburned diary wrote:

"We thought we harnessed steel or magic, but truly, they chose us as sacrifices."