Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 206

　"Enough with the nonsense." Casalos ignored the guy's bargaining: "You can take Samass's skull to Azus and exchange it for Silverfire. Do you want it?"

　Ya Long immediately shut up and quickly regrouped with the others, each checking their equipment and props.

　"Let's go, don't keep Samassy waiting." Elminster put down his perpetually unlit pipe, exhaled a haze of what looked like smoke or mist, casually drew a golden portal, and slipped inside. The barrier had been cracked; this old man's bizarre teleportation technique could now lead directly into the Arctic fortress. Who knew where he was taking people…

　Not long after, the blue light curtain above the Arctic bunker trembled in the cold wind, and the magical fluctuations at the crack fell into an unstable state, turning from an actively opened entrance into a wound torn in the defense system.

　The magic fleet also arrived outside the barrier. On the decks of the eight ships, spellcasters chanted in unison, and azure offensive barriers rose from the hulls, like a giant net covering the already torn defensive barrier.

　Magical blades flashed at the edge of the azure barrier, slicing through the light screen. The blue light at the cracks hummed, as if resisting an external force, but was only torn wider and wider.

　Another wave of undead and summoned creatures poured out of the Arctic Bunker, but they couldn't budge the defensive line in the slightest. After several rounds, the light barrier at the crack finally gave way and shattered. The blue light barrier collapsed with a roar, turning into specks of light and dissipating. The Arctic Bunker's defensive barrier completely collapsed, revealing the towering city walls.

　The barrier collapsed, and the magic fleet quickly repositioned itself, with the eight ships splitting into two groups and landing on either side of the ice field. The ship hatches opened, and prefabricated steel modules fell under the pull of magic, crashing onto the ice with dull thuds.

　The Kassarroz Legion sprang into action, their claws and greatswords clearing away the ice debris to create space for the modules to assemble. The paladins of Damara formed the outer defensive line, their shields and spears creating a barrier. The priests of the Dawn Lord infused the modules with divine magic, enhancing their stability. Warlocks and mages chanted levitation spells, using force fields to propel the modules precisely together. The modules connected via runic interlocks, forming defensive towers and walls. Magic cannons were mounted atop the towers, their muzzles gleaming with magical light. Narrow passages were left in the walls for easy entry and exit, limiting large enemy attacks. Within half an hour, a circular siege base was complete, a towering central command tower surrounded by four defensive towers and thick walls. Runes shimmered on the walls, repelling low-level spells. Magic cannons were aimed at the Arctic Bunker, ready to be deployed at any moment. Casalos stood atop the command tower, surveying the base.

　"Ready? All troops, advance into the city!" Under the new order, the entire army set off and pressed into the Arctic bunker.

　The walls of the Arctic Bunker were exposed after the barrier collapsed, their hard granite surfaces etched with ancient runes, emanating faint aftershocks of magic. The allied forces quickly assembled, including the paladins of Damara, the Dawn Lord's Guardian Army, the half-dragon legion, and a massive army of gold, silver, bronze, and iron dragons transformed into humanoid forms, filing in through the cracks beneath the walls.

　The fortress's interior was a narrow, cramped passageway. The walls, solidified with magical energy, were smooth as a mirror, devoid of any ground-level pathways. The passageways were three-dimensional, a maze of vertical corridors and sloping ramps, with cliffs and suspended platforms scattered throughout. The entrances and exits to the rooms floated on the outer walls, their connecting passages circular in cross-section, with only a small section of the floor paved with narrow, simple stone slabs. The long-decayed furniture was mostly suspended or hanging, with almost no trace of it having been placed on the ground.

　The high-rise buildings are covered with circular doorways that lead directly to the outside, all of which are custom-sized for flying humanoid creatures.

　The entire fortress was designed for the flight capabilities of winged elves, making it extremely unfriendly to ground-dwelling species. The paladins of Damara and the Dawn Lord's Guardian Army immediately found themselves in trouble upon entering the fortress. Their plate armor and shields clattered against each other in the narrow passages, producing a harsh metallic scraping sound. The vertical corridors and cliffs made progress extremely difficult, forcing the paladins to rely on ropes and grappling hooks to climb, their movements slow and sluggish. The priests attempted to cast divine spells, but the cramped space limited their casting range, and the light of holy radiance appeared weak in the confined passages.

　“Damn it, this place is no human being!” a paladin cursed, his shield scraping horribly as it got stuck at the corner of the passage. His companion tried to pull him up, but the stone slab beneath their feet suddenly snapped, and the two nearly tumbled down the cliff below. The priests of the Dawn Lords fared no better.

　They attempted to climb the suspended platform, but lacking the ability to fly, they could only rely on magical ropes, moving slowly. Several priests had just reached one platform when they were attacked by ghostly undead swooping down from above. The intangible ghosts pierced through the granite walls, emitting shrill screams, trying to invade the priests' souls. Holy Light managed to dispel a few ghosts, but more undead surged forth from the darkness, seemingly endless.

　"Hold on, tighten the formation!" Fiona's voice echoed through the passage. She raised her spear high, a halo of holy light dispelling the approaching wraiths. The plate armor groaned as it scraped against the narrow tunnel, but she maintained her steady pace, leading the paladins forward.

　In contrast, the half-dragon legion and the metal dragons and ferrihydras that had transformed into humanoid forms thrived. Eisen led twelve half-dragon warriors, gliding through the passageways, their claws gripping the runes on the walls, easily traversing cliffs and vertical tunnels. Though their bodies were approaching the size of some smaller dragons, they remained agile in their humanoid forms, each flap of their wings allowing them to land precisely on suspended platforms. Eisen's claws lashed out, tearing apart a wraith attempting to ambush her; the decaying spirit turned to black smoke beneath her claws. She exhaled hot breath, her gaze sweeping across the darkness at the end of the passage.

84. Closing

　To ensure the complete destruction of Samass and "Dragon Madness Lock," directly and violently destroying the entire polar bunker was clearly not feasible. Therefore, limited by the terrain and the inherent conditions of the species, the allied forces entering the polar bunker had to split into three groups, advancing deeper into the fortress along different paths.

　The first to act were naturally the advance infiltration team led by Elminster. They blended into the night like ink, silently passing through the barrier rift and appearing on a suspended circular platform.

　The platform's edges were covered in runes, emanating faint magical fluctuations—unlike the harmonious elegance of elven magic, these runes were filled with a blasphemous aura of negative energy, clearly the work of the Dragon Cult, extremely sensitive to any non-undead life form. However, these defenses were utterly ineffective against the squad. Elminster didn't even stop; he simply blew a puff of smoke from his eternally unlit pipe, letting it gently cover the runes, causing their light to dim, as if they had fallen into slumber.

　"That little fox cub covered in iron was using us as bait." Having dealt with the detection magic, Ilminster sighed. "What do you think?"

　Gallos chuckled, while Sister Martha remained silent.

　“Isn’t Samass our responsibility?” Elasdra shook his head and looked at the only non-human among them, and who had no connection with the others. This toothed dragon, who was just a close friend of Casalos, had a completely indifferent attitude at the moment.

　"Rather than using us as bait, it's more like giving us a chance to redeem ourselves from past mistakes. Otherwise, given its temperament, it would have thrown you in alone, you old rogue."

　“Sigh…” Ilminster looked at Elastra’s face, where the wrinkles had all shrunk into a ball.

　At the end of the passage connecting to the platform, a purple-robed wizard peeked out, casting a resurrection spell in an attempt to awaken the frozen remains of the winged elves trapped in the wall. The old sage snorted, exhaling a puff of smoke from his pipe, and flicked his finger, silently casting a "Disintegrate" spell. The purple-robed wizard didn't even have time to scream before his body turned to ash, scattering the spell's materials across the ground. Elasdra followed closely behind, his silver robes fluttering slightly, and a "Acid Mist" spell condensed between his fingers. The corrosive mist quickly spread, turning the winged undead trying to break free from the wall into black smoke.

　Kelburn's black staff lightly tapped the ground, the arcane gem at its tip flashing with a dark light, and a "force field wall" rose, blocking the two dragon liches that swooped down from above. The dragon liches' skeletons were covered in icicles, their empty eye sockets flickering with green ghostly fire, roaring as they spewed out lines of corrosive dragon breath. Lyra flashed forward, her ranger-like agility allowing her to easily dodge the dragon breath. Her "Ice Storm" spell erupted in the passage, freezing the dragon liches' bony wings, which should have been immune to frost, causing them to lose their balance and fall. Rake's obese body moved slowly, the jewels on his dress jingling. With a casual flick of his fingers, three "Fireballs" were cast in a straight line, precisely shattering the dragon liches' heads. Sister Martha and three paladins stood behind, holy light gathering in their hands, dispelling the deathly aura in the passage and ensuring the group was unaffected by necromancy.

　Gallos, Sister Martha, and the twelve Dragonborn paladins formed a double perimeter for the team, their divine senses acting as a beacon in the deathly still fortress, preventing any malevolent soul from escaping their grasp. This team had only one objective—to strike at the heart of the enemy and find Samaster himself.

　This is Samster's base camp. It's unclear how long he's been operating here, but the home advantage at least gives him control over who he faces. (The last part, "你咏梅想在空你林在在没," is a nonsensical string of characters and doesn't translate directly. It's likely a result of OCR errors.)

　Although he has the freedom to choose, Samass will certainly not go after the Paladins or the dragons, as these are groups with many dragons. Besides the few harp masters, there are also Gaelos Dragon Nightmare, Razor, Sister Martha, and the Paladins of the Dawn Lord in Elminster. Moreover, Samass has a grudge with Elminster, Elasdra, Kelburn, and others that has lasted for hundreds or thousands of years. He will definitely go after them. This was Casalos's design: human battles are for humans, and dragon battles are for dragons.

　The second force consisted of the main assault troops, comprised of the Holy Knights of Damara and the Guardians of the Dawn. Their advance was a completely different story, difficult and slow.

　The heavily armored legion quickly encountered the immense challenge posed by the terrain of the winged elf fortress. The narrow passages and vertical layout caused the paladins' plate armor to frequently jam against the walls, producing a screeching sound. Stumbling and bumping along, they finally reached a massive, vertical atrium hundreds of meters wide, with countless suspended platforms and narrow passages scattered like a honeycomb across the rock walls. The only passage was a dilapidated stone arch bridge spanning the atrium—presumably a path left by the winged elves for pilgrims, which would have been difficult to traverse even in its original condition, let alone… Just as the leading paladins stepped onto the arch bridge, attacks came from all directions. Dozens of dragon liches swooped down from the darkness above, their tattered wing membranes tearing through the air, their mouths spewing deadly frosty breath. Simultaneously, from the abyss below, hundreds of undead winged elves wielding longbows emerged from the edges of the platforms, raining down arrows imbued with negative energy upon the bridge.

　"Form ranks!" Gaelos shouted, leaving his lieutenant to oversee the operation. The paladins swiftly formed a shield wall, massive tower shields interlocking to create a mobile steel tortoise shell. Divine energy seeped from the shields, forming a golden barrier that blocked the frost breath and the rain of negative energy arrows. Ice crystals and arrows exploded against the barrier, producing dense, muffled sounds. The priests of the Dawn Lord stood in the center of the formation, raising their holy symbols and chanting sacred prayers. Thick beams of "Sunfire Rays" shot out from the formation, accurately striking the swooping dragon liches. The struck undead dragons let out mournful roars only the living could utter, their bony bodies burning and melting in the holy flames. The dragon knights, wielding lances, guarded the flanks of the formation, repelling any undead attempting to flank them. Under the cover of their formation, the engineers quickly reinforced the bridge with prefabricated components and stone-shaping magic, extending it towards the opposite bank. The battle was slow and brutal, each step forward requiring immense effort, but the paladin legion's lines were unbreakable. With unwavering will, they carved a path for ground troops through this fortress designed for flying creatures. After clearing the enemy from both ends of the bridge, they immediately began constructing bridgeheads, building solid defensive positions to support the advance of subsequent troops.

　The third route, led by Casalos himself, was a rapid reaction force that took "efficiency" to the extreme. The paladins were still building millstones in the vertical atrium, while two hundred half-dragon warriors and the transformed metal dragons spread their wings and leaped off the edge of the platform. They briefly glided in the vertical atrium, gained speed, and then climbed upwards in groups.

　While half-dragons are far less capable of flight than giant dragons, they are still incredibly fast within the confined space of the building. Combined with their digitigrade legs and claws that can easily dig into granite, they utilize the terrain to their advantage, allowing them to maneuver freely through the complex three-dimensional structure, completely defying the constraints of gravity. Eisen and the twelve terrifyingly large half-dragons were like arrows released from a bow. Using the protrusions in the walls as springboards, they performed continuous leaps and powerful ascents with astonishing explosive force, quickly approaching the platform on the top floor of the building.

　The purple-robed wizards on the platform clearly hadn't anticipated the enemy attacking from below. By the time they realized the danger, it was too late.

　Since arriving at the Arctic Fortress, the old golden dragon Tamaland, whether influenced by dragon frenzy or sensing Bahamut's call, has always been at the forefront of the charge. He doesn't even use weapons, simply clenching his golden-scaled claws into fists, and with a single punch, he pierces through a wizard's "mage armor" along with it. The silver-haired elf paladin, transformed from Hevilan, is like a ghost, her figure flashing across the platform. Each time she appears, a wizard's throat is sliced ​​open by her scimitar. She doesn't even get stained with blood; her movements are clean and efficient, reaching an artful level.

　Hmm, paladins' knife-wielding assassination skills are comparable to assassins'. Could this be considered a unique feature of Faerûn?

　Casalos's half-dragon legion, far from reckless brute force, displayed the tactical discipline honed through rigorous training. Instead of rushing onto the platform for melee combat, they steadied themselves by gripping the rock face below, spreading out in a fan shape. Then, dozens of dragon breaths of different attributes—fire, ice, acid, lightning—surged forth simultaneously from various angles, forming a comprehensive elemental death net that completely enveloped the platform. The purple-robed wizards' defensive spells were like paper under the saturation of dragon breath, instantly torn apart. Their bodies were decomposed and vaporized in the elemental torrent, unable even to utter a scream. With the energy core maintaining the summoning array destroyed, the undead army besieging the paladin legion below faltered, then began to crumble and disintegrate in droves.

　The clearing operation was completed within moments. Casalos's troops didn't linger for a moment; they didn't even set foot on the ravaged platform before changing course again and rushing towards their targets deeper within the fortress. Their mission was decapitation, eliminating all high-value targets that posed a threat to the main force.

　The battle was progressing steadily, and Samaster's defensive lines were crumbling layer by layer. The remnants of the Dragon Cult were being continuously eliminated, and the path to the core of the fortress was being opened by three armies in different but equally resolute ways. At this point in the war, the outcome was no longer in doubt.

　Casalos's understanding and strategy for the war determined the ultimate outcome from the very beginning. Samaster's thinking remained confined to the realm of knowledge held by most of the powerful beings on the continent of Faerûn, focusing the success or failure of the war on a single final battle, hoping to reverse the already devastating situation by utilizing his unparalleled individual strength in Faerûn and what he considered his decisive weapon—the Dragon's Madness Lock. This was the root cause of his defeat.

　War is not a duel between two individuals in a ring. At least on the current continent of Faerûn, the sheer power of an individual is insufficient to completely tip the scales, especially when both sides possess sufficient leverage. Samaster is strong, so strong that even the divine power of Lord of Dawn, Losanda, could not truly annihilate him, and even the divine punishment of the Mage God, Azus, to withdraw the Silverfire could not extinguish his corrupting influence. In another timeline that never occurred, he could even single-handedly withstand the full-scale attack of the Claws of Justice led by Hevilan, and almost completely annihilate them.

　But now, all of that is meaningless.

　From the moment he sensed the dragons' return, Casalos's multi-pronged strategy began. He thwarted and disrupted Samaster's plans across the continent; he brought together the Harp Masters, including Elminster, with whom Samaster had a centuries-long feud, as well as the Dawnbringers of the God of Dawn; he rescued the Holy Watcher Vorasega, and subsequently allied with Imptu's Bronze Dragon Knights; he personally participated in the Dragon Assembly at the Golden Dragon Court, using irrefutable historical facts and unquestionable declarations to completely disrupt the seemingly wise but ultimately foolish reclusive plans of the precious metal dragons, unleashing the dragon forces, led by the Golden Dragon Court, which occupied the pinnacle of individual power across Faerûn. Subsequently, through a coordinated strategy, the Colored Dragon Legion, which had sided with the Dragon Cult, was annihilated; and in alliance with the Kingdom of Damara, the Feigned Exile and the undead army were also reduced to dust.

　Casalos has gathered all the forces on the continent of Faerûn capable of opposing Samaster. This force, like the first snowflakes rolling down a mountain peak, grows stronger along its path, eventually becoming an unstoppable avalanche. When this allied army presses towards the Arctic Fortress, the outcome is already decided.

　Tragically, Samass still believes that the final outcome of the war remains in his hands, still tied to the Dragon's Fury Source he transferred to the Life Box by unknown means. He is unaware that the one who truly propelled his Dragon Worship Cult to its peak, the true Dragon's Fury Source, has long since regarded him as a discarded pawn.

　The core members of the Dragon Cult knew that the sect's growth was inseparable from the support of Tiamat, the Mother of Dragons, and that the Dragon Cult itself was one of the products of Tiamat's faith returning to Faerûn. But only Samaster himself knew that behind him stood Bane, the god of tyranny, Shar, the lost lady, and even the benevolent gods of the panfaerûn pantheon—human, elven, dwarven, and even halfling pantheons—who all collectively "turned a blind eye."

　Throughout the entire world of Toril, aside from a handful of deities who are aware of the truth, perhaps only Casaloz knows that the god who truly brought Samaster to his current state and bestowed upon him power is none other than Bahamut, who now presents himself as the god of justice and metal dragons.

　Tiamat lacks the transformation technology of dragon liches. This mysteriously originating technology once garnered the attention of even the former goddess of magic, Mystra. Its true origins lie with the death dragon god Farazul and the guardian of dark miracles, Kalsalinal. However, these two ancient dragon gods have almost no remaining faith in Faerûn. The dragons of Faerûn know Núr as the death dragon god, but that is merely a manifestation of the fate dragon god Chronips. Farazul constantly plots to seize this manifestation to spread his faith to Faerûn, but he is destined to fail. Kalsalinal's last follower in Faerûn had already formed an alliance with Set, the banished god, and with Set's support, abandoned his original faith and ascended to godhood on his own.

　The power struggles among the gods are far beyond Casalos's current control, but guiding the course of events on the continent to align with the expectations of a particular deity or even a particular pantheon is not difficult for him. Therefore, from the moment he began his machinations, Samaster was already at a significant strategic disadvantage. When the Golden Dragon Court, the Claws of Justice, and the Bronze Dragonflight began to attempt to venerate Bahamut's name, Samaster's defeat was irreversible. When these proud, precious metal dragons accepted human paladins as their knights, the benevolent human gods of the Pan-Faerûn pantheon had completely sided with Casalos. And the twin goddesses of magic, Isis and Midnight, who could represent neutrality, were inextricably linked to Casalos.

　At this point, Casalos had secured absolute dominance in the upper-level strategy supported by the gods. And in the mortal battles, he had also achieved overwhelming victories.

　The upcoming final battle will no longer be fought by those adventurers from Dorne Greybrook who barely manage to touch the pinnacle. It will be a dramatic end thanks to the blessings and good fortune secretly bestowed by Bahamut, and the Platinum Dragon God once again using the straightforward Lord of Dawn as a pawn.

　Samaster will face the chosen ones of the Goddess of Magic, led by his mentor Elminster, and the Harp Masters; the paladins of Damara and the guardians of the Lord of Dawn; the five Golden Dragon Lords, the entire Knights of the Claw of Justice, and the entire Bronze Dragonflight; as well as independent dragon forces such as Dracol, Vera Marandes, and Imptu's Bronze Dragon Knights. In their transformed half-dragon forms, they will fight alongside Casaloz's true half-dragon army.

　Regardless of which side Samass chooses to fight, he has no chance of winning in a direct confrontation. The other two armies will clear all obstacles within the Arctic fortress, find his phylactery, and destroy it. To unleash the final Dragon Frenzy, guided by a secret incantation of unknown origin, Samass successfully bound the source of Dragon Frenzy to his phylactery, then activated it with a modified Dragon Frenzy Lock. This decision prevents him from ever becoming a demigod lich and also prevents him from hiding his phylactery in any dimension or plane.

　His body died and his soul vanished; this was his predetermined fate.

85. The Final Dragon Madness

　His mind had become entrenched in the erosion of a thousand years, and Samasser did not make any choice that Casalos had not anticipated.

　As the allied forces' three-pronged offensive peeled away the layers of defenses he had laid within the Arctic fortress, and as his last remaining wizards and dragon lich guard were wiped out, the leader of the Dragon Cult chose to end it all himself. He appeared at the end of the spiral passageway leading to the fortress's core, a passageway already cleared by Elminster and his men. He did not choose to meet the enemy in the spacious hall, but instead stood on a narrow platform, barely large enough for a few dragons to walk side by side. Behind him lay the ominous core of the Dragon Madness Lock, like a gigantic heart slowly pulsating, composed of pure malice.

　His figure remained tall, but he was no longer human. His withered skin clung to his bones like old parchment, and his eye sockets burned with the eerie blue soulfire characteristic of liches. He wore a simple purple robe, faded with age, and held a staff made from the spine of an unknown creature, its head inlaid with a dim gem, as if imprisoning a dying star. He simply stood there silently, his soulfire sweeping over Elminster, Elasdra, Kelburn, Lyra, and behind them, Galos and Sister Martha.

　He uttered no threats, nor chanted any spells. He simply gazed upon these "old acquaintances" with whom he had been entangled for centuries—his magical mentor, his former lover, his rival—with a look that was a mixture of hatred, weariness, and relief. His very existence was the final chapter of a distorted history.

　The outcome of this duel was never in doubt from the moment Casalos constructed the pseudo-Laplace's demon based on chaotic calculations of the four fundamental elements. The word "accident" had long since become foreign to him. Like the calm observer's face of the true dragon god of fate, Chronipus, he had already foreseen every possible branch of the event and prepared corresponding countermeasures. Samaster's appearance was merely a step along the path of highest probability, leading to a predetermined end. All his reactions, all his choices, were within the convergence range of the calculation model.

　The battle began and ended almost simultaneously.

　Samass raised his staff, and the magical network throughout the fortress responded with a deep resonance. However, the response was six attacks from different directions, yet perfectly synchronized. This was no coincidence, but rather the tacit understanding between legendary spellcasters regarding the rhythm of battle, a precise prediction of the enemy's spellcasting precursors, and, most importantly, Elminster's final "teaching" to his student.

　Kelburn's black staff unleashed a pure black ray, not a simple disintegration spell, but an annihilating light infused with the power of silver fire. Wherever the ray passed, space itself seemed to distort slightly, like ripples on water. Alasdra's fingertips danced with iridescent light, and an "Iridescent Orb" formed above Samaster's head, compressing the seven most deadly spell effects—burning, freezing, petrification, poisoning, disintegration, mental shock, and banishment—in an extremely unstable manner into a single point and pouring down. Lyra was even more direct, uttering a variant of the ninth-circle spell "Banshee's Howl," a death decree that directly affected the soul. Any life form would face essential decay before it—liches are immune to instant-death spells, but Lyra's purpose wasn't to kill Samaster, but rather to use the special mechanism of the decree spell to counter Samaster's decree. Still maintaining his comical, obese businessman appearance, Toothshaker casually waved his hand. A seemingly ordinary "magic missile" split and multiplied during its flight, eventually transforming into hundreds of tracking missiles. Each missile was converted into arcane fire, like a bloodthirsty swarm of bees, blocking all of Samasser's escape routes.

　The attacks from Gaelos and Sister Martha represented divine power. The legendary paladin's Exorcising Slash transformed into a solidified golden sword beam, devoid of superfluous light or shadow, a pure power capable of severing cause and effect. It tore through the lich's negative energy shield as if a hot knife through solidified grease. The holy prayer of the legendary priest of the Church of Dawn condensed into a giant hammer of light, descending from the sky with the will of dawn, striking directly at Samaster's head.

　Even a prodigy like Samaster couldn't withstand a single round of such a dense combined attack from Faerûn's top spellcasters and the chosen ones of the gods. His body instantly disintegrated under the impact of multiple energies; his purple robe turned to ashes, and his bone staff shattered into several pieces. He didn't even utter a scream; his skull, burning with soulfire, was reduced to dust under the bombardment of the giant hammer of light, completely dissipating into the air.

　The lich being killed does not mean true death.

　Just as Casalos had predicted, Samasser's death was precisely the trigger for his final trump card. Faced with the allied forces' overwhelming and comprehensive superiority, he had long since abandoned any illusions of victory. His last hope rested entirely on the Dragon's Fury Curse that was slowly transferring towards his casket. He revealed himself not to engage in a hopeless duel, but to sacrifice himself. He poured all the negative energy, arcane knowledge, and even his very soul essence accumulated as a lich into the transfer ritual of the Dragon's Fury Source as his final fuel.

　This process, which should have taken months, was compressed into just a few minutes. You're busy, Yongmei? You're busy, Lin Zaizai?

　The moment Samasser's body vanished, the core of the Arctic Fortress, the massive labyrinth built by the winged elves, emitted a piercing hum. The runic light that had been flowing across it suddenly became violent, and an invisible madness originating from the depths of the soul, like a flood bursting its banks, instantly broke through all restraints and gushed outwards.

　Dragon Madness erupted.

　Its strength far exceeded any dragon's expectations.

　The dragons that stormed into the Arctic fortress were the first to bear the brunt. The suppression runes on their bodies, modified from ancient spells of the Yellow Rose Monastery, instantly overloaded, burning like hot irons on their skin. The blessing from the Bahamut paladins flickered like a candle in the wind, its golden halo shimmering. The suppression barrier erected by the eight magic ships could only barely delay the onslaught of this primal madness; violent ripples spread across its surface, as if it might shatter at any moment.

　Even in their half-dragon form, the dragons felt an almost irresistible rage. Their reason was being eroded, their blood was boiling, and the desire for slaughter and destruction surged from the depths of their genes. A young bronze dragon let out a painful growl, bronze scales uncontrollably emerging from his skin, only to be forcibly suppressed, and the arcs of electricity surrounding his body became wildly chaotic.

　"Transform!" Casalos's command, transmitted through the mental link, pierced the consciousness of every dragon like a cold steel needle. "Any humanoid form unrelated to dragons can help you resist dragon madness!"

　This was the only way. Dragon Frenzy targets the very essence of dragons; the closer one's form is to a dragon, the stronger the effect. The surviving dragons had no choice but to transform once more amidst agonizing roars. Their half-dragon bodies shrank and twisted in the magical light, eventually transforming into humans, elves, dwarves, and others, in an attempt to minimize the effects of Dragon Frenzy on themselves. Under the sway of Dragon Frenzy, the entire process was filled with agony; each transformation felt like a tearing apart of their souls.

　Even so, the effect was still limited. Apart from a few dragons with the strongest willpower, such as Tamarand, Hevilan, and Azak, as well as Casalos with the help of a pseudo-Laplace's demon to stabilize their minds, and the uniquely shaped Holy Watcher Vorasega, the rest of the dragons lost their normal mobility. Even the remaining golden dragon lords and Vera Marandes were not spared. They huddled in the corners of the fortress, their bodies trembling violently from suppressing their rage, fine scales appearing on their skin and then quickly disappearing. They could only wait, waiting for the paladins and the Dawn Lord's guardian army to catch up and provide them with divine magical support.

　The effects of Dragon Frenzy extended far beyond the Arctic Fortress. Like an invisible plague, it swept across the entire continent of Faerûn with unimaginable speed.

　The brass and copper dragons, stationed high above the Arctic bunker on guard, were the first to descend into chaos. Without the pressure of direct combat, their amplified racial instincts erupted in an absurd form. The brass dragons lost all sense of logic in their language, descending into endless angry curses and arguments. They attacked each other with the most vulgar words, their dragon roars echoing through the sky, yet the content was nothing more than meaningless accusations.

　"You sand lizard with faded scales!"

　"Your forked tongue should be ripped off and used as a shoelace!"

　"Shut up! Your hot breath is cooking my brain!"

　……

　The bronze dragons, meanwhile, were caught up in a frenzy of pranks, drawing faces at each other with their acidic breath, stealing gems hidden by each other while they were dozing, and even trying to tie the tails of several arguing brass dragons together.

　At least they didn't fight.

　Klaus, Amuris, and Elvia, the three chromatic dragons, barely managed to maintain their composure under the combined suppression of the mental barrier Klaus had set up beforehand and the magic ship's enchantment. However, they were also unable to move, and could only sit stiffly on the ice cliff, looking down at the farce of the brass and copper dragons while resisting the madness originating from their bloodline.

　Compared to these dragons with multiple layers of protection, the dragons in other parts of Faerûn were completely plunged into doom.

　In the Moonsea region, the red dragons dwelling on the edge of the Great Forest of Comansel were ignited. Abandoning their lair, they charged towards the bustling coastal cities like burning meteors. Cities like Sentia, Hulberg, Murmastert, and Elmwood were reduced to infernos in the storm of dragonfire. The enraged red dragons showed no mercy, tearing and fighting amongst themselves in the skies above the cities. Their falling carcasses smashed buildings like boulders, shattering ships in the harbor. Their dragonfire was so intense that even the waters of the Moonsea boiled, billowing thick steam that shrouded the entire region in a crimson fog of doom. A mature red dragon had its wing torn off by an older member of its kind above Murmastert. It plummeted with a mournful cry, crashing through the temple dome. Its dying breath ignited the city's granaries, triggering an even more violent explosion.

　In the Sal Swamp south of the Fangxian Mountains, the slumbering green dragons were awakened. Emerging from the mire, they swept through the commercial city of Grist, carrying corrosive poisonous gas. Buildings decayed and melted in their toxic breath, and residents turned to skeletal remains in their sleep. Meanwhile, the black dragons of the King's Forest turned their attention to the Kingdom of Cormir. They surged from the depths of the forest, their acidic breath turning vast swathes of farmland and villages into barren wastelands. The purple dragon knights organized a desperate resistance, but suffered heavy casualties under the relentless onslaught of the dragon hordes.

　Even Enser and Mulholland, located on the edge of the dragon frenzy's influence, were not spared. The large number of colorful dragons in the area migrated south, bringing destruction to places like Char and Jondas.

　The raging dragons were utterly irrational, attacking everything in their path. Caravans, villages, cities, even birds and beasts fell within their reach. Even more terrifying, they indiscriminately attacked their own kind. Dragons of different races and factions slaughtered each other in the skies, ancient grudges ignited by their frenzy into pure carnage. Atop the Tumalla Mountains, silver and red dragons clashed; at Lake Akhenaten, black and bronze dragons perished together.

　However, the intelligent races of Faerûn were not lambs to the slaughter. After the initial shock and chaos, humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings began to organize an effective counterattack. The kingdom's army rallied, city guards held their walls, and adventurers formed dragon-hunting squads, venturing deep into the wilderness to defend their homeland. Countless fierce battles unfolded in every corner of the continent. Spellcasters used powerful magic to shoot dragons down from the sky, warriors pierced their scales with enchanted weapons, and rangers blinded them with precise arrows. In the valley, a militia of retired adventurers successfully killed a green dragon that had invaded a village, using traps and ballistae.

　This sudden catastrophe devastated the entire continent of Faerûn within just a few days. Tens of thousands of dragons, comprising over ninety percent of Faerûn's dragon population, perished in this continent-wide carnage of slaughter and hunting. Millions of humanoids perished under the ravages of the dragons. Vast swathes of land and countless towns were utterly destroyed by dragon breath and magic, turning them into irreparable wastelands.

　In stark contrast is Waterdeep in the Sword Coast region. Under Casalos's strict orders, all the Hidden Dragons, Singing Dragons, and immature Athena Dragons of Waterdeep were strictly confined within the city, protected by the Kingslayer Star Shield. When the Dragon Frenzy erupted, although they felt the frenzied impulse, they safely weathered the most dangerous moment thanks to the robust magical barrier and the pre-prepared suppression measures. The red dragons in the High Forest, ignited by the Dragon Frenzy, were firmly held back by the Hellgate Fortress defense line jointly constructed by Waterdeep, the Silvermoon Federation, and the Celestial forces, preventing them from causing any damage to the Silvermoon Federation.

　Samaster died, but at the cost of his own death, he successfully dragged the entire continent of Faerûn into the abyss.

　He's not really dead yet.

86. Accidents are bound to happen.

　The unleashed dragon frenzy brought Casalos a long-awaited surprise.

　Samasser's death and the subsequent eruption of Dragon Frenzy were entirely expected. According to the original calculations, while the intensity of Dragon Frenzy was high, its duration would be extremely short. Within two hours of Samasser's death, the half-dragon legion, no longer restricted by terrain and still able to move freely, would be able to completely wipe out the remaining forces of the Dragon Worship Cult within the Arctic Fortress, locate and destroy the Life Box containing the source of Dragon Frenzy, and finally end this catastrophe that swept across the continent.

　The events that truly surprised Casalozis did not originate from the mortal realm.

　Rewind to the moment the dragon frenzy erupted. In the heart of the fortress, the surviving dragons, under Casalozis's command, struggled to further transform from their half-dragon forms into humanoid forms with weaker ties to their dragon bloodline, in an attempt to resist the madness that surged from the depths of their souls. Casalozis was preparing to lead his still-mobile forces—Prince Tamaland of the Golden Dragon Court, Hevilan, leader of the Claws of Justice, her lieutenant Azak, the ancient bronze dragon Vorazega, and his most elite Iron Dragon bloodline half-dragon legion—to continue their advance towards the core of the labyrinth when intervention from the divine realm arrived.

　A platinum-gold holy radiance suddenly enveloped the entire platform where the allied forces were located. Wherever the radiance touched, time seemed to freeze; the dragon's furious rage, capable of tearing apart reason, was soothed and suppressed by an invisible force, and the raging elements fell silent. All beings enveloped by the radiance instantly escaped the dragon's influence.

　Accompanying this sacred realm unfolded a wondrous vision. Deep within the hearts of all the intelligent beings enveloped within, a grand spectacle slowly unfolded: above an endless sky composed of milky-white nebulae, a bright North Star suddenly rose, casting down pure and gentle light. It was the embodiment of the emblem of Bahamut, the platinum dragon god.

　Immediately afterwards, a colossal dragon head, possessing characteristics of both a golden and a silver dragon, appeared in the mental vision of all dragons and half-dragons. The dragon head was majestic and noble, covered with a long beard like that of a wise man, and its feline eyes flowed with kindness, compassion, justice, and benevolence, formed from the active elements of goodness and justice throughout the multiverse.

　"My noble children who seek justice and kindness, I need your help now!"

　Bahamut's voice resonated directly within their souls. It did not travel through the air or the magic network, but rather stemmed from a resonance of the concept itself. His power, His goodness, mercy, and resolve in the face of evil, flowed like a warm torrent, instantly overwhelming the gold, silver, and bronze dragons who, under Casaloz's tireless guidance, held Him in high esteem.

　The metal dragons, especially the silver dragons of the Claw of Justice, felt the teachings and ideals of this dragon god so vividly for the first time. The Ptalian Code, which they had always revered, with its core principles of justice and goodness, perfectly aligned with Bahamut's divinity at this moment. That sense of identity, originating from the depths of their blood and souls, began to transform their respect for the platinum dragon god into true faith.

　Crown Prince Tamarand of the Golden Dragon Court was the first to respond. He knelt on one knee, lowered his noble head, and swore an oath in the ancient dragon language, expressing his absolute loyalty and faith to Bahamut. Following closely behind was Azak, the usually somewhat impatient ancient silver dragon, who now displayed unprecedented piety. The example set by these two giants, one gold and one silver, acted as a catalyst, instantly inspiring the entire metal dragon horde. They all knelt on one knee, offering their faith to the dragon god who had bestowed miracles and protected them in their time of crisis, and promising to provide Him with all possible assistance.

　Casalos did not kneel; he simply stood silently in place. He had no reason to confront a powerful deity directly at this time and place, especially since he had a general idea of ​​Bahamut's true purpose in "seeking help" and what would happen next. Therefore, even without becoming Bahamut's follower, he nodded slightly and accepted the platinum dragon god's "request." His sub-dragons and iron-blooded half-dragon legions revered him and unconditionally supported any decision he made.

　After all the dragons agreed, the platinum-gold light enveloping them suddenly contracted, then erupted violently. The light devoured everything, and space itself distorted.

　As the light faded, the allied forces found themselves no longer within the Arctic bunker. They had been transported to a completely unfamiliar, desolate, and lifeless plane. There was no air, no moisture, and gravity was so weak it was almost negligible. Beneath their feet lay a grayish-white ground composed of unknown minerals, stretching to the horizon. Above, the familiar stars of Faerûn were no longer there; instead, a strange starry sky, and the emblem of the North Star, hanging high above Bahamut's milky-white nebula. (The last two lines are a poetic expression and don't directly relate to the preceding text.)

　In the center of this desolate world, hovered a colossal, coiled-up silver dragon phantom. The phantom stretched over a hundred meters, its form elegant and ancient, yet devoid of any life, as if merely a projection of pure conception. On its forehead was inscribed a strange symbol: a golden square, upon which was branded a majestic reptilian eye.

　"During the ancient war of the gods, I was framed and imprisoned here..."

　Bahamut's majestic and timeless voice resounded once more. This time, it was not a simple call, but an epic tale told to His descendants of a tragic and long-forgotten history concerning divinity and justice.