Ember Dragon

Chapter 612: Chapter 612: Steel’s Overrun

Chapter 612: Steel’s Overrun

At the northernmost end of the Aether Plains, where Aether borders Kartepa, lies the Hekawa Valley.

Here, a scouting force of several hundred is stationed, closely monitoring every move of the Ember Empire and ready to respond at any moment.

They once belonged to the Kingdom of Thrace, but a few months ago, Wilhelm handed over the entire northern Aether region to Duke Walter, and so they swore loyalty to the renowned "Wing of Fadlan."

They still wore the winged sun holy emblems of Thrace, leading tall horses and wielding double-barreled muskets—undoubtedly imported from the Ember Empire.

In recent years, as the wars between the three kingdoms have intensified, the people of Fianso have come to realize the benefits of these guns: long range, high lethality, and extremely low skill requirements.

With the changing tides of war, people everywhere bought weapons from the greedy Wokin merchants, seeking protection; firearms are now common in Fianso.

These former Fadlaners had no idea that the gold in their pockets all ended up in the coffers of the Claubew Arms Conglomerate, funding the development and production of even more advanced, deadly weapons.

And very soon, those weapons would be turned on themselves—their worst nightmare.

Piotr McGrath was still the captain of this scouting force. Years ago, they’d nearly clashed with the Ember Empire’s vanguard.

"Everyone, I’m afraid things are about to get even tenser."

The extraordinary warrior raised his silver sword, its tip pointing north, his expression extremely grave.

"Look—since the day before yesterday, wyverns, giant eagles, and ugly beasts I’ve never seen before have been circling above Tahan City.

There are strange, muffled noises from within the city too, like some terrible monster is growling.

Even the ground has been trembling and shaking unusually these days—I have a very bad feeling."

His lieutenant, worried, said: "Boss, do you think their emperor—the red dragon—has arrived?"

Piotr shook his head steadily: "It shouldn’t be that fast. The Ember Empire’s homeland—the Anzeta Wastes—is very far from northern Aether, with mountains and hills between.

For them to move all their troops and supplies to Tahan City and complete their preparations will take at least one or two months.

By then, Lord Walter’s calls for aid will have brought help from all over the world: angels from Mount Heaven, mages from the City of a Thousand Spells. They say a mighty ’Dragon of Dawn’—a golden dragon—has even arrived in Collin City."

Piotr gripped his silver scout’s sword and looked south, his gaze firm and voice steady:

"Lord Walter is one of the few godborn nobles who still remembers the glory of Fadlan and follows the old emperor’s teachings. I believe—justice will triumph in the end, no matter how strong the red dragon is, he stands alone."

"B-boss..."

Suddenly, his lieutenant looked up in terror, trembling as if he’d seen something horrifying.

"What is it?"

Piotr noticed his lieutenant’s abnormal look and quickly turned his head—then froze in shock.

"What is that..."

High above distant Tahan City, hundreds and thousands of drakes, wyverns, and chimeras took flight, their chaotic wingbeats forming a swirling cloud, casting dappled shadows on the ground below.

"Awooo—!"

Harsh, discordant roars sounded as the monsters in the sky spotted the scouts and began to roar angrily at them.

"Amanata!"

"They’ve spotted us!"

Soldiers began to panic and shout, scrambling in confusion.

Piotr vaulted onto his horse, raised his silver sword, and shouted: "Retreat! Get this news to the south no matter what!"

Seasoned as he was, Piotr’s command quickly steadied the troops. They gathered their essentials and galloped out onto the flat Aether Plains.

The horses’ hooves pounded in a frantic, sharp rhythm as Piotr led the way.

Suddenly, the ground started shaking. Horses neighed in panic, some rearing up and tossing off less skilled riders—the scouts’ formation fell into chaos.

"Ah!"

"Help! Stop!"

"Damn it, the horses are trampling me!"

Piotr yanked the reins, whipping around. He knew this tremor wasn’t the work of horses.

But as he opened his mouth, his expression froze, and a look of despair appeared in his eyes: "By Amanata, what is—"

"Boom—!"

In the distance, the earth quaked and dust rose, smoke blotting out the sun, as massive steel behemoths thundered through the haze toward them.

Everything before these iron monsters—rocks, trees, beasts, even hills—was flattened without resistance.

The lieutenant, watching the monsters draw closer, cried in terror: "Boss! What are those things?!"

"Amanata!"

"A calamity! A moving calamity!"

"Damn it! There weren’t monsters like this around Tahan City a few years ago!"

Though morale had collapsed, Piotr forced himself to stay calm, analyzing the situation.

He knew he absolutely couldn’t panic now—otherwise, his force would be wiped out and all of northern Aether would face disaster.

After a quick calculation, Piotr waved his sword and shouted over the roar: "Full retreat! We can’t fight these things!

He gritted his teeth and roared: "Afar, take fifty men southwest! We split up—get word of the Ember Empire’s attack to Lord Walter!"

"Yes, Captain!"

A silver-armored officer cracked his whip and led his elite riders to the right, toward the narrow southwestern valley.

There, the cavalry’s speed would be reduced, but the steel monsters would struggle to follow. Even if the whole unit died, Piotr wanted to get word out and warn Duke Walter.

Just then, the steam tank turrets spun around. The thick barrels aimed directly at the elite cavalry.

Seeing those black muzzles, Piotr had a terrible feeling—he remembered the Empire-made cannons Thrace had once bought.

"Afar! Dodge!"

He reached out and nearly screamed himself hoarse, but it was too late. Afar’s squad had already entered the valley.

"Boom!"

The iron beast unleashed an earth-shattering roar—the massive recoil jolted the tank back, even making the ground shudder.

Intense flame burst from the barrel, followed by a cloud of black smoke.

"No—!"

Piotr raced desperately in that direction, wishing he could throw himself in front of the barrel.

But the shell had already flown, whistling through the air, arcing low over hundreds of meters, and striking the sheer cliff.

"Boom!"

Another huge explosion—the rock shattered, fire flashed, dust and debris filled the air.

The cliff collapsed, sending massive boulders crashing down, burying the fifty elite riders below.

"No, no..."

Piotr, pale and hopeless, shook his head.

The riders entrusted with their message were annihilated, and behind them, the steel monsters drew closer and closer.

He could smell the acrid gunpowder, feel the dust they stirred, see the sky darkened with their smoke and steam.

The tanks did not fire again; instead, they simply kept pace behind the fleeing cavalry, engine roars relentless, an unstoppable force.

Their goal was clear—not to waste shells, but to simply crush the fragile human cavalry under their treads.

"Ah!"

"Boss, help—!"

"Gods! It’s coming!"

The soldiers’ screams and horses’ panicked cries were drowned out by engines. Flesh and bone were crushed beneath treads.

From horseback, Piotr looked back in horror as loyal subordinates he’d ridden with for years were run down—both man and horse—by the tanks, ground to pulp.

In front of the steel monsters, cavalry were no different from roadside rocks or grass, only serving to stain the treads with blood.

Black dust smeared Piotr’s face, and in a daze, he murmured: "Could the rumor be true? Has Amanata really abandoned us?" fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

As a warrior of the extraordinary rank, Piotr had fought for Holy Fadlan against devils and demons, but never had he felt such despair as before these steel monsters.

He deeply respected Duke Walter’s efforts to revive Fadlan’s civilization and remember the emperor’s glory.

—But somehow, from these war machines, he sensed something new—something that could truly overturn Holy Fadlan.

More precisely, a new civilization, a new order—completely unlike the Fadlan of old.

"No, it shouldn’t be like this... I can’t let this happen! I can’t just watch my comrades die, can’t die a coward fleeing—it’s not the Fadlan way!"

Face smeared in dust, Piotr’s face twisted. He suddenly leapt from his horse and faced the iron beast head-on, summoning his courage.

As he’d done countless times before, Piotr raised his silver sword and charged the tank.

At that moment, he was like a knight charging at a windmill—brave, but pitiful.

This was the Empire’s "Great Red Dragon"-class steam tank—the largest, most intimidating model, fifteen meters long and four meters tall, a true moving mountain.

"Boom—!"

The tank hadn’t yet arrived, but the sandstorm it kicked up cut Piotr’s face, blurring his vision, leaving only a massive black shadow before him.

He gripped the sword with both hands, raised it overhead, and leapt nearly five meters, roaring: "For Holy Fadlan—!"

He came down in a slashing arc, unleashing all his extraordinary power.

"Shing—!"

With a screech, Piotr’s sword actually sank deep into the tank’s armor!

"Monster! Die!"

He gripped the blade, trying to find a weak spot—he’d realized this was a construct, like an iron golem.

But before he could celebrate, a force field shield blasted him away.

Piotr crashed to the ground, dazed, only to look up and see the massive tank looming overhead.

"No, no..."

The "Great Red Dragon" tank, weighing over a hundred tons, rolled over him with the force of a calamity—no struggle could save him.

It was an utter mismatch of size and strength—like a mortal arm-wrestling a dragon.

The crunch of crushed bone and flesh was drowned by the engine’s roar as the tanks tore across the plains.

Crushing these cavalry? Just a side job.

Even the powerful, experienced extraordinary warrior Piotr left only a tiny scar on the front armor—barely visible.

In the "Great Red Dragon" tank’s cockpit, Iron Frenzy was wild with glee.

"Hahaha, driving a tank is the best! Especially this monster-class tank! Eight wheels against four legs—pure overkill!"

Suddenly, Iron Frenzy looked at his control panel in surprise and muttered: "Wait... When did I kill a mini-boss?"

[You killed [Scout Captain—Piotr (Challenge Level: 9)], gained 5000 XP]

He felt confused but also pleasantly surprised, as if he’d gotten an unexpected treat.

That was a challenge-level-9 boss—it used to take a full party to take him down, and now he’d run him over by accident, barely noticing.

"Sir, the times have changed!"

Iron Frenzy sighed.

For Aether’s scouts, this was a disaster like an earthquake or tsunami—utter annihilation.

For the Imperial tank crew, it was just another routine march—merely removing a few enemies along the way.

The tank columns thundered across the vast plains, their real target—the unprepared cities of northern Aether.