thefictionvixens Page 95
Page 95
With a casual flick of its right wing, the dark clouds disintegrated into mist the moment they touched the rift.
Iron Dragon slowed his pace, approaching the saint of Bane step by step. Each step made the ground tremble, and each landing left a deep claw mark on the ground.
The saint's expression changed drastically. He chanted an incantation, commanding the black clouds to re-condense, this time transforming into a massive bone spear that pierced Casalos's back. The ten-meter-long bone spear gleamed with a deathly light, as if it contained the essence of tens of thousands of souls absorbed by Bane in this battle.
Casalos neither dodged nor evaded, taking the blow head-on. The bone spear shattered into powder upon impact with the scales, leaving not even a white mark. The flying fragments were ignited into sparks by the impact and vanished into the air.
"That's it?" Casalos grinned, revealing the back of his armored beak.
Chapter 299
Dragon Fang, "Where is your mighty divine power? Where is the power of your hatred? How can you only rely on the little tricks Melkor lent you to show off?"
It took a deep breath, its dragon chest expanding like a furnace blasting wind, flames soaring high, sweeping across the ground, surging past the feet of the suspended saint, and engulfing the battlefield in a sea of fire. Bane's newly regrouped army screamed in agony, their armor twisting and deforming under the intense heat, melting like candles, before bursting into flames, their figures flashing and disappearing one after another.
No more souls were ever sucked into the vortex above Bane's head.
A life slain by the flames is stripped of something, something that is clearly the foundation of the soul. Without the blessing of divine power, Melkor's magic loses its ability to steal from the primal forces. The mechanism Melkor granted Bane to harvest souls is utterly ineffective against Casalos.
Saint Bane hovered above the sea of fire, his face, twisted and deformed by the conflict between divine power and mortal body, turning ashen. He raised his scepter to cast a spell and attempted to retaliate again, but Casaloz had already stood before him, looking down at him.
"Want to try summoning? I can too." As it spoke, four high-level elementals—wind, fire, water, and earth—emerged from a magic circle that appeared out of thin air. The giant elementals of various shapes rushed towards the remaining army as soon as they appeared, and the chaotic elemental currents they created forcibly interrupted Bane's summoning process.
Water elementals transformed into giant waves that scattered the infantry on the left flank; earth elementals transformed into a series of spikes that pierced the cavalry into pieces; fire elementals wielded long whips that burned the priests to ashes; and air elementals formed sharp tornadoes that engulfed and shredded the fleeing archers.
Magic without the control of the magic network is chaotic, but the elements are chaos itself.
The tide of battle turned in just a few minutes. The once unstoppable army of Bane was now like a scarecrow blown down by a strong wind, powerless to fight back.
The saint gritted his teeth and growled, "You are not an ordinary dragon... what exactly are you?" His voice had lost its previous majesty and carried a slight, imperceptible tremor.
"Want to know?" Casalos snapped his iron beak shut, then opened it again, spewing out a cloud of gray light. "I won't tell you."
The force that could sway destiny surged forth like a tidal wave, and before the saint could even utter a cry, he was reduced to ashes and scattered by the wind…
Casalos narrowed his eyes, his pseudo-Laplace's demonic calculations nearly overclocked, and whispered, "Run, run, let's keep going according to the script, we'll meet again soon."
Under the lingering power of the flames and higher elements, the remnants of Bane's Legion scattered and fled like a flock of sheep that had been broken apart, leaving behind only corpses and burning ruins.
Isis staggered over, staring at Casalos, her voice trembling: "You... how did you get here?" Her white hair was matted with dried blood, her mage robe was tattered, and her tight-fitting carbon fiber inner armor was covered in dust and bloodstains, making her look more miserable than a beggar on the street.
"I saw you risking your life here, how could I not come?" Casalos snorted. "If I hadn't come, you might not even be alive anymore."
The Iron Dragon shed its ferocity from the battle, becoming gentle and elegant, as if the dragon that had easily destroyed an army was just an illusion.
Isis gave a bitter smile, glancing down at the corpses strewn across the ground: "We've lost... the town is finished." Her voice was filled with exhaustion and regret.
“Defeat?” Casalos said lazily. “Where did you lose? It was a bit of a disaster, but we won, didn’t we? What are you, a tech guy, doing fighting a war? Alright, stop looking so sad… To be honest, you did a really good job. It’s a pity you forgot that the enemy you faced was a god who couldn’t be judged by ordinary standards… If you hadn’t done so well, perhaps things wouldn’t have turned out this badly.”
"Huh?" Isis looked at Casalos in confusion, her numb mind struggling to process the meaning of her mentor's words.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that Bane has been driving his army to sacrifice themselves to increase his power. And you still kill so many? Look at the traps you’ve set up. Every single one of them is designed to kill people,” Casalos’s nostrils twitched. “I can even smell the scent of high-level evocation magic. Can you just use high-level magic like that these days?”
“There are too many of them. I just want to kill as many of their men as possible. Isn’t that what you’ve always taught Eisen and the others…” Isis weakly retorted, her voice full of uncertainty.
“Hey, little girl, is this how I taught you? The most effective means of war is to kill as many enemy personnel as possible, that’s true, but what about the premise, the purpose?” Casalos’s dragon eyes stared directly at Isis.
Isis lowered her head.
"The faster you kill, the stronger Bane becomes, the sooner he achieves his goal, and the faster you will be defeated. In this war, you can only drag it out, create quagmires, bring floods, and smoke out the enemy with damp firewood... Slow down the advance of Bane's army as much as possible, injure them as much as possible without causing too many deaths, so that Bane's strength can only grow slowly, make him impatient, make him crazy, then he won't care about you. His target has never been you."
Casalos turned his head and stared at the staircase that mortals could not discern a trace of, yet which, in his eyes, was as magnificent as a palace, rising step by step to the clouds. There, a huge man clad in full armor rested his hands on a longsword, looking down at Casalos who was staring at him, and nodded slightly.
At the starting point of the Heavenly Ascension, in the Temple of Lossandra in Shadow Valley, Bane's soul, which had escaped from the body of the saint destroyed by the gray dragon breath, was silently infiltrating inside.
"Midnight!" Isis exclaimed and turned to run towards the temple of Losanda, but Casalos caught her with his tail and hung her up.
"You don't need to get involved over there. Don't worry, your lover will be fine."
55. One wave subsides only for another to rise.
The morning in Shadow Valley was shrouded in deathly silence, the air thick with the smell of scorched earth and blood, like a mushy stew, so pungent that even a dragon wrinkled its scales.
Casalos lay lazily in front of the lord's manor, his massive body occupying half the square. His scales shimmered like water in the morning light, the intricate patterns of his pelts appearing and disappearing, the flames completely hidden in the dawn's glow. Isis stood not far away, clutching a tattered spellbook that looked like a beggar's blanket, her face as pale as a ghost, clearly drained of magic. But there were two more people beside her: Kevoran leaned against a crumbling wall, a hastily wrapped cloth around his chest, blood seeping out like an abstract painting; Cyric crouched beside him, a bow in his hand, his eyes as wary as a mouse being watched.
Last night's battle left a scene of devastation, with charred corpses piled up like small mountains, and broken spears and shattered shields scattered all around, resembling a junkyard ravaged by a group of goblins.
"Tsk, this place is going to be a nightmare to clean up," Casalos muttered, his dragon eyes half-closed as he swept over the surviving guards. The guys dragged their weary bodies and stumbled together, some leaning on broken swords, others simply sprawled on the ground panting, like stray dogs that had just been chased away by a vendor.
“Hey little girl, stop standing there like a statue, it’s time to clean up this mess.” Casaroz flicked its tail, pulling Isis close and gently nudging her shoulder with its beak, snapping her out of her daze. “These good-for-nothings are counting on you to save them, so hurry up and squeeze out some magic to heal them, don’t let them die here and get in the way.” It paused, its gaze sweeping over Kevoran and Cyric, narrowing its eyes, and whispered, “Especially those two, one half-dead, the other with those shifty eyes, they’re just annoying to look at.”
“I’m out of strength, mentor…” Isis’s voice was so weak it was almost inaudible. She rolled her eyes, her voice hoarse as if it had been sanded, “Mentor, do you think I’m a kettle that you can squeeze whenever you want? I was almost drained dry by that old man Bane last night, where would I get any magic left?”
"Nonsense! It's like you slept with Bane..." Casaroz flicked its tail impatiently, its dragon mouth...
Chapter 300
A plume of hot air, mixed with the metallic sweetness of molten iron, billowed out. "You have to squeeze it out, whether you like it or not. I don't want to see these guys whining and dragging us down." It paused, narrowed its eyes, and whispered, "Besides, I'm waiting to see you pull out some new tricks. Don't disappoint me."
"I really can't use magic anymore..."
"Try it." Tie Long's sharp gaze was fixed on her; it wasn't a request, but an order.
Isis glared at it, knowing that her mentor had no "good intentions," but she couldn't refute it.
She took a deep breath, forced herself to stand up straight, turned to look at Kaivoran, and whispered, "Can you still hold on? Let me heal you first." After saying that, she drew a simple rune in the air with her finger, and her demonic eyes glowed slightly as she captured the faint response from the magic cocoon.
She remained focused, clenching her teeth and chanting a low incantation. She extended her fingers and began to trace the standard casting gestures, her movements slow and clumsy, like a beginner magician. However, just as she completed her third gesture, a faint but exceptionally pure stream of arcane energy appeared out of thin air, swirling around her fingertips and forming a miniature magical vortex. Magic trickled out from it, transforming into a soft halo that showered upon Kevoran.
Casalos squinted, watching her every move as she cast the spell, like an overseer watching a lazy slave. The light fell on Kevoran, the wound on his chest slowly closed, the blood seeping from the cloth stopped bleeding, and his breathing became more even.
But its focus wasn't on those things; rather, it was on the bizarre scene that occurred when Isis cast her spell—the magical net that had been coiled into a cocoon, isolating the continent of Faerûn, actually partially unfolded as she cast the spell, like a flower bud being forcibly pried open, becoming the foundation of her magic. The spell even seemed to stabilize, and even Kevoran's deathly face regained some color.
With the gods banished and the magic network in chaos, all mages' spellcasting has become unstable and highly dangerous. However, Isis's spells remain orderly and completely unaffected by the chaos of the magic network!
"Tsk, what the hell is this?" Casalos muttered to himself, a hint of surprise flashing in his dragon eyes. Normally, magic in Faerûn is formed by guiding and shaping magical power through the medium of the magic network. But now, the magic network has curled up into a cocoon, enveloping and isolating the continent of Faerûn. All spellcasters—including most gods—should be unable to guide magical power normally after losing the magic network as their "intermediary." This is the essence of magical chaos.
But Isis's magic seemed to have been granted a special privilege. When she cast spells, the magic net would partially unfold, providing her with a stable energy channel. This was completely different from casting spells offline!
This was the magic cocoon giving her a back door. Aside from the supreme god AO, there's only one person in the entire Pan-Faerûn pantheon who has this kind of privilege…
Instead of pondering that, it first focused its attention on Kavoran.
This guy, pulled back from under the Templar Knights' spears by its timely shovel last night, miraculously survived. Now, half-lying there, he stared longingly at Isis, his eyes holding something indescribable. Casalos narrowed his eyes, sparks flying from his nostrils, and growled, "Hey, you half-dead bastard, don't stare at my little girl like that. What do you want?"
Kavoran was startled. His shoulder injury hadn't fully healed, and the sudden scrutiny startled him so much that he almost lost his balance. He looked up tremblingly and met Casaloz's indigo dragon eyes, feeling as if a crossbow bolt was pointed at his head. He managed to squeeze out, "I... I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just grateful to her for saving me."
"Grateful?" Casalos sneered, tapping the ground with its paw, making the earth tremble. "If you're grateful, behave yourself and stop looking around with those eyes. I find it very annoying. Or should I just smash you into a pulp with one paw, so you don't have to suffer here in pain?" Its tone was full of threat, like an old dragon protecting its cubs.
Kevoran swallowed hard, quickly lowered his head, and didn't dare to even breathe: "I really didn't mean that, dragon, you've misunderstood..."
"Hmph, quite the actor. He's probably secretly plotting all sorts of curses against me." Casalos snorted, his gaze shifting to the wanderer beside him. The wanderer crouched there, bow in hand, his eyes darting around furtively like a mouse being watched by a cat. Casalos narrowed his eyes, a murderous intent rising within him.
This guy is Cyric, the future Mad God, the one who gets into one mess after another. It scratched its tail on the ground twice, muttering to itself, "Should I just strangle him now to avoid future trouble?"
But the thought had barely formed when it caught a glimpse of Isis's gaze—the girl actually nodded at Cyric and whispered, "Come here too, let me take a look at your injury."
Cyrek paused for a moment, then quickly moved closer, his eyes filled with gratitude. Casalos's scales bristled, and he cursed inwardly, "What's wrong with this little girl? Why is she so interested in this shifty-eyed guy?"
Out of respect for Isis, and considering this guy's meritorious service in fighting to the death last night, it temporarily suppressed its killing intent, muttering to itself, "Now you're actually a good person, I'll spare your life for now."
Cyrek, however, keenly sensed a chill creeping down his spine, as if he were being watched by some ferocious beast. He glanced up at Casalos and met his gaze with those scrutinizing dragon eyes. Startled, he nearly dropped his bow. He quickly moved a few steps to the side and whispered, "I...I'll go rest over there for a bit." He tried to slip away, but Casalos's gaze was fixed on him like a nail, impossible to escape. A chill ran down his spine, and he cursed inwardly, "When the hell did I provoke that dragon? It's staring at me like it wants to eat me alive!"
"Not bad." Isis, panting, stopped, wiped the sweat from her brow, and turned to Casalos. "Satisfied now?"
"It'll do," Casalos replied lazily, his tone as dismissive as if he were dealing with a street vendor. But in his mind, the high-powered pseudo-Laplace's demon had already unraveled the secret: the energy flowing within Isis wasn't ordinary arcane energy, but a far more ancient and purer power, possessing almost the lowest level of authority within the magic network—the divine power belonging to the goddess of magic, Mystra, which should have resided within Midnight!
This explains why Caitlin approached Isis earlier, and why she could cast spells steadily even in the chaotic environment of the magic network. But it raises more questions: Why is the power of the goddess of magic within Isis? What is the connection between this and Casalos? Is it related to Isis's previous encounter with Midnight?
We'll have to wait until midnight to see everything.
"Mentor, what are you thinking about?" Isis's voice interrupted Iron Dragon's thoughts. She had already treated more than a dozen wounded soldiers, and her complexion was actually rosier than before.
“Nothing,” Casalos quickly concealed his thoughts, his tone becoming serious. “After dealing with these guys, have them go and call back those Valley folks who are hiding. This lousy place needs to be cleaned up, otherwise we won’t even have a place to stay.”
Isis didn't say anything, just nodded and turned to call over a few of the remaining guards. Once they recovered, they stumbled off to gather the refugees. Kevoran stood up shakily and whispered, "I can help too..." Before he could finish, Casalos snorted, and he quickly shut up and obediently stood aside. Cyrek took the opportunity to slip to the back of the crowd, trying to get as far away from the dragon as possible, but its gaze was still relentlessly on him, making him break out in a cold sweat.
Before long, people began to appear in the town—old and young, men and women, dragging their tattered belongings, like a pack of dog-headed people driven from their den. They filled their empty stomachs, gnawing on hard, black bread, and then found a corner to rest, to get through this long and arduous day.
Cyric and Forrest joined the rescue team, searching the battlefield for any wounded who might have been missed. Forrest casually picked his nose, seemingly oblivious to his near-death experience; Cyric, on the other hand, was deep in thought, glancing occasionally in Casalos's direction, his eyes filled with curiosity and wariness.
Chapter 301
Be wary.
Casalos lay there, watching the swarm of two-legged creatures bustling about with utter boredom. It rested its chin on its paws, its dragon wings covering half its face, revealing only its eyes and above, as it reviewed the previous night's battle in its mind.
For it, the battle that nearly destroyed Shadow Valley was actually quite boring.
Bane's forces were utterly insignificant compared to the enemies they had faced before. The soldiers of Zan'tilburg were no match for the insect swarm, and were even weaker than the demonic army attacking Damara. The entire legion lacked a single legendary figure; apart from Bane's saints, the strongest were only level fifteen or sixteen exemplars, and their numbers were few and far between.
Gods who have lost their divine power and reside in mortal bodies are also extremely fragile. The gods of Faerûn are all mechanic-dependent monsters. When their mechanics fail, their "stats" are very unworthy of their level. Moreover, the Saint form further reduces their stats significantly.
The once mighty divine power is as weak as an ant before Casalos.
However, Casalos dared not actually kill Bane, not only because he feared disrupting the AO script—Cassaloz now seriously doubted whether AO truly cared who would replace whom on the throne after this upheaval. Regardless, Bane, along with the other two of the Death Triad, were destined to become "sacrifices" to the turmoil, for they had stolen the Tablets of Fate. AO had always known this fact but never revealed it, instead banishing all the gods to mortal bodies to search for the Tablets of Fate.
This created a false impression among the gods, further convincing the three dead gods who stole the Tablet of Fate that the power of AO came from the Tablet of Fate, thus leading them further and further down the path of self-destruction.
Once everything settles down, all the gods who participated in stopping the three gods of death will receive the highest reward—this is AO's script. Perhaps He never planned the roles in this grand drama in detail from beginning to end, but only roughly set a direction, letting the script evolve on its own and arrive at the final result. What the specific result is, and what process it went through, is irrelevant.
Because He doesn't care.
If AO doesn't even care about the gods, why would it care about the role that mortals play in the script?
Casalos killing Bane wouldn't even make the AO (Alterac Valley) blink. However, Heim, who watches over the mortal realm from the Ascension of Heaven, would likely treat it differently.
Its tail tip slashed back and forth on the ground, making an annoying noise as it rubbed against the stones, but no one dared to say anything.
Killing Saint Bane wouldn't be difficult; a quick disintegration would break through his defenses. But it dared not do so, at least not in this moment. It couldn't truly kill Bane, because saints explode upon death—Cassaros had seen enemies self-destruct upon death before; the Dragon Vault was full of such monsters, their physical bodies exploding once, their souls exploding again, some even exploding twice. But a saint, exploding to the point that sends everything within a radius of tens of kilometers flying into the air, creating a dead magic zone, was something it had never encountered before.
Leaving aside whether it could withstand such an explosion, there was also the future goddess of magic, Midnight, and the "Chosen One," Elminster, in Shadow Valley. If the aftershocks of Bane's self-destruction affected them, even the pseudo-Laplace's demon couldn't predict what the consequences would be.
Besides, gods are incredibly mysterious; they can "resurrect" no matter how they die. Casalos doesn't want to be at the top of Bane's revenge list. He'd rather wait for those who can attract hatred to appear.
"Forget it, let's wait. It's not far anyway." Casalos narrowed his eyes. "I'll witness the limits of a Saint's power sooner or later."
Its gaze swept over Cyric again, and it secretly decided: "I'd better find a chance to deal with him."
On the other side, Kevoran actually broke free from the effects of the terrifying aura through sheer willpower. Instead of trembling with fear, he took the initiative to approach the dragon and meet its gaze.
“I’m curious, how did you find this place?” He walked over to Casalos, his voice still hoarse, but at least he could speak normally.
"Just passing by," Casalos replied lazily, not intending to reveal anything.
"Just passing by?" Kavoran raised an eyebrow. "An iron dragon just happens to be passing through Shadow Valley when we need help the most?"
“Why not? I just fly around all the time.” Casalos squinted, his tail gently slapping the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
“I understand, just like what happened in Westgate.” Kevoran didn’t press further, but simply gave a knightly salute: “In any case, on behalf of the residents of Shadow Valley, I thank you for your assistance. Without you, we might have been wiped out by now.”
“You’re welcome, it’s nothing at all.” Casalos stretched. “Compared to this, you should be thinking about your future defense plans. Although Bane has retreated for the time being, who knows where the next threat will come from?”
Kavoran nodded, his eyes grave. "I will discuss this with the lord. However..." He hesitated for a moment, "If you don't mind staying a few more days, we would be very grateful. The power of a dragon is greater than that of a thousand armies."
Casalos pretended to consider it for a moment, then nodded: "If you can provide enough food, I can consider it." Food was just an excuse; his real purpose was to further observe Isis and the core of this turbulent vortex, and to analyze how deeply he was involved.
Kavoran smiled and said, "That's easy. We'll do our best to meet your needs." With that, he turned and left to arrange the aftermath.
As night deepened, Shadow Valley finally fell silent. The residents, weary from their journey, returned to their dilapidated homes, embraced their loved ones, and then found a corner amidst the ruins to close their eyes and rest, ending their long and painful day.
Tie Long was still lost in thought when suddenly, the sound of horses' hooves came from afar, growing clearer and clearer as it approached.
"Again?" Casalos stood up, spread his dragon wings and leaped into the air, looking warily in the direction from which the sound came.
The survivors of Shadow Valley were awakened by the storm whipped up by the dragon's wings, and fear returned to their faces. The shadow of the recently ended war still lingered, and they trembled as they picked up their weapons, fearing that Bane's army would return.
Kavoran quickly gathered the remaining warriors, who lined up at the entrance to the valley, watching intently as the figures gradually became clearer in the night.
Casalos spewed out a small ball of flame to illuminate the path ahead, revealing a well-equipped cavalry unit—clad in magnificent and exquisite armor, draped in elven cloaks, wearing elven boots, and wielding spears and longswords, each exuding an extraordinary aura.
The leader was a silver-haired woman with an outstanding demeanor, whose eyes shone with wisdom and determination.
"Storm Silver Hand..." Casalos whispered the identity of the one who spoke, and landed back on the ground, lying prone.
Storm Silverhand rode forward, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield ruins before finally settling on Casalos. Her eyes instantly sharpened, like two drawn swords, and her hand was already on the hilt of her longsword.
"Evil dragon!" Storm Silverhand roared, "What are you doing here?!" She showed no respect for Casalos, but rather was full of hostility.
Moglin squeezed through the crowd, trembling as he stood between Casalos and Storm Silverhand: "Calm down, Lady Silverhand, this dragon is our savior! It was it that repelled Bane's army and saved Shadow Valley!"
Storm Silverhand sneered, "Savior? Dragons never help humans for no reason. They are greedy and selfish, only interested in their own gain. I think it's trying to take advantage of the situation and turn Shadow Valley into its own lair!"