Chapter 352: Assembly, Trap

"I have searched long and hard to confirm your existence here. Had that blue dragon not helped me decipher the clues, I might never have discovered your sanctuary. Tell me, are there any green dragons left, besides you, who have not been shackled by Him or slaughtered by the Dragon Cult?"

The silver dragon descended slowly from the heavens, her eyes fixed upon the immense green dragon below. As she spoke of her arduous journey to find this place, she inquired whether any of the dragonkind still survived.

"Oh? You found the traces I left behind? It seems you, like me, refuse to accept the tragic fate of our kin. And rightly so—if anyone possesses the strength to alter this course, it is you. Much like the legendary figures who once graced the races of this continent, you must be the 'Chosen' of our kind."

"As for survivors, I am likely the last of the green dragons remaining in this world. The blue dragons have fared somewhat better; their unique powers have allowed them to evade 'His' gaze and the Cult's purges more effectively."

The massive green dragon shook its head, a simple movement that sent tremors through the surrounding marshland. Beneath the dark waters, countless decaying remnants were churned to the surface, only to crash back down in a spray of murky waves.

"I regret to inform you that I have found only one blue dragon—Gorgon. The special powers they possess were not enough to help them survive 'His' watchful eye and the Cult's relentless hunt."

Arielian shook her head, speaking to the green dragon, Goliath, who had flown to her side, her vast, tattered wings beating against the heavy air.

"This is dire. His power grows, and His kingdom nears completion. We have no time left, and no path of retreat. The longer we delay, the worse our plight becomes."

"As you say, a final gamble may be our only choice. It is time for this eccentric green dragon to shed the reputation for calculation and unleash the true power I have long held in reserve."

Goliath’s eyes, larger than those of any other dragon, turned toward the horizon—toward the Endless Sea. There lay the dragon kingdom, their former home, and her deep gaze held an unreadable sorrow.

"I have come to you also to confirm the location of that black dragon. You know where he is, don't you?"

Arielian’s power manifested as a shimmering silver film, coating Goliath’s body to mask her from external detection and His omnipresent perception.

"Pompeii? I know him well. He lurks within the ancient capital beneath the Ash Barrens. That place isolates all external influence. If not for the fact that only his constitution can withstand that environment, that city, built for a sinner, would have been an excellent refuge for us."

Both dragons beat their wings, their conversation ending as they took flight, vanishing rapidly into the gloom above the marsh.

Deep in the swamp below, several hydra heads emerged, their expressions twisted with human-like terror as they checked to see if the terrifying presence had truly departed. The beast had lived there since it was a hatchling, never knowing that a monster of such unimaginable scale had been lurking beneath its own pool...

...

Flames flickered, weak fire elementals birthed in the outermost reaches of the volcano, only to perish quickly in the absence of sufficient essence. This was one of the few places in the Prime Material Plane where such beings could manifest: the former Peak of the Forge, now the Smoldering Ridge.

At the continent’s southeastern tip, where the dwarven kingdom once stood, the dwarves had detonated their subterranean fire veins during the Abyss War—veins once used for forging and industry. The surging, molten magma had sealed the entire dwarven city and the encroaching Abyssal army within a tomb of solid obsidian.

The Peak of the Forge, once a constant source of eruptions and rare ores, had cooled as its deep-seated fire veins were drained. Today, its temperature was less than a fifth of what it had been, and even the fire elementals could no longer sustain their existence at the crater’s edge.

The Smoldering Ridge—this was the volcano's name now. Local residents doubted it would ever erupt again, fearing it would soon cool entirely, its magma lakes vanishing into memory. After all, it had been silent for centuries.

A streak of silver lightning tore through the sky, pausing briefly at the crater before plunging directly into the magma. It descended, cutting straight into the volcano’s deepest reaches—the final, dying fire vein.

The magma could not touch Arielian; as it neared her, an invisible force parted the molten rock.

Of course, such heat was not enough to harm a dragon, and for Arielian, it was merely an annoyance she preferred to avoid.

The silver dragon’s claws brushed the floor of the magma pool, a thick layer of obsidian. Her senses detected no life; the place seemed utterly desolate.

Yet, Arielian knew her final target was here: Caesar, one of the four remaining red dragons, once known as the "Flame King," a dragon whose power rivaled or perhaps even exceeded that of the red dragon patriarch.

"Hmm, it should be in this direction..."

She withdrew her consciousness, allowing her domain to manifest, piercing the anti-magic obsidian and tracing the withered vein deep into the earth. Finally, tens of kilometers down, she sensed an impossible void.

Space rippled. The silver dragon flickered and vanished, reappearing instantly within the subterranean chamber.

"BOOM!"

A crimson ray was unleashed the moment Arielian appeared, searing toward her. The sheer heat of its radiation alone caused the obsidian walls—which had coexisted with magma for eons—to melt instantly.

"Calm yourself, Caesar. I am not with the Dragon Cult."

A silver blade flashed in the air. Two great blades of Draconic magic formed as Arielian beat her wings, colliding with the red dragon’s breath.

Arielian’s power did not meet the breath with brute force; instead, she sliced through it, dividing the torrent into harmless, scattered streams of red light that struck the chamber walls.

Even these dissipated rays easily melted through the heat-resistant obsidian, leaving deep, jagged pits.

"Hmm, you must be the silver dragon who clashed with the Cult. I know who you are, but I will not apologize for my attack."

A deep, masculine voice boomed from the source of the breath. A dragon with corded, massive muscles stepped into the light. A horrific scar ran from his left eye to his horn, claiming both in a single, brutal stroke.

"My arrival was abrupt. It is a risk I should have expected."

Arielian ignored the attack. In a world where one might be friend or foe, a preemptive strike was the only logical choice.

"Why have you come?"

The remaining eye fixed upon her, Caesar asked coldly.

"To raise the banner of rebellion against 'Him' and the Dragon Cult. The 'Heavenly Kingdom' He seeks to build is nearing completion. Having fought them, you know as well as I that their power is becoming whole."

Arielian stated her purpose: to rally the remaining dragons and launch a counter-assault on His kingdom.

These dragons were anomalies, their strength beyond the measure of ordinary kin, and only such power had allowed them to escape His purge.

"You are right. Their power grows ever stronger..."

Caesar’s claw traced the jagged scar over his eye—a souvenir from his direct confrontation with the Cult. He had fought alone against dozens of dragons enslaved by Him and a legion of Cultists.

He had burned the sky and shattered the earth, much like Arielian had done on the Endless Coast, standing against an army of foes. He had nearly succeeded, but the scar on his face was the testament to his failure.

"That was the attack of a Cult Bishop. He was granted a title, and through it, the corresponding power from the 'Heavenly Kingdom' He created. It was that power that defeated me."

Caesar spoke calmly. He had long accepted his defeat. The power of 'Him' still lingered in the wound, suppressing his dragon’s vitality and healing, preventing him from ever truly recovering.

"It seems our time is even shorter than I feared. I need your strength."

Arielian nodded, extending her invitation.

"The odds are slim, but... count me in."

Having faced the Cult, Caesar knew the magnitude of the power they wielded, but failure had not extinguished the fire in his heart, which burned as hot as the blood in his veins. He accepted without hesitation.

"Then... wait. Damn it."

As he began to speak, a sudden, searing pain from his scar interrupted him. The power of 'Him' within the wound was stirring, sensing something and leaking outward in a frantic surge.

Caesar realized the truth instantly: the scar was not merely a wound, but a trap. The moment he made contact with another dragon, the hidden power would broadcast their location.

"Hmph. It seems we must fight once more. But with you here, the outcome will not be what they expect."

Caesar bared his fangs, feeling the strange tremors beginning to shake the chamber, and spoke to Arielian, who had already entered a combat stance.

[I have been a bit busy these past two days, so the recent chapters are a bit short. After Tuesday, I will lengthen them and push the plot forward rapidly! (?>?