Thump!
Mere footsteps sounded like thunder, falling on everyone's heartbeats as if they'd forgotten to breathe, sweat pouring down like rain.
The largest known wyrm in the world was right before them, a towering mountain. How could one not be nervous? However, at this moment, the Southern Army still displayed the organization expected of an elite force, further contracting their formation while setting up their ranged weapons.
Regardless, they numbered twenty thousand.
More importantly, the Southern Army possessed its greatest trump card:
Frieren—taking the lead, she charged towards Greyoll without hesitation, unleashing her full magical power. Successive terrifying shockwaves erupted from the ground, rivaling Greyoll's presence.
Who was afraid of whom?
At this moment, Torrent neighed, its muscles taut, both nervous and expectant, fully prepared.
"To think the dignified Grandmother of Dragons has been reduced to such a sorry state, and now we must face its wrath."
A touch of regret crossed Melina's face, but her eyes held only determination. You are in the way.
"I plan to fight alongside Torrent. You hold on tight to me too."
Greyoll, who had been charging at full speed, suddenly halted, warily eyeing the tiny silver-haired girl and the spirit steed before it.
The last shred of reason and biological instinct in its mind told it a formidable enemy had arrived.
The dragon's den was in danger!
The erosion of Scarlet Rot sent a destructive urge coursing through its body, sharpening into a weapon aimed at every visitor, showing no mercy, demanding annihilation.
Om!
Suddenly, a brilliant golden light bathed the dragon's body. Unfortunately, Greyoll merely shook its head and roared, its eyes still filled with hatred in an instant. Frieren, lowering her staff, sighed. Purification was useless; a new creature transformed by Scarlet Rot could not be saved.
Both sides immediately realized one thing: only a deathmatch remained.
There was no question of holding back between them; rather, they would try to inflict as much damage on the enemy as possible. The Scarlet Rot side, in particular, had the advantage; restricting the battlefield was paramount.
The silver-haired girl turned her head and shouted, "Edgar, you command the army to deal with those wyrms! Leave Greyoll to me."
"As you command!"
At this point, they had to separate into different areas; otherwise, losses would only escalate further.
Frieren, galloping at full speed on horseback, simultaneously fired Comets. Greyoll, attempting to unleash its breath attack several times, was interrupted each time, every hit making its massive body tremble and its head buzz.
The power wasn't immense, but it excelled at causing delays.
"You won't get past me. Don't even think about spreading your attacks to the army."
Her straightforward tone declared an unshakable fact. Hearing this, the colossal white dragon grew even more enraged – the dignified Grandmother of Dragons! When had it ever suffered such a threat? Such ignorance of its own limitations! Did they think it was finished just because it was afflicted by rot?
Infuriated, Greyoll flapped its wings. A fierce wind swept over them, sending soil and stones flying. A simple action, yet its power was no less than a Storm Stomp.
Torrent nimbly leaped, easily dodging.
The overly large rocks were shattered by Frieren. Such displays of frustration were utterly ineffective.
However, it still adopted a superficially clumsy tactic, remaining stationary and keeping a covetous eye on the Southern Army's position. As both sides entered a stalemate, a back-and-forth, each tried to push the aftershocks towards the enemy's side.
Rumble!
The shockwaves generated by their clash shot straight into the clouds.
One with immense size, the other with wide-area magic; with each exchange, the earth cracked, hills were flattened, and rot-infested moss was uprooted by the fierce winds.
The rocks beneath Greyoll's feet even shattered upon being stepped on, turning to dust and vanishing without a trace.
It continuously sent gales of wind flying, even releasing its breath attack, seemingly making even Frieren look disheveled. The advantage of its large size was undeniable; every movement was immensely destructive. She had to protect both Torrent and the army simultaneously.
Both sides kept a close watch on each other.
Currently, she employed hit-and-run tactics, bogging down the tenacious Grandmother of Dragons, leaving the other side to the Southern Army.
Even from such a distance, the sounds of roaring battle, clashing blades, and tearing flesh could be heard. Wyrms continually fell.
Facing the dense volleys of human spears, crossbow bolts, and even the hunting prowess of Magma Wyrms, Grafted Scions, and Dragon Communion adherents, they were actually being pushed back.
"Awooo!"
Mournful cries and miserable screams rose and fell, corpses littering the ground.
They were far too experienced in dealing with wyrms and similar foes. For the people of Limgrave, who often operated around Agheel Lake, engaging these creatures was familiar territory. Once a large-scale hunt began, it was unstoppable.
Although the wyrms also caused considerable trouble for their side, the losses were within a controllable range and, compared to the enemy's losses, did not affect their overall combat effectiveness.
"Charge! Kill these monsters!"
"Not a single one can escape, or they'll spread the Scarlet Rot!"
"Be careful, other rot creatures are attacking—"
The fiercely brave Southern Army simultaneously engaged wyrms, crows, hounds, and other rot creatures, practically chasing them down, the twenty thousand elite troops, united as one, proving invincible.
The monsters were dumbfounded.
Was this the human army they were familiar with?
Seeing that it had lost control of the battle's rhythm, the colossal white dragon suddenly rolled and slid down the hillside, charging straight for the army's position.
"You've chosen poorly." Before her words faded, a massive dark moon plummeted alongside it.
She hadn't found an opportunity to release it earlier. Now, Greyoll, desperate to support its wyrm brethren and exposing a weakness, had become a perfect target. The next moment, the massive dark moon smashed violently into the wyrm with a deafening boom.
In the nick of time, it reacted, slashing the dark moon sphere, but was also pushed by this force to the other end of the battlefield, far away.
Bang!
The warring parties clearly, both overtly and covertly, pushed back the colossal body of the white dragon.
Greyoll, leveraging its terrifying size advantage, managed to stall the attack and, in turn, attempted to push back the magic.
How could she let it succeed?
Frieren leaped high, stomped on the surface of the dark moon, and once again replenished its mana. A vast torrent of energy surged out, unstoppable, immediately causing the dark moon to swell by more than twice its size, thus overwhelming the colossal wyrm's resistance.
A simple contest of strength shook the mountains. The Southern Army, from top to bottom, was about to have their jaws drop. They hadn't expected Her Majesty's power to be so exaggerated.
At this very moment, the tiny silver-haired girl was single-handedly suppressing the Grandmother of Dragons. The latter braced against the attack with its claws, its back continually pressed towards the ground, its head thrown back violently.
Glare—
Dragon breath!
Facing this move, she immediately employed ice-attribute magic, but the next moment, red patterns quickly appeared on her arm's skin, rapidly ulcerating.
"So, you indeed possess rot breath, and you've hidden it until now—"
Both sides simultaneously retreated a step. The uncontrolled dark moon instantly lost its magic. Ice crystals and snowflakes, mixed with rot, drifted down together – a beautiful yet deadly, bizarre sight rarely seen in the world.
The white dragon rolled over and stood up again, faintly spreading its wings, regrouping, ready to go all out.
Opposite her, the silver-haired girl slowly floated amidst the purple energy of gravity magic.
"Torrent, don't worry."
Melina gently stroked the frightened spirit steed, her gaze shifting between Greyoll and Frieren. No one else could intervene in this world-altering battle.
Sunlight Heal.
Frieren used her most adept healing magic on her corrupted arm, firmly suppressing the Scarlet Rot. The trace amounts of it that had been provoked into restlessness within her body also vanished; they had almost become active.
Admittedly, she couldn't heal infected creatures, but she herself was an exception, as this body had long since transcended any known form of life.
Even if left unattended, a stronger power within would expel the weaker.
What standing did it have to take residence?
Could there truly be someone in the world who could easily dispel Scarlet Rot?
The silver-haired girl's reaction made Greyoll's eyes lower, a touch of nervousness creeping into its heart. Its imagined finishing blow was useless? Now it had to change tactics.
Crystal Release!
While pondering, Frieren struck first. Spreading white crystal shards rained down, each impact gouging a pit in the ground, mostly aimed at the dragon's body.
Greyoll tensed its muscles, actively blocking with the toughest scales on its back.
However, a considerable number still pierced through the scales, sinking directly into its flesh. Even a rot-corrupted body felt pain.
That was an anti-magic art!
Realizing the nature of the dark moon, it didn't dare to be arrogant, flapping its wings to barely escape.
What a grounded chicken.
Gravity magic pulled Frieren swiftly through the air in pursuit. Direct flight was difficult in the Lands Between, but by setting different gravitational points, she could, which was enough to match Greyoll's speed advantage despite its massive size.
Simultaneously, she unleashed Ancient Death Rancor to surround the target, but this creature was mutated inside and out. The impact was not significant, or rather, it no longer had weaknesses.
"Has Scarlet Rot completely replaced its flesh? Then even death will cause a huge commotion."
She switched to suppressive attacks to drive it away.
Greyoll was no pushover either, frequently retaliating with flame breath.
Boom!
The back-and-forth battle between the two circled the edge of the battlefield, carving out a ring-shaped trench with shockwaves, the earth utterly shattered.
The situation on the main battlefield became clearer. The wyrms, crows, and other rot creatures were in full retreat, completely unable to withstand the Southern Army's fierce, united offensive, leaving behind a field of corpses.
"Maintain suppression." Edgar galloped past the archer formation, ordering, "Begin volley fire."
Arrows rained down, covering the distant area.
While of limited effect against one or two rot creatures, it excelled in overwhelming suppression, causing them to break, falling one after another, either riddled with arrows or dragging their maimed bodies as they staggered.
Frontline soldiers wielded shields and spears, thrusting like a storm. Once a monster was hit, its body would be pierced, letting blood.
When they tried to counterattack, they couldn't penetrate the impenetrable shield wall.
Some wyrms attempted to escape by air, unaware that Stormhawks and the Southern Army's own wyverns were waiting to intercept them, along with even more powerful, precise strikes from dragon-slaying ballistae.
The enormous ballista bolts even required trolls to transport.
The operators were top marksmen handpicked by the Southern Army, never missing, specializing in aerial targets.
"Awooo!"
Wyrms continually plummeted from high above. Even if they had a breath left, they couldn't escape the encircling Southern Army, which swarmed to deliver finishing blows. Even if they desperately unleashed some rot, it had little effect on those who had taken a draught of Preserving Boluses beforehand to boost their resistance.
Thorough preparation was evident in every aspect of their operation, like a precision machine killing targets, interlocked to form a meat grinder.
Now the rot creatures were in a panic, finally realizing one thing:
For years, their arrogant dominance was only because they faced the Redmane Army, which was severely weakened, a shadow of its former self, declining for years, mired in deep-seated problems. That's why they were so rampant.
In contrast, the Southern Army was at its historical peak.
Their steps, like the thunder of war drums, trod upon the scarlet soil, like a sharp knife tearing through the clusters of rot creatures. And they themselves were tough enough; no counterattack could shake their indomitable momentum.
The Blood Nobles watching from a distance were numb, completely unprepared for the enemy's overwhelming strength.
"The battle with the Grandmother of Dragons is right beside them, how can they be so unfazed? Aren't they even going to glance over?"
"The new Lord of Souls is holding her off." This was truly a battle of myths.
On the ground, densely packed soldiers drove out the rot creatures. Not far away, the colossal white wyrm and the sorceress engaged in a frenzied duel, staining half the mossy landscape, causing even the mountains to crumble. Amidst the rumbling, countless rocks cascaded down.
Dragon, magic, and army together painted the most standard epic of the Lands Between. The Battle of Dragonbarrow would surely be recorded in Caelid's history, perhaps even becoming part of murals and reliefs.
Humans were reclaiming their land.
From Funingna's initial clarion call to counterattack the disasters after the Shattering, the seeds had finally been sown in the scarlet domain, and they had truly opened up the situation.
In fact, this conflict wasn't instigated by the Blood Nobles. Who knew why the Putrid Wyrms had suddenly gone berserk?
"Retreat."
At this point, there was truly no room for them to intervene. It was better to return and strengthen the Blood Dynasty's army.
Greyoll, with the battle almost entirely one-sided against its forces, was frantic. If this continued, would all the other wyrms be buried alongside it? Even with the existence of Scarlet Rot, it had to ensure the continuation of its lineage.
However, the relentlessly pursuing Frieren gave it no chance.
Amidst various repeated magical bombardments, she even carved a trench, dividing the battlefield.
A massive explosion.
It was evident the opponent intended to play it safe and wear it down. Since quickly killing a colossal wyrm was difficult, she would control the pace of the battle.
Greyoll watched as everything was about to be destroyed. Its heart hardened; it no longer resisted the magic, instead turning towards the Southern Army.
Mobilizing all the mana it had accumulated thus far, it unleashed an unprecedented torrent of rot breath!
Scarlet energy erupted from its throat, like a flowing stream that suffused the sky, a cage of rot so thick it couldn't be dispersed, blanketing the entire battlefield. At this moment, the soldiers froze, watching in horror as the torrent washed over them. This time, it was a total party wipe—
Woosh!
An even faster Flower of Aeonia appeared in the sky, intercepting the full force of the rot breath. In an instant, its petals extended for hundreds of meters, like a forest.
Standing atop the highest petal was none other than Frieren, her staff held high.
"I've been waiting for you to use this move."
Before her words faded, a Carian Greatsword carved a descending arc.
Lion's Claw!
The sharp blade slammed onto Greyoll's head. Half its face was annihilated in the magic, and simultaneously, the silver-haired girl flew over on an Aeonian petal. The massive white dragon's body was forcefully pressed to the ground.
For the first time since the battle began, it fell. The dignified Grandmother of Dragons was now headfirst on the ground, in a sorry state.
The Southern Army was still shaken. A moment ago, they thought it was over, but in the blink of an eye, Greyoll was struggling on the ground, being mercilessly hacked at by Frieren.
Using the Flower of Aeonia to absorb rot?
Looking at the giant flower floating in the sky, all was silent.
Bang!
Suddenly, Frieren, pressing down on the dragon's back, stumbled as her footing shook. Greyoll, facing the sky, spread its wings. A strong wind blew, tearing at its tattered body.
"Roar!"
The white dragon let out a tragic roar, then beat its wings and took flight.
Its massive body bathed in the fierce wind, which blew away every speck of corruption, washing away the mottled stains, as if returning to its former glory.
It aimed for a spinning flight to shake off Frieren.
The latter generated a gravity sphere in mid-air, guiding her body to land lightly on the expanded top of the Flower of Aeonia. This counter-move was fluid and seamless, not at all fazed by Greyoll's sudden action.
This wasn't right.
The strong in the Lands Between shouldn't be as foolish as the Lands Between itself. At least in a decisive battle, they should display their peak form. Now both sides were fired up; it had been a long time.
The pale dragon circled the scarlet flower, roaring fiercely, a hint of savagery, full of pride.
Meanwhile, Frieren's body shimmered with multicolored lights.
Golden Vow, Flame, Grant Me Strength, Oath of Vengeance, Terra Magica, and Resonance of Fury—all layered upon her. Whatever they were, she took advantage of the Grandmother of Dragons' momentary adaptation to flight to buff herself thoroughly. A fierce battle was next.
The standoff high above drained the battlefield of color, rendering it silent.
How magnificent!
Only by looking up could one vaguely see, beneath the radiant Erdtree sun, the flower and the dragon circling, each occupying a side, sharply contending.
Fragments of magic drifted down from the highest clouds, mixed with flecks of golden light from the Erdtree, like celebratory fireworks, but only the victor could receive this baptism.
A true battle of gods.
"Her Majesty can always create such grand battle scenes. Is even the Dragon Matriarch responding unwillingly?" Edgar rasped. "Then we cannot fall behind. Let's achieve a solid victory!"
"Towards the last bastion of rot creatures, attack—"
The Southern Army, morale soaring, charged with earth-shattering war cries, trampling over the corpses of monsters to pursue the routed remnants. The latter had almost nothing left but the thought of escape, fleeing in disarray.
They were no longer afraid of these tough-looking but ultimately weak foes. Did they really think they could defeat elite human soldiers?
What a joke!
Having idled in Caelid for so long, they had no idea of the world's immensity. They had only become rampant due to the spread of Scarlet Rot. Their actual combat strength was negligible before a powerful army. Right now, they crumbled at the first touch, unable to organize an effective defense, suffering heavy losses.
"Warriors, you must know that the reason we have the chance to form an army is because the Redmane Army helped us resist the invasion!"
"Now, the Southern Army offers its sharp blade!"
Edgar led the charge.
The army, like a net, firmly enveloped the scattered rot creatures. After repeated blows, they were no longer in formation, utterly devoid of resistance, falling one by one under the siege.
Even beings as strong as wyrms were shot down, crashing to the ground only to be met by a dense thicket of spears.
Rivers of blood flowed, corpses littered the ground; the creatures of Scarlet Rot returned to the crimson earth.
Slaughtered clean right in front of the Grandmother of Dragons!
Rage surging from its heart, Greyoll flapped its wings and dived straight down, recklessly attempting a rescue. However, Frieren, stepping on a gravity sphere, blocked its path with a sweep of Moonlight.
Bang!
With a dull thud, the flat of the greatsword, like a giant palm, viciously slapped the dragon's abdomen, the force so great it sent the latter reeling back tens of meters.
"Go all out, Edgar! I'll hold it off."
Sovereign and general exchanged a look and continued their actions without further words, their coordination perfect. Although it was their first long-distance expeditionary battle, and against a legendary dragon, they remained unshaken, still displaying the Southern Army's best form. Today, Dragonbarrow would be returned to its function as a burial ground, disappearing forever.
The two had cooperated in battle numerous times, rich in experience, firmly controlling the battlefield's rhythm.
The rot creatures, knowing only how to charge recklessly, were naturally no match for them. Only Greyoll, possessing consciousness, could still employ tactics, but alas, it couldn't sustain them.
It was growing increasingly weary.
This young demigod's mana was bottomless; a war of attrition was futile.
However, the pride of the Grandmother of Dragons prevented it from knowing any retreat. It still circled in the air, biding its time, revolving around the silver-haired girl with her gravity sphere magic. Ultimately, its own mobility was superior, and it had the advantage of Scarlet Rot.
"Frieren, are you safe like this?"
Looking at the scarlet wounds on the girl's skin, Melina's heart was heavy with worry. She earnestly cautioned:
"The rot energy in the air is getting stronger. Just by fighting it, you'll be infected. And you've blocked its breath several times; the accumulation in your body has reached its threshold."
"Yes."
The unhesitating, honest reply made her frown even more deeply. If not for the battle, she would have definitely reprimanded her for being too reckless.
The next moment, Frieren activated Flame, Grant Me Strength again.
Because this incantation could mobilize a wisp of the First Flame's power to actively resist the erosion of Scarlet Rot, it had been developed into a targeted resistance. So, although she appeared injured on the surface, it wasn't actually severe.
"I don't have much experience fighting flying enemies, especially one this large. It'll take some effort."
"Roar!"
Greyoll responded to the enemy's fighting spirit with a roar and suddenly dived.
At this moment, it folded its wings, bringing the entire weight of its body down upon the silver-haired girl in mid-air. The latter, without dodging or evading, met the attack head-on.
Deliberately giving it a chance, after all, it wasn't easy to catch a charging wyrm.
As expected, Frieren's first move was to strike its head. A burst of concussive force aimed at the target's jaw, even imbued with a frost-freezing effect, first ensuring the rot breath wouldn't be released immediately, for safety.
But this time, Greyoll attacked with the will to fight to the death, completely unleashing its Scarlet Rot energy almost upon contact.
Let—there be—destruction!
The colossal dragon-form, comparable to a hill, became a super bomb, releasing terrifying corrosion equivalent to its physique, enough to cover an entire region, with Frieren directly in its path.
However, it saw no shock on the enemy's face, but rather indifference, a boredom born of foreknowledge.
"Did you think I was Radahn?"
In an instant, scarlet petals extended from behind the silver-haired girl. Unbeknownst when, the Aeonian Flower that had been floating in the air had digested the corrosive energy and now once again absorbed it, transforming into a colossal flower large enough to envelop the Grandmother of Dragons, its surface as hard as rock.
This is bad, I fell into a trap. But why did the Flower of Aeonia absorb it so quickly?
Greyoll stared intently at the rot marks on Frieren's skin. Not only were there wounds, but more so, it was the result of active absorption.
Madwoman!
"I proactively accepted a portion of the Scarlet Rot to accelerate digestion. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to injure me to this extent."
As she spoke, she aimed her staff at the dragon's head. At this moment, it struggled desperately. Unfortunately, its suicidal attack had weakened its body to the extreme, instead nourishing the flower bud to form a prison. Its do-or-die move had become a cage to trap itself.
From beginning to end, Greyoll had been caught in a tactical snare.
Comet Azur.
The cerulean torrent at the tip of the staff illuminated Frieren's calm declaration. The magic directly pierced through the Grandmother of Dragons' body, annihilating it along with the Scarlet Rot.
All the buffs stacked until now were also released, wiping out the spreading contamination in one fell swoop.
_____
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