Chapter 395 Saint King Allen, The Dragon Awakens

"Warriors of Lorthorn! Follow me—to the death!!!"

King O'Brien drew the royal sword 'Dawn,' inherited from his holy ancestor, and pointed the blade straight ahead.

The remaining royal guards, along with all the soldiers still willing to follow the king, roared with deafening fury, like moths drawn to flames, and charged forward without hesitation, following their monarch.

The battle instantly entered its most brutal and intense phase.

With his legendary strength and unwavering resolve, O'Brien charged across the vast battlefield, each swing of the Dawn King Sword unleashing a storm of blood and gore as he attempted to slow the kingdom's demise through his personal valor.

High above the palace, Elena ascended into the air using magic, wanting to witness firsthand the final battle outside the city that would determine the fate of the kingdom.

However, shortly after she took off, a huge shadow suddenly loomed over her.

The Iron Dragon Gorton returned and hovered in front of her.

His heart was filled with struggle and contradiction, but in the end, the emotions that had been brewing for nearly a century still overcame the weighing of reason, and he could not bring himself to run away alone.

He also vividly remembers the fear and unease he felt when he was sent to the royal court as a tribute as a child.

He had expected imprisonment and humiliation. However, the first thing he saw was Princess Elena, who was still young at the time, giving him a warm and delighted smile, as bright as sunshine.

The tragic life she had imagined did not come. Instead, she was greeted with flowers, delicious food, and the princess's unconditional kindness and companionship.

They grew up together over nearly a century.

Elena would confide all her feelings to him, whether it was frustration, grievance, or the occasional joy and anticipation.

And every time he wakes up from his deep sleep, the first thing he sees is always Elena's smiling figure.

call!

Iron Dragon stretched out its massive claws, this time not as an invitation, but with an irresistible gentleness, and gently lifted Elena up by the waist, then placed her on its broad and sturdy back, carrying her with it into the higher sky.

"Elena, I'll say it one last time—when the royal city truly falls and the defenses completely collapse, I will flee without hesitation the moment I arrive, and I will never sacrifice my life to defend the city."

Gorton's voice was more serious than ever before: "But before that... I'll stay with you for these last moments."

The Crystal Princess was stunned, gazing at the dragon's neck covered with hard scales beneath her. A complex and unfathomable light flashed in her eyes. Although her face bore many wrinkles of age, her dignified demeanor, derived from her bloodline and upbringing, and her serene beauty after weathering storms, were all the more moving.

She gently bent down, her palm stroking the cold scales of Gorton, and a smile suddenly bloomed on her face.

“Okay, Goldon.”

"If... I mean if, in this desperate situation, the kingdom can truly pull off a miracle and turn defeat into victory."

"Then, after the war ends and everything settles down, I can, as you wish, truly become your princess."

Elena harbored complex and profound emotions towards the iron dragon that had accompanied her throughout almost her entire life. However, in the past, her responsibilities and boundaries as a human princess prevented her from confronting these feelings that transcended race.

But at this moment, at a critical juncture where life and death are at stake and everything could be lost.

She chose to face her own heart honestly.

Gorton's massive body trembled almost imperceptibly.

Although he had always seemed to have good luck, deep down he knew how slim the chances of a miracle were at this moment.

However, even so.

Hearing Elena's promise with his own ears instantly released a certain emotion that had been building up in his heart for many years.

It's a deal.

Tie Long grinned, revealing a smile as well.

Then, the Iron Dragon flapped its broad wings, carrying the Crystal Princess on its back, and cautiously approached the city wall.

Outside the city, it had already been turned into a blood-soaked grinding stone.

Limbs and broken weapons and armor were mixed together, staining the earth a dark red. Blood gathered into trickles, forming pools of blood in low-lying areas.

King O'Brien, at this moment, is like a burning meteor.

He charged fearlessly through the densest part of the enemy ranks, each strike of the Dawn King Sword unleashing a blinding golden sword light. Wherever it passed, the oncoming enemy warriors were easily cleaved in two, armor and all. The ferocious and terrifying alchemical golems, clad in heavy armor, were also shattered into pieces, their parts and magical circuits flying everywhere.

Apart from attacks from legendary units of the same rank, and a few special war weapons designed specifically to counter legendary units.

Ordinary attacks cannot penetrate legendary domains.

O'Brien stood firm like a rock on the battlefield amidst the torrent of destruction.

Led by the king's personal example, the legendary royal guards fought with the same selflessness, and countless Lor'theon warriors unleashed their last courage, charging headlong into the enemy.

For a time, they withstood the fiercest first wave of the allied offensive and even managed a brief counterattack in some areas.

O'Brien's valiant figure became the most dazzling landmark on the entire battlefield, and the last pillar supporting all the defenders of Lorthorn, preventing them from falling.

In the air, the iron dragon Gordon carried Elena, hovering beneath the massive magical shield that enveloped the royal city.

The perfectly round magic circle, flowing with runic light, resisted the alchemical cannonballs and destructive spells bombarded by the allied forces outside the city. Each hit sent out countless tiny ripples of energy.

The city streets were crowded with civilians, some filled with fear and anxiety, others with resolute expressions, a complex mix of emotions on their faces.

The clamor of war remains deafening.

The situation seemed to have reached a brief stalemate, with the Lorthen defenders displaying unimaginable resilience, but all discerning people knew that this was nothing more than a last gasp before the storm.

The coalition forces held an absolute advantage in both quantity and overall quality.

More and more fresh troops were thrown into the battlefield like a tide, like a steel noose that was tightening, slowly and steadily pressing down on the already narrow living space of the defenders.

At that moment, just as O'Brien had repelled a Allied Legend and then cleaved a giant war golem in two with a single sword strike, his magical energy began to wane slightly.

An unexpected change occurred!

A legendary figure from Lorthorn, the vice-chairman of the Royal Mage Order, who was following closely behind O'Brien, suddenly launched an attack.

The legendary sorcerer brandished his staff, and a twisted chain, accompanied by countless wailing phantoms, shot out, not towards the enemy, but instead entangled King O'Brien.

Soul Chains!

This vicious binding spell does not act on the physical body, but directly binds the target's soul, the magical energy flowing within, and the legendary domain upon which it exists!

O'Brien's imposing figure suddenly stiffened!

His domain was dimmed, covered with wailing faces, and his sword-wielding movements became fatally slowed.

"Mavis?! You...!"

O'Brien's voice, a mixture of shock and anger, had just rang out.

Pfft!

A muffled thud followed as a sharp blade pierced through flesh and armor!

The two-handed greatsword, symbolizing the highest honor of the Royal Knights of Lortheon, now imbued with an indestructible domain property, pierced fiercely into O'Brien's back!

The swordsman is the commander of the Royal Knights, a royal order deeply trusted by the king and renowned for its unwavering loyalty.

"For the sake of a new era! I apologize, Your Majesty!"

The Royal Knights Commander growled, his usually resolute face now contorted with rage at the thought of betrayal.

Pfft!

The sound of the sword piercing through the legendary armor and the king's strong body rang out shrilly on the deafening battlefield.

The blood-stained tip of the sword protruded from his chest.

O'Brien's body jolted violently, and the question in his mouth turned into a mouthful of scalding blood.

"traitor!"

"Protect His Majesty!"

The surrounding Imperial Guards and other legends, their eyes blazing with fury, unleashed a ferocious attack that instantly forced the two traitors back.

Someone quickly stepped forward and poured the most potent healing potion into the king's mouth, barely stabilizing his rapidly fading life force, but it still couldn't change the fact that he was seriously injured.

"I never imagined... that the two of you would be the ones to betray me in the end."

O'Brien coughed up blood, his face as pale as paper, but his expression remained unusually calm, his gaze still sharp, fixed on the two legendary traitors.

The Royal Knights Commander, a veteran legend of the Kingdom of Lorthen, once personally instructed the young O'Brien in martial arts; another legendary sorcerer, Maiev, was also the magic mentor of many princes and princesses.

"A good bird chooses a good tree to perch on, and a wise minister chooses a good lord to serve."

The sorceress Maiev said softly, "Your Majesty, you murdered your brother and usurped the throne, so your throne was never legitimate."

"Now that the Lortheon Empire is on the verge of collapse, you stubbornly refuse all possibilities of peace talks, dragging the entire kingdom into the abyss of destruction... We have no choice but to find another way out."

Seeing the king seriously injured, the allied forces erupted in thunderous cheers, their morale soaring.

The traitor's face also revealed a smug and relaxed expression of impending victory.

On the other side, the Iron Dragon Gorton, circling in the air, had a drastic change in expression as his instinct to escape once again strongly urged him on.

But seeing Elena's face drain of color and her resolute eyes on his back, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He continued to carry her, circling in the air, and took a deep breath, preparing to forcefully take her away.

"Gorton, let's go, get out of here right now!"

"I will fulfill my oath and perish with my country!"

The Crystal Princess began to mobilize all the magical energy within her body, preparing to unleash the strongest and final spell of her life, taking as many enemies as possible with her.

However, just when the kingdom was on the verge of collapse and all hope was lost, in the darkest moment...

Despite his severe injuries, O'Brien suddenly smiled.

He stared at the two traitors, his gaze slowly sweeping over the surrounding legendary allies who were eyeing him covetously and eager to make a move. His voice was not loud, but it clearly reached the ears of every powerful figure: "Do you think you have already won?"

“Fools, if I were you, I would start praying right now, and then… run away for my life.”

Buzz!

An indescribably powerful aura suddenly erupted from the deepest part of the Valdo Royal City without warning.

Deep within the royal palace, the Lorthorn Monument, a symbol of the kingdom and bearing the marks of time, suddenly shattered.

Pure, warm, and majestic light surged forth from it, soaring straight into the sky.

The dark clouds that had gathered over the royal city, filled with the shadows of war and the aura of death, were instantly dispelled like melting snow, and the entire world was enveloped and illuminated by this magnificent light.

At the very center of the light, a figure slowly stepped out.

He wore an ancient-style yet spotless white royal robe, his face was as young as a youth, his black hair was as black as ink and cascaded down his shoulders, and his eyes were so deep that they seemed to contain the entire starry sky, inspiring awe in those who looked at him and making them dare not look directly at him.

The moment I saw this figure appear.

All the legendary powerhouses present, whether from Lorthorn's side or the allied forces' side, underwent a dramatic change in expression, their faces freezing almost simultaneously.

This man is none other than the strongest ruler in the history of the Kingdom of Lorthorn.

A legendary figure, known as the Holy King – Alan Lorthorn.

He descended upon the very center of the battlefield, his gaze calm as still water, sweeping over the surrounding carnage and bloodshed before finally settling on the two traitors frozen in place.

"Breaking oaths, murdering the king and betraying the country."

The Holy King spoke, his voice not loud, but like a decree, carrying an unquestionable meaning.

The two traitors were terrified.

In the instant they tried to beg for mercy or escape.

Buzz!

An invisible yet powerful domain instantly spread out, engulfing and covering both of them. Their own domains appeared on their bodies, but they seemed to be under some kind of immense pressure, constantly cracking.

"He shall be punished by being struck by ten thousand swords!"

The Holy King's words fell calmly, like a final judgment.

In an instant, countless sharp swords appeared out of thin air, filling every inch of space around the traitor.

These lightsabers, as if possessing a life of their own, converged into two torrents of death, shooting out like funnels, passing through the bodies of the two traitors time and time again.

Their mouths were agape, their faces contorted in extreme pain, as they let out piercing screams.

However, within the Holy King's domain, even their screams were completely taken away. They could only watch helplessly as their bodies and souls were slowly torn apart and tortured amidst the piercing swords, ultimately dying in extreme agony.

quiet!

A deathly silence enveloped the entire battlefield.

Whether it was the garrison of Lorthorn or the soldiers of the allied forces, everyone was frozen in place as if under a spell, staring dumbfounded at the scene.

The fierce war came to a brief halt.

While punishing the traitor, Saint King Allen slowly raised his gaze and surveyed the entire bloody battlefield.

His gaze swept across the endless mountains and plains outside the city, and over the legendary warriors who had been so arrogant before, but now had tense expressions.

His gaze was calm, devoid of anger, murderous intent, or even the slightest ripple.

Only indifference and majesty.

Immediately afterwards, his domain expanded once again! The extent of it was unbelievable, far exceeding the limits of a normal legend's understanding of the domain's range.

Centered on the Holy King.

The soldiers on Lorthen's side felt a warm and powerful aura flow into their bodies, soothing their pain and fear, while the allied forces were as if they had been struck head-on by an invisible and vast force! Soldiers fell to the ground in droves, pinned down and unable to get up, their tight formation crumbling.

The enormous alchemical golems went out of control, standing frozen in place or colliding with each other.

Even those legendary powerhouses hovering in the air were struck as if by lightning, their domains cracking and their movements becoming difficult.

Panic! Like a plague, it spread wildly through the coalition forces at an unprecedented speed.

All fighting spirit, all greed, all ambition, before this holy king who has reappeared in the world, all turned into the most primal fear.

"The Federation was established by my own hands."

The Holy King's voice rang out again, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, yet resounding like a great bell, echoing between heaven and earth, its phrasing and word choice carrying an ancient charm.

"It aims to bring together nations, set aside personal differences, jointly defend against foreign enemies, and share in peace."

His words paused slightly, but his calm gaze seemed to contain immense pressure, making every enemy whose eyes swept over him tremble in their soul.

"However, centuries have passed, and people's hearts have changed. You have long forgotten the original intention of the alliance and betrayed the oath of coexistence, whether due to your own selfish desires, short-sightedness, or cowardice. This has led to the resurgence of war and the spread of flames across the land."

At this point, the Holy King's voice suddenly rose a little.

"If that's the case, forcing a union is nothing more than sleeping in the same bed but dreaming different dreams, only increasing internal friction and wasting the vitality of this land that I cherish!"

"Today, I will personally end this alliance that exists in name only!"

"The Federation is hereby dissolved!"

These words shocked everyone present.

Neither the garrison of Lorthorn nor the soldiers of the allied forces could believe their ears.

Dissolving the Federation? This means that the Holy King voluntarily relinquished his supreme authority over the southern kingdoms, and abandoned his position above all other kings.

The Holy King's next words shook them to their core.

"As for you allied forces, you have trampled on my land, violated my borders, and killed my people. You should all be exterminated as a warning to others!"

The murderous intent flashed by, leaving all the enemies feeling as if they had fallen into an ice cave, their breath almost ceasing.

"But!" The Holy King changed his tone, his voice still majestic and vast, his aura as grand as mountains and rivers: "Slaughter is not my wish, nor is hatred the way to long-term peace."

“I pity you soldiers in the army, many of you driven by the ambitions of those in power, with parents, wives and daughters waiting for you at home, suffering this war unjustly.”

"I pity the lives of people on the mainland. We should not let them bleed and exhaust their vitality because of temporary disputes and power struggles, causing pain to our loved ones and joy to our enemies."

"Therefore, today, in the name of Holy King Alan Lorthorn, I pardon your sins of aggression."

"Put down your weapons, take the wounded and the corpses of your comrades, and retreat to your respective territories."

"From this day forward, Lortheron and the other nations will no longer be bound by alliances. Each will act as it sees fit, without interfering with the other. I hope you will all behave yourselves well, remember the lesson of today, and refrain from any more unjust acts that would only bring war and harm to the common people."

He stood amidst endless light, his figure seemingly reaching the heavens and earth, his voice echoing across the land.

"If you ever again invade my territory of Lortheron, and there is no longer any friendship between the Federation, then the forgiveness you show today will not be enough. At that time, no matter where you flee to, I will make you pay an unbearable price!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the vast and boundless domain centered on the Holy King, which had enveloped the battlefield, receded like a tide.

After a brief period of deathly silence came utter collapse.

The allied forces that had been so imposing and determined to crush Waldo were now wishing they had more legs!

They abandoned their armor and heavy equipment, fleeing in panic like a flock of frightened sheep, trampling each other, never daring to look back at the royal city shrouded in the holy king's glory.

The Holy King turned around, glanced at O'Brien with his deep gaze, and nodded slightly to him.

Then, his figure, shrouded in light, began to fade slowly, eventually disappearing like a phantom, as if he had never existed.

On the other side.

Whew! Whew! Whew!

Iron Dragon Gorton flapped its wings and slowly landed on a well-preserved square within the palace grounds.

"A miracle... really happened?"

"That legendary Holy King is still alive!"

He muttered to himself, and a few seconds later, as if he had suddenly realized something, a look of sudden enlightenment appeared on his face, which was then replaced by an extremely inflated sense of confidence.

"Perhaps, I, Gorton Ignas, am the legendary chosen one! A being destined to lead an era!" The more he thought about it, the more sense it made, and his dragon tail unconsciously swayed proudly.

"Otherwise, there's no way to explain why I'm always able to turn danger into safety and avert peril at crucial moments!"

"Even this dangerous situation can be reversed because of the Holy King's reappearance!"

"Yes, that's right! That must be it! I, Gordon, am the chosen one!"

“Sorog, Samantha, and even Garros… their achievements and luck today might all be thanks to me, because they shared in my good fortune!”

Lost in his self-admiration, Gorton, like a victorious general, proudly raised his chest, which was covered in iron-gray scales.

He swayed his massive body, looked down at Elena who had just gotten off his back, and grinned widely.

He chuckled and reminded her, "Elena, you promised me in the air before, and now that the kingdom's crisis has been resolved and a miracle has occurred, you can't go back on your word."

A dragon and a princess are a perfect match.

From this day forward, Galos and the others should be envious of themselves for having a princess.

Princess Crystal was gazing in the direction where the Holy King had disappeared, her heart surging with emotion.

Upon hearing Gordon's words, she slowly turned her head, a puzzled expression on her face, and tilted her head slightly.

"What are you saying? Did I promise you anything?"

Tie Long's smug smile froze instantly, leaving him speechless for a moment, followed by a surge of embarrassment and annoyance at being mocked.

"Hmph! Despicable, fickle humans!"

He huffed and puffed out two plumes of steam with sparks from his nose, ignoring Elena, and flew to a corner of the square. Then he covered his head completely with his large wings, lay down on the ground, and began to sulk.

Meanwhile, O'Brien returned to the city under the escort of his guards.

Elena immediately went to meet her brother and helped him up.

Suppressing her inner excitement, she asked in a low, urgent voice, "Brother Wang! Now that our ancestor has reappeared, could you please ask him to take action and hunt down those legendary figures of the Allied Forces? They must pay the price for today's betrayal and slaughter!"

"Our ancestors were magnanimous and compassionate towards all living beings, but those invading enemies must not be forgiven in vain."

"Everyone says you have inherited your ancestors' virtues and are highly regarded by them. Perhaps... you could try to change their minds? At least, you can't let them retreat so easily!"

O'Brien, his face pale, shook his head, enduring the excruciating pain from his wound.

He didn't offer much explanation, only weakly saying, "The intentions of our ancestors are beyond our comprehension and cannot be easily changed."

Elena was unwilling to give up and wanted to persuade him again: "But brother..."

O'Brien waved wearily, interrupting her: "Let's talk about it later. My injury is quite serious, and I need to rest immediately."

Elena swallowed back the words that were on the tip of her tongue and said no more.

Then, time passed by at a leisurely pace.

The decades-long Southern Civil War finally came to a complete end with the reappearance of Holy King Alan Lorthorn, who personally dissolved the Federation. The anti-king coalition forces, in fear, quickly withdrew their troops and hastily retreated to their respective territories.

They dared not act rashly, nervously observing the subsequent attitude of the Kingdom of Lortheon.

As the Holy King had said, the Kingdom of Lorthen did not pursue the crimes of the other nations for their invasion after recovering the lost territories.

With his benevolence and compassion, the Holy King once again won the admiration and respect of countless people in the South.

The nations in the anti-King camp were despised by the world for their treachery and disloyalty, and their domestic turmoil and unstable rule were frequent. Meanwhile, the allies who had always followed the Kingdom of Lortheron were celebrating and feeling honored.

However, the wounds inflicted by war cannot be healed overnight.

After the southern kingdoms laid down their arms, they began to slowly lick their wounds and quell the chaos brought about by the war, thus regaining peace after a long time.

And so, time flew by, and it came to the beginning of the year 318 in the Gregorian calendar.

Meanwhile, in the far north, far from the conflicts in the south, lies a border region shrouded in snow.

After nearly thirty years of silence, at the age of 98, the King of Smelting Iron slowly opened his eyes in a cave deep underground, awakening from his slumber.

(End of this chapter)