Chapter 458 The Spellbreaker Gloves, Dragon Claw Evolution
The Serbian Wilderness, northeastern region.
In the dead of night, the vast expanse of darkness enveloped the sky, the stars and moon dimmed, and only the outline of the mountain ridges could be faintly discerned in the distance.
A chilly evening breeze swept across the layered peaks, brushing past the countless mines and smelters rooted in the mountains, carrying the ceaseless sounds of hammering, engine roars, and furnace fires into the distance.
Since the founding of the Kingdom of Aura, the development of the northeastern region has always been regarded as a key aspect of national policy.
This land has a rugged terrain, with undulating mountains resembling a crouching beast, but beneath the mountains and the surface lies a near-infinite supply of mineral resources.
Iron, lead, mithril, orogen, and occasionally even rare magic crystal veins can be found.
After years of development, this place has been transformed into the kingdom's largest and most productive mining area.
Day and night, various ores are mined from the rock strata. After sorting and evaluation, depending on their value, characteristics and smelting difficulty, they are either transported south to various countries to exchange for wealth or sent to the kingdom's industrial areas, where they are transformed into fine materials and complex structures through high temperatures and alchemy.
At this very moment, the mountain peaks lay silently prostrate in the darkness, like ancient, sleeping beasts.
A group of figures were moving quickly between the mountain ridges and canyons.
They moved swiftly and silently, making no sound as they stepped over pebbles and withered branches. They bore no insignia indicating their affiliation to any organization or kingdom, and their identities remained a mystery.
From a bird's-eye view, it is clear that their route deliberately bypassed all the strongholds and patrol routes established by the Kingdom of Aura.
They seemed to know the defenses here inside and out.
Suddenly, one person in the group paused slightly.
This was a man of medium build, with a pair of unusually bright eyes peeking out from under his hood.
He raised his hand in a stop gesture, and a string of pale blue prophetic spell runes flashed across his eyes.
The symbols seemed to move across the surface of the pupil like living things before disappearing.
“We’re at our destination just ahead.” He lowered his voice, his tone solemn. “Around the target, in addition to the guard posts we already know about, there are many hidden sentries. The number… is at least 30% more than the intelligence indicated.”
On the right, a lithe figure carrying a longbow slightly tilts his head.
This is a man dressed as a wandering knight; even in the dark, his eyes adapt to the light like a feline.
“Those sentries are monsters with extremely keen senses. We must not get close. Once we enter their detection range, we will be discovered immediately.”
"We need to find a viable path between their guards and their covert sentries."
The prophet added.
The ranger nodded: "My wild instincts are also warning me that there are too many lines of sight ahead, and the usual stealth paths are all covered."
Another tall figure said, "Look around those treacherous places, see if there are any other roads."
The prophet nodded without saying anything more.
He clasped his hands together in front of his chest and chanted a low incantation.
The magical light flowed between his fingers, gradually condensing into a simple map composed of light patterns.
The map was covered with countless points of light.
Red represents fixed sentry posts, while white represents mobile, unmarked sentry posts.
They intertwine to form a perimeter network that covers almost all common infiltration angles.
"Wait a moment, let me deduce the most suitable path."
The prophet lightly tapped his brow with his left index finger, and runes began to rapidly swirl on the map with his right palm facing upwards.
Centered on each red and white dot, wavy shadows representing the warning range spread outwards, overlapping each other and blocking almost all possible routes.
The rest of the team waited quietly, each maintaining optimal concealment, their breathing barely audible.
They are all experienced doers who know that in times like these, patience and quiet are more important than anything else.
As the spell deductions deepened, a previously overlooked terrain detail at the edge of the map gradually became clear.
That wasn't a road in the true sense, but a natural rock crevice located on the back of the mountains to the north of the destination.
It begins on a steep slope piled with rubble, winding downwards and clinging to a near-vertical rock face. In some narrow places, only one person can squeeze through sideways. Some sections are half-hidden by years of accumulated withered vines and weathered rock debris, making it difficult to call it a passageway from any angle.
This path would have been almost impossible to discover without the deduction of prophetic magic.
But most importantly, this treacherous crevice, at an extremely tricky angle, avoids the detection range of sentries and guard posts, creating a tiny blind spot.
It is a loophole in this tightly guarded network, overlooked due to the extremely harsh terrain.
"Found it... Go this way."
The prophet withdrew his spell, and the map of light and shadow vanished.
"But the process will be very dangerous. If we slip or trigger a rockfall, we will be exposed."
The leader of the group was a tall man with a warrior-like physique, but he moved as lightly as a shadow.
After carefully listening to the prophet's explanation, the team leader pondered for a few seconds and then decided, "There is no better choice."
"The assassin will scout ahead, the ranger will monitor the movements above and behind, and the prophet will continue to scan for anomalies."
"Everyone should remain on high alert. If the situation changes, immediately proceed with the third contingency plan."
Time is of the essence; every extra moment spent increases the risk of exposure.
Without further hesitation, they quietly changed direction and headed around the north side of the dark mountains.
Their skill and discipline were on full display during the subsequent climb.
On the steep, slippery, and almost vertical rock face, the group of people moved along the wall like geckos, using their hands and feet but making almost no sound.
The assassin, acting as the vanguard, uses specially made gloves with hooks and suction cups to secure simple knots at the most dangerous points, providing leverage points for the following team members.
The ranger remained in the middle of the group, his eyes like an eagle's, constantly scanning the cliff above and the deep valley behind him, his short bow always half-drawn.
The prophet was protected in the middle. Although he was slightly weaker, he managed to keep his balance with the help of his companions.
The process was not smooth sailing.
Midway through, a rock formation suddenly loosened due to severe weathering. The prophet slipped and nearly fell into the deep valley, but the assassin in front grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into the crevice.
After nearly an hour of arduous trekking, the team finally passed through the last narrow crevice in the rock.
Ahead, the view suddenly opened up to a natural rock platform located on the north side of the mountain.
The assassin reached the edge of the platform first, crouching low, his sharp eyes piercing the night as he looked down into the valley below.
There, a dark rift, seemingly tearing through reality, lies silently.
It is about forty meters long and about three meters wide at its widest point. Its edges gleam with an ominous blackish-purple light, and the aura emanating from it is unsettling, as if it were a wound leading to another world.
The assassin was not afraid; on the contrary, he was invigorated.
Abyssal Rift!
"Target confirmed."
The assassin returned to the group, his voice extremely low, "The Abyss Rift is consistent with the intelligence report. There are a large number of guards around it, but they are mainly distributed at the entrance and the front of the rift. The guards are relatively sparse in our direction."
Lurk to the location of the abyss rift, throw in a specially made alchemical tool, and cause the rift to expand.
This is their mission for this trip.
The leader nodded and looked at the alchemist in the group.
The latter understood and took out a long, strip-shaped metal object about a foot long, with spatial runes engraved on its surface, from a sealed container at his waist, and twisted it with both hands.
With a soft hum, pale silver ripples spread out from the prop, enveloping the group.
Their figures began to fade and become transparent, eventually disappearing into the material plane and entering a dimensional rift parallel to it.
In this state, they can bypass most physical and magical detection and drift like ghosts toward the location of the abyssal rift.
They began to move, descending along the mountainside, approaching the location of the abyss fissure.
Moving within phase space is not easy; one needs to concentrate to maintain an anchor point between oneself and the material world, otherwise one may get lost in the dimensional rifts.
But everyone in the team was well-trained and moved in an orderly manner.
However, just as they reached the mountainside, some distance from the crevice...
The moment of crossing an invisible boundary.
Buzz!
The tranquil space was like a lake surface tossed with a boulder, suddenly rippled violently!
A powerful and stubborn repulsive force field forced its way onto them, squeezing them out of their dimensional travel state and exposing them once again to the cold night sky.
"Oh no, it's a spatial lock!"
"They were prepared!"
The team members felt a sinking feeling at the same time.
Almost at the same moment they became visible.
Awooo—!
The mournful, wild howls of wolves exploded from all directions!
Not just one sound, but dozens or even hundreds of sounds erupted in succession, instantly shattering the deathly silence of the night.
In the darkness, countless eerie green and scarlet eyes suddenly lit up, swarming out from the disguised caves, tunnels covered with mimicking plants, and suspension structures clinging to the cliff face.
Those were burly and robust werewolf warriors.
Their muscles were bulging, their claws gleaming coldly, and they moved with ease across the rugged mountainside, quickly encircling the group.
Amidst the wolf pack, a slender and graceful figure slowly stepped forward.
This is a female werewolf with thick, bluish-gray mane interspersed with dark, metallic dragon scales. The structure of her claws is also more like that of a dragon, with large knuckles and hooked claw tips. She exudes a distinct dragon-like aura.
It was Frostfang, the werewolf warlock and daughter of Russell, the ruler of the shadows.
She is not young, but because she has undergone the Dragon Forging Transformation Ceremony more than once, she still looks young.
"Welcome, little mice."
Frost Fang grinned, revealing his gleaming white fangs. "Do you like the burial ground I've carefully chosen for you infiltrators? It's secluded, quiet, and perfect for disposing of trash."
The kingdom's defenses against the Abyss Rift have never been relaxed.
Those seemingly overlooked paths are often deliberately left as traps.
Before the words were even finished, the werewolf warriors around them simultaneously let out low growls, stomped their claws on the ground, and pounced forward.
"We've fallen for their trap! For—"
The leader of the group only managed to utter half a sentence before his voice abruptly stopped.
The next instant, terrifying energy fluctuations erupted from the bodies of the trapped individuals.
That wasn't an outward-attacking spell, but rather a highly unstable, inward-collapsed destructive energy.
They're going to self-destruct!
"Back off! Scatter!"
Frost Fang's pupils contracted, and as he gave the order in a stern voice, he swung his staff.
Intense, pale light surged from the staff's head, forming a gigantic wolf spirit with dragon wings on its back and a massive body. It opened its mouth and lunged at the assassins.
Boom boom boom boom—!!!
Several bursts of blinding, scorching light exploded almost simultaneously, only to be swallowed whole by the dragon-wolf spirit.
The spirit let out a painful howl, and under Frostfang's control, its wings flapped violently, dragging the destructive energy about to erupt within it as it soared into the sky.
Half a breath later.
The dragon-wolf spirit's body suddenly exploded high in the sky, torn apart by the terrifying energy within.
The powerful shockwave spread in all directions, stirring up countless rocks and dust, and instantly blowing away the moss and withered vines on the mountainside.
Even though they were quite a distance from the explosion's epicenter, the werewolves below could still feel the intense heat and impact.
After a long while, the light and shockwave gradually dissipated.
Frostfang stood up from behind the cover and shook off the dust.
She looked up at the sky and then glanced around at where the others had been standing.
There was nothing there. No corpses, no pieces of clothing, no weapon remnants.
Everything that could identify them was reduced to the finest dust in the resolute self-destruction, merging with the cold mountain wind and disappearing without a trace.
"So decisive...so thorough..."
Frost Fang muttered to himself, a hint of solemnity flashing in his eyes, "These people are not ordinary spies or saboteurs; they are suicide squads, prepared for this, leaving no chance for capture."
She looked at an adjutant.
"Report to the capital."
"The second abyssal rift was attacked by an infiltration attempt. The infiltrators were of unknown identity but were well-trained. They immediately self-destructed after being exposed, leaving no clues about their identities."
“I suspect this is an organized operation, possibly aimed at expanding the rift.”
"Request the Royal City to strengthen the defenses of all Abyssal Rifts and investigate recent unusual activity on the border."
Frost Fang said seriously.
"yes!"
The adjutant solemnly obeyed.
Frostfang's eyes scanned the surrounding dark mountain walls, as if trying to pluck out more hidden clues from the air.
"A storm is coming."
She said in a low voice.
Crimson Flame Royal City, Back Mountain.
The rising sun finally pierced through the clouds, casting golden-red light upon the earth and onto the thick, armor-like scales of the red iron dragon, each scale reflecting a calm and majestic luster.
call……
Galos slowly exhaled a scorching breath, and the white mist rose and dissipated in the morning light.
He raised his head and looked at the gradually brightening sky, a faint light flowing deep within his dragon eyes.
"I broke through to the legendary level in 322, and now it is 341, nineteen years have passed."
He silently calculated in his mind.
Nineteen years to advance from level twenty-one to level twenty-two is a rare feat in the legendary realm, but Galos was never satisfied.
He yearned for speed, for reaching higher levels, and for the dragon wings of the Kingdom of Aura to cover an even wider sky.
At the same time, his body was also growing steadily.
Now, its length from head to tail is thirty-eight meters. When standing, it stands like a mountain, and when lying down, it resembles a fortress.
The most noticeable change is still in the eyes.
Although they have not fully evolved, they have already shown extraordinary characteristics, such as having solidified certain insight and perception-type spells.
Even without actively activating his True Sight, he could vaguely see the elements and energy patterns flowing between heaven and earth; with a little focus, his gaze could penetrate thick rock walls or walls, revealing their internal structure and hidden gaps.
Natural eyes are ultimately more suited to oneself than any external props.
Galos patiently awaited the day when his eyes would be completely transformed.
After gathering his thoughts, he raised his right forepaw and took out a pair of black gloves from the spatial container he carried with him.
Its material is unusual, neither cloth nor leather, and its touch is as cool and supple as a frozen night breeze. On the back of the hand, a delicate six-pointed star symbol is embroidered with silver thread, which gleams with a faint metallic luster in the morning light.
"The Gloves of the Slayer..."
Galus whispered.
He obtained this by exchanging two legendary items.
Trading two for one might seem like a loss, but Galos felt it was worth it.
Buzz—
As if sensing his will, the gloves suddenly liquefied, turning into two pools of black liquid that spread upwards along the claws, quickly covering them and perfectly fitting into the gaps between every scale.
Finally, the six-pointed star symbol on the back of his hand lit up on his dark red scales, as if embedded with luminous silver patterns.
Galos focused his mind and gazed at the empty mountain wall in front of him.
He slowly extended his right claw, his toes spread out, and then suddenly retracted it.
A tangible sensation came from the palm of my hand, as if I had grasped something tough and intangible.
Galos's arm muscles bulged, and the scales rubbed together, making a low, creaking sound.
He gave a low shout.
"broken!"
Click—!
A clear cracking sound rang out, not from the rock, but from space itself!
Centered on his claw, a spiderweb-like dark rift appeared out of thin air and spread wildly. Finally, with a fierce tug, an irregular fragment of space with shimmering edges was torn off!
It is not a physical entity and cannot be observed directly with ordinary vision.
Its existence can only be confirmed by the edges of the cracks around it, which constantly twist and refract light.
Galos held the torn space in his claws, feeling the extremely unstable vibrations and the sense of tearing emanating from it.
He extended his other claw, clenched his fists together, and slowly exerted force.
Click, click...
A fine grinding sound rang out, and the fragment of space gradually collapsed under his immense pressure, completely dissipating into the air. The space that had been torn apart had already been repaired and restored to its original state.
"good."
A look of satisfaction appeared in Galos's eyes. "Although it consumes a lot of physical strength, it is enough to turn the tide of battle at crucial moments."
The effects of the Destroyer's Gloves are extremely unique.
It can direct the wearer's will to grasp and act on three types of things that cannot be physically touched.
Energy, magic, space.
It can capture pure energy flows, such as erupting flames, striking lightning, or even formed protective force fields, and crush or deflect them.
It can capture the magical effects acting on the body and peel them off or destroy them directly;
It can grasp spatial structures, tear apart solid spatial barriers with its bare hands, or smooth out tiny spatial cracks.
Of course, the cost of using it is also very high, mainly consuming physical and mental energy. Each use will put a considerable burden on the user, and overuse may even lead to the user's collapse.
Take, for example, the act of grasping space.
Even a legendary human warrior, even one of higher rank than Garos, would find it no easy task to tear a piece of space apart with his bare hands, let alone do it with the ease that Garos did, ultimately crushing it with a flick of his wrist.
Even so, this pair of gloves remains a rare and powerful legendary item.
Galos paid a considerable price to obtain it.
He traded two legendary items for one: the Spellthief's End and the Guardian's Wings.
Currently, the Shadow Boots and the Immovable Armor are still in his possession, and he has not yet found a suitable exchange partner.
"I hope it will guide my body to evolve a pair of claws capable of grasping and tearing everything."
Galos muttered to himself, a hint of anticipation flashing in his eyes.
The evolution of his eyes, which has been ongoing for several years, and the dragon claws, which have just begun, are the two evolutionary paths that he is currently focusing on most.
Just then, the voice of Iron Dragon Sorog came through the mental connection.
“We are in a deep chasm in the northeastern part of the wilderness, and someone is lurking and approaching.”
He briefly recounted what happened, then said, "The other side was extremely decisive. As soon as they realized they were surrounded, they immediately chose to self-destruct, erasing all clues."
"They didn't even have the intention of trying to break through."
Galos slowly raised his head, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Half a second later, he asked, "In your judgment, where might these people come from?"
Sorog replied in a deep voice, "They are most likely assassins trained by the Kingdom of Theo."
"Currently, the Kingdom of Lane and the Kingdom of Sac are at war, and relations between the various Romanian countries are becoming increasingly tense. The Kingdom of Theo has always regarded us as a major threat, and it is in their interest to interfere in our rear now."
The Federation of Lorthern also had an old name based on geography.
—The Romanian Federation.
The name comes from the Romanian plain where it is located, a vast land in the northern part of the Atalanta continent.
After the dissolution of the federation, the various states stood side by side.
The Romanian countries became the more common name.
In the past, Galus was accustomed to referring to these regimes collectively as the southern states, using his own location as a reference.
However, if we broaden our perspective to encompass the entire Atalanta landmass, the Romanian plains are actually located to the north.
In the eyes of the Holden Empire and other kingdoms, these countries, including the Kingdom of Aura, belonged to the northern kingdoms.
Now that the Kingdom of Aura has been officially established, it is no longer appropriate to refer to it as the southern kingdoms.
The official and accurate term is "Romanian countries," and Aura is among them.
"We have many enemies to be wary of, but regardless of whether it was the Kingdom of Theo who did it, from now on, it is the culprit."
"Garos said calmly."
"Immediately issue a proclamation in the name of the Kingdom, publicly condemning the Kingdom of Theo for attacking the Abyss Rift that we are guarding, for its own selfish grudges, disregarding the agreements between nations and the safety of all living beings."
"This is the most blatant provocation against the bottom line of the entire order, and it is an evil act that must be severely punished."
Upon hearing this, Iron Dragon Sorog's eyes flashed with a moment of doubt.
"Such a condemnation notice is probably of limited practical significance."
He said cautiously.
In Tielong's mind, Garus was an extremely pragmatic ruler who rarely devoted his energy to meaningless actions.
Normally, in times of peace, nations might exert pressure together because the Abyss Rift is of great importance. However, now that war has broken out, a mere condemnation is unlikely to bring about any substantial pressure or change.
"Sorrog, you need to broaden your horizons."
Galos stretched his body and leaned back slightly.
“We are indeed about to be drawn into the war on the Romanian plains, but that doesn’t mean we can only stay here and passively respond.” He paused, then continued, “Don’t forget, we always hold a trump card.”
This condemnation, which places the Kingdom of Theo on the list of evil, is essentially a ticket to the Metal Dragon Clan.
The Metal Dragon Clan has always been aloof and unwilling to get involved in wars waged purely for profit.
However, if they were to attack an evil kingdom that "disrupts order and endangers the world," it would perfectly align with their role as guardians.
Galos intends to use the attack on the Abyss Rift to cloak the potential battle in a veneer of justice.
Given the safety of the Abyss Rift, it would be entirely reasonable for a legendary metal dragon to intervene.
Of course, Galus never placed his hopes on others.
He trusts himself more.
This is just a casual move placed outside the main board, a safety net that may not be used, but since there is an opportunity to make it, we might as well lay this piece first.
(End of this chapter)
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