Chapter 425 Picking up the dragon
At the moment when the sea god Odileus died, Maxline tore off the bandage on the back of her hand, spread out her five fingers, pointed them at the dim skylight, and stared blankly at the divine seal that had accompanied her for decades gradually becoming lighter until it completely disappeared, leaving only the healthy and smooth skin on the back of her hand.
The red-haired girl suddenly clenched her fingers, and an unprecedented lightness swept over her body.
The tsunami receded.
The coastline lay in ruins, the bodies of marine life and humans killed in the catastrophe staining the offshore waters red. The mountainous mass of the White Nightmare collapsed in the shallows, its pale scales cracked and falling, revealing the purple-red flesh beneath. Clearly, it had collided with the barrier cast by the God of Struggle and Change, suffering heavy damage from the recoil of divine power.
It was still barely alive, breathing heavily and rapidly, and the dragon tried to raise its huge head, but it could only rise and fall in vain in the ice and blood. The dragon's breath froze the nearby sea surface, which then shattered in its painful struggle.
The surviving humans looked at each other in bewilderment.
The next second, several Ferros generals reacted and shouted at the soldiers who had escaped death and were still in shock: "—What are you standing there for? Kill all these slaves!!"
White Nightmare has lost its combat effectiveness and they are surrounded again. The only thing they can do now is fight to the death or surrender.
Mashilin snatched the military flag from the flag bearer's hand. The bright red flag fluttered in the dim sky. She slammed the flagpole heavily on the blood-stained reef. The crisp sound immediately drowned out the noise of the battlefield.
"The People's Army, for Silver Iris, for all the suffering people in the world—forward!"
The order was like a spark thrown into boiling oil, igniting the soldiers' long-simmering fighting spirit. The civilian army, which had retreated far from the coastline, suddenly rushed back to the battlefield like a tide, instantly overwhelming the still-shocked and confused enemy forces. The light of magic and artillery fire once again illuminated the battlefield.
A Ferros soldier, having run out of bullets, lunged at the enemy, brandishing his battle axe, only to be slashed across the knee by a low-stepping civilian soldier with a machete. He collapsed to the ground, only to be stabbed again. His last sight, his eyes wide open, was of countless pairs of boots treading blood.
The generals of the Royal City Army shouted at the top of their lungs, trying to rally their troops, scattered by the dragon and tsunami, and rebuild a solid mobile fortress. But they were met with relentless, fearless advances by the enemy, braving the heavy fire. Even as their comrades continued to fall, they showed no fear or retreat, some even aiming at the flaming cannons and charging forward. Instead, the scattered Royal City Army retreated steadily.
"—I quit! The dragon, the tsunami... they're all a bunch of fucking lunatics!" Under wave after wave of huge mental shock, a young soldier from the Royal City Army finally couldn't hold on any longer. He dropped his weapon, squatted down with his head in his hands, crying, and screamed incoherently: "I don't want to fight anymore, I want to go home... I want to go home!"
"Coward! A disgrace to the Empire!" A general from the Royal City Army, his eyes bulging with anger, swung his sword back and chopped him down, then roared and rushed towards Marshilin: "Go to hell, for the King! For the Empire!"
The red-haired girl stabbed him through with her backhand. She didn't bother to wipe the blood off her face. Her lips were tightly pursed, and her green eyes, unusually bright with anger, were like burning flames. "The king has sold our land and people to foreign enemies, and you're actually going to buy his life for him?! Don't you think this is ridiculous?!"
The demoralized army was like a crumbling sand tower, collapsing at the slightest touch. More and more men dropped their weapons, crouching with their heads in their hands. Until the last remaining lingering positions were cleared, the cries of blood and killing gradually faded, leaving only the groans of the wounded, the whimper of the sea breeze, and the exhausted gasps of the victors.
Because of her excitement, Marshilin's chest was heaving violently. She looked around and saw countless faces, some young and some old, stained with blood and sweat, under the bright red flag. Under her feet was the blood-soaked land with the bodies of her companions and enemies lying on the ground.
A few rays of sunlight penetrated through the gloomy and heavy clouds at some point, and sprinkled on the blood-stained sea, creating golden ripples.
Cheers began to rise, soon becoming a continuous chorus. Soldiers threw down their weapons and embraced one another, tears and blood mingling together, flowing freely. They had truly done it. A group of slaves and civilians, as lowly as ants, had triumphed over the powerful foreign enemy and the royal city's army.
“—We won!”
"Long live the People's Army!"
…
In stark contrast to the history of the last century, this simultaneous war between the gods did not significantly impact the conflicts among humans. Even the mountain collapse caused by the collision of divine power was mistakenly attributed to the damage caused by artillery fire, thanks to the new god's deliberate guidance and restraint. The struggle between the two illustrious old gods and the young new god ended quietly and obscurely in a corner.
The professor stood in front of the White Nightmare, looked up, and carefully observed the dying behemoth.
"...If we don't save it, it won't live much longer."
Beside him, Azuka spoke in a low voice, reaching out and gently pressing a hand against his nose. Nightmare White no longer had the strength to shake off the culprit's claws. If it weren't for the slight, rhythmic opening and closing of his nictitating membranes, brushing away the clotted blood from the corners of his eyes, he would have been practically dead.
The savior looked somewhat downcast, even though he had personally pushed the dragon to its death. However, watching such a powerful and ancient life meet its end in such an extremely painful way due to human conspiracy was not a pleasant experience after all.
The professor glanced at him. While this guy might have been merciless in beating up dragons, he was actually a very good owner, sometimes even a bit doting on them.
He had raised Windrunner Azra to be incredibly slick and overly lively, happily wandering around every day. Even the Doomsday Lord, who hated humans, had learned to lower his head and tremble in fear, allowing himself to be petted. He could even, with a mixture of coaxing and intimidation, carry people on his back for a few laps—there were only two and a half people: the Savior, the Tyrant himself, who was carried by the Savior, and Barsa, who barely managed to take care of it.
Of course, Her Royal Highness had an affinity for small animals; it was perfectly natural—even if that affinity meant personally engaging in physical violence. Unlike him, these mysterious and powerful beasts were primarily a pile of research material, living and dead, each fascinating in its own way.
"...If you can guarantee that it won't cause property or personal damage while under your supervision, you can try to save it."
Azuka was stunned for a moment, then turned to look at the black-haired young man beside him. He was looking up at the dragon with a creepy enthusiasm in his eyes, but he quickly looked away with some regret.
"Why, sir?" He couldn't help but reach out and touch the back of his lover's neck, a gentle smile in his eyes: "I didn't expect you to make such a proposal... the short-term benefits are far less than the cost."
This is an adult dragon that hates humans. What's more, there may still be residual power of the great shaman in its body. It takes a lot of effort just to control this dragon and prevent it from hurting people.
"...Don't look at me like that," the professor said, uncomfortably removing his hand. "You've made significant contributions, both publicly and privately. If you feel it's necessary, and as long as the dragon can be effectively restrained and its presence poses no real threat, I wouldn't think it's excessive to spare its life. Furthermore, this dragon is likely one-of-a-kind, a valuable individual for research and well-deserving of protection."
"But let's make this clear in advance," he paused, then added with uncharacteristic seriousness, "All expenses will be deducted from your and my salaries. If it's not enough, you can advance it. Remember to leave some money for food. If that's still not enough, we'll have to think of other options, like getting a part-time job."
You can't embezzle public funds and use public funds for personal gain.
Azuka was stunned for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh softly, his whole face seemed to be glowing, and Nova couldn't help but wonder in his heart, knowing that he was going to save this dragon, this person is so happy?
"We can try to revive it. I'm not sure how much of an impact the Great Shaman had on it." The blond dragon knight smiled heartily, a hint of joking. "But I wouldn't keep it for too long. It's too big, it eats too much, and it's probably too cold and hard to ride on."
The professor nodded in approval and pointed out very seriously, "And I'm afraid your Ezra can't defeat it."
——If it is discovered, the screaming chicken with a strong possessiveness towards its owner will definitely be furious and will be in a bad mood for a long time.
"Then after I cure it, I will take it back to the North, where it belongs."
Azuka's voice was calm. As for whether White Nightmare, once he regained his sanity, would seek revenge on the people of Ferros, that was none of his business. If it weren't for the Ferros royal family's misfortune, such a dragon with such an unusually solitary personality would never appear in a human gathering place.
"Let's be honest. Will you really be willing to give it up when the time comes?" The professor glanced at him dimly and said with great experience—who knows where he'd gathered this strange experience—"Raising dragons is like this. You raise one, then say you'll never raise any more. Then you pick up another, and decide two are enough. Then you pick up another, and another, and you keep picking and raising more dragons. There's no end to the dragons..."
"...Sir." Azuka said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "My salary is limited, and the number of dragons is also limited. I'm afraid your beautiful vision is impossible to achieve - or do you simply want to research more dragon species?"
He felt that he had probably guessed the truth.
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