Age of Adepts

Water Dragon Dominier has fallen!

The reason he fell was not because of the elementium magical machine’s continued advances, but the giant goblin cannon on the golem dragon.

Two goblin cannons with barrels over three meters in diameter had been rising on the wide metal platform on the golem dragon’s back ever since Dominier set foot on the Mothership’s deck.

All the fighting was happening on the Mothership’s deck. The cannons of the golem dragon were an indiscriminate attack and should not have had the chance to fire. Thus, it had been silently waiting for its time.

Dominier’s scrambling retreat gave the golem dragon the perfect opportunity to display its power.

Hassled by the elementium magical machine and the many metal golems, the water dragon still managed to cut a path of destruction with the sheer might of a dragon. He smashed through the forcefield of the Mothership and charged into the air. It was this act of his to destroy the forcefield that brought calamity upon him.

The forcefield around the Mothership had over seven hundred points of defensive power. Even the robust body of a Third Grade water dragon would be stalled for three seconds upon smashing through the field.

The magical golem dragon took full advantage of these three seconds and fired both of its goblin cannons. Two energy pillars that connected heaven and earth immediately crashed into Dominier’s already bloody chest.

The Wave Shields around his body had already turned to mist from breaking through the forcefield.

As such, the energy pillars landed straight on his bare body. His last layer of defense–his dragon scales–were penetrated after just half a second. The two columns of light pierced through his body, rushing into the skies and vanishing in the distance.

There wasn’t even time for shock or grief. The terrifying magical energy had completely corroded Water Dragon Dominier’s body. His dragon soul was instantly destroyed in the overwhelming tide of energy.

His crystalline body stumbled and fell headfirst from the sky.

This scene was witnessed by all the dragons and all the plane natives on the vast battlefield.

A mighty Third Grade dragon fell just like that before their uneasy gaze, silently and without commotion!

The dragons in the sky followed the two white pillars downward with their eyes, their gazes landing on that towering metal dragon. Though every one of its actions was clumsy and stale, and its appearance was crude and ugly, the dragons could not help but regard it with unconcealable fear and shock at the moment.

The eyes that looked upon the golem dragon contained something different now!

Fourth Grade.

It was a Fourth Grade magical machine, after all!

Perhaps the power of a Fourth Grade magical machine could only be verified through the weak death throes of Third Grade creatures.

The dragonflight had been far too arrogant, believing that they would be able to deal with this clumsy and crude giant with their absolute numbers and honed techniques. The death of a Third Grade dragon lord had slapped them to their senses.

A Fourth Grade would always be a Fourth Grade.

The only one that could deal with a Fourth Grade was another Fourth Grade.

Without any hesitation, the dragonflight turned to flee.

Terrible and anxious roars filled the skies as the giant creatures retreated.

Meanwhile, the dragonborn, Dragon Cultists, and plane natives still battling the machines and adepts to the death were at a loss. They didn’t know whether they were to continue their offense or to retreat along with the dragons.

Chaos filled the battlefield.

It was at this moment that the expedition army, having endured the horde of enemies for so long, finally started their counterattack.

The last remaining four hundred magical machines surged forward and started firing at every hostile target within their vision. A swarm of eyeball machines rushed ahead, soaring through the air and shooting beams of blinding Scalding Rays into the crowd.

The adept army’s retaliation was the last straw that broke the back of the panicking natives. All of them dropped their weapons, cast their armor aside, and ran into the distance without turning back.

The original horde of an army instantly scattered like a nest of hornets that had lost their home. They screamed amidst the thick, black smoke and dancing flames, running without any sense of direction.

The battlefield was in utter chaos now. The enemy did not know where their tribe was, nor where the camp was. The only thing they knew was to get away from those terrifying demons, and away from that rumbling metal dragon.

Holding their positions was meaningless at this point. All the chariots and skyships had charged out of their defensive formation and started to hunt down these scurrying ants. Even the golem dragon was on the hunt.

The low-grade Crimson adepts set their sights on the disorganized dragonborn, while the Second Grade Crimson adepts chose the First Grade dragons as their targets.

In their panicked retreat, many dragons strayed from the flight due to the chaos or their injuries. The Second Grade adepts who could fly were all immensely excited and were hunting the fleeing dragons with wild abandon.

On one side, you had dragons desperate to break through the enemies. On the other, you had adepts drunk with greed.

The two parties clashed with each other, causing even more explosive sparks!

The brutality of the battle in the skies was even harsher and more terrifying than the fight that had preceded it!

After seven grueling hours, this battle on the Northern Wastelands of Lance ended with the defeat of the dragonflight. As many as thirty-four dragon lords had fallen in the Northern Wastelands. Though most of them were barely adolescent First Grade dragons, there were still as many as seven Second and Third Grade dragons.

In particular, Third Grade Water Dragon Dominier died on the field, while Third Grade Shadow Dragon Atlan was still missing. These two incidents set off a bomb in the hearts of all dragons.

These adepts from a higher plane were no longer insignificant otherworldly ants, but terrifying invaders that the dragons could do nothing about.

The traditional combat strategies that the dragons excelled at no longer worked in front of the enemy. Instead, any mistake would cause isolated dragons to become the target of their hunts. This tremendous difference in their psychology was not something that the undefeated dragons could get used to.

These noble dragons had always opened portals to other planes in the past, relying on their martial power and unrivaled flying ability to wreck the kingdoms of other planes to destroy one civilization after another.

What they obtained was the mountain of glittering wealth that they hoarded in their lairs.

A purebred dragon had over ten thousand years of life to enjoy from adolescence to old age. Nearly three-fifths of that time was spent in a comfortable sleep, with the remaining two-fifths either spent on raids and robberies or traveling to the destination of their raids and robberies.

If a purebred dragon could not fill his lair with wealth and treasure before adolescence, then he did not even possess the qualification to attract a pretty mate.

It was these countless successful raids and wars that gave the dragons the illusion that they were the blessed champions of the world, the noble rulers that reigned over everything. The sky was their playground, and the earth was their pasture. Everything within the world was no more than a decoration or tool used to complement and adorn their territory.

In the hearts of most dragons, this universe had always belonged to them, only to have parts of it stolen away by dirty and wretched thieves. Their raids were only small trips taken outside to take back what was theirs.

From the past to now, there were only stories of dragons robbing the planes of others, never of an otherworldly race coming to steal from a dragon plane.

Thus, the battle of the Northern Wastelands utterly shocked all the dragons. It made them understand that their kingdom had also been invaded by a rude and barbaric enemy, a thief, a robber, and a butcher. And their favorite target was none other than the original owners of this plane– the dragons!

…………

The fires were still burning.

The heavy smoke had turned an area of a dozen kilometers into a world of dust and ashes.

Looking from hundreds of meters above the ground, the desolate Wastelands had undergone a complete change.

Several hundred flames could still be seen smoldering on the earth, sending thick pillars of black smoke into the sky to obscure the horizon.

In the scorch marks left behind by the sea of flames, burnt corpses were scattered everywhere, left in all sorts of strange poses. It didn’t matter if they had been mighty trolls or weak gnolls in life; they were now all indistinguishable smoldering bones.

The dragonflight had retreated, and all the surviving natives had fled without a trace. The only ones who could continue moving around this field of flames were the adepts.

Goblin chariots drove across the wreckage of the battle as eyeball machines swept across the ground at a low altitude. Whenever they found something of value, a group of construction machines would rush forward to retrieve it and toss it into the recycling cart.

This war had brought tremendous losses to the expedition army as well. They had lost over seven hundred magical machines, twelve goblin chariots, and seven skyships, not to mention all the other miscellaneous losses.

Even the most valuable asset of the Crimson Clan–their precious adepts–had taken casualties! As many as five of them had died in battle.

However, corresponding to their losses were the spoils that they had obtained. It was an inestimable amount of wealth. From all aspects and perspectives, the Crimson Clan had made an absolute killing out of this battle against the dragons in the Northern Wastelands!