Age of Adepts

However, there were still many scouts and spies left behind in their territories. These forces would often launch ambushes at the adept army as they passed by.

They were either packs of dragonborn warriors or fearless native tribes. Regardless, no force could move that giant metal army that stretched on like a snake.

They came, they attacked, and they were forever left in the ground.

How could they possibly know that their well-hidden ambushes were so crude and inferior in the eyes of the adepts? Hundreds of eyeball machines hovering hundreds of meters in the air released scan waves of various colors through a small egg-sized hole underneath their structures.

It didn’t matter if the dragonborn and natives were hiding in the swamp, ditches, or the bushes; their massive life forces would not escape the detection and scans of the machines. The ambushes they thought to be perfect had all been discovered by the eyeball machines, and the information was relayed to the adepts in the army.

Thus, several goblin chariots would suddenly diverge from the wildly advancing army and charge at these ‘traps.’

Before they even got close to the traps, the goblin chariots would fire their magic energy cannons consecutively and blow the surroundings of the pitfalls to pieces. The dragonborn and natives that were forced out of their traps were shredded to pieces of flesh and blood by a barrage of energy beams and cannon shots before they could approach the chariot.

If there were a Second Grade creature amongst the hidden enemies, the goblin chariots weren’t able to deal with them in a frontal confrontation. They instead turned about and engage in guerilla warfare. How many magic energy cannon shots could the most powerful Second Grade dragonborn possibly endure? If the enemy remained standing, there were still adepts within the chariots. Powerful spells with strange effects would descend in a downpour. Even the most powerful of enemies would collapse in grief and resentment.

From the very start to the end, none of these dragonborn or native tribes had any chance of catching up with the goblin chariots. Moreover, the long-ranged abilities they possessed were either heavy throwing spears or semi-mid-ranged metal darts. They were utterly ineffective apart from adding a few dents into the metal shells of the chariots.

One the one side, you had fully-equipped murder machines from a higher plane. On the other, you had isolated and primitive natives. Even though the individual power of the dragonborn was more than sufficient to crush the goblin pilots and adepts within the chariots, it was an utterly one-sided slaughter against their favor.

The ones that were felled were the stronger, yet more primitive and unskilled, dragonborn. Meanwhile, the victors were the sly goblins who were individually weak but had armed themselves to the teeth with magic and machines.

It wasn’t an exception that only happened in skirmishes. It was the forceful domination of an otherworldly civilization against a primitive one!

The difference between the two civilizations was immediately evident from the clash between the two forces. It was not something that could be compensated for by personal courage and passion. At the very least, these lone soldiers were not powerful enough to ignore the difference in skill and equipment!

The army went straight through the First Grade dragon’s territory like a spear. The army did not need to stop for rest or reorganization. It simply and forcefully rolled through the disorganized ‘attacks’ in the area and marched forward according to the planned route.

Some ignorant local natives and magical creatures had initially been dissatisfied with the army marching through their lands and had prepared to pursue and attack the rear. However, that small bit of ferocity and pride in their hearts vanished in an instant when they saw the hill-like metal dragon marching at the very front.

The foreign adepts had built a terrifying metal dragon and were bringing it everywhere to challenge the dragon lords. Such news spread out in every direction like a plague, causing every being that heard it to be somewhat eager for what was to come.

In all honesty, all the intelligent native tribes in Lance apart from the dragonborn and the Dragon Cultists held deep-seated anger and hatred for the dragon lords.

When the dragon lords were the ultimate force within the plane, they had no choice but to endure and submit. However, if the dragon lords were pinned into the swamp by another powerful enemy, the hatred that had been brewing for the past few thousand years of enslavement would rapidly erupt!

They had no idea if the adepts were holy beings sent to deliver them unto salvation. However, when the authority that the dragon lords previously maintained with immense martial force collapsed overnight, the tides of rebellion that erupted all over the place quickly devoured the disorganized dragonborn and Dragon Cultists.

In just three days, the metal parade had crossed the dragon’s territory and entered the land of another Second Grade dragon.

The Second Grade dragon was not much better than the First Grade dragon. The border guards it had amassed instantly fell to the ferocious cannon fire of the metal tanks. Thus, the Second Grade dragon also hastily packed his things and fled with all the wealth he had obtained.

............

This place was a narrow valley between two towering mountains.

The Dragon Cultists that had come from all over Hardwell were busy at work, building a sturdy stone fortress and wooden platforms in the southern entrance of the valley.

Several dragonborn warriors with muscular physiques were spread out throughout the valley, leaning against the walls and resting as they gritted their teeth and sharpened their weapons. Meanwhile, the short ratmen and lizardmen around them bent down and delivered baskets of food.

Dragonborn Warrior Hanna casually picked up a black piece of cheese from the vine-woven basket and threw it into his mouth. He only took a single bite before spitting out everything in a violent coughing fit.

“Dammit! Bastard, this...what is this?” Hanna roared furiously after digging out a piece of cheese from his throat, still laced with traces of blood.

In his anger, Hanna crushed the ratman servant in front of him into a pulp with a single fist.

“Stop being picky! Eat all of the food!” A dragonborn leader patrolling within the valley shouted with an even louder voice, “Do you think this is still our dragonborn camp? You think there are still sweet and tasty Salo ribs waiting for you? Stop dreaming. Eat all of the food now. We still have to fight with those otherworldly invaders in a bit.”

The dragonborn warriors all over the valley lifted the black pieces of jerky in their hands. They could not distinguish what part of meat or what creature it came from, no matter how they tried. They could only close their eyes and swallow it all.

The pungent and bitter taste lingered in their mouths and their noses, causing every dragonborn to frown and curse without end.

Just eating this unknown jerky that was no better than tree bark was too difficult. A dragonborn warrior suddenly had an inspiration. He grabbed a ratman servant beside him, twisted its head off, and let the blood drizzle into his mouth.

Indeed, the jerky and the cheese were no longer as unbearable as before with the addition of the fresh blood.

The other dragonborn warriors followed his example, picking up the servants following them, twisting off their heads, and drinking all their blood.

For a moment, the entire valley was filled with the rough shouts of the dragonborn, mixed with the soft and sharp death throes of the ratmen and lizardmen.

Several native workers that had been caught from nearby villages were working hard at the entrance of the valley, trying their best to fortify the defenses made of stone. Thick, sharpened wooden stakes were hammered into the earth, the points painted with terrifying poison with extreme lethality.

Trolls, ogres, pigmen, bearmen; all sorts of muscular native slaves were hard at work. Meanwhile, the Dragon Cultists in black robes waved their whips, yelling and hollering for the slaves to work harder.

Looking from the entrance of the valley, a pillar of dust rose from beyond the horizon, as if a massive creature was rapidly approaching.

Mos tipped the hood on his head slightly with his whip, raising his head to assess the sky.

Many black dots the size of seeds were dancing in the dark sky above him. Judging from the height and path of their flight, they could not be mountain eagles. That was because the things were circling far too quickly. Mos had never seen flying creatures with such unpredictable flight paths in his life.

What were those? Flying magical creatures commanded by the adepts? Or alchemical creatures made by the adepts through their strange arts?

A series of questions arose in his heart, but he found no answers.

As an essential individual in the Cult of Dragons, Mos naturally had his own set of his skills and abilities.

A short, quick chant rang out as Mos enchanted himself with an Eagle Eye spell. It was then that he clearly distinguished the true identity of the black dots.

“Go. Notify Lord Zamu. The enemy’s scouts have arrived!” Mos grabbed one of the Dragon Cultists and ordered sternly.

The cultist immediately rushed off into the depths of the valley, hastily and clumsily.

A short moment later, the earth rumbled as an army of dragonborn warriors charged out of the valley in perfect formation, long battleaxes in hand. The leader was Second Grade Zamu, commander of the dragonborn army.

“Where...where is the enemy?” Zamu held two massive blades in his hands as he stepped in front of the black-robed Mos, where he roared with all he had.

Mos pointed at the sky with his whip.

Zamu placed a hand over his eyes. His serpentine eyes suddenly shrunk, and his powerful vision allowed him to instantly catch sight of the strange black dots circling in the dim sky.

The surfaces of the black dots were smooth and shiny under the sunlight, gleaming with a ghostly blue light unique to magical metal. It was obvious they were not magical creatures that belonged to Lance.

“Everyone hide in the war fortress. Those are the flying scouts of the enemy!”

At Zamu’s command, the dragonborn warriors dove into the fortress or leaned against the walls, instantly concealing themselves.