novelraw Chapter 294: Heaven's Wrath, That Grand Firework
Chapter 294: Heaven's Wrath, That Grand Firework
A hazy curtain of rain, like a vast grey veil, draped itself over the Needleleaf Valley below.
Within the valley, rows of needleleaf pines swayed gently in the wind and rain. Fine droplets gathered along the deep green needles and slid down, tracing crystalline paths through the damp air.
Whoosh!
A sudden gale, carrying icy rain, howled through, tearing a brief, almost vacuum-like corridor through the valley and violently flinging the fine curtain of rain to either side.
The red iron dragon—towering, broad, and armored in heavy scales—circled above the valley, shrouded in mist.
His head tilted slightly, eyes lowered, as if recalling something.
After a moment’s thought, Garoth folded his wings and descended steadily to land atop a steep ridge on one side of the valley. His keen gaze pierced the rain and slowly swept across every inch of the land below, saturated by the downpour.
Time is the most merciless steel blade in the world—it reduces countless once-dominant heroes to dust and corrodes glorious pasts into blurred legends.
Yet time is also a healing salve that smooths wounds.
The valley that had once been scorched to ashes by his scorching breath and erased to cover his tracks now, after more than twenty cycles of seasons, had returned—green, lush, and full of life.Thick vegetation had reclaimed the land, and a vigorous vitality emanated through the steady rain.
Garoth turned his massive head slightly and carefully eyed the familiar-yet-strange scene around him.
Although time’s carving had left undeniable marks—the trees taller, some in different places, streams shifting subtly—he could still recognize the cave where the Rampage Bears had nested; he could even make out the small clearing that had once been specially kept for secretly training his little dragons.
“More than twenty years.”
“Finally back on this ground.”
Garoth’s inner radiance swept the valley and unexpectedly caught sight of a familiar huge slab of rock—his favorite spot as a hatchling and young dragon, where he once curled up to bask in sunlight or starlight and sleep peacefully.
He had not expected it.
After more than twenty years of wind, frost, and snow, the slab had not crumbled; only slick green moss crept across its surface and a few deep fissures had formed.
A ripple of feeling moved Garoth’s heart.
He blinked cautiously and, after ensuring no other life was watching, he slowly descended.
He tried to contort his massive frame, carefully pulling his limbs inward and curling up. Little by little he shrank until he fit flush against the slab that held his childhood memories, covering it completely without leaving a seam.
But, truth be told, the hard, cold, damp sensation—
Compared to the plush, treasure-strewn dragon bed of his Scorchsteel Fortress, it was worlds apart.
The snug comfort that memory promised could not be reclaimed, no matter how he adjusted his posture.
Crack!
A faint yet distinct crisp noise snapped him from his reverie.
When he straightened reflexively, the age-worn slab beneath him could not withstand his now unimaginably heavier bulk; it fractured instantly into moss-covered rubble.
Things were different now.
That slab which once cradled his childhood had no longer the strength to bear his weight.
Garoth shook his massive head slightly; a flicker of sentiment crossed his eyes, but he felt no lingering attachments.
He was now a lord who commanded the convergence lands, ruler of many territories and feared by the surrounding regions. His formidable followers stood in ranks, and numerous dragons stretched their wings under his banner—no longer the weak little dragon who had once struggled to survive in the wasteland’s cracks.
He straightened his resilient body.
Countless raindrops struck his broad, heavy form—like steel poured into shape—and shattered into a spray of mist.
At that moment, Sorog the iron dragon’s low voice came from the depths of his mind.
The red iron dragon nodded gently from time to time, then fell into a brief thought.
Moments later, through Sorog’s mental transmission, Garoth clearly learned the political shifts that had taken place along the Serpentine Earth Rift over more than twenty years.
“Ximu Town... the Albert family...”
Garoth’s inner light sharpened like a blade that could pierce the rain—but in an instant that edge sank back into deep calm.
Viscount Iron Thorn, and that deadly Dragon Hunting Team—these had once driven Garoth to the brink and nearly buried him.
It was in that baptism of blood and fire that he awakened his own Dragon Qi.
He remembered everything, every detail, perfectly preserved.
As for now?
Viscount Iron Thorn himself had long since become dust in the wilderness.
Instead, the Albert family—sharing the same surname—had taken control of the Serpentine Earth Rift.
Now the Molten Iron Tribe had retaken this territory with overwhelming force. Those noble lords ensconced in their luxurious castles would soon receive the news.
Garoth felt no fear.
Though the Molten Iron Tribe’s overall strength might still be slightly inferior to Raymond Duchy’s full power,
but—
The wilderness is vast and treacherous and rich in resources; it has never been Raymond Duchy’s main stage.
This place lay far from the duchy’s core, with difficult supply lines. The duchy’s garrisons here were already stretched thin; many of their true elites and sharp units had been hastily pulled back to deal with the worsening southern crisis.
The remaining garrison’s priority was to defend critical resource points.
Without a direct order from the duchy’s highest levels, they would never risk pulling troops away to resolve a noble’s private land dispute.
Under such conditions,
to muster forces to strike the Molten Iron Tribe—even against merely their vanguard—one minor count’s house alone could not provide enough strength!
Yet Garoth, knowing the nobles’ greed intimately,
also knew that if their core interests were touched,
they would not give up easily until they had bled and suffered heavy losses.
Sorog’s voice rose again in his mind: “Ximu Town—primarily merchants and adventurers, mixed with ordinary humans—do we keep it, or burn it to the ground?”
Garoth’s thoughts churned.
A few seconds later, he decided.
“Keep it for now.”
Sorog answered gladly: “Good. I will immediately declare Ximu Town under full martial law. During this period, only entry will be allowed; no one may leave. Law, order, and security will be entrusted entirely to Ludwig.”
In Sorog’s grand strategic vision,
as the Molten Iron Tribe expanded its map of dominance, its followers must not be limited to bloodthirsty monster clans.
Humans, dwarves, elves, and other intelligent races would become indispensable members of its realm.
Creatures like humans—relatively intelligent, socially complex, productive, and easier to manage systematically—would sooner or later become important producers and builders within the tribe’s domain.
Ximu Town was the tribe’s first modest human settlement to be taken over.
Rather than raze it to the ground and leave ashes, Sorog preferred to preserve this ready-made community, carefully manage and transform it, and develop it into a key human outpost and logistics base radiating influence to the surrounding region.
“The Albert family’s counterattack will come soon.”
“However, humans suffer inevitably from arrogance and hubris. They know nothing of our true strength; they cannot stir up too much trouble.”
“All strategic points along the Serpentine Earth Rift and its surroundings are already watched by hidden sentries and elite scouts. Not a single movement of theirs can escape our eyes.”
Sorog’s voice paused briefly.
“Garoth, my dear brother, for so grand a return... shouldn’t we do something to announce our comeback—declare to this land and to those who have forgotten or belittled us that the Ignas Dragon Cluster and the Molten Iron Tribe have returned in full force?”
His tone carried a hint of excitement.
At Sorog’s words, the red iron dragon nodded slightly. “The Federation’s control over the wilderness indeed weakens day by day, but being too ostentatious is never wise.” His tone shifted abruptly. “Still, we do owe that generous Crystal Princess a firework—a splendid one. It’s time to repay her with a rare gift.”
Princess Elina’s support was worth more than glittering treasures and resources.
Regardless of the Federation’s internal state, the Lothrian Kingdom remained the nominal leader of the federation. Though Princess Elina stood on the fringes of court power, she was immensely wealthy and highly respected, with an intricate network behind her.
In prior talks, she had solemnly promised Garoth she would closely watch the Ser Wilderness’ situation.
As long as the Ignas Dragon Cluster did not perform overtly outrageous acts that broke the Federation’s bottom line, she would, within the Federation’s politics, do her best to maneuver so the federal garrison overlooked the Ignas Dragon Cluster’s existence.
That was the most valuable benefit of allying with her highness.
The Ser Wilderness was now a place aflame with conflicts and chaos.
The federation garrisons were stretched thin and exhausted.
If a high-level royal court instruction arrived hinting they should selectively ignore certain areas, the garrison commanders would be relieved—not having to face one more problem that might cost lives.
Sorog asked: “When shall we light this firework?”
“Now!”
Garoth answered decisively.
“Call Samantha—she’s been waiting for this moment.”
Not all tasks were fit to be delegated by a proud dragon.
A strike on a federation duchy’s garrison could not be crowded with too many followers.
With speed and aerial advantage, the sovereign of the sky would lead the assault personally.
Rumble—!
Lead-grey clouds pressed heavy on the horizon as torrential rain poured down, mercilessly covering a saltpeter mining stronghold ringed with fortifications in the central Ser Wilderness.
Rain pounded the muddy ground, tin roofs, and cold alchemical apparatus with an unending roar, as if the world held nothing but the loud sound of water.
This site belonged to the Duchy of Abbe.
Backed firmly by the Kingdom of Rybos, the duchy enjoyed resource favors and strong support beyond ordinary duchies—its military might made it a regional hegemon.
Harthale Duchy, likewise backing Lothrian, was in a similar position.
As the cloud of war thickened, some of Abbe’s elite forces deployed in the wilderness had been drawn off to the blazing border fronts,
yet its deep reserves left the garrison here still formidable.
Inside the saltpeter stronghold, finely-crafted alchemical golems and fully armed human guards held strict defenses.
Most conspicuous among them stood a war behemoth from Rybos with autonomous intelligence—Heaven’s Wrath! It combined crushing ground suppression with aerial combat capabilities and could tear apart any beast or invader who dared approach.
Crackle!
Drum-like rain hammered at Heaven’s Wrath’s cold, massive steel frame, splintering into countless droplets.
A team of alchemists braved the downpour, carefully conducting routine maintenance.
Their full attention went to patching minute battle scratches on the golem’s armor and using alchemical techniques to restore slightly worn transmission joints and energy nodes to near-factory condition.
Suddenly!
Two piercing lights ignited without warning across Heaven’s Wrath’s metal faceplate—
It “opened” its eyes.
The giant metal head snapped up, its cold “gaze” piercing the driving rain and staring toward the cloud-concealed heavens.
Built-in sensors emitted emotionless mechanical announcements.
“Detected: high-energy lifeform signature!”
“Warning! Warning! Extremely high-threat lifeform approaching at high speed! Bearing: directly overhead!”
Under the stunned gazes of the guards, the war behemoth roared its engines to deafening volume.
Energy flames shot from its back as its giant metal wings—more than forty meters across—ripped through wind and rain. The massive steel form shot upward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Almost at the same instant,
a “meteor” wrapped in crimson flames and crackling golden lightning—bearing an aura of total annihilation—ploughed through the thick clouds and plunged down from the firmament.
The rain around it vaporized at the horrifying heat’s touch, leaving a dense, tangible white steam trail like a harbinger star descending to the world, suffocating the air as it rushed toward the earth.
It was—Wings of the Skyrend, Death’s Harbinger—Garoth.
His gaze was a blade. Reflected clearly within it was the approaching steel titan nearing twenty meters in height.
This was not Garoth’s first encounter with Heaven’s Wrath.
He remembered with crystal clarity—when he had decided to flee the Ser Wilderness as a young dragon, he had looted a gem mine in Raymond Duchy and had been pursued by such a powerful construct during his escape.
At that time as a Young Dragon, he had dared not fight head-on and had only retreated strategically.
But this time was different.
In a flash of lightning and thunder, Heaven’s Wrath closed the distance.
The steel gauntlet flashing with energy met the red iron dragon’s heavy-clawed paw in the sky with a thunderous collision.
BOOM!!!
A deafening boom cracked; visible shockwaves rolled up water in concentric walls, radiating madly outward from the impact.
Heaven’s Wrath’s massive steel torso was struck squarely. Its chest twisted and collapsed deeply, and it fell uncontrollably toward the ground before it could initiate any countermeasures.
Garoth’s wing-blade slashed like a giant knife, talons tearing, and tail blows mixed into a storm that ripped across Heaven’s Wrath, leaving countless deep gashes in its steel hide.
Tear! Crack! Boom!
The sickening sound of steel tearing, components exploding, and overload wails blended into a deathly symphony.
Twisted parts rained down like a storm.
Red-hot sparks hissed violently in the cold steam and were extinguished in an instant!
Heaven’s Wrath’s mighty frame was dismembered like a paper toy by Garoth’s ferocious onslaught.
At the moment of destruction, it detonated without warning—blasting into a ball of searing flame suspended in midair and forming a vacuum in the rain, like a second sun rising.
The guards on the ground nearly cheered, thinking the terrible dragon had been ended by that terrible explosion.
However—
Sizzle! A blinding golden arc of lightning tore through the swelling inferno!
A dragon silhouette, glittering with flying lightning, burst from the "sun." Scales bore many cracks and charred marks but appeared largely unharmed.
Garoth’s fire resistance reduced the inferno’s damage to near nothing.
The explosion’s shockwave could not faze his Frostburst Scales; the extreme heat and impact instead allowed him to accumulate considerable thermal energy, as if a furnace had been stoked within his body.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Two more powerful dragon silhouettes ripped the rain from different angles, diving toward the chaotic stronghold and throwing the defenders into utter disarray.
At the same time,
Garoth defied the ground-based anti-air weapons—fleeting energy beams and alchemical shells seemed like mere irritations—and landed with authority amid the barracks’ defenses.
Boom!
The earth trembled beneath his feet!
Surrounded by golden lightning and black-red Dragon Qi, his colossal hulking frame moved with unfathomable speed.
Where he passed,
solid fortifications, lofty watchtowers, and stubborn alchemical golems all crumbled like sandcastles. Even veteran human guard captains of no small ability were crushed under that irresistible might like ants.
The iron and red dragons, a bit weaker, nonetheless displayed strength beyond ordinary adolescent dragons, cutting off retreat and slaughtering those who tried to flee.
Rumble—!
Finally, a heavy mana cannon that had long charged managed to hit Garoth amid the chaos.
The great dragon shuddered; scales flew. A low, electric growl escaped his throat.
His mighty wings beat, and his bulk shot skyward! The iron and red dragons followed swiftly, retreating from the chaotic battlefield.
The remaining guards on the ground, watching this, nearly wept for joy, believing they had finally driven off the terrible beast.
Yet in the next second,
Garoth spread his wings. Heat waves rolled off him, evaporating rain with resonant hissing. Each scale on his body glowed like a red-hot brand.
He drew a deep breath and then exhaled ferociously at the earth.
A destructive dragon breath—far more terrifying than any previous attack—poured out like a reversed river of molten rock, a judgment spear from a flame god, smashing down onto the land.
Where the breath passed, hard stone melted and vaporized like butter.
Mine shafts were cleaved through and torn apart!
The saltpeter reserves ignited and detonated, setting off chain reactions. Roaring consecutive explosions sounded like thunder rolling through the earth.
The surface cracked and collapsed like fragile eggshells.
The overflowing blaze combined with explosive shockwaves to form a colossal, towering pillar of fire that pierced the clouds.
It brazenly vaporized the rain into nothing and, against the brooding night, blossomed into a flower of flame—a most grand, most spectacular firework wrought of fire, blood, and death!