novelraw Chapter 341: Imitating Garoth’s Alchemical Armor
Chapter 341: Imitating Garoth’s Alchemical Armor
The Ser Wilderness, this vast and primordial land, has long been a paradise where all manner of ferocious beasts and magical creatures run rampant. Compared to the huge hordes of monsters that blanket the wasteland, the outposts painstakingly established by the Federation’s nations and the clans formed with difficulty by sentient beings are but sparse adornments on this savage terrain. Most of the feral beasts and magical creatures lack true intelligence and act on the most primitive instincts when hunting. The danger they pose is continuous, yet ultimately dispersed and limited. However, once a powerful beastlord with extraordinary intelligence arises in the wilderness, everything changes. Under a beastlord’s command, the previously scattered monsters are organized into fearsome packs, and their threat level skyrockets to chilling heights. This is especially true for the lion predators that already occupy the upper-middle ranks of the wilderness food chain. When different breeds of powerful lion-beasts gather in packs—numerous and elite—their ecological niche in the northwest soars with ferocity, and they’ve forged a bloody reputation with their claws and fangs. Now, an ambitious Lion King is driving its army, baring fangs and sharpening claws, launching assaults on the neighboring Molten Iron Tribe’s border to swallow more territory and expand its pride kingdom. What’s more alarming is that the pride’s attacks are not reckless charges but carefully planned lightning guerrilla raids.
“Roar—!!!”
At a Molten Iron outpost situated beneath a border mountain ridge, a deafening, soul-rending roar split the air as over a dozen distinctly featured lion-type beasts and magical monsters leapt down from a flanking ridge. Among them were pure brute predators that relied on terrifying physical power to slaughter, and other creatures that commanded elements and wielded spell-like abilities. Leading the charge was a colossal mammoth lion that moved like a walking fortress. Two massive curved tusks protruding from its maw flashed with a cold light, serving as a savage battering ram. It bore the concentrated barrage of ranged shots fired from the outpost and smashed through the sturdy wall defenses. Its massive body, undeterred, crashed into the center of the outpost amid flying rubble and dust, sending clouds of dust and splintered wood into the air.
Inside the camp, a nimble centaur marksman reacted swiftly—drawing his bow and nocking an arrow in an instant, his keen eyes locked on the mammoth lion’s eyes. A potent strand of magical energy condensed and coalesced at his arrowhead, ready to be unleashed. But just as the arrow was about to fly, a piercing, ear-cutting whistle split the air. Mouth open—! Not far away, a lion-type monster over three meters long, its dense mane tinged blue, crouched low. The air around it twisted violently as visible gust-element energy frenziedly converged and braided together. Immediately, a giant wind blade several meters long—thin as a cicada wing yet glittering with lethal cold—instantly formed. It tore through the air at tremendous speed, slashing toward the centaur’s slender neck. The marksman had no choice but to make a clumsy low roll, narrowly evading the deadly ambush. The hurriedly loosed magic arrow, its trajectory distorted by the sudden movement, lost its accuracy and only struck the mammoth lion’s iron-like skull, sparking a scatter of embers and leaving a trivial scrape that amounted to little more than an external wound.
“Damn beasts!”
A towering ogre warlord bellowed in fury, swinging a door-sized great axe. Grabbing the opening, he charged and hacked viciously at the mammoth lion’s flank, tearing a gaping, blood-soaked wound. But in the next moment his roar was cut off. Three lion beasts’ bodies slashed through the air and pounced from different, cunning angles. Their sharp claws tore through the ogre’s heavy iron-plated armor, and their fangs sunk into his throat, joints, and other vital points. Roar! Roar! Roar! With triumphant death-cries booming, more lion beasts poured through the breach the battering ram had made in the wall, or used their astounding leaping ability to clear the not-very-high palisade and storm into the camp like a breaking flood, slaughtering mercilessly. The outpost guards scrambled to respond and tried to form a defensive line. But the pride’s assault came too fast and too fierce, and the gap in capabilities was obvious. Fangs easily severed sentries’ throats, claws savagely tore open guards’ chests... the stench of blood spread instantly, and the guards’ hisses and the pride’s roars wove together. In just a few minutes, the once-quiet forward camp was bathed in blood. A handful of collapsed guards fled in every direction. Soon after, by the time the Molten Iron Tribe’s elite reinforcements arrived in response to aid calls, the attacking pride had already withdrawn like the tide—vanished without a trace, leaving only wreckage, carcasses growing cold, and ruined ground to testify to the carnage.
Surveying the entire border situation, the pride’s total numbers were undeniably at a stark numerical disadvantage against the Molten Iron Tribe’s massive garrison. Yet each individual beast averaged a higher life level, with bodies more agile and powerful, and possessed mobility and single-combat skills far beyond ordinary tribe guards. The pride attacking the Molten Iron border wasn’t a single concentrated horde. It split into dozens of independent strike teams, each composed of ten to twenty formidable lion beasts. They picked targets with surgical precision—outposts, sentries, or patrols with relatively weak defenses—and launched lightning raids. Once they struck, regardless of the results, they retreated at once and never lingered to fight. Their tactics resembled elite special forces more than mindless beasts. Clearly, the still-unseen Lion King’s control and command of its vast beast army reached an extraordinary degree; it demonstrated real strategic intelligence.
The Molten Iron Tribe’s guards were by no means weak; they were well-trained and well-equipped. However, against the pride’s brutal, flexible hit-and-run tactics—strike and vanish—the elite guards had the strength but lacked the means to catch their foes, finding themselves unexpectedly on the defensive. Fortified sites erupted in flame and smoke and suffered many breaches. Huff! Huff! Huff! Garoth circled high in the sky, cold gale roaring under his wings. His gaze swept over the land below where smoke rose from one assaulted outpost after another. “These crawling pests that run rampant everywhere—I will turn them and their territories into ash and dust!” Samantha, positioned on Garoth’s left flank, let out a low snarl, restraining her anger. Two lines of scorching flame hissed from her nostrils and distorted the air nearby with intense heat. Moreover, the red dragon looked different than before. On top of her already strong, lithe body covered in crimson scales, crucial areas—chest, back, limbs, tail, and the bases of her wings—were sheathed in an extra layer of heavy, metallic black armor that gleamed like polished metal. The armor’s surface was engraved with complex, profound alchemical runes: sharp, rigid lines that made it look incredibly sturdy and weighty. Even more striking, many of its faceted sections bristled with jagged metal spikes, and some edges had been hammered into blades as sharp as drawn swords—the overall style was powerful and domineering.
It was worth noting that Samantha wearing this fierce alchemical armor, at a glance, bore a certain resemblance to Garoth. In truth, she envied Garoth’s unparalleled physique so much that she used him as a template. Leveraging her deepening knowledge of alchemy, she spent massive amounts of materials and countless hours crafting this suit, hoping to emulate and harness a portion of Garoth’s power. Garoth tilted his head slightly and examined Samantha’s new gear closely. The full-coverage armor even enclosed her lower jaw in heavy steel, leaving only her dragon pupils and nostrils gleaming with savage light—projecting an oppressive, suffocating weight. Visually, it certainly captured some of Garoth’s imposing manner. “This armor looks good, Samantha. Both the craft and the design prove that your alchemy is growing stronger,” Garoth did not withhold praise. He had always been willing to acknowledge the growth and progress of kin. Hearing this, the red dragon opposite instinctively puffed out her armored chest, pride and smugness plainly showing as her thorn-covered armored tail swayed left and right. Garoth withdrew his approving gaze and fixed his sights once more on the smoke-strewn land below. “These scenes feel... familiar,” he said, turning his massive head toward the iron dragon maintaining a calm posture on his right. “What do you think, Sorog?”
Iron dragon Sorog lowered his huge head slightly and replied, “I feel the same.” “It reminds me of the early days when the tribe was still weak and rising. We used a very similar tactic against the Gold Fang Tribe.” Back when they were at the convergence lands, the Molten Iron Tribe relied on the agility and swiftness of elite monster followers, executing multi-point harassment and guerrilla strategies. They harried the numerically larger Gold Fang Tribe into chaos and exhaustion. Ultimately, the enemy, driven by anger and haste, made the mistake of concentrating all their forces to assault the Fertile Plains. The Molten Iron Tribe lay in wait and annihilated them, laying the foundation for the tribe’s rise. Now, time has passed; the powerful Molten Iron Tribe has become the attacked party, and the enemy has adopted the similar strategy they once used to win. Frankly, the Molten Iron Tribe’s subordinate army now surpasses the attacking pride in overall strength, organization, and equipment. However, at the level of individual elite life levels, the tribe’s warriors still lag behind. The pride’s beasts are at least level seven or eight, and most exceed level ten. In the rugged, restricted wilderness, they rely on raw individual power and natural agility to disperse and strike border outposts—causing the Molten Iron Tribe significant trouble and losses in the short term.“To have earned the title of Map King in this brutal, chaotic wilderness—the Lion King truly has some skill and means,” Garoth said, his gaze sweeping the smoke-ravaged earth, voice low. “Guerrilla and lightning warfare... this is no ordinary pride. We must strike hard and crush their delusions.” He paused slightly, then continued: “Since they favor guerrilla tactics and prize speed and agility as their divine weapons... then fine—let them have it. Let’s play this chase-and-hunt game with them.” On the other side, Sorog also stared at the surface. He spread his broad, vast wings and bared his fangs in a grim grin. “It is surprising that such lowly running beasts can deploy tactics so well-suited to their reality,” he said. “But that is all they have.” “They have overlooked the most important, fatal fact.” The iron dragon’s voice turned sharp and grave: “The victory or defeat between ordinary subordinate soldiers matters little in this war. Their true enemy is us! The noble beings that rule the sky! The dragons who command the heavens!” “Trying to play guerrilla with the true masters of the sky using their ground speed? Foolish and laughable!” Lightning warfare and guerrilla raids are virtually the dragons’ most commonly used combat strategies. Against any large ground organization or nation, dragons rely on unparalleled mobility and overwhelming single-combat strength to strike like lightning—hit enemy weak points continuously until the opponent collapses or yields. The pride may boast strong ground mobility, but that depends on who they compare themselves to. When the opponent is the absolute rulers of the sky, the pride’s vaunted land speed and agility become a ridiculous joke. Ravines crisscross, dense woods abound—the wilderness terrain may be complex, but for dragons with high vantage and Omnidirectional Vision, such features are not substantial obstacles. Every dash, every hide, every relocation the pride makes on the ground is nearly transparent under the dragons’ keen observation.
“Roar! I will have these arrogant beasts learn with their blood and bones—let it be painfully clear how insurmountable the chasm is between a mere pride and our Ignas Dragon Cluster!” Samantha bellowed, armored and impatient. Her dragon claws scraped hungrily as if craving an enemy skull. At Garoth’s terse order, and with the blue dragon Heriam and the young, warlike red dragon Kahir already poised in the rear, the Ignas Dragon Cluster struck out again. Wings blotting the sky, dragon shadows cutting through the air! The dragons scattered in an instant, whipping up winds that tore through cloud layers. Like arrows loosed from bows, they barreled toward the various spots along the border where fires and battle had erupted.