Ember Dragon

Chapter 649: Steel, Flesh, and Flame

The Dragon Vein goblin was in a frenzy, slamming the accelerator down and letting out a sharp howl."For the Emperor of Ember!"

"Crush them!"

The earth trembled and dust flew. The iron beast roared in fury, spewing thick steam as it accelerated toward the Dwarven heavy infantry.

The steam tank, over three meters tall, loomed larger and larger in the dwarves’ view, like a small mountain bearing down on them with terrifying momentum.

"What is this—"

"By Moradin..."

Even the resolute Dwarven heavy infantry couldn’t help but gape, their voices trembling.

Despite their thick armor, it offered little comfort in the face of such an iron monster. After all, they were still flesh and blood.

"Do not retreat, do not fear! Not a single step back! We hold the line at all costs!"

"For Avenderdan!"

The leading Dwarven commander stood at the front of the formation, gripping his massive warhammer and roaring.

Despite the enemy’s ferocity, not a single Dwarven heavy infantryman flinched. They stood in a tight formation at the canyon exit, resolute light gleaming beneath their heavy visors.

These were the heavy infantry of the Highland Kingdom—brave and unyielding, known as the "Wall of Blackstone Mountain."

In past battles, these dwarves had held off dozens of orc charges with just a hundred men, inflicting nearly ten thousand casualties on their foes.

But now, they faced the steel flood of the Ember Empire.

The tremors grew stronger as the iron beasts broke through the smoke and neared the dwarven defense.

500 meters, 200 meters, 100 meters, 50 meters...

The Dwarven commander raised his massive shield with his left hand, braced it forward, then swung his warhammer with his right, roaring, "For Avenderdan! Hold the line!"

All at once, the dwarves at the canyon mouth raised their shields, forming an impenetrable wall, shouting in unison: "For Avenderdan!"

Their war cry echoed through the canyon, thunderous and imposing.

But the next moment, the deafening roar of engines drowned out their shouts. Their ears rang.

"Boom boom boom—"

The iron beasts roared as they barreled into the dwarves, shaking the mountains and kicking up clouds of dust.

"Come on! Show me what gives you the guts to stand in my way!" Bill shouted fanatically.

Under the control of the Dragon Vein goblins, the steam tank charged into the dwarven ranks without hesitation.

The sharp ram on the tank’s front, carrying immense kinetic energy, smashed through the dwarves’ heavy shields, ripping a massive hole in their line.

"Boom!"

With a heavy crash, the front line of dwarves was sent flying, shields, armor, and body parts scattering through the air.

"No!" The Dwarven commander swung his warhammer, trying to break the tank’s armor, but was slammed into the rock wall behind and embedded in it.

What orcs needed a thousand casualties to breach, the Empire’s tank shattered in an instant, like a hammer through glass.

The second and third rows of dwarves stood no chance against the raging steel beast.

The over-100-ton steam tank kept rolling forward. Elite shields and heavy armor groaned under its treads before being crushed like paper into a bloody metal paste.

The Dragon Vein goblin screamed maniacally, "Hahahaha, is that all you’ve got?!"

Outside the cockpit, he was a frail, tiny creature. Those dwarves could’ve easily pounded him to mush.

But inside this tank, he was a tyrant of life and death, a beast of catastrophe, a killing machine.

Bill was drunk on the feeling. He believed the tank’s machine spirit would be pleased by soaking in enemy blood—he was a devout follower of the Cult of the Machine God.

He had to kill more enemies. Only then... would the tank unleash its full power, he thought.

So Bill raised his arms and shouted, "Burn them!"

"Burn them!"

"Awoo awoo! For the Empire!" the goblins in the cockpit howled.

From the tank’s sides, torrents of fire burst forth, instantly engulfing nearby dwarves. The sticky gasoline mixture set them entirely aflame.

The Dwarven commander crawled out of the wall crater, only to see fire and smoke everywhere—a hell on earth.

"No!"

"Damn it, this fire can’t be put out!"

The heavy infantry rolled on the ground, trying to smother the flames.

But their gasoline-soaked armor was like a steamer, heating up, glowing red, and slowly melting. What had once been indestructible now became a searing prison that cooked them alive.

"So hot! So hot!"

"Is this all you’ve got? Don’t celebrate too soon, you damned dragon-kin! Dwarves will crush you yet!"

"You orc-raised bastards!"

"Long live Avenderdan! Long live the Highland Kingdom! Long live the Shield Dwarves!" agonized howls came from the flaming figures.

Even in death, the Dwarves shouted to lift morale and curse their savage invaders.

Hearing his comrades, the commander staggered up, picked up his warhammer, and limped forward.

Seeing the steel monster still crushing his comrades, the commander’s veins bulged. He charged into the fire, ignoring the searing pain.

He growled, "Let me show you the strength of the mountain’s children!"

Lifting his arms, he brought all his strength down into a mighty blow, smashing his warhammer into the beast.

"Clang—"

The metallic explosion echoed into the sky.

Under the full strength of a superhuman dwarf, the tank’s thick armor dented and cracked.

The whole tank shuddered violently, nearly tipping. It was like an ant shaking a mountain—absurd but real.

But the Empire’s engineers had learned from the Demon Wars and modified their tanks for just such assaults.

"Crack—Bang!"

As the hammer struck, the emergency defense system activated—lightning arced, a force field burst forth, launching the dwarf commander into the air.

Bill, pointing at the airborne dwarf, roared, "Damn dwarf! You dare harm my baby?! Riddle him with bullets!"

"Yes, boss!"

Goblins manning the machine guns popped out and opened fire.

"Ratatatatata—"

Still paralyzed in midair, the dwarf couldn’t dodge. Bullets riddled his body.

Protective magic shimmered over his armor, but bullet impacts left it cratered with spiderweb cracks.

This tank, the Emperor’s Wrath, fired anti-magic rounds—engraved with intricate runes.

With a "crash," the armor shattered mid-air, metal shards flying.

"No—"

The dwarf howled, his stout body bursting with blood. Even a superhuman warrior couldn’t withstand a storm of bullets.

With a pained wail, the commander hit the ground, rolling several times, bleeding from dozens of wounds, forming a pool beneath him.

He was dying. The searing rounds had torn apart his organs.

Using the last of his strength, he turned to the distant fortress, whispering, "Avenderdan will never fall."

The iron monster rumbled forward, mercilessly crushing him. Blood sprayed, dyeing the treads red.

At the canyon’s mouth, smoke and fire filled the air. Dwarf corpses lay everywhere.

"For the Empire!"

Goblins poked their heads out, shouting fanatically.

One by one, tanks rumbled through, crushing dwarves as they charged toward Avenderdan.

Wyverns descended, hunting survivors, gripping stone with their winged forelimbs, roaring.

Elite half-red-dragon infantry followed, expertly sweeping the battlefield.

The "Tempering Road"—once the dwarves’ strongest defense—was overrun in an hour with barely any resistance.

Those who died by fire, smoke, or bullets learned the true meaning of the "steel flood" and "thunder assault."

Upon Avenderdan’s mighty walls, dwarves stood in full armor, hammers and axes in hand.

After Zain led away the weak, only ten thousand dwarves remained—mostly adult males—who swore to defend the city to the death.

Smoke rose in the distance, dwarven cries echoing, mixed with beastly roars.

The defenders tensed. They knew what this meant—heavy losses inside the Tempering Road.

How could this be?

Barely an hour had passed. According to their experience with orcs, the Empire should still be stuck in the traps.

Did someone surrender?

Impossible. These were Shield Dwarves—children of the earth and mountains—sworn to die defending this place. Cowards had already fled in the night.

Suddenly, thunderous rumbling came from the canyon. Several massive shadows emerged from the dark smoke.

A bad feeling surged.

"Look! What’s that?!"

"Wait... It’s the Ember Empire’s army—it’s the dragon-kin!"

"What?!"

"By Moradin... This can’t be. How did they get here so fast?!"

"Boom—"

The blood-soaked iron beasts roared through the smoke into view.

Above them loomed a massive, terrifying creature clad in crimson scales—a wyvern nearly the size of a true dragon.

It was the wyvern clan’s chieftain—the Dragonblood Duke of the Empire: Smaug!

Perched atop the canyon, Smaug stood tall, wings wide, head raised, neck extended—unleashing a mighty roar.

"Awoooo—"

With their chieftain’s call, hundreds of wyverns screamed in response.

They flapped wildly, rising like a storm, casting shifting shadows over the plain.

As tanks rolled from the canyon, elite infantry marched in tight ranks, spreading across the plain.

Each carried the most advanced rifles, dressed in splendid uniforms, with the Ember Empire’s banner waving overhead.

Behind them came engineering corps, artillery, and special player units—all crossing the Tempering Road and arriving at Avenderdan’s base.

This narrow plain now held nearly fifty thousand Empire troops, packed like sardines.

And beyond the canyon, another half waited, ready to reinforce.

The dwarves swallowed hard. Unlike the orcs’ twenty thousand rabble, this was the real deal.

Even those iron monsters alone made dwarves marvel. So many fine weapons could be forged from them!

Standing atop the walls, Edd gazed down at the approaching army and murmured, "No wonder they conquered Aether in a month, broke my Tempering Road so easily..."

"So this is the Ember Empire’s army... truly worthy of its name."

Tragic resolve filled Edd’s heart. This army might be unstoppable—but still, the dwarves would shine one last time.

They would make the world remember their valor.

"Come then..."

The Dwarf King gripped his warhammer, his eyes firm.

Far off, in the Empire’s formation, General Drol the Great Goblin looked up, locking eyes with the mountain king.

A cunning light gleamed in Drol’s eyes before he grinned wickedly: "So that’s the famed mountain lord? Hahaha, perfect. My promotion depends on him."