Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 100

　Aiton gladly followed the sage's footsteps, and soon they were several streets away from the Temple of Tom. Tyvis and the guards left, while they hid in the crowd, meeting up with Isis and the others at their hideout as agreed, to discuss their respective discoveries.

　“The high priests of Tom are driving the followers of other gods out of the city,” Isis whispered. “Then they will take over the abandoned temples.”

　“So Shuni’s followers burned the temple and everything else to the ground,” Midnight added. “They didn’t want the Temple of Tom to get any of it.”

　Aiton frowned and rubbed his messy hair. "So, most of the sacred relics in the city are hidden in the Temple of Tom."

　“If Bane really hid the disguised stone tablet in the temple, then Tom’s followers might not even know what they are holding! Perhaps Thavis just sees it as an ordinary ornament.”

　“I have the same suspicion,” Elminster said, narrowing his eyes. “That’s why I went to the temple earlier.”

　"So you agree too?" Midnight asked in surprise.

　“Yes, Midnight, I think you are right,” said the white-haired old mage. “The Tablet of Fate is hidden in the Temple of Tom.”

　Kevoran suddenly shouted, "Cirik is here too! He wants to kill me! Bane also knows that the Tablet of Fate he hid is now in the hands of the loyal god..."

　The port of Scarred Valley was busier in just five days than in the previous five months combined. The merchant ships' breakout became the catalyst for a dramatic shift in the city's landscape. Bane had moved his headquarters from his base in Zantir to the edge of the port, and every docked ship was firmly under the control of the Dark Lord's army.

　In one of the tallest buildings in the port, a room had been converted into a war room. A large, gleaming table was covered with maps and battle reports, recording the movements of the troops. Bane sat at the table, the sorceress Tarana Lil stood behind him, and a group of generals surrounded them.

　Officer Hepton, hands on the table, rubbed his temples: "Lord Bane, do you really intend to attack Tanris?"

　“This is utterly absurd!” General Wendlin protested, and the other officers echoed his sentiments.

　"Enough!" Bane slammed his fist on the table, the sound of breaking wood silencing the entire room, except for Tarana's laughter. "The Battle of Shadow Valley was a complete disaster; that damned dragon caused us heavy losses. Although we have Scar Valley, the armies of the valley and Zambia will retaliate sooner or later."

　Just as Bane was speaking, the door was suddenly kicked open, and Cyric rushed in. The God of Conflict looked up, a flash of displeasure in his eyes. In his mind's eye, Fuzor roared angrily upon seeing the thief.

　Realizing he had interrupted the meeting, Cyric quickly bowed and backed away, saying, "My lord, I'm so sorry—"

　“Absurd!” Bane interrupted. “You didn’t interrupt anything important.” Seeing the generals about to rise, he roared, “I didn’t say the meeting was over!”

　Cyric reported bad news: Durok had been killed by Kevoran, Isis and Midnight's group had arrived in Tanris, and the city was on high alert.

　A murmur of astonishment rippled through the room. Bane's face was ashen: "Prepare a fleet, at least a few troops!"

　“That’s too risky!” Hepton exclaimed.

　"Shut up!" Bane pressed closer to the general. "Within a week, I want my flag flying over Tanris. I want the city, understand?"

　Hepton nodded reluctantly. The officers left their seats, and Shirek also turned to leave.

　“I didn’t tell you to leave,” Bane sneered. After all the generals had left, he ordered the thief: “You and the Black Scorpion Legion will be my personal guards. Remember, if Fuzor is injured, you will be the next vessel, and this time I will completely erase your consciousness.”

　Cyric nodded, forcing a smile, and hurriedly left the war room. Bane turned to the warlock: "Lock the door, then summon Melkor. We need more power."

　Tarana's robes billowed as she traced arcane runes in the air with her hands. After a brief flash of light, the amber skull phantom of the Grim Reaper Melkor appeared before the Lord of Darkness. The head hovered in mid-air, eerie blue flames flickering in its eye sockets, faintly emanating the corrupting aura of the underworld.

　“The victory in Scar Valley is worth celebrating,” Melkor said to Bane, his illusory head bowing slightly. His voice was like the friction of sand, carrying an otherworldly echo.

　“It’s not important.” Bane waved his hand impatiently. “Tanris is the key right now. I’ll bring a few ships—”

　Death grinned, revealing rows of decaying teeth: "I will also play a role in this battle."

　Bane narrowed his eyes, tapping his index finger on the broken tabletop: "I need the power of Shadow Valley, the power of the souls of the dead. Can you give it to me?"

　“It requires a large number of living people to die simultaneously to be effective,” Death said, his jaw clenched, his voice tinged with doubt. “Shadow Valley, you disbanded your army, and a dragon took half the spoils. Who will be the sacrifice this time?”

　Bane fell silent, his mind racing. He could no longer use his own soldiers and priests, but he needed souls with a shared goal; otherwise, the power would be uncontrollable. Suddenly, a malicious glint flashed in his eyes.

　"Assassins!" The Dark Lord grinned menacingly. "From the night of their descent, they have repeatedly disappointed me. Spider's Nest, Scarred Valley, and Tanris, too. All assassins in this realm must pay the price and become my power!"

　“Absolutely insane!” Melkor laughed, his voice like shattering ice. “Assassins are valuable to me.”

　“Oh? Why?” Bane raised an eyebrow, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

　Melkor's face was contorted, his cheekbone piercing through rotting flesh: "They provide the souls for my kingdom, and now they desperately need them—"

　“The land of the dead!” Bane interrupted dryly. “Have you been back recently?” Behind him, Tarana let out a maniacal giggle.

　Melkor remained silent, and when he spoke again, his hollow voice held no hint of a smile: "I'm not here to hear you ask obvious questions. We're all isolated from our homeland."

　“Then any way that can get us back to where we are is worth a try, isn’t it?” Bane stood up.

　Death's body flickered with light: "Who knows if these sacrifices will be in vain?"

　"Tanris holds the Tablet of Destiny!" Bane practically screamed. "If other forces discover it, the consequences will be unimaginable. My arrogance in Shadow Valley has already cost me dearly; I will not allow myself to fail again!"

　The phantom of Melkor flickered and vanished at times, filling Bane with an overwhelming sense of dread. Finally, the phantom stabilized. From the eye sockets of Death, the Lord of Darkness had already read the answer.

　“Since you are so determined, I will help you get the stone tablet back.” Melkor nodded slowly.

　Bane tried to remain calm: "I never doubted your wise choice."

　Melkor's room was pitch black and deep, with a dozen of his most devout followers and high priests standing around him. Before him stood a five-tiered altar, designed specifically for him, its steps made of jade and black marble. Each step corresponded to a ritual; after the five steps were completed, the Bone Lord would kill all the assassins of Faerûn and bestow the energy from their souls upon Bane.

　Death heard the agonizing screams of nearby souls, their cries for release. The sounds seemed to emanate from Hades's Bone Castle—Melkor's lost homeland—and sent shivers down his spine. Though what he heard now were merely the voices of a group of punished, unfaithful followers, far less mournful than the cries of the souls imprisoned in his realm, the Lord of Bones remained captivated.

　"Priests, let's begin." Melkor cast aside his memories of the divine realm, raised his bony arm, and walked toward the first platform.

　The priests in robes, holding pointed scepters carved from human bones, approached and offered them to Melkor. Then they all knelt down, tilting their heads back and exposing their necks.

　Death began to chant in a hollow, hoarse voice, and the kneeling believers joined in. As the chanting reached its climax, Melkor used his scepter to rip open the throats of the priests one by one. The corpses fell backward, mouths agape, silently protesting their dying agony.

　At the site of the ceremony with Mirko

Chapter 314

　Far off, Bane waited in an abandoned warehouse at the port of Scarred Valley. Tarana stood behind him, with Cyric and five members of the Black Scorpion Legion nearby as his personal guards. Slater stood beside the thief, Eckerle standing shoulder to shoulder with her, their fanatical eyes fixed on the fallen god. Everyone was fully armed.

　A faceless obsidian statue stands in the center of the warehouse, resembling a child's toy. The ground around it is covered with intricate patterns, strange and bizarre designs radiating from the statue and spreading throughout the entire warehouse.

　“Hurry, Melkor, I don’t have much time left,” Bane murmured. A shadowy figure streamed in through the open window, and a beam of green and amber light descended from the sky, engulfing the obsidian statue. The Lord of Darkness watched anxiously.

　“Finally!” Bane roared, raising his fist. “I will have true power…”

　Meanwhile, on the other side of the kingdom, at the foot of the mountains west of Susar, a meeting of twelve was underway. Twelve assassins had gathered at the table of the master of Dambrin Castle. These killers were plotting to assassinate King Assan IV of Komir.

　The leader, Patrick Tem, a dark-eyed, flat-nosed man, was tired of arguing. "My friends, this argument is pointless," Tem declared, slamming his sword hilt on the table to get attention.

　Before he could finish speaking, Tem's pupils suddenly dilated, his body stiffened, and a burst of amber and emerald light erupted from his chest, flashing through the room like lightning. Within seconds, the magical flames pierced through the bodies of all his companions, and the assassins all fell dead.

　Samirson Yass is lurking in the back alleys of Ulaspier, a city in Zambia. His prey has been spotted, and he draws his dagger. Yass is a highly successful assassin who has attracted the attention of the mastermind behind the murders, Baal.

　Tonight's target is a circus performer suspected of seducing the wife of a city official. The employer promises double the reward if the hitman can bring the performer's hot heart.

　Yass saw his prey jump out of the accounting window and followed him into the dark alley. He caught his prey, saw the fear in its eyes, and raised his weapon—

　A blinding amber-green beam pierced Yas's chest, the weapon falling to the ground a few feet from its victim. Samirson Yas had failed his mission for the first time.

　In Waterdeep, on the other side of the realm, Baal, the god of murder, felt an unprecedented sense of loss. In that brief moment, he experienced true terror for the first time. The god rushed out of his room and found his loyal servant, the assassin Dylin Shalev. He opened his beastly mouth to speak, but an amber-green beam appeared in the corridor, and Dylin let out a soul-rending scream. Baal numbly realized: His brother, Melkor, the Bone King, was sacrificing His followers—all of them.

　Inside the Scar Valley warehouse, the obsidian statue had swelled to fifty feet tall and showed no signs of slowing down. Powerful and steady beams of light poured into the room, continuously energizing the statue.

　Bane stared intently at the form of his new Holy Body. "Milkor is about to ascend to the final level," the Dark Lord whispered to Tarana. The sorceress stepped back, gesturing for the Black Scorpion Legion to follow.

　Slater, standing beside Cyric, cursed under his breath as his hands trembled. "Bane is communicating with Melkor," Cyric whispered. "And he's saying the same thing."

　The God of Conflict spread his arms before the Black Scorpion Legion, with tongues of emerald and amber flames swirling around him: "When I leave this body, it will become fragile and its mind will become muddled. Tarana, you must stay and protect Fuzor, and uphold my affairs in the Valley of Scars."

　“I will give my life—” Tarana cried out.

　“I know, I know,” Bane impatiently raised his hand to interrupt the madwoman’s declaration, “That day will come. I have to go now.”

　Red and black smoke billowed from Fuzor's mouth as he streaked towards the obsidian statue, leaving an amber-green trail of flame. Fuzor's body collapsed into Tarana's arms, groaning softly. As the essence of the God of Conflict entered the statue, a deafening roar erupted in the center of the room, reverberating throughout the Valley of Scars and nearly deafening everyone in the warehouse.

　The statue's arms slowly rose, and Bane's new incarnation gripped the sides of the head, continuing to scream, though without a mouth; spikes resembling those on Durok armor burst forth from the obsidian incarnation's arms, chest, legs, and head. Finally, the swirling mist ceased flowing into the room, and the churning light within the statue changed from amber green to a reddish black.

　Eyes flashing red light and a mouth revealing an evil grin appeared on the statue's face. Bane stopped shouting and looked down at his hands: "Emptiness, my world is an emptiness, and my body..."

　Cyric gazed up at the god of strife in disbelief, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would leap from his chest. Such power! The thief thought, no matter the cost, one day I will be like Bane.

　Suddenly, the Lord of Darkness burst into laughter, his terrifying and deep voice booming throughout the room: "I am a god, finally, I am a god again!"

　The colossal obsidian body of the God of Conflict marched forward, smashing through the warehouse wall as easily as tearing a sheet of paper. Before the roof collapsed, the rest of the Black Scorpion Legion, except for Cyric, quickly helped Tarana carry Fuzor out of the warehouse.

　The soldiers marched into the street and saw Bane arrive at the edge of the harbor. He stood on the shore of Dragon Bay, gazing towards Tanris, enveloped in a faint amber-green light. The fallen god was certain that nothing could stop him from reclaiming the Tablet of Destiny.

　Above the clouds, Casalos gazed at the swirling shadows that had re-emerged above the Valley of Scars.

　“Bane has already piloted the ‘Gundam’,” Tie Long turned and looked down at the city below, where the figures of Isis and Midnight were faintly visible, and the light illuminating Tanris seemed pale. “Tom is also ready…”

　62. Join the battle

　The temple hall was filled with fully armed guards. Tom sat on his stone gauntlet throne, his palms level with the ground. A golden lion paced at the feet of the god of duty—the very statue that Tyvis had retrieved from the abandoned Temple of Woking and personally placed in the garden. Tom had given it life the day Aiton arrived at the temple.

　The lion roared, and Tom leaned forward.

　“I’m not even sure where to begin,” the God of Duty’s voice was low and angry. “My disappointment and anger cannot be measured by human standards. If I were in the realm of the gods, I would use my power to raze this entire temple to the ground!”

　How much does Tom actually know about Tyvis's body?

　“For the past three days, mortals who are my saints have sat on my throne, while I have used the bodies of true believers to investigate the city.” Tom paused, gritting his teeth. “My discoveries are disgusting, and no punishment is worthy of your actions.”

　Tevis's legs went weak, and he knelt down, followed by the other council members who also fell to the ground.

　“Everything we do is for your name,” cried the high priest, “for your glory, for your reverence!”

　The golden lion roared, and Tom suddenly stood up, strode across the room, grabbed Tyvis by the neck, and lifted him into the air.

　“So…blasphemous!” cried the God of Duty, restraining Tevis with his left hand and clenching his right fist.

　Tevis was in despair, but then he suddenly remembered the Tablet of Fate. "We have the Tablet of Fate, Your Majesty!" These words made Tom stop the punishment he was about to deliver.

　“We intend to hand over the stone tablet to you at the appropriate time!” Tevis pleaded.

　Tom whispered, "You know nothing of my desires."

　The god clenched his fists, his back to the council, trying to control his rage, but his body still trembled with fury: He realized the extent of the harm caused by Tevis and his plan to fall. During this time, the kingdom was engulfed in chaos, and mortals suffered. The god of duty could have set things right and fulfilled his obligations to the supreme god AO, but his priest had concealed from him the fact that the Tablet of Destiny was in the temple—claiming it was for his sake.

　Tom looked at the terrified priest and the awe-inspiring guards, and for the first time he learned how they saw him. "I am nothing more than a tyrant, a ruler, in their eyes, and they would do anything to please me."

　positive

Chapter 315

　Just as Tom was about to make his decision, a panicked messenger rushed into the room: "Your Majesty Tom! The Santir fleet has appeared at sea! And a fifty-foot-tall black giant, wearing the same spiked armor as the Dark Lord's assassins, is crossing Dragon Bay!"

　“Bane!” Tom cried. “He’s here for the Tablet of Fate!”

　Above the clouds, Casalos looked down at the farcical scene unfolding on the ground, glancing at Tom's golden lion, then at the over 30-meter-tall obsidian colossus of Bann on the sea, and finally at Isis and the others who had donned flight spells and were flying towards the sacred bell atop the southern mountain peak.

　"The timing is wrong, everything's in chaos..." Iron Dragon stretched out its wings, maintaining its balance within the controlled airflow. "Was Bane's preparation launched ahead of schedule, or was Tom Su a bit too late? Ultimately, it's because of my intervention that a hole appeared in the web of fate at the intersection of Tanris."

　Casalos's beak clanged together a few times as it pondered, "And to fill this hole, we need to add a new node, an anomaly that disrupts the already woven web from its source—that is, me?" It chuckled, "I never thought I'd become such a rambling fellow. So what if I have to face Bane head-on? Do you think I'd back down?"

　If Bane still possessed divine power, Casalos would naturally have kept his distance as far as possible. But now that the gods have been banished to the mortal realm and are left with only their divinity, how could he possibly be cowardly when he is piloting an obsidian "Gundam" powered by the sacrifice of mortal souls?

　Its dilemma was simply whether it was worth attracting the hatred of a god, but Tom was right there beside it. Was there really any need to hesitate about exchanging the enmity of a doomed evil god for the gratitude and attention of a rising, benevolent, and righteous god?

　In the plaza before the temple, Tom made a decision, summoning all believers to gather outside the church an hour later. Then, Tom stood on the platform and told everyone that Tanris was threatened by the armies of Bane and Santyr. He declared that the sacrifice of the believers was needed to gain the strength to fight Bane.

　"There is no time to waste," cried the God of Duty. "You should know that our city is about to face an attack from the army of Santyr. Bane, the God of Strife and Tyranny, has conquered the Valley of Scars, and now he has transformed into a giant and is approaching our port." The fallen god paused, listening to the whispers of fear and excitement among the crowd.

　“I can stop Bane. But I need power, your faith… and sacrifice.”

　The crowd grew increasingly restless. Tom raised his hand, signaling for quiet. "My saint is willing to be the first to offer his soul to me," the God of Duty said, his eyes filled with sorrow, as he reached into the saint's chest and pulled out his heart. A torrent of blue magic flowed around his trembling body, engulfing not only the fragile flesh but also the golden lion that had come to protect its master. When the light faded, a golden giant over nine feet tall stood before the crowd, with the head of a lion and energy flowing through his body.

　"Duty calls you!" Tom roared with the mouth of a lion: "I will not bring pain to my believers; accept your fate and I will take you away peacefully."

　The believers fell, their faces radiant with happiness, blue mist flowing from their mouths and converging on the deity. Tom embraced them, his souls merging into a sphere of light and being absorbed, his form beginning to grow. Soon, the area in front of the church was piled high with corpses, the fallen god nearly fifty feet tall.

　Seeing this, Tevis and the council members also pleaded with Tom to accept their sacrifice. The god closed his eyes, opened his arms, and accepted their souls, then stepped over the back wall of the temple to seek out the god of strife.

　Casalos had no time to pay attention to Tom's sacrificial ritual. It folded its wings, summoned the higher elements of the four basic elements, stopped deducing the fate information of chaos, and allocated all the computing power of the pseudo-Laplace's demon to control and combat. It guided the four higher elements to merge together and nest onto the dragon's body, and then entered the mixed form of the four elements of wind, fire, water and earth. The secondary elements were derived accordingly, like a shooting star plucked from the sea of ​​chaos, breaking through the clouds and falling straight down.

　"Bane!" The dragon roared like thunder, but the sound had already been thrown behind it and stirred into bursts of explosive roars, so no one could hear it for the time being.

　The boiling dragon magic flowing in the dragon's veins condensed into a chaotic energy sphere mixed with wind, fire, water, and earth, and was propelled in front of the iron dragon. The dragon's breath, containing destructive power, attracted the attention of the saint.

　The golden lion-headed giant, sucking up the blue mist formed from the souls of believers in the city, breathed a slight sigh of relief as he looked up at the colorful meteor that tore through the eternal sunlight.

　The obsidian colossus on the sea spread its arms, creating a wave that halted its forward momentum. It raised its head, staring at the oncoming attack, and laughed furiously: "It's you again! This time, I will crush you and use your spine to decorate my throne!"

　Bane clapped his outstretched hands together, and with a muffled thud and another surging wave, the amber green halo converged into a beam that rushed upwards, colliding with the mixed elemental breath ball that was trailing colorful streams of light as it fell, shining with a white light that even obscured the sun's brilliance.

　A flash of intense light disappeared in an instant. The sea surface at the point of impact dipped, and a miniature tsunami spread outwards from the edge. The surging seawater rose into Worthington jets hundreds of meters high. The dragon's roar and the belated rumble of thunder mingled together, penetrating into the explosion annihilated by the dragon's breath and Bane's attack.

　Casalos watched the explosion with satisfaction, then used his body, now transformed by elementalization, to flexibly adjust his angle and close the distance again: "I thought you were just a thug who could throw punches like a petty thug."

　Following closely behind was a high-level spell released jointly by the four high-level elements. The conflicting elemental energies naturally collapsed into a directional, spreading elemental turbulence during the fusion, engulfing an area of ​​several hundred meters centered on the obsidian colossus.

　"You filthy reptile!" Bane roared from the elemental storm. "You think such petty tricks can harm a god?"