Chapter 331: Bone Dragon
Fiends were not lifeforms.
Fiends were weapons born under the influence of the will of the Plane of Annihilation.
They had bodies like humans, pitch-black all over, and were amalgamations of all the Original Sins.
They embodied Gluttony, Greed, Wrath, Pride, Envy, Lust, and Sloth—every single sin.
If such beings were considered life, what kind of world could sustain their existence?
Thus, they could only be called weapons.
They embodied Gluttony, but never felt hunger. The energy they required to function was determined at the moment of their creation. They would not die of hunger before their end.
They embodied Lust, but had no reproductive organs. They could not reproduce, nor did they possess any concept of reproduction. They were born from the pollution of the will of the Plane of Annihilation—they needed no procreation.
They embodied Sloth, yet their energy only flowed outward. Their very construction denied them rest. They lacked even the concept of rest. They were compelled to act.
They could not possess Pride, for their will eternally submitted to Annihilation. As extensions of the will of Annihilation, they were ruled by the Lords of Annihilation. They could not be proud, nor did they deserve to be.
They were devoid of the three sins of self-indulgence. Incomplete beings, they were mere weapons with nothing to call their own. What right did they have to be proud?
Thus, they were greedier than Greed itself, for they had lost everything and desired everything.
They were more envious than Envy itself, for from the moment of birth they had nothing, while all other life came into the world possessing what they could not.
They were angrier than Wrath itself, for their Gluttony, Greed, Pride, Envy, Lust, and Sloth had no outlet. All that remained was Wrath.
Their burden of Original Sin became pure power. They envied all life, and sought to annihilate it.
Such were the Fiends ruled by the Lords of Annihilation.
Within the monastery's system, any person who received enough nutrition and trained diligently could reach Tier Three.
From Tier Three Upper Warrior to Tier Four Knight was a metamorphosis of body and technique.
From Tier Four Knight to Tier Five Great Knight signified perfection.
From Tier Five Great Knight to Tier Six Hero was a metamorphosis of will, a transcendence of limits, an ascension.
But Fiends had no will of their own. As created weapons, Tier Five was their limit.
However, as artificial beings, their strength depended on their materials.
And powerful Northern Warriors were the best material for Annihilation Fiends.
In the eastern Northland, Hoover Territory had not seized any Tier Five material at the moment of contact with Annihilation, so the highest-ranking Fiends there were only Tier Four.
Yet Fiends were crafted weapons—those made from common materials peaked at Tier Three, while those from Tier Four materials nearly reached Tier Four's apex.
Inferior materials? Naturally, they were unworthy of being weapons, used only as tools, such as for building the Gate of Annihilation.
And due to the Fiends' formidable power, even the weakest among them proved hard for the Comrades Group to capture. They did not fear pain, remained ever wrathful, and fought to the death.
Indeed, they were lucky to encounter only Tier Three Fiends. If they had faced a true Tier Four Fiend Knight, even a capture squad led by a Prospective Member of the Ring would have been annihilated.
Despite their might, Fiends were few: over twenty Fiend Knights, a thousand Fiend Soldiers. As for the rabble, they were weaker than even the raw materials, fit only as expendable, short-lived fodder.
By now, these rabble had already exhausted their lives and perished.
Hoover Territory was not as strong as outsiders imagined. Its strength was only apparent because the surrounding nobles were too weak.
If a Northern Marquis Territory launched a real counterattack, it could hold off the Fiend Army. Two Marquises could suppress them. Three could wipe them out.
Thus, the plan to let the Fiends invade first and then strike back to annihilate them was feasible.
These Fiends were led by Fur Gutiérrez, who was merely a Tier Five Great Knight.
Of course, that was assuming the Lords of Annihilation had not descended.
Under Jared's manipulation, Fur absorbed power from a certain church—power stolen from a Lord of Annihilation. With it, he gained the authority of a Dominating Lord, but also provided the Plane of Annihilation with a coordinate in the material realm, anchoring it.
After being expelled by Corleon, Fur believed he was following his own will. In truth, the Lord's power compelled him to Hoover Territory, where he connected with Annihilation, bringing down its will. The entire territory was transformed into Fiends, and Fur became the Lord's anchor in the material realm.
He sat atop an altar built by the rabble. Overhead, the Gate of Annihilation swirled in vortex, as if some unknown entity beyond the gate watched silently.
Suddenly, he stood.
He had seen it.
From the west, a figure wreathed in frost stormed toward him.
...
Hode's upper-body leather armor burst apart, revealing his entire body streaked with pale blue lines. His hair and eyes were ashen. Frost swirled around him. Even the surrounding Fiends could not breach the chill.
One Fiend suddenly let out a roar, leapt with a metal warhammer, and smashed it down. The frost could not halt him.
He was a Fiend Knight. He charged through the frost and struck Hode.
Yet Hode did not move.
The warhammer cracked on impact, then shattered completely.
Hode raised a hand, grabbed the Fiend Knight's head, and crushed it.
Dark crimson blood and brain matter were swept away by the storm of frost, never allowed to taint Hode's body.
Without pausing, he stepped over the corpse. To these Fiends, he was a force of despair.
But Fiends were weapons. They knew no fear.
They roared, feet stomping the earth, struggling to stop Hode. Even as frost froze them, they pushed forward, carving trails with their legs.
How could they move Hode?
Hode merely connected with his magic, invoked the Heart of Frost, and obliterated them.
He pressed forward until he saw the man atop the altar.
A face he could never forget.
Even now, that face was calm and clean of blood, but Hode recognized him as the one who had cruelly slain Noah.
Anger.
Anger.
Anger.
Hode did not resist the fury rising within him. He let out a deafening roar of wrath.
"Roar!"
The Wrath of the Northland became tangible, stirring the frost storm and shattering a swath of frozen Fiends.
The roar alone reduced the Fiends to fragments.
The power did not fade, but blasted toward Fur on the altar.
Fur stood still, facing the onslaught.
"Boom!" The mighty roar tore his tattered armor and cracked his skin. Blood exploded outward.
Hode charged, each step spanning over ten meters. Nearing the altar, he leapt over its nine-meter height and looked down at the blood-soaked Fur.
He raised his battleaxe. Power gathered at the blade. He swung.
Fur did not move. He met Hode's eyes and raised an arm to block.
How could it stop Hode's blow?
The strike cleaved both Fur and the massive altar in two.
Hode looked at half of Fur and stomped down on his head.
Unimpeded, half the skull was crushed.
Then, Hode looked to the other half of the altar. There, the halved Fur stood on one leg, staring back at him.
Most striking was the black chain slowly emerging from his spine, growing rapidly toward the heavens.
Hode looked up.
It was the Gate of Annihilation.
"Next, sever the chain," he recited the next line of the prophecy.
He raised his battleaxe. Power surged.
He charged Fur, swinging horizontally at his spine.
That black chain was the Lord's power fused into Fur, linking him to Annihilation—the Lord's anchor.
Fur, sensing Hode's intent, tried to strike back. With only one leg, he could not evade.
Hode didn’t dodge. He took the punch.
Crunch—Fur's fist struck a mountain. His arm broke, bone blackened.
Clang—Hode cleaved Fur’s spine. The black chain snapped.
A furious roar echoed from the Gate of Annihilation.
Hode grabbed the chain, yanked it down.
The roar behind the gate grew more frenzied.
Hode grinned, inhaled, chest puffed up, and unleashed the Wrath of the Northland upon the gate.
The roar struck the gate but disappeared like a bubble in water.
Hode was unfazed. He looked down at the remaining quarter of Fur. That half-face smiled in relief.
Disgusted, Hode crushed it beneath his boot.
"Gate of Annihilation, severed chain, battle roar shaking the heavens. Next, the Wings of Frost, the Dragonborn's Descent, the Dragon Soul's Annihilation. That must mean the dragon."
Hode muttered.
Suddenly, a roar came from the north.
The Northern Exile Lands. Only that region lay to the north.
A sense of dread struck Hode.
He turned toward the sound. A storm gathered, a tornado bridging heaven and earth. The sky blanched, not with clouds, but pure cold.
The mere existence of the roaring dragon altered the very heavens.
Hode felt immense power approach. His body trembled. Just looking at it, he felt a force eroding him. A cold even the Heart of Frost could not resist—cold in essence, not just in temperature.
He trembled, sorrow rising. His eyes focused. He could now see the dragon within the storm.
A pale beast.
Its skin tattered, white bones exposed. No flesh covered its chest, only a brilliant blue glow. Its skull barely held onto its skin. Blue light blazed in its hollow sockets. Its massive wings were full of holes. One might question if it could fly.
Of course, it could.
It was a top-tier Phantasm. A dragon.
But it was a dead dragon.
Reanimated by magic.
A Bone Dragon.
Hode had inherited all of Aureus's power. The magic lines across his body were of the Northland. He could sense that the Bone Dragon's core connected faintly to the land beneath his feet.
It drew closer. On its head, Hode saw a familiar double-headed axe, one side embedded deep into the dragon's skull.
Tears welled in Hode's eyes.
That was Beo's Holy Relic. Beo had taken the Northland's magic when he left Hoover Territory.
Was it Beo who awakened the Bone Dragon? Had he failed the final trial and died by its hand?
Hode hoped he was right.
"Roar!" The dragon bellowed again, drawing nearer.
Hode had once glimpsed a Frost Giant. That was a walking mountain.
But this Bone Dragon’s wings alone were taller than the Frost Giant.
Hode shuddered. He realized he was already covered in frost.
Had the concept of cold frozen him merely by seeing the dragon?
But he was a Tier Six Hero who had undergone Will Metamorphosis. His will ignited his instincts, shattering the frost.
Suddenly, the earth trembled. The sky darkened.
The Bone Dragon descended, looming.
It was four times taller than the altar.
"Roar!" It bellowed at Hode.
A familiar feeling.
Hode felt as if it said, "Still so weak?"
Sorrow surged. Tears flowed.
Then, fury erupted like a volcano. Hode opened his mouth and roared the Wrath of the Northland.
"Roar!"
The cry exploded like a blazing volcano erupting in the frigid Northland. For a moment, its might even eclipsed the Bone Dragon's.
Clang...
Metal clashed. Hode noticed the chain he held no longer rose to the Gate, but now lashed toward the Bone Dragon.
His pupils shrank.
The chain wrapped around the Bone Dragon's neck, spreading dark gray power, slowly consuming it.
"Roar!" The Bone Dragon cried—a sound of pain, yet like the rage of a Northern Warrior.