Chapter 673: Death-Sign Star
"Boom—"
Giant Mountain slammed the ground in fury, delivering a determined blow that split the earth, sending sand and dust skyward.
But once again, it struck nothing!
"Whoosh—"
A figure soared upward, breaking through layers of smoke.
In just a moment, George had already flown dozens of meters into the air. He beat his dragon wings, and those flame-tinged golden eyes stared down intently at the orc.
A surge of dragon might radiated outward, pressing down on the land, while scorching gales stirred by his wings swept across the battlefield.
"This is..."
George felt the power coursing through his chest, the resistance from his broad dragon wings flapping behind him—first surprised, then thrilled.
Half-dragon.
In this critical moment, his bloodline from the Ember Emperor had awakened, breaking through genetic shackles and propelling him to the level of a "half-dragon."
In the Ember Empire, while the ranks of dragon-blood nobles were well defined, the acceptance of their bloodline varied. The bloodline hierarchy had its own system.
Those with dragon features like scales, slit pupils, or claws were collectively called "Emperor's Bloodline" or "Dragonborn," comprising roughly 5% of the population. George had once been one of them.
Only those who grew dragon wings were qualified to be called "Favored of the Emperor" or "Half-Dragons."
Their numbers were exceedingly rare, and they were almost always high-ranking individuals within the Empire—such as Marshal Dolo of the Ministry of War, Lady Misha of the Tower of Blighted Flame, and even Prime Minister Langpu, who had a pair of petite wings on his back.
Every half-dragon was a fortunate soul favored by the Emperor, nearly all decorated veterans of the Empire.
Now, after multiple dragon blood baptisms and facing life-or-death crisis, George too had joined their ranks, becoming an exalted half-dragon!
He recalled the vision in his mind, and the gaze that fell upon him—could it be... he had truly been seen by the Emperor?
Thinking of this, George's heart surged with excitement. Ecstasy filled his chest, making him momentarily forget about the orc below.
That neglect enraged Giant Mountain, who smashed the ground again with its warhammer, creating several more craters.
"Damn lizard, you won't escape! You think wings will save you?
I'll still kill you!"
Giant Mountain howled at the sky, raised its warhammer, and roared fiercely at George.
"Those words should come from me. Before the power granted by His Majesty, you're not even worth mentioning!"
George's eyes gleamed, his tone thick with scorn.
His wings spread wide, casting a massive shadow on the ground. Behind him loomed a crimson dragon silhouette, and the sheer dragon might pressed down so heavily even Giant Mountain felt the weight on his shoulders.
The orc's eyes widened in shock.
Impossible!
How could anything possess a greater aura than his? That was his pride, his strongest power!
Enraged, Giant Mountain roared: "Waaagh!"
Muscles swelled on his arms, veins bulged again, and the massive steel-forged warhammer launched skyward, flames blasting from its rear as it spun toward George.
Facing the oncoming hammer, George remained calm, flapping his wings and soaring higher, easily dodging the strike.
The warhammer missed and spun back into Giant Mountain's hand. The orc grinned at the ascending George—this was exactly what he wanted!
"Boom!"
With a thunderous impact, the warhammer struck the ground. Using the recoil and his own strength, the orc leapt upward at incredible speed.
In a flash, Giant Mountain caught up to George mid-air and swung his hammer at him.
"Not good!"
Hearing the howl of the air behind him, George turned and saw the grinning orc lunging at him.
So fast!
George twisted mid-air, gripping his longsword tightly, holding it horizontally, ready to strike back.
At the same time, he felt an intense energy building in his lungs, chest, and throat, ready to erupt.
—And the orc before him made a perfect target.
Giant Mountain soon overtook George, attacking from above with his descending momentum and shouting, "Lizard! Take my hammer!"
George no longer suppressed the raging energy within. With a contorted face, he opened his mouth wide for a desperate blow.
"Boom—"
With a sharp crack, a blinding, searing pillar of flame shot from George's mouth and blasted into the orc's chest.
Giant Mountain's expression changed. In the instant George opened his mouth, a strange terror struck it, as though that fire could completely destroy it!
It was one of the strongest among millions of orcs, a one-of-a-kind being.
Thousands of Imperial bullets and hundreds of shells had failed to kill it. Not even a storm of artillery fire could bury it—how could a little fire end it?
But after brief shock came overwhelming rage that drove it mad. Something deep within its spore-formed body was awakening.
"I will never lose! Waaaaagh—"
Ghostly light shone in its eyes as it struck into the flame, its whole body wrapped in a dark green, spore-like toxic field.
The orc field expanded wildly, plunging magic and natural laws within hundreds of meters into chaos. Imperial weapons ceased functioning.
But George's internal energy only grew hotter and thicker. His lungs brewed what felt like a miniature sun, its glow radiating through his body.
Within that light shimmered a divine silver sheen—like the radiance of the heavens.
Just as the orc's hammer was about to crush his skull, the fiery pillar blasted into its chest, burning through tough skin and melting thick flesh.
Even though its body greedily absorbed spores from fallen orcs to regenerate rapidly, it couldn't keep up with the fire's destructive speed.
While their powers clashed, dragon might and orc field battled in the sky, causing chaotic spatial turbulence.
In an instant, even Giant Mountain's furiously beating heart was incinerated. The flame pierced its torso clean through—George had burned a hole through it!
"Boom!"
A special spore within its heart also exploded, devoured by flames.
As it roared, trying to crush George, Giant Mountain suddenly felt powerless—it couldn't even feel pain anymore, and that frightened it more than pain ever could.
Without power, it was meaningless.
"How can this be..."
It looked down in disbelief. Its mighty body now had a scorched hole straight through its chest.
With its heart destroyed, the oppressive orc field vanished, replaced entirely by George's dragon might.
Its rough hand could no longer grip the warhammer. Limp, it plummeted from the sky, the rage and madness fading into an expression of pure despair.
An orc without strength is worth less than a dog.
George didn't let up. Folding his wings, he dove straight down, gripped his longsword tightly, and thrust downward.
"Whoosh—"
The sharp blade tore the air. Wings ripped wind as George turned into a falling flame.
"Boom!"
A heavy impact shook the skies. The ground erupted in dust and rubble. The dying orc lay in a crater, unable to move, still rasping, "I haven't... lost... yet..."
But the next moment, George plunged down, his longsword brimming with heat and momentum, aiming right for the orc's forehead.
"Crack!"
The sword pierced through its skull cleanly. Bone shattered. Blood sprayed. Brains splattered everywhere.
George knelt on one knee, hands gripping his sword, which now pinned the orc's massive head into the ground, that ugly face still twisted with hatred and defiance.
"It's finally over."
George sighed, stood up, but found himself too weak to pull the blade from the earth.
"Phew."
The battle felt like a terrifying dream. Recalling it sent chills down his spine.
Gazing at the massive corpse like a mountain, George could hardly believe he had caused this.
As an Imperial officer, his studies had focused on command, not combat. Most of his merits came from leading troops against enemy generals.
Before joining the Empire, he was just a lowly serf, beaten by anyone—let alone skilled in combat.
And now he had slain an orc leader alone?
No—he hadn't killed it by his own strength!
Recalling that sun-like energy within, George had a sudden realization and trembled with excitement.
"Your Majesty..."
George gave up trying to stand, falling to his knees. Through the smoke-covered sky, he looked up at the sun.
Around him were not just Giant Mountain, but tens of thousands of orc corpses—burned, shredded, shot full of holes, or trampled to death by their own kind.
The bodies formed mounds on the plains, covering the land, reeking of scorched flesh and foul stench.
Anzeta Wasteland, Dragonblood Summit.
From afar, Cassius observed the battlefield through the Calamity Dragon Eye, gazing at Giant Mountain's corpse, stroking his chin: "Interesting. The orc leader showed up this early. Seems they regard me seriously."
"That power is quite familiar, tsk... indeed a fusion of the Orc God and the Abyss. What troublesome enemies," the red dragon murmured.
But this was the Prime Material Plane—the Ember Empire's home turf. Even gods and demons wouldn't make Cassius retreat.
George's guess was correct.
By his own power, he could never have slain an orc leader empowered by so many spores to near-legendary levels.
Just moments ago, Cassius had intervened directly, using the bloodline bond to grant him a spark of flame infused with Order to kill Giant Mountain.
Though it sounded easy, behind this battle Cassius had also resisted the forces of Gruumsh and the Lady of Fungi, destroying the chaos and evil power lingering in Giant Mountain.
Orc leaders had once plagued northern Feanso, terrifying war machines that could grow to legendary might.
When orc numbers reached a critical mass and deaths piled up, spores would gather on the strongest orc, triggering a transformation.
Each orc leader was a bloodthirsty war-child, growing stronger through battle.
Cassius looked again at the corpse beside George and smiled, "Didn't expect this notorious early-game nightmare to die at my hands so soon."
Giant Mountain—a familiar name.
Cassius had heard of the orc leader in his past life—not just as Giant Mountain, but as Bonecrusher Giant Mountain.
This orc was as infamous as Big Fang, one of the "Four Great Cataclysms," known for crafting ultra-heavy armor from looted weapons and gear.
In the original storyline, it was Giant Mountain who led a massive army of green-skins to conquer Avenderdan first, seizing dwarven vaults and blueprints.
Thereafter, it rampaged across the land, conquering and plundering everything.
Coincidentally, it was also one of the culprits who destroyed North Aether, launching several massive offensives and killing millions of Aetherians.
Through these relentless campaigns, newbie players in North Aether were tortured to despair—some even rage-quit the game on the spot.