Ashen Dragon-Chapter 317 - 240 Avton Battle (Part 1)

Chapter 317: Chapter 240 Avton Battle (Part 1)

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The Avton Plains, the battlefield frontline.

The weather was clear, not a cloud in the sky. From time to time, bipedal wyverns passed over the distant mountains, letting out prolonged roars.

On the snow-covered wasteland stood various camps, with filthy slave soldiers building fortifications and transporting supplies. Armies from the Boske Duchy, the Fano Duchy, the Carter Duchy, and other Northern countries were also gathered here.

A middle-aged noble, dressed in finely crafted armor, stood with his hands behind his back, gazing into the distance. The emblem of a lion and crossed swords adorned his breastplate.

“The Edson Family hasn’t arrived yet?”

“My lord, we haven’t received any word from them. I’m afraid that…”

...

“Damn it.”

A dark cloud immediately shrouded his face, and he began to pace back and forth, muttering under his breath.

“The Edson Family, the Durant Family, the Rossa Family, the Wolf Family…”

“The promised seventy-thousand troops, and not even two-thirds are here. How am I supposed to hold off the Ashen Kingdom!”

His name was Roland Boske, and from his surname, one could see his noble lineage. He was the second son of Duke Leo, the Earl of the Boske Duchy, a general, and the commander of the Allied Forces’ first line of defense.

Duke Leo had sent his valued second son to the front lines to demonstrate his determination to fight the evil dragons to the end, as well as to silence the Northern nobility.

The bipedal wyverns in the distant sky grew denser, like chaotic dark clouds, their myriad wings casting a shadow over the land.

Roland watched them intently, his expression gravely serious. He instructed his adjutant standing nearby:

“We’re out of time. The Ashen army is about to arrive.”

“Inform all divisions to prepare for battle. I don’t aspire to achieve any great victories; our sole task is to hold them off, probe their weaknesses, and buy more time for my father—.”

Suddenly, the heavy sound of war drums rang out, cutting off his words.

“Boom, boom, boom…”

Roland turned his head instinctively, seeing the distant ground and sky occupied by the Ashen army

;

neat ranks of Great Goblins, powerful Ogres, mountain-like Armored Dragon Beasts, swarming black bipedal wyverns, and skyward-pointing cannons… Such an army, even just on a routine march, exuded a feeling of utter despair.

The rhythmic drumbeats continued without pause, causing the earth to tremble slightly, like the heavy steps of death itself.

“For Tampas’s sake…”

Roland couldn’t help but utter a prayer.

Though the weather was quite cold, sweat still beaded on his forehead.

He had watched the Ashen Kingdom’s army through magical images before, but he hadn’t thought them invincible. Yet, standing here in reality, Roland truly felt how terrifying this Scourge Legion was.

“This has to be a joke…”

“That, that’s our enemy?”

“How is that possible?”

“Is this some sort of death sentence?”

The soldiers in the fortifications gazed at the distant army, murmuring amongst themselves, their voices tinged with tremors.

They were private armies from various Northern countries, with mixed levels of training and quality; some were paid mercenaries, and some were even serf soldiers from estates, mixed in to bolster the numbers.

Anyone with a sane mind could see the stark, despair-inducing disparity in strength.

Listening to the murmurs, Roland furrowed his brow.

“This can’t go on.”

He knew that if this continued, the Ashen Kingdom’s army wouldn’t even need to arrive; his troops’ morale would already be shattered, fleeing in all directions, failing the task his father assigned him.

As a scion of the Boske Family, while enjoying great privileges, Roland also yearned to become the family’s successor, even the nominal ruler of the North.

Unfortunately, he was the second son.

Unlike the hedonistic scions, Roland had worked tirelessly since childhood. He practiced riding skills diligently, studied tactical drills, and observed family affairs, all in the hopes of gaining Duke Leo’s attention, to replace his elder brother and become the true heir of the family.

But under the North’s thousand-year-old “glorious tradition,” his efforts seemed futile.

This time, Duke Leo pinned his hopes on him, and Roland hoped to use this war to distinguish himself, at least to serve the duchy, and become a hero worthy of the family’s epic.

Thinking of this, Roland gritted his teeth.

“I have to step up.”

He went to the front lines himself, drew his longsword, and raised it high.

As an Earl and Duke Leo’s son, Roland commanded considerable respect across the North. His bold gesture immediately caught the attention of the surrounding soldiers.

“Soldiers—”

His voice was heavy, yet resolute.

“You all see it too, the enemy is unexpectedly strong. This might be an unwinnable war. The enemy consists of terrible monsters, wyverns, ogres, great goblins… They wield the mighty strength of the evil dragons, while we, are mere ordinary humans. Compared to them, our only advantage as the Scania People is our resilience.”

Roland paused, his tone becoming fervent, even the war drums of the Ashen army serving as a backdrop to his speech.

“But remember this, beneath your feet, is the homeland of the Scania People, land that our ancestors have guarded for millennia.”

“I am a descendant of Boske. Nine centuries ago, my ancestor, the first ‘Lionheart King’ Roselle Boske, led your forefathers to this unfamiliar land of Anzeta. Here, we cultivated the wilderness, built cities, and created the glorious Scania civilization. Giants from the North and White Dragons never crushed us; we built walls with our blood, defending our homeland time and again.

“Nine centuries later, I, Roselle’s descendant, Roland Boske, stand here with you. We face an even stronger, more cunning enemy, but I believe history will repeat itself…”

Suddenly, the distant drumbeats ceased.

Roland, in the middle of his fervent speech, was momentarily stunned, then continued: “We will defend our—”

But his voice was drowned out by a deeper voice, and the soldiers’ gazes seemed to look past Roland, focusing on something further away. They even gasped in awe, as if witnessing a miracle.

“Damn bastards, no sense of honor.”

Seeing his words ignored, Roland clenched his teeth and cursed under his breath. He turned around, then froze in place, dumbfounded.

The Ashen Kingdom’s army had halted, quietly stationed there. Above them, a massive magic image, hundreds of meters tall, loomed in the sky.

In the image was a handsome young man, with black hair and golden eyes, exuding a nobility greater than any in Northern history.

He smiled courteously, his deep, light-golden eyes drawing everyone in, even Roland Boske himself.

“Greetings to all from the North.”

“For our first meeting, I am Cassius. You may have heard of this name, the ultimate ruler of the Ashen Kingdom, and as you know, the ‘King of Ashen’.”