Chapter 311: Battlefield Conductor (6K First Chapter)

A colossal dragon descended from the sky and crashed down onto the battlefield.

Its massive body resembled a moving, charred mountain range, its scales shattered and each one like cast iron scorched by flame.

This scene was indeed very cool.

But when a dog's head was mounted on the dragon's neck, no matter how you looked at it, it just felt off…

A half-rotted canine skull jutted abruptly from its neck, its yellowish fangs layered and flared outward.

On the dog's head was a massive, penetrating wound; each time its cloudy gray-white eyeballs turned, thick black pus like asphalt oozed out.

"Woof… ROAR!!"

After landing, it let out a long, roaring howl, slamming its dragon tail against the ground and cracking it open with a massive fissure.

This mysteriously appearing dragon ignored everyone on the field, as if venting some inner fury.

Its entrance was imposing, its appearance terrifyingly intimidating.

But the problem is—why a dog's head?

It could've been a ram's head, a wolf's, a chicken's, a turtle's… wait, no, not a turtle.

Turtles always get beaten wherever they go.

The thing is, a dog's head—no matter where you put it, it just feels wrong.

Like those red-scarf-wearing dog-headed men who speak nothing but Qin dialect, or those "when in doubt, add a dog head" memes, or those self-proclaimed reformed dog-headed loli… wait, no.

In short, whenever this thing shows up, even the most serious scene instantly becomes absurd.

Not long ago, the battlefield had been tense and dire.

The legendary vampire had summoned a horde of terrifying crimson bats to fight the undead creations controlled by the opposing dark elf necromancer.

Never mind how the battle ultimately turned out—both sides had at least maintained their basic dignity.

But now… buddy, are you sure this is the right time? Did you walk into the wrong movie?

Herbert stared at the dog-headed dragon, pressing his lips tightly together, barely holding back a laugh.

Hold it together. Must hold it together.

We've received professional training—we never laugh at inappropriate moments.

He strained to keep his expression neutral, fearing that if he heard others laugh, he'd join in—but he was overthinking it.

In fact, at this moment, he was the only one on the field who could watch the beast like it was pure entertainment.

Beside him, Elisa's expression was grim; she narrowed her eyes, stepped back slightly, and drew closer to Herbert.

"Tch."

Thanks to Nie Nasha's granted ability, Herbert completely ignored the terrifying dragon aura emanating from the dog-headed beast, noticing only its absurdity—but she was different.

Elisa, unable to resist the dragon's aura, knew full well how dangerous this intruder was.

Dangerous. Extremely dangerous!

If the opponent were alone, she was confident she could protect Herbert from any harm—but if there were two or more, it might be perilous.

Most alarming to Elisa was the additional, mysterious aura of corruption radiating from the dog-headed dragon, beyond its dragon aura.

Even more terrifying than the dragon's presence!

That feeling… it seemed to come from a god!

Could this creature have received divine blessing?

She tilted her head slightly and whispered to Herbert in a low voice: "Don't get too far from me—something's wrong."

With the opponent's strength unknown, Elisa had already prepared to flee the battlefield with Herbert at any moment.

"Got it!"

Herbert nodded, stepped forward, and reached out with his left hand, wrapping it firmly around Elisa's slender waist.

Elisa:???

The vampire lady shuddered, nearly shoving Herbert away—but she caught herself in time, preventing disaster.

"Hey! What are you doing? Let go of me!" she hissed, teeth clenched.

Herbert made no move to release her, smiling sweetly: "You said not to get too far from you—so I'm getting closer."

You wanted to snuggle, just say it outright, why be so roundabout~

Fine, I'll satisfy you.

Snuggle!

"Huh!?"

Elisa turned her head, dumbfounded, staring at Herbert, trying to figure out what was inside his head.

Right now? What the hell are you doing? Can't you take this seriously?

Don't you… feel any tension? Don't you feel any fear at all?

As she thought this, Elisa carefully recalled—she couldn't remember Herbert ever showing such emotions.

When they first met, he hadn't acted like a rookie paladin at all.

A pitiful, powerless ant who not only ignored her seduction but tricked her hard, forcing her to open her heart—stabbed open with a sword.

In all their subsequent interactions, Herbert had never shown fear or reverence toward her, this evil, powerful, terrifying vampire prince.

Herbert had no idea how much internal drama Elisa was experiencing in that instant; he didn't lock eyes with her, his gaze fixed firmly on the dog-headed dragon.

He gently patted her side and whispered: "Relax. Don't tense up—things aren't as bad as you think."

"They might not even be here for us."

Facing two legendary enemies at once was indeed a terrible situation—but what if they weren't allies?

Looking at the direction the dragon's head was facing, it seemed aimed at the opposing necromancer… internal conflict?

Yes, things might not be as bad as imagined.

"……"

Herbert's side felt a slight easing of tension, but Douglas on the opposite end was in a terrible state, his nerves pulled taut to the breaking point.

How did this guy get here?

Isn't Stella relying on it to guard her own safety?

Before, she wouldn't even let me get close… so why has she sent it out now?

Is there something that needs doing?

What kind of major event requires its appearance!!?

Herbert had no idea what this gnoll-headed giant dragon represented, but Douglas was a different story.

As Stella's most "loyal" guard, as a key participant in the last "succession battle," he knew all too well how terrifying this giant dragon's strength truly was.

The two of them had extremely poor compatibility.

This gnoll-headed giant dragon bore the blessing of the God of Depraved Desire, possessing a horrifying regenerative ability far beyond the norm!

And the dragon's own magic resistance was also extremely high — for Douglas, it was simply the worst possible enemy.

"…Damn it."

Did it come for me?

Douglas frowned tightly, unable to quite figure out why this guy had appeared in this place.

Could it be that his plan had been exposed?

That shouldn't be the case!

As a Mol who was well-versed in betrayal, Douglas had never told a single soul about his scheme to betray.

Every secret was locked away in his own heart, and every action was carried out by him personally.

He was confident about this — it shouldn't have drawn Stella's notice.

"It must be for some other reason… don't give myself away."

After calming down a little, Douglas didn't turn hostile on the spot, and asked in a low voice: "Carlo! What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what you just did?"

He chose to strike first, loudly demanding to know why the other had shown up so brazenly.

"The Matriarch is holding a sacrificial rite — you shouldn't be here! You'll startle those Sacrifices who were already on the verge of complete depravity."

"Once you cause the ritual to fail, do you know what the consequences will be? If all of this is because of you, can you bear that responsibility!!?"

The gnoll-headed giant dragon Carlo ignored his interrogation; after a thoroughly long howl to the heavens, venting itself to its heart's content, it finally stopped.

Its drooping eyes glanced at Douglas with a contemptuous snicker: "You, a filthy worm, dare to tell the great Carlo what to do?"

"Hmph!"

A wave of searing heat blasted from the dragon's nostrils, sweeping toward the necromancer below like a gale.

The aura of contempt set Douglas's robe billowing, blew his hood clean off, and revealed the sinister face beneath.

"……"

The other's blatant attitude of disdain made Douglas even more wary. Gripping his staff tightly, he said slowly: "Carlo, give me a little time. I'm dealing with these outsiders who have violated the taboo — whatever it is, wait until I've finished with them."

He had already sensed something was off, had detected the undisguised malice pouring from the dragon.

Having one Carlo was already hard enough to handle, let alone a legendary vampire on the opposite side as well.

The situation was simply terrible to the extreme!

He hoped to stall for as much time as possible, to deal with these two separately.

But clearly, the gnoll-headed giant dragon — already mad with the craving for freedom — had no intention of giving him that time.

Carlo laughed, the sound rolling out from his chest like thunder: "Give you a little time? Hahahaha! And what if I say no?"

The giant dragon raised its right claw high, then slammed it down with a thunderous crash, stomping the undead minion at its feet into a pulp!

At this point, it had completely stopped pretending.

Give you face? Give you time?

Hehehehe!

Back then, who gave me face? Who gave me time?

Who's going to give me back my freedom!!?

Since the other side had already torn off all pretense, Douglas had no choice but to stop acting as well, and roared:

"Carlo! What exactly are you trying to do!!? Aren't you afraid of Lady Stella's punishment for acting like this!!?"

Even at this moment, he still didn't believe he had been exposed, still believed Stella saw him as her most loyal subordinate.

And the only answer he got was the giant dragon's frenzied roar.

"What am I trying to do?"

"I'm going to win my freedom!"

The deformed giant dragon raised its gnoll head high, beat its wings hard, and roared:

"I will complete that damned mission, I will cast off this wretched form, and reclaim the freedom that belongs to me!"

"So, for my freedom…"

"Die!"

The dragon's chest swelled up high in an instant, and searing pitch-black breath spewed from its maw, the triangular cone of flame enveloping Douglas directly.

"In your dreams!"

Douglas reacted quickly — having been mentally prepared, the moment the dragon drew in breath for its wind-up he had already retreated, hurling the undead creatures beneath him backward.

But the dragon breath came too fast, swiftly swallowing his body whole.

……

"Good! They really started fighting!"

At the very moment the Dog-Head Dragon moved, Herbert's expression shifted; he abandoned watching the spectacle and hurriedly said:

"We must leave immediately. Don't get involved in their fight."

Perfect! The hostile and neutral monsters are fighting each other!

Retreat quickly!

But despite Herbert's urging, Elisa did not move; she shook her head and sighed, "Leave? We probably can't leave now."

"The space around us has been sealed by magical artifacts—I can't use a teleportation scroll to transport us away."

Hearing this, Herbert narrowed his eyes and licked his lips.

In the Shadowed Region, although foreign mages' own spellcasting is hindered, magical scrolls can still be used.

That's precisely why the price of magical scrolls remains high in the Shadowed Region.

Herbert didn't come here to die; he followed the Ash Bishop's advice and prepared plenty of supplies.

Besides basic provisions, for safety's sake, he spent a fortune acquiring several short-range teleportation scrolls, giving them to Elisa to use in a critical moment to flee with him.

But now, they're useless.

The Dragon's entrance appeared arrogant and boastful, but in truth, it was deliberately drawing attention with exaggerated gestures while secretly doing something else.

To prevent the Necromancer from escaping, the Dragon had used a legendary magical artifact with space-anchor-like properties to seal off this entire area, banning all teleportation spells.

To make such a grand move, it clearly came prepared and wouldn't let anyone escape easily.

Even running on foot was unrealistic, as the surroundings and above-below were sealed by impenetrable barriers.

"Can't leave?"

"Mm."

"Then…"

After a brief thought, Herbert immediately decided: "If we can't leave, then we join the battlefield."

Only two choices lay before them.

Either watch the show, let the snipe and clam fight, and try to be the fisherman who profits.

But this choice carried considerable risk.

In strength, the two of them were the weaker side.

If they waited passively for the outcome, they'd most likely be easily eliminated by the victor afterward.

Herbert didn't want to passively wait for others to decide his fate.

He wanted to seize the initiative!

Join the battlefield!

Elisa had originally planned to hide Herbert somewhere safe, waiting for the fight to end before slipping away.

Now, hearing Herbert's confident words, she paused and asked, "Then who do we help now?"

Help the Necromancer?

But isn't he our enemy?

Even if helping an enemy's enemy, it should be the Dragon.

"Help whom?"

Herbert didn't need to analyze the battlefield; he shouted without hesitation, "Of course, help whoever's about to lose!"

If the Dog-Head Dragon is stronger, help the Necromancer; if the Necromancer is stronger, help the Dog-Head Dragon.

Let them both be crippled—that's the best outcome!

If they can destroy each other, that's the perfect script!

Some people are "Help whoever wins!"

Herbert is different—he's "Help whoever can't win!"

He's a kind-hearted person.

These two choices mean joining the battlefield and stirring up chaos.

Become a fair and impartial difficulty balancer (battlefield shit-stirrer), equalizing both sides' strength to make the game more interesting.

You two had better smash your dog brains out!

As Herbert rapidly imparted his "battlefield conductor" philosophy to Elisa, the situation on the other side shifted.

"ROAR!!!"

Thirty seconds had passed; the Dragon's breath still roared uncontrollably.

Under such searing dragonfire, even a Legend had to activate all defenses.

Under his zero-frame surprise attack, he was certain Douglas, even if he could withstand it, would be left utterly disheveled.

Carlo didn't relax his vigilance; only after expelling every last bit of dragonfire from his body did he close his mouth.

The dragonfire scorched dozens of meters, melting the surrounding streets and leaving behind a charred, blackened ground—and a massive, charred meatball.

Crack… crack… crack…

Amid the stench of burnt, rotting flesh, the meatball burst open, shattering into decaying corpse fragments and revealing the Necromancer within.

"CARLO!!!"

Like a chilling roar of clattering bones, it drowned out the surrounding heat, making listeners feel icy cold.

Douglas had now transformed completely.

He knelt half-bent on the charred stone slabs, the edges of his tattered cloak smoking, curling like scorched snake skin, revealing his neck's grayish skin—if that could still be called skin.

His ulcerated subcutaneous tissue looked as if gnawed by maggots; several fissures tore open, exposing gleaming white bones, while dark red muscles coiled around them like rusted chains.

Most of the skin on his face was destroyed, revealing hollow eye sockets, within which flickered green soul-fire.

Beneath Douglas's skin disguise, his body had become entirely a monstrous, semi-undead form.

He glared at Carlo and roared, "You think you can kill me!?"

"You dog-headed mongrel, you think you can kill me!?"

Amid Douglas's frenzied howls, the scorched earth behind the dog-headed dragon burst open with a thunderous crash, and a skeletal dragon pieced together from countless bones burst forth, lunging fiercely at its back.

"Hah! A skeletal dragon? Nothing but a clumsy imitation of a great bloodline!" Carlo knew Douglas's strength well, knew he couldn't die so easily, and didn't even glance at the skeletal dragon behind him.

He had long been prepared, intending to continue his attack, but suddenly whipped his head around to look at the skeletal dragon lunging at him.

"What!?"

From that false construct upon Carlo's body, amid those jumbled corpses, he sensed one familiar aura after another.

It was the aura of his clansmen — and his own blood descendants!

"How dare you desecrate my clansmen!"

At that moment, Carlo recalled how he had been imprisoned by Stella, and during those first few hundred years, those earth dragons he had enjoyed conquering…

"My bloodline!"

The dog-headed dragon went utterly mad, ignoring everything else, and charged straight at the skeletal dragon to tear into it.

The two colossal beasts collided with a thunderous crash, the tremendous shock making the entire space tremble.

At the same time, Douglas wasn't idle either — he summoned another enormous undead creature.

It was a massive mountain of flesh only half as tall as the dragon, but twice as wide, cobbled together from vast quantities of corpses, stones, and mud.

The flesh-mountain moved slowly, gradually shifting, and a giant hand reached out from within it, grabbing toward the dragon.

But before that terrifying great hand could get close, the dog-headed dragon simply whipped its tail and smashed it to pieces!

In his berserk fury, Carlo was not at a disadvantage at all — he was completely overwhelming Douglas's constructs.

Again and again he tore the skeletal dragon apart, bit open its skull, and flung the bones aside.

But attacks of this level couldn't truly kill the skeletal dragon — those shattered bones would float back up and reassemble.

But likewise, the undead constructs couldn't inflict any substantial damage on this terrifying aberrant dragon either.

The flesh torn from Carlo's body regenerated rapidly, returning to normal in a few breaths, and even sprouted writhing fleshy tendrils one by one.

And overall, Carlo was gradually gaining the upper hand.

This aberrant monster's divinely-granted regeneration was nearly infinite, but Douglas's magical power was indeed limited.

"... Damn it."

Douglas was well aware of this, and his remaining half-face wore a very grave expression.

And besides Carlo, he also had to guard against another dangerous enemy — that legendary vampire had yet to appear.

Douglas now actually wished that vampire would make a move on him — that way he could communicate with the other party.

He understood that if he wanted to survive now, he could only cooperate with the vampire.

They had to join forces!

At that moment, Douglas felt boundless regret.

Why had he been so impulsive before? If the other party wasn't strong enough, then so be it — why did he have to fight them!?

But where on earth had that vampire gone? Why couldn't he be found anywhere?

As Douglas grew anxious and the situation gradually fell into a stalemate, a clear, bright voice broke into the battlefield!

"I've come to aid you!"

Who!?

Douglas, who had been on guard against the vampire entering the fray to cause trouble, suddenly looked up and saw an unexpected candidate.

That white-haired youth he had previously paid no attention to now had a pair of blood-red wings spread behind him, plummeting down from the high sky with a thunderous crash!

He slid down like a blood-red meteor, flashing through several right angles in the air, dodging the skeletal dragon, and landing directly on Carlo's dog-head.

He thrust his sword straight into the dog-headed dragon's eye!

Hiss—!

"Roar!?"

The dog-headed dragon hadn't expected to suffer such a sudden attack — it hadn't managed to close its eyelid in time, and its eyeball was pierced straight through!

After landing a successful strike, Herbert didn't get greedy for more; he kicked off with his foot, dropped down directly, and turned to fly toward the necromancer.

Douglas's expression jolted, and he breathed a sigh of relief in his heart — it seemed the other party also understood the pros and cons.

He nodded at Herbert and began, "You…"

Hiss!

But the youth flying toward him suddenly accelerated as he drew near, and without any warning drove his blade straight into his eye socket!

Struck by the sudden attack, the soul-fire in Douglas's eye socket dimmed a fraction.

"Ah!?"

After landing another successful strike, Herbert flew off again, turned his head, and flashed a brilliant smile at the enraged necromancer.

"Hey hey hey!"

Fair and square.

No rushing, no cutting in line!

Everyone gets a share!

(End of this chapter)