Age of Adepts

Chapter 1468 The Worth of an Ant

Chillwind Plains.

Even as the flames of war raged on in other regions, this place remained shrouded in bone-chilling cold.

Numerous carts were lined up on the flat and firm road that led toward Wintercastle, resulting in terribly congested traffic.

These carts were filled with food and strong liquor.

The creatures driving the carts weren't ordinary bulls either, but Splithoof bulls native to the Chillwind Plains. These bulls were incredibly strong and possessed plenty of fat that allowed them to endure the cold temperatures. Consequently, they had become the main draft animals used around here.

A small cart lumbered down the crowded road, crushing the hard ice that had formed over the frozen soil as it slowly moved toward the towering form of Windcastle in the distance.

A corner of the thick wolf pelt thrown over the cargo lifted up silently. The face of a young orc peeked out from under the fur, tiny icicles hanging from his red nose.

He looked at everything around him curiously. In particular, he was envious of the orc warriors who only had a light robe draped around their shoulders despite the chilling winds.

His dream was to become a true orc warrior and become the pride and honor of his entire tribe. When that happened, even Dania would have to see him in a new light!

Just as the young orc bit his finger lightly while enthralled with his fantasies, the elderly orc driving the cart turned around and patted his head. "Put your head back in there, will you? It's cold out here. Be careful of catching a—"

All of a sudden, the elderly orc's voice caught in his throat. A look of absolute horror appeared on his green, wrinkled face. His dull eyes were staring straight past the young orc toward the horizon.

The young orc turned around abruptly; the only thing he saw was a terrible fire that had spread all across the horizon.

The sky…the sky itself was burning!

The skies of Chillwind Plains were burning.

A straight, clear trail of fire was slowly extending and burning across the horizon. Wherever the trail of fire passed, a rain of golden fire descended from above and ignited everything below.

Every cluster of golden fire was as blinding and beautiful as a meteor. However, when it crashed down from above in perfect arcs, it brought about an unprecedented disaster to this land ruled by frost.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Every wisp of golden fire that landed on the ground would erupt and unleash a fearsome wave of fire. These waves looked thin, but they were hot enough to turn metal into liquid. Even boulders as tough as steel and coated in a layer of ice could not endure the might of these golden flames, let alone a body of flesh and blood.

The ground was scorched black wherever the flames traveled.

Whether it was the ground-which was hard as steel-or the numerous towering statues of the Beast God, everything melted into flowing, semi-liquid lava. The entirety of Chillwind Plains had been turned into a sea of flames.

The young orc and the elderly orc stared in dumbfounded silence. They watched as the trail of fire burned above their heads and watched as tiny sparks of fire drifted down and erupted, devouring everything around them in a blazing flood of flames.

Initially, you could still hear the horrified screams of the orcs. As the rain of fire continued, things slowly turned silent.

Orcs would instantly erupt into flames where the flame waves passed. Even the carts filled with cargo burned up like torches. The terrified Splithoof bulls broke free of their harnesses and fled in every direction. Before they could get too far away, a flake of fire would land on them, the flames would spread, and the burning bulls would struggle forward for a few more steps until they collapsed once and for all.

The young orc watched as even those mighty orc warriors fell victim to this seemingly apocalyptic golden fire. One by one, the orcs around him turned to ashes, and the carts around him were torched into charcoal. He was horrified, but there was nowhere to run. He could only huddle together with the elderly orc and pray for the blessing of the Beast God.

Perhaps the Beast God had indeed bestowed his favor upon them. Despite the rain of fire and the sea of flames that had now engulfed the Chillwind Plains, this lone cart had survived the destruction.

While the two orcs were shivering in the sea of flames, a loud and resonant dragon's roar rang out in the distant horizon.

Numerous clouds that had been ignited by the flames surged along the trail of fire, pushed by a powerful, mysterious force. When the clouds approached the two orcs, they split apart to reveal the giant, vicious figure of a dragon.

This hundred-meter-long dragon let out a resounding roar and beat its wings as it chased the path of fire. When its overwhelming aura of might scattered down toward the surroundings, the fragile lives of the elderly orc and the young orc were instantly extinguished. All that remained were two stiff bodies embracing each other upon the lonely plains.

They had been literally scared to death by Cinquera's terrifying aura of might!

…………

Greem did not notice anything that had happened below him.

At this point, he had no interest in slaughtering these orc civilians that were no different than ants to him. All his attention was focused on how to lose the terrible calamity chasing after him.

As for the calamity that his flames had brought to the orcs as he fled? That wasn't a problem that Greem needed to think about at this moment. He hadn't spread destruction intentionally; as an ultra-grade fire adept, every single one of his actions would unavoidably affect his surroundings.

Along the way, Greem had tried to use fire clones several times to distract the evil dragon. He would abruptly explode as five identical blazing humanoids would split away from him.

Initially, the evil dragon had been excited enough to unleash her breath attack to wipe out all these clones. However, as Greem continued to escape, Cinquera started to grow impatient and furious. She focused solely on catching Greem himself and ignored the distracting clones entirely.

She could clearly sense that the faith power in the air was growing denser and more potent as they continued forward; there was a temple to a powerful god not far ahead.

As a Sixth Grade evil dragon, Cinquera's intelligence was not inferior to any of her opponents of the same grade. It was only her violent and cruel emotions that would often disrupt her logical rationality and push her toward committing horrifying, unimaginable acts of terror at times.

Cinquera had basically figured out the intentions behind that little worm's actions that she was chasing. That damned bastard! He was trying to cover his escape with the help of the temple.

Hmph! It's just the temple of a Beast God. It's not like it's his actual god kingdom. Does that annoying worm really think that this much power would be enough to scare me away?

Endless hatred and fury filled Cinquera's heart as she beat her colorful wings and continued soaring toward that small blazing humanoid in the distance.

"I will tear you into a thousand pieces even if I have to chase you to this world's edge today…that's the only way I will be able to vent my anger for the loss of my spatial coordinate. Stay, worm!"

Having said that, Cinquera opened her maw. A strange breath attack, shrouded in black smoke, cut across a thousand meters and appeared directly behind Greem.

Greem could sense that fearsome dragon breath behind him, so terrifyingly powerful that even his soul quivered in fright. He detonated his body without any hesitation, splitting into four flames of differing shapes and sizes. Each of the flames escaped in a different direction.

The dragon breath seemed to possess an intelligence of its own. It was able to curve in midair and chase after the biggest ball of fire. Greem had no choice but to explode once again, sending a few balls of fire right into the breath and detonating its power prematurely.

Boom! A loud explosion could be heard.

A black halo rippled out through the air. Where the halo passed, all the flames were extinguished, all elementium substance rendered inert, and all mental consciousness attached to them was obliterated.

Greem reformed into a humanoid shape after fleeing a thousand meters. He turned around and took a look behind him. He couldn't hide the shock and horror he was feeling.

Even the mental consciousness attached to the elementium particles was obliterated.

The strange characteristic of that dragon breath alone was enough to kill a principle adept like himself!

Wintercastle was right before his eyes now, and he could see the large temple in the city center. Greem did not dare hesitate. He quickly dashed toward his target the moment he reformed.

Whether he would be able to escape the pursuit of this monstrosity of death would depend entirely on this attempt!

The trail of fire that Greem had left behind did not affect Cinquera at all. She beat her colorful wings as she burst through the flames, a Sixth Grade living calamity tightly pursuing Greem.

Perhaps sensing two powerful individuals approaching, several violent auras burst forth from the temple. Four strange silhouettes of varying heights appeared in front of the temple.

"Halt!"

One of the four individuals was an elderly man who looked so old he almost certainly had one foot in the grave.

He was wrapped in a colorful ritual robe, and patterns had been drawn all over his body with mud. He wore a strange feather on his head and held a long staff carved out of Panu wood.

Three somewhat familiar orcs stood in a row behind him.

They were three of the orcs who had fought the Great Adepts at Dun Modr.

The elderly orc tapped his staff, and a golden halo spread outward. He then shouted in a deep and commanding voice, "This is the main temple of the great Beast God Arugel. You—"

Greem and Cinquera were going too fast, so fast that they had arrived at the main temple before the orcs had received any warning.

The head priest had no choice but to step forward with his subordinates to stop the intruders.

Before he could finish speaking, the elderly orc felt Cinquera's wild, barbaric aura. His expression turned ugly all of a sudden.

Sixth Grade…this dragon was Sixth Grade!