69novels Page 108
Page 108
"Melkor..." Elminster murmured, a hint of disbelief in his voice, "He's in Waterdeep, are you sure, Casalos?"
Casalos nodded slightly: "I'm quite sure."
"How did you know?" Kelben Black Staff's sharp gaze fixed on Casalos. "A saint has descended upon Waterdeep, yet we knew nothing about it beforehand... This is no small matter, not something to be taken lightly."
“Do you really think Melkor would openly admit to the world that he has fallen to the mortal realm like Tom did? What do you know about a saint who wants to hide his existence? Melkor isn’t the only saint hiding in Waterdeep…” Casaroz swayed his body.
Pilgrim looked up and pressed, "Which other deities have remained in the City of Glory, and how do you know this?"
“They’re all just a bunch of shady characters…” Iron Dragon didn’t directly answer the Holy Knight’s Son’s first question, but instead focused on the second: “I think it’s time to reveal some of the truth.”
It slowly closed its eyes, and its body began to emit a strange light, which flowed like liquid starlight between its scales, forming a series of complex runic patterns—nothing more than revealing the elements that constituted the pseudo-Laplace's Demon and then adding the arcane transformation and primordial power that replaced the divine transformation of the Calm Observer of Chronips.
Everyone in the meeting room held their breath. Elminster and Kelburn Blackstalker exchanged a glance, seeing surprise and shock in each other's eyes.
"This is..." the old sage's voice trembled slightly, "...the power of fate?!"
Casalos opened his eyes, his indigo dragon eyes seemingly containing the mysteries of the entire universe: "That's right, Master Ilminster. This is the power of the Dragon God of Destiny, Kuronips, a gift bestowed upon me by Him."
Shaving Teeth bared his teeth, revealing a mouthful of sharp fangs: "You've never mentioned this before!"
"There's so much I haven't mentioned," Casalos replied calmly, his light fading. "But now, fate has bound us together. I can sense the presence of the saints of Waterdeep as clearly as I can sense my own heartbeat, and from the first Slate of Destiny, I can see the trajectory of the remaining two..."
It turned to the temple outside the window: "The second Tablet of Destiny is there, but not in the temple itself, but in Melkor's divine realm—Hades' City of the Dead. He embedded the tablet in the top of the main hall of his divine realm, replacing the original plaque as the most conspicuous 'marker.'"
The conference room was silent as everyone digested the information.
"If the stone tablet is in the realm of the gods," Kelben Black Staff finally broke the silence, "then we must go to the underworld."
"That's right," Casalos nodded in confirmation.
"But this is almost an impossible task," Piergellen said worriedly. "The underworld is the realm of the god of death, the final resting place of the dead—our reckless intrusion is tantamount to courting death."
Elminster suddenly sat up straight: "Not necessarily. There's actually a permanent passage in Waterdeep that leads directly to the Underworld..."
"Well, there's nothing else about Waterdeep that I, as a public lord, don't know."
"There's a lot you don't know, Piergalen... Are you sure that passage is still usable?" Kelben Black Staff asked. "After the gods were banished to the mortal realm, many passages connecting to the divine kingdoms were closed."
"That depends on whether our old friend Durnan is willing to open that well for us," Elminster explained. "The Son of the Paladin is wrong about one thing: the Underworld is not Melkor's realm. It is a unique outer plane, and the realm of the God of the Dead is a demiplane residing within the Underworld."
Casalos nodded: "Then, we need a battle plan now..."
The young Iron Dragon had not yet been fully assimilated by the dragons' unique concept of time, a trait unique to long-lived beings. Speed was of the essence in war, and opportunities were fleeting. Melkor, the most cautious of the three gods, might react faster than anyone anticipated. Casalos skipped the lengthy recollections and unnecessary rest. Less than an hour after arriving in Waterdeep, it finalized its plan to seize the second Tablet of Fate.
All participants were divided into three groups to carry out the operation: the first group, consisting of Casaloz, Razor, Ilminster, and Kelben Black Staff, went directly to the temple of the God of the Dead to fight Melkor and draw His attention; the second group, consisting of Isis, the returner of the Tablet of Fate, and Midnight, under the protection of the warrior Kavoran, the priest Eden, and the bronze dragon Ohmora Cedar, entered the underworld through the Lost Pool beneath the Yawn Gate tavern and infiltrated Melkor's divine realm Hades to retrieve the Tablet of Fate.
To prevent Melkor from desperately invading Waterdeep with Hades' demonic tribes forming a massive army—as was the original timeline had already done—Pilgalen will personally lead the Watchers and the Gryphon Knights in the city's defenses. He has also contacted the Dragon Slayers outside the city through the Keeper of Secrets, Toona, to ensure timely support should any unforeseen circumstances arise.
80. Action
Waterdeep holds many ancient secrets. Even the city's drainage system hides secrets unknown to the gods, such as the Lost Pool, a permanent passage connecting the material world and the underworld, located in Waterdeep's sewers.
Elminster led two groups south, navigating through a labyrinth of streets and alleys, finally stopping in front of a tavern called "The Gate of Yawns." The tavern's owner was a warlike warrior retired from the front lines, known only as the Wanderer Durnan. Aside from Black Staff and Elminster, no one knew that Durnan was a member of the mysterious council that governed the city, and a member of the Lords of Waterdeep.
Like Durnan himself, his tavern harbors many secrets. "The Gate of Yawns" is an intriguing name; the tavern's patrons, indulging in food and drink, often ramble on about nonsense, much like their drunken yawns. But the name also points to a deep well leading directly to a cave beneath Deepwater Mountain. It's part of the Deepwater City sewers, part of the Deepwater Mountain underground city.
A room, a well, a barrel of wine, a mechanism activated, and as the water level in the well drops, a tunnel appears before everyone's eyes—the Thinker is, of course, still in human form.
Entering a labyrinth of dwarf tunnels and natural caves, without stepping across the steaming lake, one slides down a smooth passage that plunges at a strange angle into the darkness, and arrives at a cave where thousands of white spirits wander aimlessly.
"The Pool of Lost Souls is over there," Elminster stopped and pointed to the pool. "This is the entrance to the underworld."
The souls entered and exited the pool, as if merging into the water or rising from it.
Chapter 335
.
"It seems the passageway is working properly," Elminster said. "You can go down now."
Isis took a deep breath and stepped onto the first step first. Midnight followed closely behind, then Kavoran and Eden, and finally the Thinker. Thus began an adventure into the underworld.
As Isis and her party stepped through the gates of the Underworld, Casalos, along with Fangs and Kelben Black Staff, headed straight for the Temple of Melkor.
The Temple of the God of the Dead is located in Waterdeep, the city where the dead are buried, and it truly lives up to its name. The black spires surrounded by mounds of graves appear particularly eerie in the night. It is quiet as usual, but an indescribable atmosphere of anxiety hangs over the area, as if the entire temple is on high alert.
"How do we get in?" Kelben Black Staff asked. "Just barge in?"
Casalos grinned. "No, we'll use the oldest method—knocking on the door."
It took a deep breath, and the dragon magic in its veins began to boil and gather. A pure, sparkling breath shot out from its mouth, striking the temple gate directly, bursting with dazzling light, followed by a deafening explosion and a surge of high-pressure that whipped up dust from the ground, all merging into a muffled roar that swept across the entire magnificent city.
"You call this knocking?" Shaving Teeth rolled his eyes.
Casalos, however, said with satisfaction, "What else? Listen how loud it is!"
The temple gates were not damaged; some kind of defensive barrier blocked Casalos's overly orthodox dragon breath.
As the commotion spread, the temple doors slowly opened, and a group of priests dressed in black robes filed out, carrying various weapons. Leading them was an elderly man, pale-faced, with sunken eyes, emanating an aura of death.
Without verbal abuse, without tenderness or foreplay, the priests raised their heavy crossbows and fired. The leader raised his hand and activated the spell of the Death Domain, and the battle began immediately. Casalos dodged the weak arrows with a swift movement, leaving the battlefield to Razor and the Archmage. He circled once, accelerated, and charged straight at the barrier. The cracking energy wrapped around his forepaws and wing hooks tore through the black defensive membrane.
The dragon's breath knocking on the door, combined with the comings and goings of Melkor's followers, was enough for it to discover the barrier's weak point.
More priests poured out of the temple, some heading towards the fangs that were about to descend and slaughter, while others stood in front of Casalos.
Various death spells attacked Casalos, who had entered the barrier, but were overwhelmed by a dragon's breath that flickered with flames.
The sparks and flames dimmed, but the light exploded like fireworks in a chain reaction, surging along the crowd into the temple.
Casalos charged through the fiery path into the temple's main hall, where a massive altar made of skulls stood in the center, piled high with offerings. The walls of the hall were also covered with skulls and various ominous decorations.
"Melko!" Casalos shouted, his voice echoing through the empty hall. "Come out and face me, you thief!"
The only response was a chilling laugh, seemingly coming from all directions: "What an impudent visitor. A dragon dares to address a god by name and even attempts to challenge death itself."
The air in the hall suddenly became heavy, and the temperature plummeted. A cloud of black mist rose from the altar, gradually coalescing into a human figure—a tall human male, dressed in a magnificent black robe, with a handsome but pale face and an ominous glint in his eyes.
"Melko," Casalos recognized the newcomer, "where is your rotting holy body?"
Melkor smiled slightly, a smile both elegant and cold: "Cassaloz, survivor of the Athelon race, chosen one of Nur. I have been observing you; your growth is impressive."
"Should I feel honored?" Casalos retorted sarcastically. "You didn't even know my name before I killed Bane."
"God knows everything... You should be afraid," Melkor's voice remained gentle, but the threat within it was clear. "You have stepped into the realm of death, and no one comes out unscathed."
"I'm not human," Casaroz replied, his dragon breath cascading down, tearing apart Melkor's magical shield, flames climbing up to it.
"You know nothing about the power of death!"
The wailing of the dead spread with Melkor's increasingly loud voice, and portals leading directly to Hades opened randomly within the City of Glory. The demons, transformed from the twisted vengeful spirits of death, rushed in, like grains of rice spilling from an open rice bag, flooding the streets of Waterdeep.
In an instant, smoke billowed everywhere, the sounds of clashing weapons and shouts of slaughter echoed, and innocent souls surged into the sky.
"What else can you do besides sacrificing mortals?"
Casalos interrupted Melkor's spellcasting with a tail sweep, ripped apart his newly created shield with a wing slash, and slammed him to the ground with a claw.
“Death is the final destination of everything, and even I, the god of the dead, cannot escape this ultimate fate.” Melkor was still smiling. “Kill me, and let the glorious city return to the tranquility of the underworld with me.”
"Do you think that by hiding in Waterdeep, you can tie your life to Waterdeep?"
Casalos was also laughing, its wings flapping as arcane fire severed the threads of death magic that had been drawn by it. Melkor's towering body began to wither, its pale skin gradually rotting, and pus oozing from its handsome face. The holy body it housed was exposed beneath its dragon claws.
Before Melkor could react, Casalos sprang straight up, its tail sweeping across the ground and wrapping around the saint. Then the iron dragon smashed through the dome of the temple hall and soared into the sky.
"You think that by using a spell sequence to anchor yourself in the temple, I will be wary of the magical turbulence caused by the fall of a saint? You think that by donning a shell formed through the sacrifice of souls, you can resist dragon breath and minions?"
The ground is receding, and the temple is shrinking.
"You sacrificed the armies of Santyr and the tens of thousands of wronged souls of Shadowvale to grant Bane a power that is utterly ineffective. You sacrificed all of Baal's followers to create the Obsidian Saint, yet even that could not withstand my dragon breath. And you..."
Breaking through the dark clouds, Casalos, with his tail curled up, brought the saint before him.
"Melkor, the god of the dead, is unwilling to even sacrifice the priests of his own temple, yet he dares to think he can stop me?"
The light of disintegration and blazing flames flashed alternately in the Iron Dragon's mouth; this breath was no longer an attack that Melkor could withstand.
Casalos, however, was unable to spit it out. Suddenly, its scales bristled, and it barrel-rolled away from three shadows that streaked across the night sky. It then swooped down at a low angle to regain its speed and began to circle, eyeing the giant dragon that emerged from the shadows—a dragon it had never seen before and whose appearance was not even matched by its past life memories.
"And what are you?" it asked, as the Pseudo-Laplace's Demon began operating at full power.
81. Death Hunter
"Who am I? You actually ask me who I am!"
The dragon, shrouded in ominous black mist, roared like a blade slicing through the air, each syllable carrying a fury capable of piercing the soul. Casalos saw its full form—the dragon far surpassed his own size, even larger than the oversized Roaring Howl. Its jet-black scales, like decaying obsidian, each emitted a faint, dark purple glow; its bird-like head, with six pairs of fluorescent horns, exuded a deathly aura. Worse still, the dragon's entire body was enveloped in an ominous black, smoky substance, a bizarre boundary between reality and nothingness.
"I am the lowly soul you cruelly murdered, the avenger who swam back from the River Styx, the eternal hunter of death, and the hater of you vile living beings!"
The death hunter's shriek ripped through the sky; the sound waves themselves were an attack, distorting the very air.
Casalos narrowed its outer eyelids, its usual chatter vanishing. Against a truly formidable foe, pointless chatter was nothing but foolishness. Its brain raced, the pseudo-Laplace's Demon fully activated.
Chapter 336
The command was activated to analyze this unprecedented enemy, taking every detail into consideration.
However, the information is still insufficient.
Casalos suddenly moved, whipping its tail and hurling Melkor's holy body at Death Hunter like a cannonball. Simultaneously, the dragon magic within its veins erupted, forming a blazing sphere of chaotic energy from the four elements in its throat. This breath, which it had failed to unleash upon Melkor, now became the first line of defense against its new enemy.
Only by taking action can we gather more information, and only then can the deductions of the pseudo-Laplace's demon become more and more accurate.
No matter how Deathhunter reacts, Casalos will have the upper hand: if Deathhunter blocks Melkor, the dragon's breath will strike the Saint directly. Melkor's death will trigger magical turbulence, unleashing a magical storm that will engulf Deathhunter; if the opponent kills Melkor directly, the result will be the same, with the following dragon's breath dealing additional damage; if the opponent chooses to knock Melkor away, the ensuing dragon's breath will still be enough to inflict significant damage.
Death Hunter sneered, its long tail sweeping past with lightning speed, easily and gently slapping the body of Saint Melkor aside. Immediately, the black mist around its body intensified, and the entire dragon form seemed to merge into the darkness itself, disappearing from the spot—Shadow Walk.
Casalos's chaotic elemental sphere roared through the spot where Death Hunter had been standing, exploding in mid-air and creating a distorted turbulence.
Do you take me for a fool?
The voice came from behind Casalos, accompanied by a chilling mental shock. It was a double attack of psychic energy—psychic piercing and psychic crushing—like an invisible spear aimed straight at Casalos's soul.
Years of training and honed willpower came into play at this moment; Casalos withstood the mental shock with astonishing resilience. It swiftly sidestepped and barrel rolled, sweeping its hind claws to create distance from its death pursuer.
The deduction of the pseudo-Laplace's demon has now made a major breakthrough. The voice, the psionic energy, the characteristics of the Shadowwalker technique, and the implicit hatred in the other party's words—all clues point to an answer that will shock the dragon.
“You’re not an idiot, but you’re a madman,” Casalos retorted calmly. “Cirik, who pulled you out of the River Styx and turned you into a lost dragon… Do you know the price of becoming a planar dragon?”
Death Hunter, or rather, Cyric, was not surprised by this revelation of his identity. Instead, he burst into maniacal laughter, a laughter that was a mixture of twisted joy and madness.
"The price? Do you know the taste of 'death,' Iron Dragon? That's the real price!" Before he finished speaking, Cyric's figure disappeared into the black mist again.
Casalos sensed psionic fluctuations consistent with the characteristics of psionic teleportation. This ability, more bizarre than traditional magical teleportation, could, when combined with a lesser level of psionic energy, change the destination during the "transportation" process. The pseudo-Laplace's demonic calculations possessed a level of precision beyond prophecy in the short-lived context of combat; it predicted Cyric's location and the actions he would take.
Casalos was all too familiar with this type of attack. Having honed its skills through countless trials in the Dragon Treasury, it had long since ingrained the techniques for dealing with teleportation attacks into its very bones. It abruptly changed its flight path, executing an evasive maneuver that was usually incomprehensible to dragons. But calculations told it that this conventional evasive maneuver would fail.
Regardless of what Cyrek was originally, its current psychic abilities as an elderly lost dragon far surpass those of a typical legendary figure. The instant Casalos completed its evasive maneuver, Cyrek had already used the advanced psychic technique of "teleportation" to adjust its position, blocking Casalos's altered flight path.
In that instant, Casaroz seemed to see steel-hard dragon claws emerge from the void, sweeping towards it like scythes. The sharp claw tips gleamed with a dark purple light, each strike containing power far beyond Casaroz's imagination. A full-force attack from an elderly Lost Dragon with a Challenge Level of 29 would be enough to tear an ancient red dragon like Roaring Howl to shreds.
The pseudo-Laplace's demon presents the most extreme warning—any form of head-on confrontation means suicide.
Time seemed to stretch out at that moment. Casalos's mind worked at an extraordinary speed, deducing the only way out. It activated its lightning elemental transformation, and its body transformed into pure lightning before it could even touch Cyric's claws that had yet to emerge from the teleportation.
Cyrek's claw strike pierced through the lightning's physical form but failed to inflict any real damage. Casalos, however, used the lightning's leaping ability to instantly appear on Cyrek's lower back. For Casalos, who was only a third the size of Cyrek, this position was the most difficult blind spot for the opponent to reach.
"You cunning little bug!" Cyric roared, trying to shake Casalos off, but the iron dragon was already firmly rooted in his back.
Casalos activated the Bloodscale Frenzy of the Dragon, a power derived from dragon's fury that caused its attributes to surge for a short period. It precisely located the weak point in Cyrek's back armor and unleashed a frenzied tearing attack with all its might.
The cleavage shattered the blasphemous protection, and sharp wing hooks and claws tore through Cyrek's scales, gushing out jet-black dragon blood like mist, the dim light of flames shimmering in the wounds. This series of attacks was quite effective; Cyrek let out a painful roar, his body writhing in the air, trying to get rid of this tormenting "parasite."
However, the damage was almost instantaneous. Cyric performed a "time jump"—a powerful ability that allows him to briefly return to a past state. The wound healed in the blink of an eye, as if it had never been injured, leaving only the blazing flames still burning the Death Hunter.
Its vitality was so strong that the blazing flames that could burn an ordinary ancient red dragon to death only made it somewhat weak.
"You think this can hurt me?" Cyric sneered, a cruel glint in his dragon eyes. "Now, taste real pain!"
Cyric unleashed a multi-pronged attack. First came the "Painful Torment" psionic energy, which directly affected Casalos's dragon soul, making every nerve in its body feel as if it were being burned by flames. Next came "Limited Wishes," which distorted the surrounding laws of reality, attempting to trap Casalos in a miniature prison of eternal torment. Finally, "Withering Death" was a death magic that directly targeted the essence of life, causing creatures to age rapidly and die in agony.
At the same time, a large number of advanced flying undead were created by Cyric. They emerged from the void, forming an encirclement and rushing towards Casalos. These undead had twisted bodies and sharp claws, and their dark green eyes were filled with hatred for life.
Having endured the agony of dying in the Dragon Vault trial, Casalos almost disregarded the torment, precisely unleashing a short, destructive dragon breath that disrupted and ruined the casting of "Limited Prayer." The magical structure collapsed under the destructive effect, forcing Cyric's spell to a halt.
82. Melkor, who died with his eyes wide open.
At the same time, Casalos's "anti-death barrier" automatically activated. The black and red energy of the "Withering" spell collided with the barrier and annihilated each other, no longer able to invade Casalos's life essence.
Faced with the undead swarming at him, Casalos swiftly summoned higher elemental creatures representing the four basic elements: wind, fire, water, and earth. The fire element transformed into burning, soaring firebirds, the water element formed wave-like serpents dancing in the clouds, the wind element became sharp, blade-like cyclones, and the earth element transformed into explosive spikes, engaging the undead flying legion in fierce combat.
Taking advantage of this gap, Casalos entered his Chaos Elemental form, detached himself from Death Hunter's back, and detonated a fan-shaped burst of sparking dragon breath, obscuring Death Hunter's vision.