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It was yet another effortless victory.

Facing an enemy distracted in battle, Alger would never let an opportunity slip. Yet he felt no joy in the kill; even his dragon-blooded eagle let out a low, mournful cry.

Gazing down at the spot where Nelly had fallen, Alger spoke calmly:

"Igor, I told you, we each serve our own masters. The Alger of old died long ago."

"Nelly… she should have understood that."

Without sparing a moment to mourn his former comrade, whom he’d just slain, Alger urged his eagle back into the fray.

"Igor, continue fighting."

The skirmish was almost over; the Eagle Guards, though experienced, were outmatched by the newly fledged dragon riders, who tore through them with overwhelming ease.

"Watch me barbecue them!"

"Triple kill!"

"Going wild here!"

"Don’t steal my kills! I’m maxing out my contribution points today!"

The dragons paid no heed to the Eagle Guard’s formations, unleashing torrents of flame upon their targets, turning several Eagle Guards into charred corpses tumbling to the ground.

Tactics, maneuvering, probing—these players ignored it all, rushing headlong into flames if an Eagle Guard dared fight back, scorching them until they could no longer retaliate.

Tactics?

That was just talk. When it came down to it, it was all about brute force!

What?

Someone dares to sneak attack?

Players would even ignore the enemy before them, twisting around to chase down any backstabber, risking flanks to crush that pesky foe.

Even more daunting was that their natural scales made arrows from behind feel like mere scratches.

This wild and rough style completely threw off the Eagle Guards.

What kind of fighting was this?

Tactical training didn’t cover this at all—

With Nelly’s death, the Northwind Eagle Guard had lost its leader, and now, facing this reckless, overpowering assault, they could neither fight back nor escape.

Soon, the battle devolved into a one-sided chase.

"Keep chasing! Don’t let them escape!"

"Where do you think you’re going!"

"Scoundrels, halt!"

Mantou, riding his dragon "Noodle," charged at the front, gripping his five-meter lance with a fierce expression.

His lance was already bloodstained, thirsty for its next target.

Seeing the Eagle Guards flying further away, Mantou, desperate for more points, activated his skill.

【Dragon Roar Charge!】

"Roar—"

The half-dragon knight and his dragon unleashed a synchronized roar.

The powerful, resonating roar instilled fear in a nearby giant eagle, causing it to tremble. Its speed faltered, and its wings wavered, struggling to maintain flight.

"Haha, prepare to die!"

"Here comes my 500 points!"

Mantou let out a crazed laugh, diving with his dragon.

Just as his lance was about to pierce the enemy’s back, ready to drink blood—

"Whizz!"

An arrow flew past Mantou, striking the Eagle Guard in the back of the head, with such force that it exited through the forehead.

The Eagle Guard tumbled from his mount.

The triumphant smile froze on Mantou’s face as he realized he hadn’t gotten the points.

Fuming, he shouted angrily at the sky,

"Singo, why’d you steal my kill! That was my 500 points—"

Singo’s lazy voice floated down, "I’m an archer, aren’t I? If I don’t finish them off, what am I doing? I had him in my sights long before—guess your lance just couldn’t beat my arrow."

"You…"

"Git gud, man. Keep practicing. How many have you got? I’m at 6,000 points."

"If you’re so good, stop stealing my kills. I already controlled him with my Dragon Roar, and you still shot him!"

"You controlled him, so that means I finish him. Simple."

"Damn you…"

The battle had devolved into pure slaughter.

Alger no longer paid attention to the chaotic skirmish. Having been around these players long enough, he knew how relentless they could be for “faction points,” so he had no doubt they’d ensure no enemies escaped.

What concerned him more was the allied forces’ movements.

"These fools made such a racket, they’ll be spotted easily."

"Igor, let’s scout on our own."

He instructed his dragon-blooded eagle, their years of bonding making commands almost telepathic.

While the players continued their chase for points, Alger quietly slipped away on his eagle.

"Finally spotted them."

Flying over mountain ranges, he finally found his target—it was hard to miss, barely needing any careful observation.

—A massive army of tens of thousands marched across the wilderness, like a mottled flood. Many wore iron armor and wielded long spears. Horses neighed as infantry and cavalry mixed, spear tips glinting in the sun. Heavy wagons, shrouded in thick cloth, rolled along, their contents unknown.

High flags flew over the center of the army, the foremost a gray eagle banner—the "Northwind Eagle" of the Lackman Family, followed by banners from the Bosk "Northern Lion" and Nort’s "Double-Headed Eagle" families. Various other banners from local noble lords were scattered among them.

Besides the soldiers, the army was filled with laborers carrying supplies and driving carts. The serfs, burdened by heavy provisions, were often emaciated, bent under the weight of food they themselves lacked.

In the sky, giant eagles circled, patrolling the surroundings.

The armies were easily distinguishable: Lackman’s uniforms in dark gray, Bosk in deep blue, and Nort in earthy yellow.

Amidst the flood, gray dominated.

The twelve nations of the Northern United Kingdom combined barely had a million people. Even Lackman’s capital, Northwind Fortress, held only around thirty thousand.

This time, the Lackman Family had committed nearly twenty thousand troops, an all-out effort to annihilate Ember Nest.

Alger gazed at the imposing army, murmuring to himself,

"The allied forces of the three northern nations…"

"They’ve finally arrived."

"It’s been decades since Anzeta saw a battle of this scale…"

"I need to report back to the master immediately."

Steering his dragon-blooded eagle, Alger sped over the mountains, heading straight for Dragon Valley.

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