No one knows exactly how the Feranmut came into being.
It seems that even before the Terrans had their own language and civilization, before they built cities and established nations, the Feranmut were already there.
They have always existed. They have always been here.
"The black Feranmut!"
Saria stared up at the monstrous figure in the sky, murmuring to herself.
So this was their ultimate objective for this operation—the creature before them?
If she had known from the beginning that their enemy would be such a monstrosity, even she wouldn't have chosen to leave Columbia for this Hotland.
Could they win?
Surely not!
Unless the city beneath the Feranmut belonged to them, unless they could pour the full might of that city into the fight, there might be a slim chance.
But the city under the Feranmut's feet was not theirs.
Not only was it not theirs—it was their enemy, an obstacle they had to overcome.
Some of the Rhine Lab operators were already succumbing to despair. How could they possibly fight something the size of a high-speed warship, let alone one that could fly?
Saria couldn't comprehend how the Feranmut's slender wings could carry its enormous body. Was its structure similar to the hollow bones of avian creatures?
"We need to move!"
Kal'tsit's voice rang out, quickly drawing protests.
"No, Miss Kal'tsit, can't we wait a little longer?"
"Exactly! We don't even know if this thing is friend or foe. What if it joins forces with the ancient civilization to attack us?"
"Miss Kal'tsit, let's wait!"
Kal'tsit glanced at Saria.
Most of the complaints came from Rhine Lab's operators—those who lacked the battlefield experience of veterans like Scout.
It was only natural for them to feel fear at the sudden appearance of such a monstrous Feranmut in the sky.
"Director Saria, you didn't tell us our mission was to fight a creature this massive!"
One of the Rhine Lab operators spoke with a mix of laughter and tears. If he had known they were here to throw their lives away, he would have quit from the start.
In truth, it wasn't just the Rhine Lab operators who felt this way. Even the Babel personnel were uneasy.
Scout silently questioned whether his crossbow could even penetrate the Feranmut's scales.
Only the main cannons of a high-speed warship or a mobile city might stand a chance of wounding it.
"Garde will handle it. Our only target is the ancient civilization's terminal. Once we destroy it, we can leave."
That is, assuming they could get past the Feranmut and the ancient civilization's defenses.
But saying that Garde would deal with the Feranmut—how? With that crescent-shaped axe of his?
To the operators, the black Feranmut resembled the totems described in the records of Victoria's ancient royal families.
The young Babel operators were unaware that when Victoria's royal bloodlines were at their peak, some members with high bloodline purity would exhibit ancestral traits, taking forms resembling the Feranmut before them.
Kal'tsit wasn't about to reveal that the black dragon in front of them might very well be the progenitor of a species now almost extinct in Terra.
A thousand years ago, the Padishah of Sargon obtained a scale from a black dragon, granting them the right to contend with Victoria's Draco royalty for the throne.
Faced with the progenitor of the Dracos, what could Garde possibly do?
Kal'tsit noticed that not only had the Rhine Lab operators nearly lost their will to fight, but even the native Lizardman from the hotlands were prostrating themselves, too terrified to look at the Feranmut in the sky.
Having lived in these lands, they were familiar with dragon legends and occasionally caught glimpses of a dragon's majestic form as it streaked across the sky.
At this moment, their fear of the dragon even overshadowed their reverence for Garde.
No one treats death as a trivial matter.
Even the hardy Lizardman of the hotlands feared death.
Until they saw it—a bolt of golden lightning streaking toward the heavens.
Just as the dragon prepared to speak again after Garde's defiant words, the lightning struck its mouth with a resounding crack.
"Enough with the chatter! If you want a fight, then fight!"
Catching the great axe he had just thrown, Garde's body surged with Ascension Power, making him appear even larger than before.
But still, it wasn't enough!
Even reaching Level 6 was out of the question—Garde was barely close to Level 5 as it was.
He poured all his current Ascension Power into his body, causing it to swell further. His height expanded from four meters to six, but at a cost.
Garde's body was already at its limit, blood seeping from its surface as though it were a porcelain vessel filled to the brim with water—any additional force threatened to shatter him entirely.
Yet, he had no choice.
Initially, Garde's plan was simple: dive into the fray, take a few hits, build up rage, and then unleash his full power when he faced the black dragon.
But just as he couldn't yet fully control his Ascension Power, he also couldn't predict when his rage would accumulate enough to let him draw upon the strength he once used to fight the black dragon.
To his dismay, his rage wasn't building as expected. After enduring countless blows from the swarm of disaster beasts, he was indeed a bit angry—but not angry enough.
'Could it be that I've been beaten so many times my body's gotten used to it?'
The thought of this horrifying possibility crossed Garde's mind.
But the words had already been said, and the black dragon in the sky was clearly enraged.
"Adakrys, I will make you understand the price of your insolence!"
The dragon's deafening roar pierced through the rain, its voice echoing across the battlefield.
If the black dragon truly was the progenitor of the Dracos, then its greatest weapon was undoubtedly fire.
All eyes turned to see waves of invisible force sweeping the rain away from the dragon's sides. The sheer heat scattered the thick storm clouds, allowing rays of the distant sun to pierce through.
The rain around the battlefield began to evaporate, boiling away as heat radiated from the dragon's mouth. Its chest glowed a bright crimson, signaling the preparation of its devastating breath attack.
Even a Feranmut couldn't create something from nothing. Yet the organ in its chest, a flame pouch, was more than sufficient to fuel ten days and nights of unrelenting battle.
Did that flame giant really believe stealing its heat would lead to victory?
Foolishness!
At that moment, the black dragon's fire painted the sky red, dyeing the heavens with its fury.
The Khagan of the plains finally grasped the gravity of the situation.
This Feranmut didn't merely target the battlefield—it threatened the outskirts of their city!
"Lord Aletog, please do not battle in our city!"
"Silence!"
The black dragon roared again, hurling its flames toward the earth below.
Generations ago, its ancestors had sworn to protect the ruins of the ancient civilization. Yet by the time it had inherited that duty, all it retained was the instinct to fight—nothing else mattered anymore.
"Whatever you have to say, wait until I've slain this Adakrys!"
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