As noon approached, the scouts' report revitalized the spirits of Gawain, Leylo, and the others. Not far ahead lay the Naga warband camp mentioned in their intelligence.
However, as the army slowly drew near, the expressions of everyone present shifted from initial vigilance to bewilderment and suspicion. The expected scene of a heavily guarded fortress teeming with snake-like shadows did not appear. Instead, they were met with a field of wretched ruins.
The crude tents that should have been there were torn to shreds; wooden perimeter walls lay toppled in every direction, and broken weapons were scattered everywhere. Even more heart-stopping were the mangled remains of Nagas strewn across the ground. Their deaths were gruesome—some snapped clean at the waist, others with chests pierced by immense force, and some appearing as if crushed by a colossal weight, their bones and flesh reduced to a bloody pulp. Dark green blood soaked the earth, emitting a heavy stench mixed with a strange, acrid smell of ozone and burning that hung in the humid air.
"What—what happened here?" a young knight whispered, his face turning pale.
Gawain signaled for the army to halt and maintain a defensive posture.
"Look at these marks," Leylo said, stooping to examine a Naga corpse. Its tough scales had been torn apart by raw power, the meat beneath pulverized. "This doesn't look like the work of a human army. It's more like some massive, gargantuan beast."
He stood up and surveyed the surroundings. The destruction covered a vast area; thick trees had been uprooted or snapped mid-trunk. Huge claw marks—each half a foot deep with churned edges—scarred the earth, testifying to the terrifying strength behind them. In some spots, the soil was scorched black and vitrified, appearing as if struck by extreme heat.
"My Lord, look over there!" a sharp-eyed knight pointed toward the center of the camp.
Everyone looked over to see an open area where Naga corpses were piled even higher, forming small, macabre mounds. Among them were individuals noticeably bulkier than the average Naga with darker scales—clearly the elites of the warband.
"At least half the Nagas died here," Leylo judged in a low voice after checking several spots. "And judging by the freshness of the bodies, this fight happened last night or early this morning."
Count Gawain's brow furrowed. He had prepared for a grueling siege, only to find the enemy had already suffered a devastating blow. "What kind of magical beast? Such destructive power... could it be—"
Before he could finish, a muffled, thunderous roar echoed from deep within the dense forest. The sound was distant at first but rapidly grew clearer and more violent. It sounded as if two titans were locked in combat; every impact caused the ground to tremble. Suddenly, a wave of overwhelming energy swept through like a tide, saturating the air with violent elemental auras. Even from this distance, the heart-palpitating pressure was undeniable.
"Tier 5! That is absolutely a Tier 5-level battle!" a high-level court mage exclaimed, his voice cracking with shock.
Gawain's pupils contracted. He made an instant decision. "All units, hold your ground! Form a defensive perimeter! No one moves without my command!"
Knight Luke nodded. "Lord Count, allow me to investigate personally." He patted the neck of his Thunder Eagle. The raptor, covered in blue-violet feathers with electric arcs dancing on its wings, let out a sharp cry and took off like a bolt of lightning toward the source of the disturbance.
Leylo glanced at Gawain. "Tempest, let's follow. Fly high, don't get too close."
The Storm Griffin King let out a resonant cry, its wings kicking up dust and grass as it bore Leylo into the sky, trailing a safe distance behind Luke. As they drew closer, the scale of the battle became staggering. The air reeked of sulfur and char; magic elements were in total disarray. Breaking through the thick canopy, the view opened up.
Leylo and Luke pulled their mounts to a halt simultaneously, suspended in mid-air, eyes wide with disbelief. Below, a forest clearing had been leveled on a scale far exceeding the previous camp. At the center of this clearing, an earth-shaking battle was occurring.
A dragon, its entire body covered in brilliant golden scales, was locked in a fierce slaughter against a legion of thousands of Nagas. The Golden Dragon was nearly a hundred meters long. Each scale looked as if it were forged from solid gold, glittering with a divine, blinding radiance under the sun.
Its lithe dragon-form was a masterpiece of explosive beauty. Its thick limbs shattered the earth, and its massive tail swept through the air like a scythe of blood and gore, sending dozens of Nagas flying with shattered bones. Its razor-sharp claws tore through tough Naga scales as if they were wet paper, popping the heads of Tier 3 and 4 marsh beasts like overripe fruit. Marsh Crocodiles and Slough Lizards—beasts humans feared—were nothing but tissue paper beneath its claws.
From its maw, it spewed jets of searing Golden Dragon Breath, a torrent of destruction that turned Nagas to ash before they could even scream. Despite being surrounded by three to four thousand fearless Naga warriors, the Golden Dragon showed no sign of fatigue. Instead, it grew more ferocious with every strike.
"A Golden Dragon!" Luke muttered, confused. "Isn't this dragon supposed to be serving as a 'judge' in the south of the Duchy? Why is it in the North, conducting a massacre in the marshes?"
Leylo was equally shaken. The sheer physical destruction and the overwhelming majesty displayed by this Golden Dragon were profound. This was the true form of a dragon—the apex predator at the top of the food chain, an unrivaled war machine.
Despite the piles of corpses and the rivers of dark green blood, the Nagas had yet to land a single significant wound on the dragon. Yet, they continued to swarm like a tide, trying to bury it in numbers.
At the rear of the Naga legion, atop a high mound, stood a figure distinct from the others—a Naga Priest of extraordinary height with a vertical third eye in the center of its forehead. It wore a black robe adorned with bone fragments and gems, clutching a serpent-headed scepter tipped with a massive black crystal.
The Three-Eyed Naga Priest raised its scepter, chanting hoarse, sinister incantations. Shadows surged from the crystal, manifesting into twisted forms. Acid arrows, soul curses, and shadow bolts rained down upon the Golden Dragon in a ceaseless barrage.
However, these lethal spells merely burst into insignificant dark sparks against the brilliant gold scales. A faint magical aura shimmered on the scales—Golden Dragons, known for the strongest defense of all dragonkind, possessed physical and magical resistances that were a nightmare for any foe.
Irritated by the pesky spells, the Golden Dragon threw its head back and unleashed a roar that shattered the clouds, the physical soundwave alone dispelling several incoming shadow meteors.