Little Tyrant Doesn't Want to Meet with a Bad End

Chapter 543.1: The Fallens (1)

In this era of geographical immobility, it was common for people to harbor special feelings for their homeland. Their patriotism drove them to associate positive traits with their homeland that they could be proud of.

.

In the Ascart Fiefdom’s case, its greatest positive trait was its stability.

Even during tumultuous times over the past thousand years, it remained steadfast as if an infallible safehouse.

But today, this notion was shattered by the enemies descending from the sky.

From the city walls, Roel Ascart stared at the sky with a grim expression.

He had already guessed that the enemies commanded an army similar to the Treant High Priest’s flame spirits, or else they would struggle to take down a major human city. The wriggling black cloud above affirmed his guess.

Death Crows had no voices of their own; their calls were the pained screams of the last soul they had devoured. Their calls were tinged with a peculiar mana resonance that disturbed the mental state, leaving anyone who heard them prone to an emotional breakdown or even insanity.

Collectively, the humongous flock of Death Crows created such a dissonant orchestra that it made the world a living hellscape. Had it not been for the fortress barrier around Ascart City, the soldiers might have already suffered a mental breakdown.

Roel clenched his fists, relieved by the thorough preparations he had made over the last few days. Had he not activated the fortress barrier in advance, just the voices of those monsters would have been a catastrophe for Ascart City.

The Ascart Fiefdom had claimed the upper hand in the first clash, but Roel didn’t relish this short-term victory. He knew that things had barely gotten started.

The Death Crows in the sky were more than just their cries. Their meters-long bodies harnessed strength comparable to weaker transcendents, and their sheer number promised devastating damage once they began their assault.

Most importantly of all, they were just the supporting cast for tonight’s battle.

Shortly after the Death Crows emerged, a gargantuan silhouette emerged amidst the clouds, causing the tension to creep to a new high.

It was a gargantuan black monster whose sheer size veiled the sky. Its head looked to be a hybrid between those of a bird and a dragon, and tumors were protruding from its neck. Its blood-red eyes shone like ominous crimson stars amidst a sea of darkness. Its three sharp talons looked ready to reap the life out of anyone in its presence.

The soldiers on the city wall gasped as their faces slowly drained of blood. They instinctively understood that they were faced with a being superior to them in all respects. As if their very being was acknowledging that fact, they couldn’t stop their bodies from trembling at all.

Humans often saw birds as docile creatures that could be domesticated, but the moment the gargantuan monster appeared, the humans inside the fortress barrier had a weird feeling that they were the ones who were being caged.

This sudden identity swap spawned further terror among the people.

“That is a Three-legged Dracocrow, a saint beast who protected the sky back in the ancient era. It was a close ally of the Wingman Clan,” the Primordial Earth Goddess said sorrowfully.

Roel widened his eyes in realization.

The very first saint beasts existed even before the descent of Goddess Sia. They obeyed the laws of natural selection, where the strong dominated available resources and became stronger. Some of them even became the rulers of the world.

When Goddess Sia descended, a portion of the saint beasts bowed down to the order she introduced and adopted an Origin Attribute, thus becoming the first generation of saint beasts. The ones who refused to accept the new order became demonic beasts.

These demonic beasts unleashed catastrophes upon the world, which prompted Goddess Sia to create the second-generation saint beasts to deal with this threat.

While the first generation mainly comprised ordinary animals, the second generation was filled with hybrids created by combining multiple bloodlines together.

The Three-legged Dracocrow was a hybrid that had inherited the bloodlines of the dragons and the Death Crows, and it was one of Goddess Sia’s stronger creations. Its prowess was so great that it had dominated the sky even in the era of the gods. It was tasked with the responsibility of protecting the deceased and upholding their dignity.

Yet, in the present era, the Three-legged Dracocrow displayed none of the nobility it had in the ancient era. Large tumors protruded from its head. Its feathers were dirty and in a mess. Its body was distorted out of shape. Its eyes were filled with madness and violence.

Its fall from grace was sorrowful to watch.

The guardian who had once protected the dead had ironically become the leader of the Death Crows, who desecrated the dead. Perhaps this was the kind of miserable plight that awaited all Fallens.

From the moment the Three-legged Dracocrow appeared, the skeleton giant and golden-haired lady heightened their wariness. They understood that their true enemy wasn’t the Three-legged Dracocrow but someone else.

“Even the Three-legged Dracocrow has appeared. There’s no doubt who our enemy is now,” Peytra said.

“…Is it the Wingman Sovereign?” Grandar asked with a deep voice.

As if to answer the doubts of the two ancient gods, a being standing at an altitude even higher than the Three-legged Dracocrow laid its gaze upon Roel.

…

Saint beasts were the first race to rise to prominence in the ancient era.

During the era of chaos before Sia descended upon the world with the gift of Origin Attributes, even the powerful angels, the giants, and the other ancient races were no match for the saint beasts. The even weaker races were nothing but food for them.

Back in the ancient era, the Three-legged Dracocrow once reigned as the King of the Sky. For a long time, the Wingman Clan worshiped it as its guardian deity, but as the Wingman Clan grew stronger, their relationship eventually changed into one of equal partners.

Every generation of Wingman Sovereign would establish an alliance contract with the Three-legged Dracocrow, promising to come to each other’s aid when in need.

When the upper echelons of the Wingman Clan were implicated by the Savior’s downfall, the Three-legged Dracocrow suffered a setback as well.

In any case, by the virtue of the contract, the fact that this gargantuan monster had appeared here meant that the Wingman Sovereign was here as well.

On the city wall, Roel sensed a piercing stare from the sky and looked back at it. His eyes peered through the clouds to gaze upon the aerial space above the gargantuan Three-legged Dracocrow, where two considerably smaller silhouettes could be seen floating in the sky.

One of them was covered in a black cloak that concealed its appearance, adding an air of mystery around it. It looked to be one of the Savior’s clergymen.

The other resembled an old man and had two wings sprouting from its back.

Roel had previously envisioned the wingmen to be a race that bore a close resemblance to the angels, but the Wingman Sovereign’s appearance brought a frown to his face.

Pushing one’s lifespan beyond the limit came at a cost, and the Wingman Sovereign had clearly paid the price.

Its wings had been stripped of their feathers, leaving only bare white bones. Its sunken cheeks and emaciated body made it resemble an undead creature more than a living being. The wooden crown on its head emanated a dim golden light, its once-brilliant glow obscured by layers of dirt settled over countless years.

Even so, Roel didn’t dare to underestimate his enemy.

Senescence and the changing environment had capped the Fallens’ growth; they could only watch helplessly as they slowly weakened with time. Even so, the Three-legged Dracocrow and the Wingman Sovereign were Origin Level 1 transcendents.

To make things worse, unlike the case of the Treant High Priest, their powers weren’t curbed by Roel, thus they were even more frightening adversaries.

Roel’s heart sank.

While he had known all along that the Fallens were powerful foes, the notion was only sinking in now that he was standing before them. The stress he felt weighed heavily on his shoulders.

“So, this is the trap you have prepared for me? You sure put a lot of effort into it,” Roel muttered under his breath.