Chapter 68

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Chapter 68: First Leave

The enlarged vision shattered in the next moment, with the spores that were invisible to the naked eye bursting due to the effects of the skill. The seeds of Fairy Lamp were too tiny, disappearing without a sound, like small bubbles bursting in the air.

Tasha used the skill on several spores in different locations, and the images they sent back before shattering connected together, piecing together the full view of the giant beast on the railway tracks.

No, even though she used dozens of spores, the images sent back could only piece together half of the giant steel beast’s skull.

Its face looked like a traditional knight’s helmet, resembling a pointed military boot, with the "toe" part emitting a dark glow, massive and sharp enough to crush anything in its path. Behind the helmet was a cylindrical head, a heavy metal cylinder lying on a row of wheels, each wheel with holes of different sizes and complete asymmetry, connected to a set of bulky machinery. Cranks and sliders transformed the rotation of the metal wheels into the movement of connecting rods, creating a dazzlingly complex motion.

It reminded Tasha of the steam train in the Harry Potter movies, except compared to the one in front of her, the steam train in the movie seemed sweet and fairy-tale-like. The train-like mechanical creature heading towards the southeast corner appeared nothing like a fairy tale, cold and ferocious, heavy yet precise, with a clear and aggressive intent. The cylinders roared, white smoke jetting out from a row of chimneys on top, hitting the top hat-like structure of the chimney, breaking into countless clouds, quickly dissipating into the air.

Is this steam? Or something else? Tasha didn’t think a charcoal-burning boiler could produce such clean, almost colorless smoke, with no holes on the top of the train spouting black smoke. The Fairy Lamp spores made this even clearer, clinging to it completely because of the magic wrapped around the steel giant, even though there wasn’t enough to enable the Fairy Lamp to grow and bear fruit yet.

Inside and outside the magical train are filled with subtle magic, not just a touch on the iron tracks. Something inside the train’s body is driving the spores’ desire, which Tasha couldn’t figure out for the time being. Steel plates hidden with runes sealed this colossal thing too well, making it difficult for the Fairy Lamp spores to attach to the outside of the train, unable to get inside. Speaking of which, the dragon-catching magic circle was destroyed a few days ago, which could really cause the spores to thrive, following this trace of magic a thousand miles a day, right?

Tasha tapped her fingers on her hand back one after another, sinking deep into thought over her new discovery.

If humans have completed the Industrial Revolution, there’s no point in trying to deal with those outdated semi-failed dungeons – Tasha thought this way when she first came into contact with humans, and it’s the same now too.

She’s no longer the newcomer who knew nothing about the world above, Tasha manages the human gathering place in the southeast corner, has seen the bustling Ribe Lake, and other places in Tasmania. She’s well aware that the ordinary human technological level is far from the Industrial Revolution level, so far she has seen advanced (according to this world’s standards) technological achievements, almost all revolved around military matters.

The military is the one that will be against dungeons.

Nowadays, dungeons are officially at war with human military forces, if there is a powerful ace up one’s sleeve, there’s no reason to keep it hidden, or to use tactics like this slowly. Treating the enemy as a transport convoy is definitely a joke, how could the Aryan Hegemony be that foolish? Perhaps at the beginning they didn’t take dungeons seriously, then Tasha used some means to make them conceal for their wild ambitions, but now things have reached this point, Tasha can’t think of any reason for humans to show mercy.

She carefully investigated General Shirel who came here, his origins, status, methods, and beliefs. Shirel holds a high position in the Aryan Empire’s upper echelons, he is a frontline combatant against the Hybrid front, from the viewpoint of those humanistic individuals, he’s like "hating evil like a foe," this idealistic individual who sees himself as righteous and uses rough means is completely different from those who can be pressured or bribed, there’s no way he would give dungeons a chance for any reason.

How strong-willed is this person? After the last battle ended, Tasha had people relay the message of exchanging or ransoming prisoners of war outside Ribe Lake using amplification and written arrows, Shirel flatly refused, stating he would never compromise with the Hybrids. "This has nothing to do with how much money you demand from us," he said decisively, "every honorable soldier is prepared to lay down their lives for the country!"

But Tasha wasn’t really trying to sell the prisoners of war for a good price.

She just wanted to spread the news about the general’s attitude in Ribe Lake. By using her "Increase Volume" skill on a makeshift amplifier, she spread the news of many captured soldiers and the general’s cold refusal throughout half of Ribe Lake. This not only weakened the morale of the army but also disrupted the general’s strategy. Now people knew that the missing soldiers were not killed by the Hybrid but were captured alive. It was the general himself who stopped them from returning home by refusing to negotiate for their release.

The only regret was that, after experimenting, Jacqueline’s singing voice couldn’t hypnotize half of Ribe Lake, perhaps due to the magical environment.

Despite the dissatisfaction and whispers spreading through the crowd, General Shirel remained strong-willed. Therefore, Tasha was sure that if the general had any powerful weapons, he wouldn’t care about public opinion and would immediately use them against the dungeon.

Advanced technological products were only used for military purposes.

When the real war started, weapons were used incrementally, rather than all at once using a saturation tactic.

Despite having the technology to produce cannons, airships, armored vehicles, the soldiers on the battlefield were armed with melee weapons instead of firearms.

Even considering human customs and political maneuvering, these unreasonable phenomena couldn’t be fully explained. Tasha boldly speculated that humans weren’t unwilling to use advanced technology for destructive purposes; they were simply unable to do so.

They couldn’t afford it.

Perhaps it has to do with a lack of professionals, or maybe it has to do with the disappearance of dwarves, but Tasha thinks it’s more likely to do with energy. Thinking optimistically, it’s possible that humans will have to stop fighting each other at some point, and Tasha’s current magic reserves are enough to handle the war’s cost. However, thinking rationally, humans cannot have truly run out of energy.

They can still come up with new weapons, even though it takes batch after batch. Tasha tends to believe that they have some way of regenerating or producing energy, just needing time to recharge, somewhat like Tasha relying on time and slime to produce magic. If that’s the case, delaying tactics won’t work at all, and the one who will suffer losses will be Tasha, as a dungeon cannot wear down an army fed by an empire.

"I smell the scent of other dragons."

The dungeon’s dragon woke up from its coma that evening, still sluggish, unable to even lift its wings, but the fire in its eyes burned hot like dragon breath.

"The dragon is a part of that magic formation, in a very distant place, I can feel it…" The Red Dragon’s hard claws slowly closed on the ground, digging deep into the sand, "Someone has trapped that dragon."

"Is that dragon still alive?" Tasha asked.

"Alive or not!" The Red Dragon growled low, "Those people will not have a good end!"

Dragons have always been a popular material – dragon scales, dragon blood, dragon whiskers, dragon bones… various parts circulate among professionals. Dragons are a rather self-absorbed race, they only meet during rare mating seasons, have very distant family ties at other times, and wouldn’t care about their own relatives, let alone unknown kin. Dragons traveling with other professionals don’t care if their companions wear dragon scale armor, wield dragon bone swords, or use scrolls written with dragon blood ink. However, there are two exceptions.

When someone attempts to capture a dragon or tries to take even a piece of bone from the Dragon Graveyard.

No matter how hard the professionals surround you, or what schemes they use, as long as the giant dragon is defeated, they can do whatever they want with its body. Other dragons may mock the defeated ones, but some acknowledge Dragon Slayers as equals. However, any attempt to control dragons will be seen as an insult, and dragons will kill those who try.

Older dragons who make it safely to the Dragon Graveyard, even if they had many enemies in life, will be respected after death. The Undead Sorcerer sees Bone Dragons as the best undead creatures, but very few can control them. Bone Dragons need strong materials from the Dragon Graveyard, which angers other dragons. Some bold Undead Sorcerers still try, risking their lives. Dragons will attack anyone who controls bone dragons, regardless of the dragon parts used.

Dragon Knights are an exception – dragons choose them as partners more than the knights conquering dragons.

"Please, if possible, tell me whether that giant dragon is alive or dead," the dragon roared in the cave. Tasha stood still, her hair moving slightly. "I need to know what I’m dealing with."

A discovered and occupied Dragon Graveyard is vastly different in danger compared to a base that can contain live dragons.

The calm voice of the woman soothed the dragon, which stopped its restless tail and closed its eyes, recalling memories before shaking its head.

"I can’t tell," the dragon said, "but you don’t need to worry about traps specifically for dragons."

"Douglas and you fell for a trap and still can’t get up," Tasha reminded it.

"Dragon Knights share power with dragons, making them somewhat equal Spawn," the dragon said. "Having dragon attributes during creation does not make you a dragon. Just like having water in a human body does not make you water."

The big red dragon lowered its head and pulled a large scale from its chest, which melted when it touched Tasha’s forehead. Tasha could feel a hot energy entering her skin, and she instinctively touched her forehead, finding it soft and warm.

"Now you can feel it too," the dragon paused and added, "You better act quickly, I can feel it draining my power while being trapped by that thing."

Tasha understood what it implied.

The brief confinement of the magic circle could drain so much power from the dragon, what could the long operation take away from the distant dragon? If this draining continued day and night… her blurry thoughts became clearer.

Magic circuits made of rails drained power, and the magic on the rails connected to the "steam train" carrying something unknown above. They operated like a huge circuit.

Were these energies used to propel the train? But regardless of its fierce appearance and powerful force, the train still needed to move along the rails, with huge limitations and could not deviate from the track. Was the train used for transporting soldiers? Tasha doubted that humans would place high hopes on an army wielding cold weapons. Several encounters had proved this point; in battles between machines and bombs, even more soldiers were just cannon fodder.

Regardless, Tasha planned to dismantle the battery.

"Are you going?" Victor keenly sensed her intention.

"Yes."

"Where are you going?" Victor emphasized the first word, "Do I have to personally deal with this matter because no one else can handle it under your command? Then why do you keep them?"

"To guard the house," Tasha said.

Most of the dungeon’s army was prepared for battle, ready to defend. Creatures like ghosts and flying dragons from the dungeon could not leave a certain range, human spies could not detect Dragon Power or communicate with Tasha in real time. The other covenanters all had their own issues, either holding important positions, lacking combat power, or lacking adaptability – this wasn’t a task that could be easily completed by just fighting a battle.

This is not a turn-based battlefield, and it’s not like the enemy will stop moving when Tasha acts. Reinforcements from the enemy could arrive at any time, someone had to guard the main camp, and their role there would be more significant than leaving with Tasha.

Tasha planned to set off alone, her dragon wings capable of flight, with sufficient strength, able to sense Dragon Power, maintain contact with the dungeon at all times, and even death did not mean complete destruction. Soldiers against soldiers, generals against generals, all resources had to be used to their fullest extent, and people had to use their talents to the fullest. Ultimately, this dragon-winged body was just one of the resources in Tasha’s hands.

Before setting off, Mavis could be a great help.

Elves were also considered one of the natural races, the Heart of Nature had purged Mavis’s bloodline just like the Forest Elf’s, but this was not reflected in her attack power. When the energy of nature surged through her, the enhanced strength manifested in other aspects.

"Half-elf Mavis: The energy of the Heart of Nature has purged the bloodline of the Forest Elf descendant, refining her blood to that of her mother’s generation. Natural medicinal and food ingredients will interact more harmoniously with her hands, and besides, the branches of the sacred tree will resonate more strongly with her. This is the desired transformation for every archer or mage who possesses the sacred tree artifact. What? You say it’s useless? Who’s to blame if the elf descendant you signed can’t shoot arrows or cast spells? "

The card instructions were as confusing as ever, the first time Tasha saw this new card, she found it amusing. Mavis was originally a non-combatant, supposed to stay in the rear, so if she evolved combat skills, that would be a dilemma. The instructions on the card, oblivious to the situation, were just making sarcastic remarks, never thinking that the current situation had accidentally led to the best option.

Mavis doesn’t know magic, but now the Holy Tree rolling pin’s illusion magic is even more powerful. It can deceive not only human eyes but also machines.

The fewer objects it covers, the better the disguise, and the longer it can last. The counterfeit Blood Detector made by Red Setter falls short compared to the improved illusion magic. Whether it’s Craftsman Dwarf, Marion, or Tasha who now seems to have some unknown lineage, they can all stand in front of the device without any reaction. It hides Tasha’s large dragon wings behind her and can make people overlook them. Even if someone accidentally bumps into these hard wings, they will subconsciously forget about it, just like how passersby don’t remember kicking a stone on their journey.

Unfortunately, this thing cannot completely conceal Tasha’s entire presence. Otherwise, she might have tried beheading again, swaggering into Ribe Lake, and beheading the human general on the side of the war.

"Are you really not bringing anyone?" Victor asked again before setting off.

"Aren’t you here?" Tasha said, spreading her wings.

The woman with dragon wings took off late at night on this day, with the night and clouds concealing her trail. She flew around the sky above Ribe Lake, heading towards the other end where she sensed something.

——————————

At six thirty in the morning, shop owner Wood yawned as he walked downstairs. He held sausage pancakes in his left hand and a large cup of beer in his right hand, ready to enjoy his breakfast at the front desk. At this time, no one would come to stay overnight, and the guests looking for food at dawn usually still need another half hour of sleep, which was the most relaxing time for Wood to enjoy…

Knock knock knock!

Wood closed his mouth just about to bite into the pancake, looked around the table to make sure he didn’t accidentally bump into something. Someone knocking on the door? At this hour? Could it be another door-to-door salesman? Without waiting for him to wonder if he misheard, the knocking sound echoed again, still the rhythmic three light knocks.

"Coming, coming!" he shouted, setting down his breakfast, wiping his greasy hands on his clothes, and walked around the counter to open the door.

All the murmurs of disturbance vanished when he opened the door. It wasn’t the annoying early morning salesman, but a tall woman. She smiled at Wood, her breath turning into a puff of white in the air.

Wood quickly stepped aside to let the woman in. It was a season of autumn turning into winter, though it hadn’t snowed yet. Anyone staying outside so early was bound to shiver and stamp their feet. The shopkeeper turned towards the counter, his peripheral vision catching the woman’s black hair, glossy like crow feathers, with a touch of white at her temples. Wood was startled, couldn’t help but take a closer look; only then did he realize it wasn’t white hair but frost covering her hair. Gosh! Was it this cold outside today?

"This dreadful weather!" he remarked, pushing the untouched hot beer towards the woman.

"Yes, it’s really awful weather." The woman declined the beer and continued, "Losing your travel companion at a time like this is really unlucky."

"You got separated from your travel companion?" Wood sympathetically took back the beer and took a big gulp. "Oh dear, that’s really unfortunate! Did you agree to wait here? The capital city is full of people, it’ll be even harder to find them once you go in!"

The woman sighed, shaking her head. "Not at all. I have some money with me but I’m a complete stranger to this place, no friends to guide me. I have no idea where to go."

"Are you here for some specific purpose?"

"No, just traveling."

The woman fixed her eyes on the most expensive top-grade room without blinking. Even though she might be considered a "country folk", she must have some savings – prices in the capital were ridiculously high compared to the surrounding areas, but every year a large number of tourists flocked in, supporting many shops including Wood’s. This guest clearly appeared to be a typical tourist, curiously scanning the surroundings and then settling on Wood’s left hand.

Wood subtly moved his left hand, although there wasn’t much he could move. The shop owner rolled up his sleeves, both arms exposed, the right one strong and hairy, the left one thin and smooth – the back of that hand was flat, with skinny fingers and no flesh whatsoever.

"I used to have military meals, then fought with Hybrid, and they ate my arm completely!" He gestured with the joints of his prosthetic left hand, straightening and bending it, mimicking a grip, then switched hands to pick up a cup. "Look, the pattern on it is the unit number, the Twenty-Ninth Army…"

"The capital city’s organization?" the woman asked casually.

"Exactly!"

"But the capital city’s organization ends with Twenty-Eight." She said slowly, looking casually at the steel prosthetic limb and the notebook that was only half-filled and lying aside, seeming quite relaxed and unhurried.

"I didn’t expect you to know about this." The shop owner chuckled, not at all ashamed of being exposed. "If you say Twenty-Nine, that’s just boasting without getting taxed. Claiming to be Twenty-Eight is impersonating a soldier!"

When Wood was young, he worked at a nearby factory for a while. At one point, he had a stroke of bad luck – his arm got caught in a machine. Thankfully, he had some savings and got himself a steel prosthetic limb (the pattern on the back of his hand was the identifier of the prosthetic factory). Later on, he even opened a guesthouse and lived quite well.

He told the woman about it, and she listened with interest, adding a few comments here and there. Their casual conversation turned into a long chat, maybe because she seemed friendly or her way of speaking was comforting. Wood started talking non-stop about his life and surroundings.

He talked about his previous job at the factory near the capital and the changes that had happened over the years. He mentioned his late wife and the precious Abigail she left behind. Abigail, a rebellious teenager, was still an angel in his eyes. "She’s a bit quirky, all because of my brother!" Wood complained, leading to a discussion about his brother who spent all his time in his room.

When it came to talking about his brother, the shop owner didn’t show the same warmth as when talking about his daughter. He complained about his brother’s strange habit of staying in his room all day, his poor social skills, and insisted that his brother should find a proper job instead of writing stories in his small room that no one wanted to read. Wood worried that his brother would starve without any help. "He doesn’t even have a chance to meet a girl!" the older brother said anxiously. "Who would marry a poor, struggling writer?"

"Dad!"

The stairs creaked as someone angrily stomped down the wooden steps. A girl with braided hair ran down from upstairs, glaring at Wood. "Uncle Edwin is not a struggling writer!"

"Okay, okay." Wood’s voice softened quickly. "But little cookie, no publishing house wants to…"

"Don’t call me little cookie! I’m seventeen!" Abigail blushed with embarrassment, suddenly noticing a woman watching her from the shadows and hurriedly ran back upstairs.

"Oh, she’s already a young lady but still so spirited." Wood chuckled without a hint of regret, looking quite pleased with himself.

"She’s very adorable," the guest said smoothly.

The store owner smiled brightly, looking very cheerful. He seemed quite different from his petite daughter, more like a friendly bear. When Wood saw the happy store owner, he felt a surge of kindness and wanted to help the tourist he had been chatting with. He sold her a map of the city, then drew some helpful notes on it ("These places will rip off outsiders!"), before warmly bidding her farewell.

The female guest signed as Natasha carried her package and went up to her room, leaving the lobby quiet again. The chatty store owner, now energized by the conversation, thought about his lonely daughter who could only hang out with her uncle, and his brother who was still single. Wood remembered the woman’s clean, ringless fingers and felt his mind start to race.

"She’s quite a unique woman," he thought. But suddenly, Wood couldn’t remember what color hair and eyes the woman had. Perplexed, he tried to recall, but couldn’t picture her face at all, only remembering how beautiful she seemed… Was she really that beautiful? He couldn’t be sure, like a dream fading more with every recollection.

As the new guest arrived, the store owner pushed the morning’s events out of his mind.