Elden: Ring of Calamity

Chapter 128 Dragon Feast
"Hometown, what kind of place is that?"

"Hometown"

"The ocean there is vaster than Lake Varan, and the huge island is as vast as Ningmgfu. Tens of thousands of dragons soar above the sky. Humans, hybrids, and orcs are as harmonious and harmonious as here. It has been bred in that land for generations."

"Can you tell me about the city in the sky that you always talk about?"

The cloudy eyes of the aged flying dragon warrior were slightly stagnant, and some long-lost brilliance bloomed in the pupils that were slightly slack due to overdrawn power, and even the tone of voice couldn't help raising a little bit.

"The city in the sky—Fam Yazra, is the supreme miracle created by countless ancestors with all their painstaking efforts. The eternal lighthouse that has guided all intelligent races for thousands of years is also the final resting place for the souls of all dragon races."

The young white dragon lowered its head, just flapping the air silently with its sore wings, without speaking for a long time.

Through the scales on her back, she could feel the old man's body temperature getting colder and colder, and the strong smell of blood lingered in the nearby air, making her heart tense—just a quarter of an hour ago, the old man helped her block it. A total of seven giant arrows from the golem were shot, and this kind of injury fell on an old and weak mid-level dragon, almost directly declaring his death.

"Father, I will take you back to Fam Yazra across the sea of ​​storms right now, they must have a way to save you, right?" After a while, she tentatively asked.

"Hehe——" the flying dragon warrior managed to squeeze out a smile, but he coughed up a mouthful of blackened blood from his throat, "Silly boy, if you don't go through the portal, only those noble ancient dragons and high-ranking flying dragons will come to you after they grow up." With the strength to cross the Sea of ​​Storms, you are so young and carry me as a burden, I am afraid we will become captives of those pursuers if we can't even reach the coast of Moen, right?"

He raised his old head and opened his eyes wide against the strong wind blowing on his face, as if he wanted to take in the whole lofty and clear sky. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Stop, kid."

"In Storm Keep, we retreated, and in Stonewell, we retreated again, followed by Hyde Fortress, Sacrifice Bridge, and Moen. In the days after I picked you up, all I can do is take you Fleeing day and night without a fixed place, ahem—"

After a cough that seemed to tear his lungs apart, the old man finally calmed down amid his rapid panting, and said in a hoarse voice: "Stop, I don't want to retreat anymore."

"Father, you—" Bai Long hesitated and slowed down the speed of flapping his wings, but still tried to argue something.

"But you are still young, no matter what you encounter in the days to come, never give up hope." The old man enjoined slowly but firmly, and his gloomy eyes gradually brightened.

"One day, when the brilliance of the Eternal Beacon shines again, it will guide all the lost people back to their hometown. Farewell, my child."

The last few words in the old man's mouth were so ethereal, as if they were about to melt into the wind, he mustered his last strength and suddenly pushed the white dragon's shoulder, turned over and fell towards the green earth!

Bailong let out a mournful neigh, and swooped down without hesitation, trying to lift his adoptive father up before he landed, but was stopped by the rain of arrows from the golem head-on!

Blood, wounds, darkness, fleeing. She can't remember what happened to her later, but in short, she fell into the hands of a certain army hunting down the remnants of the Storm Dynasty—maybe it was the Golden Dynasty team, maybe it was from Kaidan or something else Where are the mercenaries, but those are not important anymore.

Three years later, five years, or longer?

She didn't know that the heavy chains made by Xuansteel and the huge cage that changed hands after transactions...they locked her entire childhood in an eternal night where she couldn't see her fingers.

Someone used those cold pliers and steel knives to peel off her scales to make armor, someone used a thick needle to draw her blood, and excitedly declared that it was the perfect material for making potions. , She really doesn't remember anything, and she doesn't want to remember.

Freya—that was the name her father gave her, and it was also the last treasure she treasured deep in her heart.

"Well, is the dragon's condition really all right?" asked a warlock wearing a mask.

"Three kinds of sealing magic, seven kinds of weakening potions and anesthetics, believe me, you would have fainted like a dead snake." The companion beside him replied casually while applying disinfectant on his gloves, "Look over there, our jazz just used two sedatives, didn't he become like this?"

Looking in the direction of his line of sight, Maxwell was being tied up on an operating table at a 45-degree angle by restraint belts. He still had big eyes like copper bells wide open, but his muscles had completely relaxed, evenly The long breath seems to be in a deep sleep.

"But this is a high-ranking flying dragon. In this half-dead state, what if the dragon heart taken out in a while is not active enough, or it dies just halfway through the operation. Isn't it a waste of such good experimental materials?"

"Tsk, that's true. This appearance is probably caused by long-term captivity and malnutrition. It is not so obvious at ordinary times. It will not work as soon as the preoperative preparations are completed-speaking of which, its previous owners were really a bunch of people. Those bastards who know the goods only know how to do some rough work of drawing blood and peeling scales, what a precious material a high-ranking flying dragon with such a pure bloodline is, how could they let them ruin it like this!"

"Then don't let it die!" A cold voice suddenly came from the door, "The magic spells I taught you are for this kind of time. If the dragon dies before the operation is successfully completed, you will give it all. Let's be buried with you!"

The two warlocks who were preparing the surgical tools suddenly looked terrified, and bowed deeply to the visitor: "Understood, Priest Cassia!"

After they finished speaking, they cut their wrists with scalpels without thinking. The gushing blood didn't flow to the ground, but circled and transformed into two mysterious and strange magical symbols, which floated forward and overlapped and were branded on Fleur. Ya's scales.

The bloody brand flickered on and off, as if she was breathing powerfully. Every time it flickered on, Freya's body would tremble slightly. After flickering more than ten times, her breathing finally became smooth and powerful.

At the same time, the blood-red brand gradually lost its luster, leaving only a piece of dried blood on the surface of the scales.

"My lord priest, the operation is ready, we" a warlock asked cautiously.

"Then start right away, this time is special, we don't have much time." The sorceress in black robe also put on gloves.

She stared at Freya, who was firmly locked by the enchanted chain, and there was a touch of enthusiasm in her eyes, and she seemed to mutter to herself: "May the great mother be here to witness that your children are about to give you another one." The miracle of life!"

　ps.9/60
　　
　
(End of this chapter)