The Stalemate of the Battlefield
In contrast to the astounding numbers of human soldiers, dragons, those pinnacle beings of magical prowess, were exceedingly rare. Knowledge of dragons was limited to a select few human scholars dedicated to studying these majestic creatures. For the majority of people, the type of dragon was discerned only by the color of its scales, as dragons looked almost identical to their untrained eyes.
Barring the color of their scales – whilst ignoring the pitiable White Dragons who lacked horns and the grotesque Black Dragons that resembled skeletal remains – the overall appearance of dragons was quite similar. Perhaps due to the influence exerted by the leaders of their respective species, the Red and Gold Dragons shared more minute details in common, such as the shape of their horns, wings, and claws.
Under Caesar's deliberate disguise, the human legion mistook the Red Dragon before them for a Gold one. The shrill laughter that rang out dyed Zephyr's face an iron hue. Though he could not fathom why the dragon before him bore such resemblance to a Gold Dragon, it was undeniable that this unknown dragon was a malevolent one.
"In the name of the Holy Light, I shall banish this evil!" roared the high-ranking paladin, enshrouded in a dense light so powerful he resembled a divine arbiter descended from heaven. Yet within the luminous radiance lingered a faint shadow of darkness. His magical sword erupted in chilling sword energy, slashing at Caesar in relentless waves. The strength of a rank-eight paladin was fearsome, and even as Caesar swatted away the blade with his claw, he inadvertently suffered lacerations that leaked golden ichor.
But the dragon's colossal form meant these wounds were but a trifling distraction. While the holy light was doubly fatal to the undead, it was less effective against a dragon's tough scales, much to Zephyr's frustration.
"This vermin is stubborn," Caesar remarked, swatting away the magical sword once more. He felt a growing seriousness knowing that this paladin's experience in battling dragons seemed far too extensive, as if trying to whittle down his strength and swiftly tip the scales of combat.
The gap between ranks five and eight was sobering, even for dragons capable of punching above their weight class. A rank-five human warrior would likely wet himself in fear facing off against an eight-rank paladin and wouldn't last many rounds. Most five-rank dragons, at their best, might overcome a six-rank creature, but would instantly flee from a seven-rank entity. The disparity between mid-tier and high-tier was immense.
Only a more powerful species of dragon, like the Red or Gold, could engage in intense combat at this stage against a high-ranking entity. But even their victory was uncertain. Against an eight-rank? One could only pray for the Dragon God's mercy – such adversaries were meant for the high-ranking dragons alone.
With a thunderous boom, Caesar converged his wings, and his claws surged with a golden elemental power. A heavy, formidable attack filled with astonishing impact sent the paladin hurtling through the air. As the raw power of the Eternal Blazesun was rapidly consumed within him, the augmentative effects of the sun's rays increased his ability to fight beyond his rank.
Seizing the opportunity, Caesar surveyed the fierce battlefield. Sylvana and the ferocious White Tiger ramped through the enemy ranks with unstoppable force, slashing through the humans' defenses. Once the heavily armored knights were decimated by the high-ranked spells, their formation crumbled, leaving the artillery and gunners defenseless against the brutish Trolls who, despite the explosive gunfire, were relentless in their assault.
The casters within the army quickly mounted a counteroffensive with an arsenal of low-tier spells: Fireball, Chain Lightning, Wind Blade, Disintegration... An array of elemental magic rained down upon the horde, resulting in a significant loss of life.
As mid-tier spellcasters bolstered the army's commanders and lieutenants with various enhancements, the tide briefly turned against Sylvana and the White Tiger, halting their ruthless onslaught.
The standoff seemed to reach a tense stalemate...
"These pesky little insects," Caesar grumbled as he eyed the spellcasters. His dragon eyes gleamed with violence, and an ominous killing intent brewed within him. The casters were pivotal; without them, the human army would have been crushed instantly.
Now, sustained by their array of enchantments, what seemed to be an impending defeat for the humans slowly evolved into a fighting chance, perhaps even mounting a countering threat.
With a roar amplified as the sun climbed higher, a golden radiance engulfed Caesar. Opening his maw, the crimson flames within transmuted into a golden-red hue and spewed forth in a searing wave, melting everything within its path in a cataclysmic blaze.
Zephyr's reflexes were quick as he noticed Caesar's movements and decisively abandoned his magical mount to escape the fearsome dragon's breath. What remained was a vast crater exuding the stench of charred ruin, and within its radius, all life, be it monster or human, was utterly extinguished.
"What breed of dragon wields such destructive breath?" Zephyr pondered, staggered by the scene of devastation. He had never witnessed dragon's breath of such magnitude; not even the Gold Dragon's fiery breath could compare. If struck head-on, even he, a high-ranking paladin, might perish instantly. In some ways, the sheer power of the dragon's breath was on par with high-tier magic, even if not as vast in scope.
In an instant, Zephyr's muscles tensed. This dragon might have seemed weaker than the young Red Dragon he had faced before, but the deadly breath was another matter entirely. Just a touch would ensure severe injury, if not death.