Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 195 The Dream Without a Soul
They are coming.

Their arrival was accompanied by the dawn light that tore through the night.

Night in the dreamlike city of Windhelm shifted abruptly, and the blazing daylight descended. Even though the bloodline of Ramaya was unafraid of the sunlight, this land was no longer their domain. And as this dazzling white blanketed the entire city, countless warriors crossed the torn walls and charged into the battlefield.

The armor gleamed, the flags flew high.

Their roars are the sound that overturns everything.

"Drive out the demons!"

"Kill the vampire!"

"Slay the Mother of Bloodshed!"

The city, corrupted and dominated by Ramaya, is thus awakened, and this is the final scene of this dream. A thousand years ago, the real Ramaya was struck down and buried in this sudden attack. And now, it is only natural for her to set out to overcome it!
‘Boom——’

Within the grand banquet hall, intense crimson light burst forth, surging towards the heavens. A massive swarm of bats hovered among them, emitting deafening, high-frequency shrieks.

'Praise be to the source of immortal blood, praise be to the mother of crimson light!'

The sound spread throughout the city in an instant.

The sound echoed in every corner of Windhelm.

The warriors of the expeditionary force had barely established a foothold in Windhelm when the continuous roar erupted in the ears of every single one of them!
'Praise be to the source of immortal blood, praise be to the mother of crimson light!'

They saw it.

They saw them praising.

They were men standing on the street, bewildered and lost.

They are timid and fearful women hiding in their rooms.

They are warriors striving to protect their families, and elderly people gripping their weapons or canes.

They are babbling infants, innocent children, or teenagers just beginning to understand human affairs, or already grown-up boys and girls.

They are wind helmets, they are hundreds of thousands of wind helmets.

They chanted in unison, their skin turning pale, blood flowing from their eyes, their eyes, which were of different colors, all turning into a bloodthirsty and fiery scarlet.

They stared at them, motionless. More blood gushed from their eyes, ears, mouth, and nose; they—

'Chop—' A ​​warrior of the punitive expedition cut down a man in front of him, and a Nord roar came from his throat.

Kill them all! Leave no one alive!

Only then did he take action.

His head then fell off.

From the two severed carcasses burst forth crimson things—limbs, tendrils, and sharp, bony blades. And those blades, when they slay the warrior, were covered in crimson eyes.

This is evidence.

It is also a signal.

More warriors roared and swung their weapons at the bloodshot-eyed inhabitants of Windhelm City they could see. Several men or women who were slashed immediately extended tough, deep red tentacle-like limbs, perhaps causing some damage, before being instantly sliced ​​off by spells or weapons.

"Kill!" More swords slashed down.

More monsters were exposed and then slaughtered.

However, those exposed monsters only accounted for one percent, or even several percent, of the population. The majority of them only let out a scream as if waking from a dream when they were struck by swords and axes, and then begged for mercy.

"Spare me! I didn't do anything!"

"Dad! Mom!"

"Let my child go! He's still young, he doesn't understand anything!"

They struggled like ordinary people. They screamed like ordinary people. Husbands protected their wives, parents protected their children, young men and women raised their arms in futile defense, and elderly people with white hair stood in front of their families, kneeling on the ground and kowtowing repeatedly, begging for mercy.

It looked so real. But a glint of bloodlust still lingered in their eyes.

Occasionally, one or two warriors would feel a pang of pity, their movements halting for a fleeting moment. The Windhelm inhabitants they had almost spared would then suddenly explode, their pale, sharp claws extending and lunging at any body whose eyes were not shrouded in blood. Whether they succeeded or failed, the outcome was the same.

kill.

More killing.

The carnage raged on, crimson blood flowing through the streets and alleys. Restoration magic, harmless to humans but effective only against vampires, had little effect on the bloodline of Ramaya, meaning there was only one way to purify them.

That is killing.

That means killing them all.

Several sharp streaks of magical light flashed across the sky as the most powerful warriors and wizards stormed into the banquet hall where Ramaya was, triggering a series of explosions—they roared, they howled, they were filled with rage and utter confidence. Because they possessed a sufficient number of high-caliber fighters, they were absolutely certain of capturing their long-planned target.

They are destined to win this battle.

This is how the show was destined to work.

Wu Chen stood at the edge of the Shattered Shield Mansion, watching the carnage unfold before him—blood, screams, rage, roars, revenge. The entire Windhelm City came into view. And this scene, which initially felt somewhat familiar, silently merged with the city he had encountered not long ago.

Dreams and reality have begun to overlap. Wu Chen's far superior intuition allows him to see shadowy, illusory figures running through the streets—these are the real Windhelm, the real inhabitants, and now, the Windhelm in reality is in the same situation as the Windhelm in this dream. And if Wu Chen's guess is correct, the war outside should also be driven by the power of Morag Bal.

Breathe.

Time passes, one second.

A dozen or so powerful warriors from the Expeditionary Force appeared on the street in the area where Wu Chen was located. They stared at him, their eyes filled with intense hatred for vampires—there was no room for communication, nor was there any need for it; at this point, anyone who wasn't a member of the Expeditionary Force was destined to be killed. And then they swarmed forward.

The sword is in hand.

Illusions couldn't fool them, and the ethereal transformation couldn't last long. The next moment, over a dozen piercing sword strikes slammed into Wu Chen's body!
It is not a physical body.

Rather, it is a protective barrier on the outside of the body.

Wu Chen had expected to sigh, but his body had already rebelled. The vampire's shell silently crumbled as dream and reality merged. However, this did not stop him from raising his hand and unleashing a storm.

High-level magic, Plasma Explosion.

The warriors of the punitive expedition were all felled—yet more were drawn towards his location. A sonic boom suddenly erupted, and before it could even travel, the sharp slash it represented had already torn apart the magical protective barrier beside Wu Chen!
High-ranking warrior.

With a single strike, it shattered the Void Shield, the Star Cloak, the Magic Shield, the Steel Armor, and even the Binding Armor woven by Hera herself—all high-ranking warriors could be cut through with a single blow.

The warrior had a face he couldn't recognize, yet it carried a familiar aura. A tall, muscular physique, graying hair and beard, and a helmet with a tattered horn on one side. For a fleeting moment, Wu Chen felt as if he had seen this figure in a cinematic short film from The Elder Scrolls!

The Soulless One, the protagonist of the Second Age story. It's only natural that its form would appear in Ramaya's dream of destruction!

'boom--! ! ’

The body collapses.

This was the first time Wu Chen had suffered such a profound trauma since returning to Earth. A massive surge of rage welled up from the depths of his being, only to be forcibly suppressed. He knew he still had trump cards up his sleeve, but he also knew that he shouldn't immediately use the ability called the Heavenly Shield Armor!

Not here, not now!
The shadow of death swept in, and the dream warrior, who might have resembled a soulless being, swung his battle axe down for the second time!
'Feim'—Phantom Spirit Transformation, Unfold.

The body once again returned to the protection of nothingness.

Even in that pure void, the powerful Nord warrior still kept his eyes fixed on his location!

Can't avoid it.

This level of etherealization is insufficient to contend with such a powerful warrior.

The necromancer's amulet he carried trembled slightly, beckoning him to unleash its power. But just then—

A soft cry.

"Ah—" The sound came from Leme, and this soft cry attracted the attention of the Soulless Phantom. Even if it was only for a brief moment, it was enough for Wu Chen to escape successfully!

(End of this chapter)