I’m Really Not Trying to Be Chased by the Heroine as the Villainous Playboy! – Chapter 823

Chapter 36: Thunderous Dragon Breaker

Blood stained the fortress red.

Thousands of wyverns charged forward, each descent claiming soldiers’ lives as they dropped severed limbs from the skies.

No one flinched.

The ballistae would not cease until destroyed; when arrows ran out, they drew short swords and fought hand-to-hand. The Lionheart knights were brave enough, and even with claws piercing their bodies, they roared and etched their last marks upon their foes with their blades.

However, under the overwhelming assault of the wyverns, the once-impregnable defense began to falter after standing firm for days.

No one retreated; it’s just that blood eventually runs dry.

Above the mountains, a frost-covered dragon coldly smirked, as if gazing down upon futile ants: “See? They are already on the brink of collapse, ready to break at a touch.”

“Claudie, your worries are completely unfounded.”

The middle-aged man clad in a dragon-patterned black robe was no larger than a dragon’s forelimb, especially appearing humble and small when crouching.

“Lord Frostclaw, those soldiers are nothing to worry about, but we must not underestimate the first prince. That guy far exceeds the usual Tier 5; even you may not be able to…”

“You think I can’t handle him?”

The dragon’s pupils widened, and the temperature plummeted.

Claudie crouched lower, sweat trickling down his back: “My lord, that’s not what I meant.”

“Humph…”

With a cold snort, Frostclaw quickly lost interest in him.

“The northern battle is imminent; we’ve wasted enough time here. Claudie, there’s no need for a cat to be cautious of a mouse. The reason I’ve waited until now is to gather them all together and catch them in one sweep.”

“And don’t get it twisted.”

With a flick of his tail, Frostclaw grinned, his deep voice dripping with disdain: “We? You are not worthy.”

“Even with the gift of dragon’s blood, your [Evil Dragon Society] is merely our servants, nothing more.”

“…Yes.” Claudie was not angry; instead, he revealed a fervent expression, as if it were an immense honor.

Flames shot up into the sky, forcibly repelling the advancing dragon army.

Upon seeing this, Frostclaw could hardly wait to rise.

“Time to extinguish this ridiculous flame.”

————————

Natsu’s intervention briefly turned the tide of battle.

The southern fortress housed a total of one hundred thousand defenders, half of whom had already perished in the relentless fighting.

However, the fortress could stand strong thanks to these princes stationed there.

Tier 5, one against ten thousand.

Just one person was enough to sway the outcome of the battle, and here, the first prince’s power was well beyond the ordinary Tier 5.

Since the onset of the conflict, the dragons slain by that searing fire fist had already surpassed a number you could count on both hands.

Each time the dragon horde attacked, so long as Natsu stood at the forefront, he could intercept the surging onslaught beneath blinding flames.

With a single punch, a wyvern several meters tall would plummet to the ground, set ablaze and looking like a rag doll. The ferocious dragons, startled like frightened birds, retreated from the walls, momentarily too scared to approach.

Taking this opportunity, the soldiers regrouped under the city gates, assembling a second line of defense, preparing to reclaim the gates as they had done numerous times before.

But this time, luck was not on their side.

A frosty meteor raced by, accompanied by a fiery magic barrier that smashed through the city walls as if they were merely made of paper.

Natsu’s expression darkened as he raised his hand for a punch.

The icy blue frost mist collided with the crimson heavy punch mid-air, spreading bone-chilling cold and searing heat, like a clash of extreme winters and summers that neither the Lionheart knights nor the offspring of dragons could bear. They quickly fell back to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

Amidst the scalding steam mixed with blood, Frostclaw’s figure was the first to emerge, soaring into the sky.

“To take a hit from me, not too shabby for ants.”

On the other side of the mist, Natsu’s flames had dimmed significantly, his powerful right arm now shadowed by a layer of deep chill.

Though he still stood tall, he spat out copious amounts of blood.

The outcome was clear.

“Dammit, if the prince were in peak condition, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone like him?!”

The knights shouted curses, unable to tolerate this humiliation.

Since the outbreak of war, Natsu had helped civilians retreat back to the southern fortress, always at the forefront, almost sleepless nights, holding the entire fortress’s operation together and reinforcing the defense lines. He had endured countless bloody battles, bearing numerous old wounds, yet lacking medicine and even time to tend to them, he just ended up with new ones.

For a long time, the debate on who was the strongest under the Lionheart King between the first prince and the [Iron Blood] Marquis had been a hot topic.

The knights believed that if Natsu were at his peak, even pure-blood dragons wouldn’t necessarily defeat him.

However, reality doesn’t accommodate ‘ifs’.

“You humans are always so stubborn, unwilling to accept reality even at death’s door.”

“A mouse armed to the teeth is just cat bait; no matter how much you struggle, you remain ants beneath my feet!”

Frostclaw laughed maniacally. Accompanying his laughter were countless wyverns echoing the same ridicule, the victors humiliating the vanquished.

But the bloodied prince simply raised the corners of his mouth, revealing a hint of defiance.

“It’s only a battle. It’s too early to jump to conclusions.”

Recalling a petite figure and a dark-haired knight known only by name, Natsu’s smile softened, and determination surged in his eyes: “The ember of the kingdom will not extinguish because of this; even if we fall here, those who come after us will surely carry our will forward.”

“Feel free to laugh, celebrate your temporary victory. But one day, the knights of the kingdom will avenge us, and when that time comes, you won’t even have the chance to cry.”

Slowly, the smile faded from Frostclaw’s face.

The murky blue slit eyes climbed a layer of menace. The cold wind swirled with his breath, as if tumbling from spring straight into bone-chilling winter.

“Ants always love to indulge in delusion.”

“Hmph, I’ll kindly inform you. Your messenger has suffered heavy losses; he won’t survive to deliver the message to the south.”

“I know you have a sister, Charlotte Reinhardt.”

“But even if she comes, what can she do?!”

Natsu spat out blood, glaring back: “She’ll do better than me, thwarting your ambitions!”

“Daydreamer!”

Alongside the mad laughter came the roar of a dragon.

The cold tide gathered, unleashing the strongest strike formed from the dragon’s bloodline, [Dragon Breath].

The knights proudly raised their swords, transforming into blazing fireflies, ready to give their all for the final charge.

Natsu resolutely pressed forward, burning his last ounce of strength, raising his unfrozen left fist, igniting the Lionheart bloodline, launching a dazzling, lava-like strike.

Knowing he was destined to die, he felt no shame over the royal name or the duty of an extraordinary being, fighting until the end.

But if he had to say something, it was a bit of a regret that he couldn’t witness his sister’s happiness—

This thought inexplicably flashed through Natsu’s mind.

Until the thunder fell.

The surging, sharp howl resembled a dragon’s roar, but it was definitely not from dragon kin.

Because, dragon scales shattered, Frostclaw howled.

Blood as cold as ice splattered wildly, and the once-mighty Frost Dragon plummeted.

In the sky of the setting sun, the Golden-Winged Griffin let out a long howl, while the dark-haired knight coldly swung his sword, showering a cascade of dragon’s blood.