Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 378: War of Annihilation 8

The Roland Legion's march was unusually slow. Instead of a two-day journey, this well-equipped army took a full five days to reach the city of Holy Seal. When the renowned legion finally camped on the plains three miles from the city gates, the iconic blood-red rose flag fluttered from its ten-meter-tall flagpole, its crimson banner striking the sun.

The towering walls of Holy Seal City were already packed with onlookers. Defending soldiers, curious civilians, and even elegantly dressed nobles gathered at the battlements, anxiously gazing at the fluttering battle flag in the distance. Scouting cavalry patrolled the outskirts of the Roland Legion camp, the dust kicked up by their horses' hooves forming streaks of golden mist in the sunlight.

As the final wooden stake fortifying the camp was hammered into the ground, the entire camp was finally fully defended. Heavily armed cavalrymen began patrolling the perimeter of the camp, their armor gleaming coldly in the setting sun. Archers were already positioned atop several makeshift arrow towers, their sharp gazes scanning the surroundings for any movement.

Over a hundred meters from the main camp gate, a large, dark-red dog busily tended a massive stew pot. It deftly added wood to the bottom of the pot with its paws, occasionally adjusting the flames with its mouth. Beside it, Caesars, dressed in a striking white robe, relaxed in a maple wood lounge chair, eyes closed, a stark contrast to the tense pre-war atmosphere.

"Oh my God! Look at that fat dog! It can actually make a fire and cook!"

On the walls of Holy Seal City, a noble in a silk robe suddenly exclaimed, drawing the attention of those around him. Although three fully staffed legions were stationed in the city, these pampered nobles remained uneasy, but at least for the moment, they had not yet fallen into despair—after all, the sturdy walls and ample garrison gave them a sense of security.

"Viscount Pala, that's no ordinary demon dog, but a supremely powerful beast of terrifying power." The mail-clad lieutenant lowered his voice, his fingers unconsciously stroking the hilt of his sword. "According to intelligence sent back by our most elite shadow scouts, this monster can smell the sweat of lurkers from five hundred paces away. A few nights ago, the 'Grey Falcon' squad was forced to retreat half a mile from it—the beast suddenly bared its fangs in their direction, and the flames rolling from its throat illuminated the entire bush red."

Viscount Pala pursed his lips, his gloves tapping dully against the battlements. Wisps of smoke rose from the Roland Legion camp in the twilight, and a portly black figure crouched before the main tent, its crimson eyes flickering in the gathering darkness. The Viscount unfolded the parchment map for the third time, then rolled it up again in frustration—a monster of this caliber truly disrupted all their plans.

Meanwhile, the aroma of stew wafted from the cooking area at the edge of the camp. A fat dog, nicknamed "Stewpot Guardian" by the soldiers, scratched its ears with its hind paws while clumsily rummaging through its storage ring with its front paws. After a few salamander scales clattered to the ground, it finally pulled out the jagged, bitten piece of salamander hide and solemnly spread it out on the open space in front of the tent.

"Ouch!" With a full-throated roar, the giant ball of flesh suddenly stood up and put on the bright red vest embroidered with gold thread. Unfortunately, its round belly made the buttonholes and buttons always remain out of reach, so it had no choice but to twist its butt to rub against Caesar's feet, who was wiping his dagger, and use its wet nose to nudge his elbow.

"Bread, it's almost bedtime, why are you wearing a vest?" Caesars sighed, lowering his dagger. His slender fingers deftly fastened the buttons, which had been twisted crooked by the dog's claws. Moonlight shone on the fire salamander's vest, and the dark embroidery shone with a gorgeous sheen—it was sewn by Cecilia for it.

The fat dog immediately turned around with its head held high. Then, as if remembering something, it lifted its front paws and sneezed exaggeratedly, its tail twitching in unison. "Woo—" it whimpered in the most aggrieved tone, its scarlet eyes glancing at the dew-covered grass.

Caesars folded his arms, feeling the heat wash over him—the creature's fur was clearly surging with magma-like heat, and the accumulated water within three yards had already turned into steaming puddles. When the fat dog tried to bring its saliva-covered tongue close to his cheek, Caesars finally lost his patience and flicked his wet nose. "You have the flames of the abyss in your body, and you're still cold?"

"Bread, you seem to have gained some weight. Your leather vest is a little too small. I don't think it will fit you next year!" Caesars stood up and gently poked the fat dog's round belly with his finger, a playful smile on his face. In the firelight, the scarlet leather vest was indeed tightly wrapped around the fat dog, and the straps left several obvious folds in his flesh.

The fat dog called "Bread" slowly lowered its head, surveying its bulging belly with its blood-red eyes, a look of helplessness evident. Suddenly, its stubby tail gently wagged, accompanied by a subtle crackling sound. Its plump body shrank visibly like a deflated balloon. Its once tight leather vest instantly became snug enough to fit a paw.

"Ha!" Caesars raised his eyebrows in surprise, then slapped his forehead. "I forgot you had this ability."

The fat dog grunted twice in satisfaction, rested its chin on its front paws, a cunning glint flashed in its squinting eyes, and a gurgling sound came from its throat, as if mocking its owner's forgetfulness.

As the night deepened, the camp gradually quieted down. Caesars breathed evenly in the canvas tent, which completely blocked out the light and shadows.

Outside the tent, a fat dog curled up on a mat made of salamander hide, its soft belly rising and falling with each breath. Occasionally, its hind legs would twitch slightly, perhaps dreaming of chasing something delicious. The night breeze ruffled its fluffy fur, lifting strands of dark red hair that shimmered in the moonlight.

A rich, alluring aroma wafted from afar, filling the still night. Though the fat dog's consciousness remained lost in sleep, its sensitive nose was the first to awaken. Its moist nose twitched slightly, greedily capturing the alluring aroma wafting through the air. Slowly, its small, crimson eyes bleary-eyed, flickering with hunger in the moonlight. Its chubby body shifted awkwardly, its four short legs trembling as it stood upright. Its body trembled, shedding a few strands of its dark red fur.

The fat dog lowered its head and sniffed its round belly, suddenly realizing it was still wearing its sleeping vest and shorts. It clumsily kicked off the obstructing clothing with its hind legs, then turned its head to glance at the silent tent not far away. After confirming it hadn't disturbed Caesars, it tiptoed toward the scent. Its round shadow swayed comically on the ground in the moonlight.

To the east lay the dimly lit Holy Seal City. Fatty knew the alluring aroma was likely a trap. But the allure of delicious food was irresistible. His short tail twitched unconsciously, and he took cheerful, swaying steps, swaying back and forth, toward the source of the aroma. Every few steps, he stopped to sniff, fearing he would lose the scent that had so much to him.

The fat dog drew closer to the city gate, its greedy eyes fixed on the delicacies hanging from the wall—a dozen large birds roasted to a golden, crispy finish, their grease dripping from their charred skin. The alluring aroma filled the air, stimulating the fat dog's sense of smell and causing him to quicken his pace.

Just as the fat dog, its fat head held high and its stride proudly, reached directly beneath the roasted bird, there was a sudden, cracking sound, and the ground beneath its feet suddenly collapsed. Before the fat dog could react, its entire body fell heavily into the carefully prepared trap of the Saint Laurent people—a giant cage made of jet-black magic steel. This trap was clearly carefully laid out; judging by the traces of dirt around it, it had been dug long before the Roland Legion arrived.

A burst of cheers suddenly erupted from the city wall. The soldiers excitedly leaned out, pointed at the trapped fat dog, and started talking in unison: "We can have an extra meal tonight!"

“Stewed dog meat is the best!”

“I want the hind leg!”

The Saint Laurents have already started thinking about how to enjoy this unexpected meal.

However, the fat dog trapped in the cage remained surprisingly calm, not even making a single move to struggle. The moment the magic steel cage completely closed, the complex, advanced magic patterns on the fat dog's body suddenly glowed with a dazzling red light. Immediately afterwards, a pale, eerie flame erupted from its body, instantly enveloping it.

The cheering crowd on the city wall suddenly fell silent, horrified to discover something had changed. The magic steel cage, supposedly capable of trapping supreme beasts, began to warp and deform, melting into boiling hot iron in an instant. The surrounding earth softened under the intense heat, transforming into bubbling, scorching lava. Fat Dog stood in the center of the lava, encircled by pale flames, like a demon from hell.

“Shoot!”

The commander's hoarse roar echoed off the city walls. The enormous, portly dog ​​was now clinging to the base of the wall, rendering the powerful magic cannons and the powerful crossbows with incredible range useless. The soldiers had no choice but to draw their longbows to the fullest, attempting to stop the terrifying monster with a barrage of arrows.

"Swish swish——"

Hundreds of specially crafted magic steel arrows pierced the air, pouring down like a torrential rain. However, as soon as these arrows, sharp enough to pierce heavy armor, came into contact with the pale flames surrounding the giant dog, they hissed and instantly melted into red-hot molten iron, dripping onto the stone bricks at the base of the city wall, burning black pits one after another.

The fat dog raised its massive head, its scarlet eyes blazing with fury. Its sturdy limbs exerted force, and its massive body leaped from the pit with the agility of a civet cat. Even more terrifying, its seemingly short, stubby claws, entwined with a strange, pale flame, could penetrate the solid city wall with ease, like cutting tofu. Thus, the behemoth scaled the nearly vertical wall with incredible speed.

“Ouch!”

When the fat dog finally reached the top of the city wall, it let out a deafening roar. The sound pierced the defenders' eardrums, and many of them fell to their knees, covering their ears in agony. Even more terrifying, with this roar, a fifty-meter-long dragon of blazing fire erupted from its mouth. The blazing flames instantly engulfed most of the city wall, illuminating the sky in a blood-red hue.

Caesars jolted awake from his sleep, a distant roar still echoing in his ears. Frowning, he opened the tent, a cold wind mingled with the smell of burning air hitting him. In the distance, flames shot up from the direction of Holy Seal City, illuminating the night sky like day. Thick smoke billowed upward, and he could faintly hear chaotic shouting.

He subconsciously turned his head to look at the salamander leather beside the tent - the fat dog that should have been curled up on it and sleeping soundly was nowhere to be seen.

"Why did this damn dog run to Holy Seal City?"

Caesars muttered softly, his tone hinting at helplessness. He stared at the distant fire for a few seconds, then shrugged and retreated back into the tent. He didn't need to worry about the fat dog. Not only was he tough, but he was also incredibly cunning and full of evil. Who knew who would be in trouble?

At dawn, Caesars was awakened by a deafening snoring. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and impatiently lifted the tent flap to peek outside. The fat dog was sprawled on the salamander hide, its belly rising and falling with its snoring, a suspiciously greasy sheen lingering at the corners of its mouth. In the nearby magic steel bowl lay the remains of its "trophy" from the previous night—half of a roasted, fragrant goose neck.

Caesars rolled his eyes and lay back down. Sure enough, this guy never lets himself suffer any loss. He went out at night and brought back all the midnight snacks.

Caesars donned his magic robes and walked out of the tent. He deftly folded up the armored leather tent, the heavy leather making a dull rustling sound in his hands. He pulled out his magical telescope, the lens gleaming a faint blue in the morning light. He squinted toward the Holy Seal City, a startling charred mark on the city wall standing out. The magic cannons and crossbows once stationed there were now gone, leaving only a few isolated pedestals.

He slowly walked to the side and took out a cast iron kettle and a wooden box for tea from his interspatial ring. After expertly setting up the simple stove, he carefully selected a few pieces of high-quality charcoal. He had always disdained the Legion's food. The kind that simply threw all the ingredients into a large pot and cooked them into a paste was a blasphemy.

The charcoal fire gradually glowed an orange-red, and Caesars slowly set the kettle on top. While the water was boiling, he took out a piece of cold, hard, buttery bread and carefully placed it beside the charcoal fire to toast. The bread gradually turned a golden hue, and its sweet aroma filled the morning air. He then drew a sharp short knife from the leather sheath at his waist and sliced ​​the semi-dried bacon into thin slices—thus, sandwiching it between the warm bread, the fat would perfectly penetrate the texture of the bread.

The fat dog beside him still lay motionless on the hide. Caesars glanced at it. This guy must not be hungry, otherwise he would have opened his eyes as early as the first piece of pickled meat was cut.