I'm not a goblin Frankenstein's monster.

Chapter 93 Cataclysmic Inferno

That flame—it had never seen it before, yet it made it tremble and fear from the depths of its soul! Pure and holy, yet carrying a domineering sense of judgment and purification, it was precisely the absolute nemesis of this undead creature!

The silver flames scorched its wings, the pain far exceeding that of physical damage, as if directly searing the filthy source that sustained its existence.

It was afraid, truly afraid. Its ambition to become king crumbled before the instinct for survival. Dragging its tattered wings, still burning with silver sparks, it fled the forest in panic.

It dared not go back, afraid of that terrifying human, afraid that the eerie silver flames were still waiting to purify it.

Thus, the rage and fear, with nowhere to go, transformed into an overwhelming hatred for the human settlement near the forest before him.

It's all your fault! You ants, my fellow ants, hurt me! You destroyed my kingdom!

Watching the fleeing "ants" below, the soul fire in Stark's eyes burned even more frantically. It suddenly swooped down, sweeping its massive right claw and heavy tailbone fiercely across several nearby houses.

"Boom! Crash—!"

The wooden and stone structure was easily overturned and smashed like a child's building blocks, with smoke and dust mixed with the cries of the residents rising into the sky.

The destruction brought a twisted pleasure, but it was quickly interrupted by a persistent, corrosive pain emanating from the wound. That damned silver ember was still hindering the wound from healing, and even seemed to be rotting deeper!

"Clang—clang—clang—!"

The clock tower in the town center rang its alarm bell at this inopportune moment; the loud sound was particularly jarring amidst the chaos, as if challenging its authority.

Shut up! It's so noisy!

Stark abruptly turned his head toward the clock tower and opened his gaping maw, which was made of bones.

The next second, a ghostly wave of black flames, spreading in a thirty-foot cone shape, surged forth from its mouth!

It wasn't scorching heat, but extreme cold and deathly silence. The black catastrophic fire instantly engulfed the stone clock tower.

There was no explosion, no melting.

In the instant it was engulfed by the black flames, the clock tower seemed to lose all color and vitality. The stone quickly turned gray and brittle, and then, with a tooth-grinding "crunch," it collapsed and turned into dust! Along with the sound of the bell, it was completely extinguished and annihilated.

Even though they were quite far away, Tagan and the others felt as if their life force had been brushed against the edge by the black fire, causing them to feel weak and palpitations for a moment.

"Damn it—" The dwarf's face turned pale.

Mad Dragon Stark looked around. The town was in ruins, with fires raging everywhere and thick smoke billowing out. Most of the buildings had been damaged to varying degrees.

Like a spoiled child who has vented his anger, it let out a hiss that was a mixture of pain and satisfaction.

The worsening of its physical injuries became increasingly apparent, and the lingering, bone-deep silver flames reminded it that it must immediately find a place to suppress and eliminate them.

Okay, that's enough for today.

It gave one last venomous glance at the ruins and ants at its feet, then suddenly flapped its tattered wings. Despite its disheveled appearance, it still carried a suffocating pressure as it flew away from the forest.

Once it has recovered from its wounds and extinguished these pesky silver flames, it will surely return! It will utterly destroy this human stronghold, making them suffer pain and fear! This forest kingdom has long been its private property, and it will not allow anyone else to touch it.

It's a pity about those "people" it transformed deep in the forest.

Those monsters corrupted and mutated by it are, in a sense, its puppets. Now that its master has been forced to flee, these crazed puppets, deprived of clear commands, should leave a sufficiently "profound" and painful "memorial" for any humans who subsequently enter the forest, right?

Destroy! Slaughter! My mad offspring!

The thought of the monsters it corrupted creating bloodshed and chaos in the forest brought a twisted sense of "comfort" to its chaotic and violent mind.

From this perspective, "Mad Dragon" Stark truly deserves the name. He is more tyrannical, more irrational, and more eager to spread death and decay than ordinary chromatic dragons.

Or rather, it exists in itself, like a mobile, self-aware source of a terrifying plague.

As the terrifying skeleton burning with black karmic flames disappeared into the distant horizon, the dreadful pressure that had enveloped the town gradually dissipated.

But what remains is the lingering smoke and dust, the constant cries and screams, the ruins and rubble everywhere, and the boundless fear of that undead behemoth deeply ingrained in the hearts of every survivor.

Ezio kicked aside a pebble and muttered, "Honestly, I'm starting to miss the peaceful days of the old town—"

"Mad Dragon" Stark came quickly and left quickly.

But its brief but violent rampage was like a red-hot branding iron, fiercely burning the body of the town of Elwynn, leaving shocking scars.

Roughly estimated, about one-third of the town was damaged to varying degrees.

The clock tower, once a landmark of the town and used to tell time and warn, is now nothing but a pile of pale, smoking dust and twisted metal debris.

Houses along several streets were violently overturned or collapsed, with broken beams, rubble, and torn furniture scattered everywhere, mixed with smoke and a faint smell of blood.

Many buildings, though barely standing, had cracked walls, shattered windows, and crooked doors, as if trembling in the aftershocks of the dragon's might and the impact.

Fortunately, the main building of the Adventurers' Guild, located in the center of town and built of solid black stone, suffered no structural damage except for a few shattered stained glass windows and a few scratches on the exterior walls. It stood like a black reef amidst the waves of ruins.

In the small town that survived the disaster, cries for help and shouts of people searching for their loved ones rose and fell.

The groans of the injured and the faint knocking sounds from beneath the rubble gripped everyone's hearts.

The town's guards immediately set up a cordon, striving to maintain basic order and guiding the panicked crowd to the relatively safe square.

The Adventurers' Guild's doors were wide open, and all receptionists and clerical staff joined the rescue effort.

The association's medicine inventory was urgently mobilized, and bandages, hemostatic powder, and splints were distributed to adventurers with some first aid knowledge.

Tagen, Xia Lin, and others immediately joined the rescue team.

Using makeshift wooden levers and ropes, they struggled to pry open the heavy roof beams that were pinning people down.

The air was filled not only with dust and gunpowder smoke.

A man was dragged out, his lower body a bloody mess, already lifeless. His wife sat slumped to the side, her eyes vacant, unable to even cry.

They helped rescue an old horse with a broken leg from the collapsed stable.

The horse's owner was a gray-haired coachman who held the horse's neck, tears streaming down his face. This horse was his only companion and source of livelihood.