Fate: No One Plays the Villain Like I Do Chapter 499 16: In the Name of the Blue Wolf and White Deer

"Roar!"

The demonic beast wreathed in crimson-black flas threw back its head and howled. The savage, domineering dragon's roar reverberated across the battlefield, and a terrifying draconic pressure swept outward in waves. One by one, the giant wolves began to tremble, like house dogs encountering their natural predator. They whimpered, tucked their tails, and shrank back in fear.

"Wooo!"

The white wolf crouched atop the low hill suddenly sprang up. Like a bolt of lightning, it lashed out with its claws, smashing apart several blue-gray wolves that had tried to turn and flee. Then it let out a piercing, icy howl. Invisible ripples spread outward, standing toe to toe against the dragon's might.

In an instant, the hundreds of blue-gray wolves surrounding the lonely mountain bristled, their fur standing on end, their pupils flushed red with bloodlust. The wolf riders' aura rged into a single, unified force. They regrouped, leaping over corpses and craters, surging toward the summit like a rising tide.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

As the gap narrowed, the Hunnic horse-archers loosed a coordinated volley, their arrows seeking the Great Dragon's weak points—its eyes, its throat, its heart.

The arrow rain fell like a swarm of black locusts. Most of the arrows were incinerated by the outer ring of flas before they could even approach the Great Dragon's body. The few that pierced the outer layer t only a simple response: the Great Dragon lowered its head and closed its eyes. The arrows struck its scales with sharp tallic clangs before snapping apart.

Boom!

At the sa ti, the Great Dragon noticed the wolf riders preparing yet another flanking volley. Its narrowed vertical pupils glead with cold intent as it slamd a claw down.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The earth trembled violently. Spiraling pillars of fla erupted upward, blasting apart the soil. Dozens of wolf riders were instantly reduced to charred husks, while others were caught in the explosions, their skulls shattered and blood spraying across the ground.

The Hunnic riders instinctively tightened their reins. Their formation faltered, and their advance stalled for a mont.

"Moo—!"

A deep, resonant deer call echoed from not far away. The wolf riders parted as a pure-white elk stepped forward gracefully, seven-colored light shimring around its body. It lifted its head and cried out, dispersing the swirling sand and dust.

All around, hundreds of figures writhed and swayed. Their faces were painted with twisted patterns, overlaid with colorful lines forming masks of the gods. They wielded ritual implents—waist bells, bronze mirrors, claw drums, drum whips—and twisted their bodies in frenzied, abstract dances. They struck their limbs and chanted in strange, incomprehensible murmurs.

The sky responded.

Columns of multicolored light descended upon the wolf riders around the lonely mountain, encircling them in halos like stellar rings.

"The Eternal Sky blesses us! We are the descendants of the On of the Blue Wolf and White Deer—invincible in battle!"

The wolf riders rallied once more. Their giant wolves sprinted, and arrows shot forth, slicing through the air with shrill tearing whistles. Faint, twisted runes flickered at the tips of the arrowheads.

A subtle prickling sensation brushed against the Great Dragon's senses. It beat its wings, summoning a storm that scattered the incoming arrows. Within its open jaws, crimson-black dragonfire condensed, swelling with destructive heat.

"Ooooh! Ooooh! Ooooh!"

Yet the wolf riders did not retreat. Instead, they pressed forward, faces contorted with fanatic ecstasy. They stowed their bows and drew curved blades, guiding their giant wolves with masterful horsemanship as they split left and right. Gleaming blades rose and fell, slashing toward the Great Dragon's wings, the ribs beneath, and its legs.

Even when the crimson-black flas scorched their bodies, charring flesh and splitting skin…

Even when they were smashed into pulp or burned to ash…

They did not fall back.

Like a pack of wolves savage toward their prey and even more ruthless toward themselves, they fought desperately to carve wounds into the Great Dragon, to tear away strips of flesh and leave behind bloody scars.

For a mont, several scales that had taken repeated strikes showed faint cracks.

But after that brutal exchange, nearly half of the wolf riders lay dead.

The real trouble was that they had already broken through the Great Dragon's line. Without hesitation, they swept around to flank the defenders behind it.

The Celts, already fewer than two hundred, lost another third in the chaos. Panic spread like wildfire. The morale that had barely risen after the Great Dragon's arrival began to crumble again.

anwhile, a new commotion erupted from the rear.

A smaller detachnt had climbed the lonely mountain from behind. Curved blades spinning in their hands, they charged toward the ornate carriage, now defended by only five wounded Roman soldiers fighting desperately.

Under flashing scimitars and the tearing jaws of giant wolves, the exhausted Romans fell quickly. Heads were severed. Limbs were ripped apart. Even the centurion, after stabbing a wolf rider to death, was pierced through the shoulder by a sudden arrow and nailed against the carriage.

Thud!

A military priest, his spirit already shattered, scread as he stuck his head out, trying to flee this horrific inferno.

A giant wolf lunged past and crushed his skull in a single bite.

The headless corpse twitched and stiffened before collapsing. Blood sprayed from the severed neck in violent spurts, and pale yellow urine spilled uncontrollably onto the ground.

The last two military chaplains huddled inside the cramped carriage, shrieking and sobbing as they trembled uncontrollably.

Eyes squeezed shut, they poured Mana into the defensive spell with reckless desperation, ignoring the toll on their reserves. But the shrill scraping and savage howls outside shattered their resolve within seconds. Their final barrier splintered with a sharp crack, collapsing completely.

Am I really going to die?

The pale, terrified blonde girl, shoved toward the front, clutched a bronze dagger in her hand. Trembling, she held it against her throat, several tis on the verge of slicing open her own artery for a defiant end.

Yet when she caught sight of the blade's obvious rust and chipped edge, she swallowed hard. Her resolve faltered again and again.

Bang!

Just as she hesitated, the wooden partition of the carriage was smashed apart. Splinters flew everywhere as a ferocious wolf's head, blood sared at the corner of its jaws, thrust inside. It lunged viciously, the stench of blood rushing toward her.

"ᚦ…