368: "The Wrath of the Dragons"

"Damn it, are we done yet? People have been slaughtered, so why aren't we getting the deed?" Bradley yelled, cursing under his breath.

"Don't worry, whoever comes will die."

Orson said calmly, sitting on the roof of a building with a drink in hand, casually roasting some meat and chatting.

More than ten minutes passed, and the sky, which had just cleared up, began to change again.

"Why is it getting dark? Is it going to rain heavily?"

The crowd paused and collectively turned their gaze to the horizon. Dark clouds were gathering, moving toward Pondenorlin City.

"Dragons... dragons everywhere! My god, how many dragons are there?" A sharp-eyed archer player shouted in disbelief.

Thousands of dragons, each more menacing than the last, flew toward Pondenorlin City, their roars echoing. It felt as if the apocalypse was about to descend.