Warhammer: Return of the Dragon.

Ulfric's melodious and vulgar words traveled beyond the city walls and countless anxious humans in Marienburg, and into the ears of the Phoenix King.

He forced himself to maintain a confident smile, the metal armrest he was holding turned into a knot at some point, and the corners of his eyes kept pulling.

"So I hate the Yankees... Their vulgar words are disgusting. They are like uneducated beasts growing wildly in the wilderness, eating the feces of the Chaos Gods to survive, and emitting a terrible stench all over their bodies."

You might be able to keep up with the Yankee's foul mouth...

Creon muttered this in his heart, and soon he was met with an unfriendly look from Imrik, as if he had guessed what the captain of the guard was thinking.

The Flame Knight quickly changed the subject. The Phoenix King was known for his elegance and easy-going nature. How could he be sarcastic to his opponents on the battlefield?

"Your Majesty, Ulfric has been disconnected from his fleet. There are many war mammoths on the dragon boats, which may pose a threat to the city walls."

"War Mammoth..." Imrik seemed to have thought of something and loosened his grip on the armrest.

"Remember Ugo, the giant beast that was taller than the city wall? It really shocked me. I was surprised at how profound the influence of the Chaos Gods was on the world... We spent a lot of time dealing with the Father of Mammoth, although many people thought it was a fluke."

Seeing Creon's indifferent expression, Imrick sighed. What was there to be sentimental about with such a fool? He must be fully focused on the upcoming war.

"Let's go, I'll guard this place."

Creon's expression changed slightly, but he still hesitated and said reservedly: "But I am your bodyguard."

"Killing all the enemies will be the best protection...Don't interfere with Tyrion's battle, and pay attention to the movements of the war mammoth."

"But there are no dragons in Marienburg."

Creon's eyes clearly said that he wanted to fight against the Yankee champion, not as a behemoth sniper equipment.

"I think Boca Chiri is a good candidate. Perhaps you can introduce him to me. This outstanding court swordsman seems to be dissatisfied with his current treatment."

"I don't think that's necessary. No mammoth can get close to the city wall!"

Having said this, Creon walked out of the palace with a heart full of justice. He would be a sniper weapon for the giant beast. At least it was better than being a mascot beside the Phoenix King.

…………

On the city wall, Boccacci's expression became more and more solemn. A round of cannonballs fired at the Hague disappeared in a mysterious glimmer. This mysterious dragon boat carried the strange power of the Chaos Gods and could easily sail from one end of the world to the other...

I don’t know which shell was fired just now and hit that unlucky guy.

When the Hague arrived on land from the sky, the Norse warlord, dressed in Chaos Dwarf plate armor, finally revealed his true identity.

He was half a body taller than an ordinary person, and his heavy body stood there like a chaos totem.

A shield engraved with the octagonal symbol of chaos, constantly spreading fear to the surroundings.

He stood alone in front of the city gate, treating the countless crossbows and muskets aimed at him as toys, his wind- and frost-stained cheeks filled with disdainful smiles.

"Ha?! You believers of the false gods of the south are only cowards behind the city walls! When my sword cuts your throats and burns the iron cages you are so proud of, as well as the temples full of lies, you will know that I am the killer of the true gods!"

"Elves, let your monarch face me. I will be the first Norscan warrior to kill the Phoenix King with my own hands. Haha!"

Tyrion held back some of his anger. His mouth was indeed foul. Boccacci was even angrier than him, but the Flameborn Knight still fulfilled his duty and spoke in a low voice.

"He's dangerous... not a weakling. Be careful."

Obviously, Ulfric came with the idea of ​​a championship duel. From a strategic point of view, this can effectively delay the defender's time and buy more opportunities for the fleet to land.

But given the Yankees' strategic level, Tyrion and Boccachiri agreed that this was just Ulfric's attempt to show off in front of the Chaos Gods, and was definitely not for victory in the battle.

Although Tyrion looked a little solemn, the fighting spirit in his eyes showed his excitement.

"He's not a weakling, but I'm stronger than him."

"The Flameborn Knights will ensure that no one interferes in the championship match. May you be victorious, son of Aenarion."

"Ah."

The city gate slowly opened, and Boccachili gave the human city defense commander a slap in the face, suggesting that he should stay out of other people's business, as a duel of honor would never be disturbed by a small problem.

Even if Lothern, where the Phoenix Court is located, is under siege, the Dragon Prince will still open the city gates if the enemy dares to demand a championship duel.

Without Malhandel, Tyrion looked a little lonely. Time passed for a long time. Even though he found a mount in Arion that could rival the pureblood of the Father of Horses, in his heart, the horse that accompanied him on the battlefield was still irreplaceable.

The feathered helmet of the descendant of Aenarion was still as handsome as ever, and the dragon armor protected the user from any harm as it had for thousands of years, but Tyrion was less furious than before and more calm.

Perhaps he has realized what he means to the elves, not as a totemic warrior symbol, but as a killer, an incarnation of a banshee who announces death to the enemies of the Phoenix King.

The winged helmet and the armor of Aenarion made Ulfric stop his endless cursing and realize that the elf that appeared was not the Phoenix King.

Although he had never seen the elven monarch, some rumors were not wrong. Imrik, like him, was a warrior who disdained to wear a helmet.

Ulfric laughed loudly, as if mocking the elves' cowardice. "So that's how it is. The Phoenix King, who is known for his bravery, was worried that losing would bring disgrace to the reputation of his ancestors, so he sent a small character to face the warriors of the Four Gods. He is truly worthy of being called the Dragon Lord. It really opened my eyes!"

The insults of the wanderers were specially translated by Tzeentch. Even if someone used some means to cover their ears, they could still hear this embarrassing voice that went straight into their soul.

Tyrion smiled and drew the Sunblade from its sheath. The shining light of the sun overshadowed the evil of the octagonal mark.

"So the warriors of Norsca are only known for their mouths. Perhaps your mouth is sharper than a sword?"

Tyrion was not usually a sarcastic person, but the strange atmosphere when a group of dragon princes in the royal court talked made him learn something.

Ulfric was stunned, but soon laughed again, drew out the sword of Torgard, and pointed it at Tyrion: "So you are the son of Aenarion, the incarnation of Khaine... Before killing the Phoenix King, using you as a sacrifice to the Chaos Gods is also a good choice.

Come on then, you bastard who climbed onto the ancestor's bed!"

Tyrion, who had been calm, immediately turned red in the face when he heard the words. The thing he could not tolerate the most was being mentioned about his relationship with Moras.

He acknowledged that he was Cain's incarnation, and he also acknowledged that he had killed his fellow elves, but he definitely did not covet Moras.

"You're looking for death, you bastard!" (End of this chapter)