011 Crimson Dawn!

With fury burning in her chest and the force of a thunderstorm, Lily hurled herself recklessly toward the densest part of the rat horde. Along her path, countless ratfolk were flung aside or crushed beneath her feet, meeting their deaths in droves. Consumed by rage, Lily went so far as to mutilate the bodies of those she had already slain. After stomping a charging ratman to death, she refused to relent, lifting her foot to stomp again and again, sending blood and flesh flying in a scene of unspeakable brutality.

"Brother!" cried a young ratman with a shaggy face, losing all reason the instant he saw his brother slaughtered. With a wooden club raised high, he rushed at Lily, but fury could not bridge the gulf of strength between them. Lily's jaws closed around his body, biting him in two; his upper half fell twitching to the ground.

Old Gil, standing nearby, stared vacantly at this carnage. The two brothers who had just died were his sons. He opened his mouth as if to speak but no sound came out. Stiffly, he shuffled to his younger son's corpse, bent down, and pried open the trembling hand to wrench away the wooden club gripped within. Clutching the club tightly, he charged at Lily, who was rampaging nearby, with desperate courage. Not once did Old Gil look back at his sons’ bodies.

As Lily moved toward the bodies of his sons, on Bell’s side, the formation of the three thunder dragons was instantly broken. His entire right flank was exposed, and he pressed close to his mother Mary, desperately trying to fend off the ratfolk onslaught. The moment Lily’s howl of anguish rang out, Mary knew Ram had been killed. As a mother, she understood the agony that filled Lily’s heart.

No matter what, she was determined to protect her own son. Ignoring her wounds and the ratmen crawling all over her back, she shielded Bell with everything she had. The battle had surpassed the realm of carnage—the phrase “rivers of blood” was no mere metaphor here. Many ratfolk’s crude clubs broke from the violence of their blows, so they snatched up stones to continue battering the thunder dragons. Some, with both arms broken, resorted to biting with sharp teeth. A frenzy of blood and death filled the air.

Tookie, who had been firing arrows from the fringes, witnessed everything. These familiar faces were his kin, his friends, his brothers. He wanted to save them, but he lacked the strength. All he could do was watch as one companion after another was trampled or torn apart. Once so irreverent, he was now wracked with boundless regret and self-reproach. If only he had tried harder, if only he had been strong enough, perhaps many of his people would not have died.

Yang Jie’s face twisted involuntarily as he watched the ratfolk fall in swathes, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the rampaging Lily. “Shuke, One-Eye—where are you? Show yourselves!”

“We’re here, Chief!” came the reply. From a pile of corpses, One-Eye struggled to pull Shuke free.

Seeing the two blood-soaked survivors, Yang Jie wasted no words. He pointed straight at the slaughtering Lily and roared, “Kill her! Right now!”

“Yes, Chief!” One-Eye helped the crippled Shuke aside, grabbed a stone axe and some vines from a fallen warrior, and rushed toward Lily.

“Hank!” he called.

“Here!” answered his deputy, Hank, rolling out of the fray, covered in blood.

“Get me up there!” One-Eye shouted toward Lily’s position.

No further words were needed. The two worked in perfect tandem, dragging a vine dozens of meters long. Hank darted past Lily’s belly, skillfully threading the vine beneath her. He caught the end One-Eye tossed from the other side, then fell back, pulling the vine tight. One-Eye, gripping the other end, used Hank’s tension to climb swiftly up Lily’s back.

Lily, lost in a killing frenzy, noticed nothing as a rat scrambled onto her back. One-Eye, agile and sure, did not attack immediately but climbed up her long neck, quickly reaching her head. Suddenly, with calm and determination, One-Eye braced his legs and leaped high, bringing the stone axe crashing down on the back of the mother dragon’s skull.

The thunder dragon’s brain, though small compared to her massive body, was also her weakness.

With a dull, thunderous crack, Lily collapsed as though struck by lightning, instantly losing all strength.

At the same moment, One-Eye, having thrown his entire weight into the blow, plunged from a height of more than ten meters. Fortunately, Hank was quick enough to catch him, lessening the impact—otherwise, the fall would have been fatal or crippling.

The instant Lily fell, the ratfolk surged forward, weapons flashing, instantly burying her under a swarm of blows.

The scales of victory tipped the moment Lily fell. With her down, the ratfolk could focus all their might on picking off the remaining thunder dragons one by one.

Most wretched of all was Glick, trapped in a pit with a broken leg, unable to move. The ratfolk left him standing helpless, ignoring his furious roars as they skirted his attack range and hunted down his family. As head of the family, this drove him nearly mad.

After nearly twenty minutes, only Glick’s brother Monte, his wife Mary, and his daughter Hannah remained fighting. Worse yet, the three were separated, the battlefield successfully divided by the ratfolk.

Now the rats could concentrate superior force on any of the three. Their first target was Bell’s sister Hannah—smaller, exhausted, and vulnerable. Under Little Billy’s command, the ratfolk quickly dragged her down with their vines.

Hannah’s head dropped heavily to the grass, and Little Billy and his followers swarmed her. But in that instant, Hannah’s blood-red eyes snapped open, and she twisted her neck to bite the stunned Little Billy with all the fury left in her dying body.

A sickening crunch—her jaws crushed the ratman into a ball of flesh. Little Billy never even understood what happened. He only felt a tremendous force hurl him aside.

Looking back at the spot where he’d just stood, his mind went blank, his gaze empty.

“Brother!!” Tears burst forth in a torrent as he finally understood all he had just witnessed. If only he had listened to his brother, if only he had been more careful… Little Billy’s heart was wracked with endless pain. But it was too late. The brother who had always cared for him was gone.

On the Shilling family’s side, with Lily and Hannah fallen, the situation deteriorated rapidly. At the same time, Tookie’s poison began to take effect. Bell’s mother Mary moved ever more slowly, her nerves numbed and her strength nearly spent.

“Child, you must run! We can’t escape, but you must live!” Hannah, fending off the ratfolk’s relentless assault, forced out the words through gritted teeth.

“I’m not leaving! I’ll stay with you—if we die, we die together.”

Bell’s eyes were swollen from weeping as he watched his mother’s battered body, using her last strength to shield him.

“Do as your mother says—go!” Glick shouted from his pit, eyes full of anguish.

“No, Father! If we leave, we leave together! I’ll save you!” Bell’s tears had dried, but his mother’s protection had spared him the worst of the rats’ attacks. Now, in his desperation, he lost all reason and dashed toward his father, whose forelegs were trapped in the pit.

Seeing his son lose his senses, Glick was frantic. “Foolish child, why don’t you understand? Run!”

“Run! My foolish boy!” Glick gazed helplessly as Bell raced toward him, finally realizing the weight of his responsibility—but it was too late.

As Bell was about to break through into the rats’ encirclement, Glick let out a raspy, mournful cry, filled with despair but powerless to stop his son, who was blinded by emotion.

“Child! You must live!” Glick howled, his eyes full of love and resolve.

Suddenly, Glick lifted his head and, with all his strength, smashed it against a nearby boulder.

Blood gushed forth. Glick, to save his child, used his own life as a final farewell.

From afar, Bell watched his father give his life to pave his way, struck as if by lightning, his mind clearing in an instant.

A plaintive, youthful cry echoed across the endless Northen Plain.

He did not pause, did not hesitate. Bell turned and ran for his life. This was the cruel reality his father’s sacrifice had imparted—survive, no matter what.

Across the Northen Plain, a young thunder dragon raced desperately, his tears long since dried, but his gaze steady and unwavering.

“Child, remember to run along the Tam River. You can’t escape across the plain!” Uncle Monte struggled to his feet, gasped his final words, and collapsed.

Seeing her child running far away, Mary turned in Bell’s direction and managed a gentle smile, one only a mother could give. The smile faded quickly; there was no confusion or regret in her eyes. Raising her head, she slammed it hard against the ground.

This great mother, having ensured her child’s escape, chose to bid farewell to the world the same way as her husband.

After running a safe distance, Bell stopped and, with a gaze as cold as winter’s ice, looked back at the rat horde. Even from afar, Yang Jie could feel the seething hatred in that look.

He would remember them. He would remember the faces of his enemies.

“After him! Don’t let him escape!” Yang Jie roared, as if it were his own family that had been butchered.

“We’ll never catch him now. He’s just a child—do we really need to…?” Wendy, seeing all that had transpired, felt a surge of sympathy.

“Leave no roots behind,” Yang Jie spat the words through clenched teeth as he watched Bell’s retreating figure.

“This is a war for survival between races. There is no good or evil here. Save your mercy for yourself…”

With that, Yang Jie patted Wendy on the shoulder and strode away, not waiting for a reply.

Wendy’s gaze lingered in the direction Bell had fled, her eyes conflicted, as if pondering something.

What she did not know was that, many years later, a resounding name would echo across the entire continent of Nox—a name that would become the endless nightmare of the Andes wild ratfolk.

Thunderstorm—Bell Shilling!