Dragon King's Harem Chapter 229. After The War I (Patreon)

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 229. After The War I

The sky above was alight with the radiant glow of the two suns, their fiery orbs casting a brilliant golden hue across the vast expanse of the battlefield. The once-lush fields were now littered with the corpses of orcs, minotaurs, and dragons, their bodies twisted and contorted in the throes of death. The ground was slick with the blood of fallen warriors, the rich red liquid seeping into the earth and staining the soil for eternity.

The fire that had raged across the battlefield had long since died out, leaving behind a thick blanket of smoke that hung heavy in the air. The smoke cast an eerie orange glow upon the scene, coloring the afternoon sky in hues of burnt sienna and deep rust. The acrid scent of burnt flesh and smoldering ruins filled the air, a stark reminder of the destruction that had taken place here.

Despite their victory, the dragons could not rest easy. They swept through the remnants of the battlefield, their keen eyes scanning the landscape for any survivors. They moved with a sense of purpose, their massive wings flapping with a graceful fluidity as they searched for any wounded comrades among the corpses.

The dragons' roars echoed across the battlefield, a haunting call to any of their kin who may still be alive. Their voices were deep and thunderous, the very sound of them sending shivers down the spine of any who heard them. They called out again and again, their voices growing more urgent as they searched for any who may have survived the brutal battle.

As the dragons continued their search, the full scale of the destruction became apparent. The ground was littered with the debris of war, the shattered remains of weapons and armor scattered about as if tossed aside by a giant's hand. The bodies of the fallen were everywhere, their corpses twisted and contorted in grotesque poses. The sight was enough to make even the bravest of warriors sick to their stomachs.

Despite the devastation, the dragons pressed on with their search. They moved with a sense of urgency, their hearts heavy with the weight of loss. They knew that every moment counted and that any survivors they could find would be precious in the face of such a catastrophic defeat.

On the other hand, General Guillotine led his army on a mission to sweep the orc camp to put an end to their terror once and for all. They took to the sky, their wings beating in powerful strokes as they soared high above the land. They came like a flock of migratory birds, a massive and terrifying sight to behold. The remaining orcs below trembled in fear as the dragons descended and quickly hid, their powerful talons gripping the earth as they landed with a deafening roar.

General Guillotine led his army as they inspected the cave where the orcs had been hiding. The cave was dark and damp, the stench of orcish filth filling the air. The dragons moved through the cave with ease, their keen eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the enemy.

As they searched the cave, they came upon a group of injured orcs and the last survivors. The creatures were weak and helpless, their wounds still fresh and bleeding. General Guillotine ordered his army to capture the orcs and bring them along, a gesture of mercy that was uncharacteristic of a dragon’s reputation. But it was the king’s order and he couldn’t defy him.

The dragons bound the orcs and brought them along as they continued their sweep of the camp. The orcs were too weak to resist, and they were brought along with little resistance. General Guillotine took the orcs as prisoners of war.

But rather than catch them and make the orcs walk, they took their prey into their mouths, their massive jaws opening wide to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. The wounded orcs were no match for the dragons' strength, and they were easily captured and imprisoned between the dragons' huge teeth. The orcs were trapped, their bodies wedged between the dragons' fangs, unable to move or escape.

The dragons carried their prisoners with ease, their massive wings beating with a powerful grace as they soared through the sky. The orcs were held tightly between the dragons' teeth, their bodies wracked with pain and fear. They knew that their fate was sealed and that they would soon meet their end at the dragons’ hands.

As the dragons reached the sky, they unleashed their fury upon the cave where the orc hid before. They breathed fire, their flames engulfing the cave in an inferno of destruction. The corpses and the survivors inside the cave had nowhere to hide, and they were quickly consumed by the dragons' flames.

The cave was left in ruins, with nothing but ash and rubble remaining. The dragons' fire had been so intense that even the rocks and boulders had melted and fused together before they flew away from that place with a roar, their victory complete.

Back to the Firestone Fortress. Despite the fierce war, the fortress stood tall and proud. Still, the scars of battle were visible everywhere. Some places and part of the walls were now nothing more than charred ruins, the trees reduced to ashes by the dragons' fire.

Despite the destruction, the fortress was still a bustling hub of activity. The sound of hammers and saws echoed through the halls as the dragons worked to repair the damage done during the war. The smell of fresh-cut wood and molten metal filled the air, a sign of the rebuilding efforts that were underway.

One of the busiest places within the fortress was the medical room. The healers were working tirelessly to treat the injured dragons that had been brought back from the battlefield. The room was filled with the sounds of dragons in pain, their roars and cries of agony filling the air.

The healers’ hands moved with precision as they treated the wounded dragons. They used a combination of traditional healing methods and advanced medical techniques to tend to the dragons' wounds.

Although most of them were in their humanoid form, a few of them didn’t. They lay on rows of beds, their massive bodies taking up more than one bed. Their wings were bandaged, their limbs splinted, and their bodies covered in salves and ointments. They were in pain, but they were alive and that was what mattered.

The healers moved quickly and efficiently, their hands never still as they treated the dragons. They administered potions and elixirs, stitched wounds, and set broken bones. They knew that every moment counted and that the sooner they could get the dragons back on their feet.