The nobility of the Kingdom of Cinders did not follow the traditional five ranks of the Northlands; it merely borrowed their names. In truth, it was a far more granular eighteen-rank peerage system.
Each major title was divided into three sub-ranks. Even the baseline populace was distinguished into first-, second-, and third-class citizens.
Trump, for instance, was a Duke of the First Rank, the very highest tier. The Cinder Crest upon his chest featured additional carved dragon wings, symbolizing the red dragon's special regard.
These titles were not tied to land. They determined only one's standing, privileges, and dragon bloodline boons within the kingdom. Furthermore, they were almost never hereditary, being granted and advanced purely on merit.
This time, out of Cassius's political need to bridge the divide between humans and monsters, as well as considerations for propaganda, the criteria for conferment had been set rather crudely, with several humans deliberately squeezed in.
Yet as the kingdom continued to expand, the granting of noble titles would inevitably grow stricter. The evaluation of achievements would be standardized, and the true value of these titles would steadily rise.
Under such standards, ordinary human soldiers would hit their ceiling upon reaching first-class citizen; advancing any further would likely require the strength of a classed professional.
This system was designed precisely to mold the kingdom into a terrifying war machine, one capable of proving its worth in the coming total war across Anzeta and even against the southern nations.
When that day came, there would not be so many "lucky ones"—only champions who had crawled out from mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
And when the nearly fifty thousand launch players flooded in, they too would be integrated into this system, becoming cogs in the Kingdom of Cinders' war chariot, crushing every force that dared stand in its path as the realm expanded.
"Master, the boons may begin," Trump cautiously reminded him.
Cassius gave a slight nod, offering no reply.
Now, with nothing more than the draconic aura he inadvertently radiated and the commanding authority amassed over years, he could compel tens of thousands to bow in submission.
The red dragon no longer needed to explain himself. A mere hint was enough to send countless subordinates rushing forward in waves. Every movement he made was scrutinized and interpreted in a hundred different ways.
Just like this investiture ceremony, more than a few clever individuals had already deduced that Cassius intended to elevate humanity's standing.
And most of them knew that resistance was utterly futile.
*Roaaar—*
The red dragon tilted his head slightly and unleashed a majestic roar, spreading his massive wings.
Scorching white steam poured from his gaping maw, radiant flames vented from the spiracles along his neck and tail, and the dragon crystal embedded in his chest blazed with blinding brilliance. At that moment, he resembled a miniature sun, so dazzling that nearly everyone present was forced to shield their eyes.
*Bloodline Boon.*
Threads of flowing flame carrying terrifying energy shot forth from the top of the dais, connecting to the bodies of the three dukes like shimmering filaments of light.
Seeds of power representing the progenitor dragon flowed into the dukes' veins, gradually merging into their blood. Because they had already received dragon bloodlines in the past, the boon brought little visible physical transformation; instead, it induced a complete, profound elevation of their very life essence.
The bestowal lasted nearly ten minutes.
This change was thorough, magical to its core, and physical evolution would inevitably manifest in their bodies over time.
*The results aren't bad.*
Cassius nodded slightly.
In his vision, Hobgoblin Warlord Duoluo's Challenge Rating had jumped to 12 and was still climbing. Sword of the Oathbreaker Mezrolash had reached 13, while Trump the Colossally Clever had soared to a staggering 15.
Once they fully digested this power, they would be hard-pressed to find any worthy adversaries, at least within the Great Anzetta Waste.
Then, with a single thought from Cassius, something even more astonishing occurred.
Amidst the crackling of burning flames, the fiery threads that had flowed into the three dukes instantly split into multiple strands, latching onto the seven marquises. They split once more, sinking into the bodies of the twelve counts.
Those who already possessed dragon bloodlines accepted the seeds of power, awaiting their further evolution.
Those receiving the dragon bloodline for the first time underwent a violent metamorphosis. Amid agonized wails, they advanced toward a higher form of life. Delenna, the "Flower of Northwind Keep," let out low moans as small spiral horns sprouted from her head and faint scales surfaced across her cheeks.
Guillermo, the human wizard and Trump's assistant, had curled into a ball, wrapping himself entirely in his enchanted robe, only for sprouting dragon horns to pierce through the fabric.
Most of them retained their basic human silhouettes, manifesting only select draconic features alongside an innate magical essence.
Compared to the wild, uncontrolled, and violent release of a red dragon's natural bloodline bestowal, Cassius was now able to regulate this power far more precisely. Accounting for the physical limits of each recipient, he calibrated the energy to a safe threshold, ensuring none of them were burned alive.
Hundreds of flaming threads cascaded down like a magnificent waterfall, resembling a vast web woven of fiery silk. It bound all the recipients together, pouring the dragon's mighty power into them without pause.
The crowd looked up at the shimmering threads and gazed upon the red dragon, who shone bright as the sun.
A single word sprang into everyone's mind simultaneously.
*A miracle.*
Yes, a miracle.
Rather than a king's conferment of titles, this ceremony felt more like a deity bestowing grace upon faithful worshippers.
Many in attendance had witnessed the tedious, drawn-out investiture ceremonies of dukes across the northern realms. Even if the majesty and grandeur of all those ceremonies were combined, they could not match a fraction of what was unfolding here. And Cassius's position within the kingdom was far closer to that of those lofty beings above.
He was no mere mortal ruler; he had become a symbol.
Cassius had no need to meddle extensively in the kingdom's internal affairs. His mere presence was enough to ensure that no one dared cross the line and attack this nation.
In the crowd, Falo Trishid shielded his eyes from the blinding light with one hand.
He collapsed to the ground in terror, his entire body trembling violently, his voice tinged with tears.
"How could there be..."
"H-how could a monster like that ever be defeated?"
Yet the Harpers infiltrator failed to notice that several people nearby, their attention drawn by his outburst, were eyeing him with naked greed.
They all wanted to become the next George.
"Seize him!"
"He's a spy!"
Several people shouted over one another, terrified that this golden opportunity might slip away, costing them their shot at becoming first-class citizens.
Another wave of frenzy swept through the surrounding crowd.
Chapter 253