Proclamation

On the outskirts of Northwind Keep, the army of the Kingdom of Cinders occupied nearly the entire wilderness. Many among them had sprouted red scales, sharp claws, and draconic bone spurs; some even had eyes that had turned into golden vertical slits. Hobgoblins, tieflings, and humans carried factory-new semi-automatic rifles and wore fine chainmail. These were the kingdom's most elite infantry, nearly every one of them possessing sharp eyes brimming with murderous intent. Ogre artillerymen dragged massive cannons. The pitch-black barrels, gleaming with a metallic luster, were nearly six meters long, their one-meter caliber muzzles yawning like man-eating maws. And in the kingdom's forces, there were over a hundred such colossal guns. The dragon-blessed paladins were clad in heavy full plate armor. In their left hands they held tower shields engraved with the Cinder Crest, and in their right they gripped sharp lances or greatswords. Auras of flame flickered incessantly around them, setting their armor ablaze with brilliant light. Their mere presence caused the surrounding temperature to spike, heating the ground until it was scorching, to the point where neighboring minions dared not approach their phalanx. Kobolds and goblins served as expendable line-fillers, dressed in rags scavenged from who-knew-where. Most carried obsolete fowling pieces or smoothbore muskets, their beady yellow eyes shining with feverish excitement. There were tens of thousands of these irregulars in the ranks, stretching out like a mottled tide. Further off on the hillside, mountain-like behemoths rose and fell across the terrain. These tundra landwyrms were clad in massive armor, breathing with heavy, muffled huffs that plumed white vapor into the air, looking for all the world like mobile steel fortresses. Up in the sky, wyverns and chimeras formed dark clouds, their chaotic wings blotting out half the heavens. Even these beasts were armed to the teeth: many wyverns had their vital areas protected by thin yet sturdy iron plates, with clusters of incendiary bombs and explosives slung beneath their talons. Nearly a hundred thousand monsters and humans were gathered here. Under normal circumstances, throwing such a motley assortment of races together would plunge any place into utter chaos, turning it into a gruesome slaughterhouse. Yet right now, this army stood in disciplined formation without making much noise. Across the vast wasteland, only their heavy breathing could be heard, and they were even striving to stifle that. They were simply waiting in silence. "Roaaar—" A drawn-out roar rolled in from the distance. A colossal red silhouette appeared over the wasteland, casting a vast shadow across the earth below. In unison, they raised their heads. Their breathing hitched and quickened, eyes brimming with exhilaration and fanaticism, like zealots beholding their deity. Down from the air, the wyverns descended together, bowing their heads low. —That was Cassius, the Lord of Cinders whose wings shadowed Anzeta, the Infernal Scourge who brought oblivion to his foes. In an inconspicuous human phalanx, George tilted his head up and stared fixedly at that astonishingly gigantic figure, the hand gripping his rifle trembling slightly. Though he had seen His Majesty before, no matter how many times he beheld him, he was still overwhelmed by pure awe and profound submission before this raw, suffocating power. How he yearned to become an "important figure" worthy of being personally bestowed His Majesty's blessings. Amid the dense swarm of mottled wyverns, a pure white dragon stood out strikingly, like a snowy peak amidst jagged mountains. Tinia, too, gazed blankly at the sky, craning her neck as far as she could, her pale blue vertical pupils overflowing with intoxication and adoration. "Cassius... my master." "So strong..." She mused foolishly. The white dragon did not forget to swipe a wyvern out of a prime spot nearby, claiming the perch for herself. The displaced wyvern let out an aggrieved whimper, but upon seeing that it was the white dragon, it could only slink away resentfully. *Boom!* The earth quaked, shattered stones went flying, and dust filled the air. The massive red dragon, over thirty meters in length, crashed down onto the crest of the hill. Every living creature on the wasteland seemed so tiny and fragile before him. Cassius looked down to inspect the army that belonged to him alone. Spreading the wings that eclipsed the sun, he spoke slowly: "Since they want war..." "...then I shall grant them war." Before his voice had even faded, the entire wilderness erupted into a boil, bursting forth like a raging inferno. "For the Kingdom of Cinders!" "War! Make them pay in blood!" "For the Great Red Dragon!" "Fight for His Majesty Cassius!" "For the grand design of the Draconic Empire!" Hobgoblins raised their rifles high, ogres beat their chests, humans roared in cheer, and even the wyverns craned their necks to unleash piercing shrieks into the sky. Despite strict military orders, an overexcited hobgoblin still fired into the air, and an empty-headed ogre was so thrilled he nearly fired off a several-hundred-kilogram artillery shell, only stopped in the nick of time by his comrades before a disaster could occur. Through countless victories over the years and prestige accumulated over time, the red dragon's standing in the hearts of his minions rivaled, and perhaps even surpassed, that of the gods. He required no elaborate rallying cries. Merely appearing there and speaking a sentence or two was enough to whip the army's morale and fighting spirit to a fever pitch, raising their fervor to heights no general could ever achieve. And the red dragon himself was well aware of this. Looking down upon his battle-hungry army and gazing out across his vast realm, Cassius felt his vision expand toward the Feanso Continent, and even to the entire world of Elezerg. *It is time.* *After nearly a decade of plotting, I can finally take the entire Northlands into my grasp.* *Yet once all this is truly concluded, my conquest will have only just begun. Demons, devils, deities, elder evils... There are still many beings in this world capable of posing a threat to me.* Cassius vented a puff of sulfurous white smoke, musing impassively in his heart. The red dragon took a step forward and reached out with a ferocious talon, slowly clenching it into a fist as if crushing the entire Great Anzetta Waste within his palm. "Crush them," Cassius commanded calmly, as though stating a matter of utter triviality. In an instant, the wilderness erupted once more. Amid discordant cheers and roars, countless red banners bearing the sigil of vertical pupils and flames snapped in the sulfur-scented wind. "For the Kingdom of Cinders!" "Roaaar!" "Crush them completely! Unify Anzeta!" ... Inside the Steel Dragonwing Palace. The red dragon was using force spells to hone his claws to a sharper edge. Though such minor details offered little advantage in high-level combat, he used it to pass the time. Suddenly, a message arrived from Trump. With a flick of Cassius's mind, the ward was released, and that ugly face appeared once more in the magic mirror. "Master, unfamiliar guests have arrived at Northwind Keep. They claim to be... your allies." "Oh?" "Allies of mine? That is a novelty." "I'd certainly like to see who would want to ally themselves with a notoriously wicked dragon." Cassius raised his head slowly, a glint of light flickering within his pale gold vertical pupils.