"Extra! The coronation ceremony will commence in thirty-seven days!"
"His Majesty is about to be crowned Emperor!"
"The Chief Minister announces that the Kingdom of Cinders fulfills every condition to ascend to an empire!"
"Marshal Duoluo pledges unconditional support to His Majesty Cassius!"
Such proclamations echoed across all corners of Anzeta, ringing through cities long held by the Kingdom of Cinders as well as newly conquered territories alike.
Across the vast expanse of the Feanso Continent, people embroiled in strife and turmoil also learned of this astonishing news: far to the north, in the Great Anzetta Waste, a nation ruled by a red dragon had overthrown the millennium-old Northern United Kingdom and forged a new realm in its place.
That red dragon was named Cassius, hailed as the Lord of Cinders, the Purgatory Scourge, and the Dragon Prince. Rumors whispered that he was the flesh-and-blood offspring of Tiamat, born with power rivaling legends.
Though startling, the news hardly commanded serious attention at first.
After all, the Great Anzetta Waste was a remote, isolated backwater cut off by the rolling Anstica Mountains. Closed off from the wider world, it had virtually no contact with the rest of the Feanso Continent.
Most people knew only vaguely that beyond the mountains, across that frigid expanse of wasteland, a few petty realms seemed to exist.
That was all; it had little bearing on their lives.
Yet soon after, fresh rumors began to spread: Oszedro, the ancient silver dragon revered as "Silver Wings"—a legendary being who had averted multiple world-ending catastrophes—had ventured into the Great Anzetta Waste to do battle with this "Lord of Cinders."
It was said that in this "Clash of Twin Dragons," the two colossal beasts clashed for days on end, fighting from dawn until dusk until the entire Okagral Waste was scorched to cinder and ash.
The battle concluded with the silver dragon falling from the sky.
Oszedro had reportedly fled in disgrace, grievously wounded, and retreated into his lair, where recovery might take him nearly a century.
The silver dragons of Clan Melvold remained utterly silent. They turned away all visitors and refused to disclose a single word, their stoic reaction serving as the most damning confirmation of the rumors—Oszedro had truly been defeated!
Only then did shock ripple through the continent.
That was the renowned "Silver Wings" Oszedro! The Chosen of Bahamut, the sworn Guardian of World Balance!
Suddenly, factions everywhere turned their keen attention toward the mysterious "Red Dragon Kingdom" in the north, categorizing it as either a prospective ally or an impending foe.
Mired in the quagmire of war, the three major kingdoms fiercely contesting the remnants of the Holy Fadlan Empire—Cassander, Thrace, and Seleucia—monitored the situation with exceptional vigilance.
A red dragon capable of defeating Oszedro would be an invaluable boon to whichever side he chose to support, potentially tipping the scales of the entire conflict.
Among the three, the Kingdom of Thrace viewed this Lord of Cinders with particular hostility—a reality born of inescapable geography and history.
Occupying the northern territories of the former Holy Fadlan Empire, they had always regarded the Great Anzetta Waste as their secure rear.
Now that the Northlands had fallen entirely, if the untamed Kingdom of Cinders were to push south, Thrace would find itself caught in a pincer, attacked from both front and rear.
Yet even as they braced against potential incursions from the north, Thrace had no choice but to appease and pacify the Kingdom of Cinders as much as possible, ill-prepared as their troop deployments were to absorb such tremendous risk.
While every faction scrambled to digest the implications, yet another piece of news blew south from the north, spreading across the continent like wildfire:
—The Lord of Cinders was to be crowned.
The red dragon would soon become the true Emperor of Anzeta, its undisputed sovereign.
An "empire" implied a monarch ruling an immense domain with supreme might. The Great Anzetta Waste clearly could not sate his appetite; the red dragon's ambitions were laid bare for all to see.
And so, this coronation ceremony became the focal point of the entire continent.
As invitations from the Kingdom of Cinders fluttered across the lands like a flurry of snow, envoys from nations and factions rushed northward—some via teleportation, some soaring through the high skies, and others traveling in carriages.
The Anzeta Corridor, historically desolate and quiet, suddenly teemed with life. Clashes even broke out between envoys of rival nations along the road.
For the very first time, the remote, desolate Great Anzetta Waste had become the center of attention for the entire Feanso Continent—all because of the emergence of a single red dragon.
......
The existing cities of Anzeta were no longer enough to meet the Kingdom of Cinders' needs. They required an even vaster expanse of land to host a spectacle grand enough to turn the eyes of the world.
As for why the Steel Dragonwing Palace was not chosen?
Too many secrets lay buried there.
The coronation ceremony was set to take place upon the Great Doyle Plain—situated at the very heart of the Great Anzetta Waste, where multiple rivers converged, a place praised as the "Bounty of the Frost Goddess."
Several major cities dotted the plain, encompassing nearly the entire core territory of the former Principality of Bosque.
The kingdom's construction crews labored day and night, erecting the various structures required for the ceremony. A steady stream of stone blocks and heavy timber was hauled to the site by brawny frost giant slaves.
Spellcasters such as wizards and druids lent their aid, casting spells like Wall of Stone and Wood Shape.
In barely a month, an enormous, sprawling altar rose from the plains.
The surrounding thoroughfares were also paved into near-perfection, and stretches of railway tracks had even begun to be laid.
In truth, this was also paving the way for a brand-new city. Trump believed that cities like Northwind Keep and Stravburg were unfit to serve as the future capital of Anzeta.
The Kingdom of Cinders—or rather, the nascent empire—needed a grander city situated on flatter terrain, capable of accommodating vastly more industry and population, occupying an ideal strategic crossroads, and poised to become the absolute political, economic, and cultural center of the Great Anzetta Waste.
The city currently under construction was the inception of it all.
It would continue expanding, swallowing up the surrounding cities to grow into a gargantuan industrial metropolis.
This coronation altar, this soon-to-rise city, was named by the people—Isdalia.
In Draconic, it meant "Land of Eternal Rule," or "Immortal City."
......
Across the Great Doyle Plain, the kingdom's vassals bustled tirelessly. Towering frost giant slaves, heavy iron collars locked around their necks, had their spines bent beneath massive tree trunks, yet they plodded forward under the sting of overseers' whips.
Holding his staff, Trump stood atop a hillside, gazing out at the nearly completed altar in the distance.
"Your Majesty..."
"Your magnificent blueprint is becoming reality at last..."
The ogre's lips quivered as he murmured to himself, his eyes brimming with tears of fervor.
"Whoooosh—"
A biting north wind howled across the land, drowning out the ogre's heavy breaths and masking the distant wails of the frost giant slaves.
Chapter 371