"His Majesty Cassius!"
Amidst the quiet crowd, a childish voice suddenly rang out. Whether it was orchestrated by the kingdom's authorities or an earnest cry from a child blessed by the kingdom's grace, none could say.
Immediately after, wave after wave of fervent cheers erupted from the crowd once more, among which were not a few shills planted by the Propaganda Department.
"Emperor! Emperor!"
"His Majesty Cassius! Your Majesty!"
"For the grand vision of the Red Dragon!"
Amidst such clamor, the red dragon continued to stride slowly down the broad avenue.
The guards lining both sides tapped the ground with their spears, creating a rhythmic clatter. The wyverns resting upon the ground also stretched their necks, raising their heads high as they let out series of soft, shrill cries.
The ogres once again rolled forward the heavy artillery, sending clusters of brilliant, blossoming fire bursting above the altar.
And so, under the watchful gaze of hundreds of thousands of spectators, Cassius climbed the thirty-meter-high altar with a few effortless strides, arriving directly at the summit of Isdalia.
Cassius surveyed his surroundings, gazing down upon the multitude with his pale-gold pupils before speaking:
"Everyone..."
"Welcome to the Great Anzetta Waste. Welcome to my coronation ceremony."
As Cassius's words fell, a handsome human noble with black hair and golden eyes materialized before him. His demeanor and movements were in complete synchronization with the colossal red dragon behind him—this was Cassius's human avatar.
"Holy crap, His Majesty Cassius's human form! That's rare!"
"I'm straight-up calling him hubby!"
"Ahhhhhh!"
This time, without waiting for the kingdom's official plants to prompt them, the players erupted into even more thunderous cheers—and these were undeniably from the bottom of their hearts.
"The ceremony may begin."
Paying no heed to the crowd's clamor, Cassius gave his calm instructions, both the man and the dragon on the altar speaking in unison.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Below, his retainers bustled into motion.
The Great Altar of Isdalia possessed seven tiers, connected by orderly flights of stairs to form a pyramid-like stone structure, symbolizing the kingdom's current hierarchy.
At the very summit lay a massive platform carved with arcane runes, nearly ten meters higher than the tier below it—this was where Cassius stood.
This platform represented the supreme royal authority of the Kingdom of Cinders, or rather, the imperial sovereignty of the future empire.
Trump, Duoluo, and Mezrolash, the three dukes, approached the altar one after another. Ascending the long flight of stairs step by step, they climbed to the sixth tier of the Great Altar.
They stood there in sequence according to their preordained rank, quietly awaiting the next stage of the ceremony.
Next came the seven marquises, including Alger, Jinya, and Delenna, followed in turn by twenty-four earls, over forty viscounts, and more than a hundred barons.
Even those first-class citizens who had rendered distinguished service were granted this honor, forming neat ranks to stand on the lowest tier of the Great Altar.
*Wuuu—*
The behir horn below the altar sounded.
By now, the Great Altar of Isdalia was crowded with figures, banners fluttering in the wind.
The citizens of the Kingdom of Cinders gazed up at those spirited members of the dragonblood nobility, voicing endless gasps of admiration and deep envy.
Meanwhile, guests from across Feanso were lost in thought. Structures of this form were not uncommon on the continent—the most famous among them being those of the former Holy Fadlan.
"No, impossible..."
"Could it... could it really be a Sun God Pyramid?"
"No, absolutely impossible. But this is far too significant. Even the slightest possibility would be earth-shattering news! I must return and report this to His Majesty."
Dayev shook his head repeatedly as he stared at the altar, his face turning thoroughly grim.
One hundred and fifty years ago, the great "Sun King" Aragorn I had erected three pyramids across Thrace, Cassander, and Seleucia respectively, and built the most magnificent Tower of the Eternal Sun God in the imperial capital.
On the sacred festival day of the Church of Amaunator—the summer solstice—the Sun God Pyramids across the land held simultaneous ceremonies. Amaunator bestowed the blessing of sunlight, allowing hundreds of people to achieve "ascension," which had marked the dawn of the Holy Fadlan Empire.
And now, the coronation ceremony of the Kingdom of Cinders reminded him of that sacred rite from a century prior.
Even though entertaining such a thought bordered on sacrilege, Dayev could not help but link the two together, feeling a deep, creeping dread.
Little did he know that this was entirely deliberate on Cassius's part, intended to draw the attention of the various realms.
Amidst the packed crowd, noisy discussions and hushed whispers continued to rise.
"The ceremony is about to begin."
"Silence, please."
With the aid of specially crafted sound amplifiers, Trump's steady voice carried to every corner of the venue.
Under Trump's proclamation and the oppressive aura of the colossal dragon atop the high platform, the crowd of hundreds of thousands fell silent in an instant, and the people looked up in unison.
Trump reached out, retrieving an exquisite scroll prepared well in advance from thin air, and slowly unrolled it.
The ogre stepped forward and read aloud:
"The great 'Lord of Cinders,' His Majesty Cassius, unified Anzeta in a mere matter of years and eradicated the frost giant tribes of the north. Through decisive, thunderous measures, he has brought long-lost peace and stability to the people of Anzeta—an achievement and grand undertaking unmatched on this land for a thousand years."
"Therefore, the people across Anzeta are unanimous in their belief: the title of 'King' is no longer sufficient to describe the greatness of His Majesty Cassius. He should receive a far nobler, more exalted title—Emperor."
"His Majesty Cassius shall rule here for eternity, and the Kingdom of Cinders shall ascend into an even greater realm—the Cinder Empire!"
"His Majesty the Emperor! The Cinder Emperor!"
"The Cinder Empire!"
"Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!"
The moment Trump's words ended, cheers erupted from the crowd once more. Under the watchful eyes of the tiefling guards, this wave of cheering was more fervent than any before.
People standing in the front rows were covered in tears, kneeling awkwardly on the ground, some even fainting from sheer excitement—though whether this was a genuine outpouring of emotion or just the Propaganda Department's usual melodramatic script remained anyone's guess.
"We can never repay His Majesty Cassius's kindness, not in a hundred lifetimes!"
"Your Majesty, we support you with all our hearts! It was you who granted us new life!"
Representatives from various subject races—humans, tieflings, hobgoblins, ogres, and others—pushed their way out of the crowd, their faces brimming with boundless honor and excitement.
Together, they hoisted a scroll dozens of meters long, stitched together from aurochs hide, and slowly unrolled it along the avenue. The smooth hide was covered in tens of thousands of handprints, claw prints, and even hoofprints.
"His Majesty Cassius, we sincerely implore you to accept the crown! This is the heartfelt wish of every citizen!"
"Indeed! If only you would be crowned, even if it cost us our lives..."
"You are our..."
"Yes, Your Majesty, this is the only way we can begin to repay your boundless grace..."
The subject race representatives knelt upon the ground. Upon that unfurled scroll, several bold, gleaming characters were inscribed—"Petition Urging His Majesty Cassius to Ascend the Throne."
This petition bore the marks of tens of thousands of subjects, demonstrating that the emperor's coronation was not merely a necessity for the realm's growth, but the true desire of its people.
It was also proof to the world that both legally and practically, this coronation was beyond reproach.
High upon the altar platform, Cassius looked down at the "grand spectacle" below, doing his best to maintain his solemn, majestic posture.
*Cringe much? The Propaganda Department went way too over-the-top this time, but...*
*The effect seems pretty good.*
Looking at the stunned, terrified, and bewildered faces of the foreign envoys, the corner of the red dragon's mouth twitched slightly, leaving him at a loss for words.
It seemed that when it came to propaganda and public opinion, these players were already leagues ahead of the rest of Feanso.
Chapter 373