"Roar—"
Cassius bowed his head slightly and unleashed a roar that shook the entire wasteland, spreading his vast wings as he hovered high in the sky.
"N-No way..."
"Could it be...?"
An extraordinarily presumptuous thought.
Dayev looked up, compelled to shield his eyes with his hand. Peering through the cracks between his fingers, he barely managed to make out the scene in the sky—
Torrents of scalding white steam billowed from the red dragon's jaws, while magnificent plumes of radiant fire vented from the spiracles along his neck and tail. The dragon crystal embedded in his chest blazed with blinding brilliance, and every scale across his body rippled like molten magma.
At this moment, he seemed like a second sun rising into the heavens, so blinding that nearly everyone present could not keep their eyes open.
Cassius's resonant, thunderous voice rolled down from above, echoing in mortal ears like a divine decree.
"As Emperor of the Cinder Empire, at this most solemn and glorious moment..."
"I shall bestow my grace..."
"Remember this: the Empire will never mistreat any vassal who remains loyal and contributes to its glory."
This time, not only did the vast crowd across the grounds erupt, but even the ministers and retainers upon the altar were overcome with excitement.
Bathed in this golden radiance, the humans and monster retainers from the former Kingdom of Cinders breathed raggedly, their faces flushed red and their hearts pounding violently in their chests.
They knew what this meant.
The last investiture ceremony had created two hundred and thirty-seven dragonblood nobles. They had become the paramount elites of the Kingdom of Cinders, shining brilliantly across every sector of the nation and reaping benefits unimaginable to ordinary folk.
And now, the Red Dragon Emperor had been crowned. The nascent Cinder Empire encompassed the entirety of Anzeta, and envoys had gathered from every corner of Feanso. The scale of this conferment would dwarf the previous one by far, and the number of subjects blessed with his grace would only be greater.
Sure enough, a dozen half-dragons clad in splendid ceremonial robes stepped forward onto the altar, holding register scrolls in their hands. They were the heralds appointed for this investiture.
Trump no longer needed to oversee every detail of the ceremony himself. Given the sheer scale of the Empire today, its administrative divisions had grown increasingly specialized, with designated officials handling every minor task.
"By the decree of His Imperial Majesty Cassius, Duke Duoluo is hereby elevated to Duke of the Second Rank."
Amidst the thunderous cheers of hobgoblins and bugbears, Duoluo dropped to his knees on the high platform, overcome with visible emotion.
"Your Majesty!"
Duoluo assumed an attitude of tearful gratitude, bowing his head low.
Yet deep within his eyes flickered boundless ambition, and his gaze drifted, intentionally or otherwise, toward Trump beside him.
*He's nothing more than a Duke of the First Rank who rode in on his seniority... Soon.*
*I will overtake you soon.*
So thought Duoluo as he knelt upon the stone.
A half-dragon attendant stepped forward with deep reverence and pinned an imperial medal bearing a pair of dragon wings to Duoluo's chest.
Trump seemed to notice that familiar, provocative glance. A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth—he recognized the original sin of envy. Still the same recipe, still the same flavor.
One illustrious name after another echoed from the herald's lips across the grounds.
"Marquis Jinya is hereby elevated to Marquis of the Second Rank."
"Marquis Delenna is hereby elevated to Marquis of the Second Rank."
"Marquis Alger is hereby elevated to..."
"Marquis Charles..."
One after another, high-ranking dragonblood marquises waved to the crowds before turning to face Cassius, prostrating themselves upon the altar platform.
Yet these lofty figures remained far removed from common subjects, and anyone paying close attention to imperial politics could have predicted these promotions.
Then, finally, came promotions that leaped across multiple ranks.
"Viscount Anthony is hereby elevated to Marquis."
As the herald's proclamation faded, a great uproar broke out in the crowd.
"What? Skipping two entire ranks!"
"Isn't that the Judgement Knight of the Dragon Oath Sanctuary?"
"Tsk, tsk, such a young marquis!"
"Indeed. I heard his background is exceptionally humble—rescued from a noble's dungeon. What sheer, heaven-sent luck to have caught His Majesty's eye!"
Beneath the gaze of thousands, Anthony was overwhelmed with emotion. Step by step, he ascended the marble stairs, climbing two full tiers until he reached the platform reserved for marquises.
He knelt before Cassius with tears welling in his eyes, which soon streamed freely down his half-draconic face.
"I thank... Your Majesty..."
A scalding tear dropped onto the altar.
Anthony was entirely a beneficiary of the imperial system.
Had the Empire never arisen, he might have spent his whole life as a nobleman's kept boy, dying in some pitch-black subterranean cellar.
Yet now, he possessed formidable might and noble status—an extraordinary, rising star of the Empire.
At the thought, Anthony gritted his teeth, his resolve to lay down his life for the Empire hardening further, and the power of the Dragon Oath within his soul surged all the more powerfully.
In truth, Anthony leaping two full ranks to become a marquis had not caught certain imperial insiders by surprise. At the rank of marquis, personal prowess was no longer the sole consideration; virtually every marquis represented a faction within the Empire. And as the representative of the Dragon Oath Sanctuary, Anthony was naturally entitled to that station.
He had previously been granted only the rank of viscount because he had joined the kingdom relatively late, lacking seniority and distinguished military exploits, which made it hard to convince the masses.
After the war to unify Anzeta, however, raising him to a marquis became a matter of course.
"Elevated..."
"Count Ak is hereby elevated to Marquis."
When the herald read that name, the conferment of the two highest ranks—duke and marquis—finally concluded.
The Empire still possessed only three dukes, but the number of marquises had risen to twenty-four, expanding severalfold compared to before.
"Gangtie Kuangchao is hereby created a Count."
"Tianxingjian is hereby created a Count."
"Bazhe is hereby created a Count."
The herald read out these three strikingly peculiar names in succession, setting off another colossal wave of shock.
They were all players, rewarded directly after their faction reputation points hit ten thousand, without any secret favoritism involved.
"Those Starfallen were made counts directly?"
"Those... madmen."
Some voiced displeasure, but others swallowed hard as they recalled how those players fought as though their lives meant nothing.
"Guild Master!"
"Praise the Omnissiah! Strike three times upon the great bell!"
"Glory to Wangquan, eternal heroes!"
"Ahhhhh!"
Among the player ranks, members of the major guilds erupted into wild cheers. A count's title conferred countless privileges, granting them a commanding lead in the scramble for resources.
Charlotte, meanwhile, wore a sullen scowl, muttering under his breath:
"Damn it... If my kill hadn't been stolen by bad luck, I'd be a count too."
Under the envious eyes of the imperial populace, native counts stepped forward one by one. Most had been elevated from first- or second-rank viscounts, earning their status as counts through distinguished service in battle.
"Enlisting in the army really is the greatest thing..."
"Indeed. Exalted status, formidable power, extended lifespans... There's hardly a better bargain in this world."
Looking upon the unprecedented grandeur atop the altar, voices in the crowd murmured in awe, their faces filled with envy and longing.
Chapter 376