Conclusion

The envoys from the Fadlan region watched the ceremony without blinking, their expressions extraordinarily solemn—which was, in fact, entirely within Cassius's calculations. He had deliberately constructed the altar in a style reminiscent of the "Pyramid of the Sun God" and conducted the bestowal upon it precisely to make them recall the "Ascension Ritual" of one hundred and fifty years ago. The only difference was that he had originally planned to grant a Bloodline Boon, but had now replaced it with the far more remarkable Imperial Grace. The crowd throughout the venue raised their heads, gazing up at the sky lit bright as midday, marveling at the dazzling streaks of flowing fire. "Is this His Majesty's power?" "It's nothing short of a miracle..." "So beautiful." Atop that majestic altar, wave upon wave of formidable dragon fear suddenly erupted, instantly seizing everyone's attention. Even Cassius, high in the heavens, looked down toward the upper tiers of the altar. "This is..." "A legendary life essence." The swirling white vapor slowly dissipated, revealing a colossal silhouette upon the altar. The dragonblood ogre now stood nearly ten meters tall. His mountain of flesh was clad in crimson scales, several stubby horns jutted from his head, and a pair of disproportionately small, fleshy wings had sprouted from his back. The progenitor dragon blood had already overtaken his ogre heritage. At this moment, Trump was fundamentally closer to an obese red dragon than an ogre. His life essence had broken free of mortal shackles, stepping firmly into the legendary tier. As his wizard levels increased, merging arcane mastery with a monstrous physical form, Trump's might would only grow more terrifying. In Cassius's sight, Trump the Colossally Sagacious boasted a staggering Challenge Rating of 17, and a new title tag had been appended to his status: Legendary Monster. "The Imperial Grace truly works. At last, I have a retainer of the legendary tier." A look of delight surfaced on Cassius's face. He turned his gaze toward the other two dukes. Mezrolash was drawing close to the legendary threshold, while Duoluo was still somewhat behind. "Master, thank you for your grace." Trump knelt prostrate upon the altar, intense excitement straining behind his grotesque face. "Your Majesty!" "This... such immense power." "Is this what it means to be dragonblood nobility?" Most of the dragonblood nobles who had received the grace were also rousing from their stupor. Feeling the surging power coursing through their bodies, they knelt toward the red dragon in unison. An invisible spiritual bond forged between them and the Emperor, making their allegiance feel entirely natural and ordained. Cassius gave a resonant cry. After wheeling through the air, he landed atop the summit of the altar with a thunderous crash and unfurled his vast wings. The surrounding sky darkened once more, yet lingering motes of radiant fire still drifted in the air. Backlit against the heavens, the red dragon's massive silhouette was haloed by a brilliant rim of light. "Long live the Empire!" "Long live His Majesty Cassius!" A roar suddenly erupted from within the crowd. Like wildfire, the guarding soldiers began to cheer, the watching commoners began to cheer, and the Starfallen began to cheer as well. Yet within this dense, ecstatic throng, quite a few peculiar figures stood out. "Deities, an Ascension Ritual..." "I must report this back to King Wilhelm! This empire is dangerous—far beyond what certain people in the kingdom imagine!" Dayev stared at the red dragon on the altar, his expression grim to the extreme. To his horror, he realized that even he—a bard from the Kingdom of Thrace and a confidant of King Wilhelm—had nearly been swept away by the feverish atmosphere, almost shouting "Long live the Empire!" along with the rest. "The Harpers want to overthrow a nation like this through rebellion...? How could that ever be possible?" "Abir, forgive me. Perhaps I am merely correcting a mistake that is doomed to failure." Richard looked around at the fanatical faces surrounding him. Tugging his hood down, he slipped back into the crowd and vanished without a trace. Meanwhile, the envoy from the Kingdom of Cassander, Favaro Gregory, was lost in thought, noting observations on parchment with a quill. "Your Majesty, I believe the Cinder Empire may become a vital asset in helping us defeat the Kingdom of Thrace." "It is far more powerful than we imagined." The cheers of the populace surged like an ocean tide, washing over the wilderness again and again. Hundreds of thousands of voices drove the fervor to its peak, their ecstatic chants of "Long live the Empire!" and "Long live His Majesty Cassius!" echoing across the Great Anzetta Waste. Perched atop the altar, Cassius looked down at the churning crowd below and nodded faintly. "Long live the Empire?" "No, that is merely a mortal's wish. For a dragon, ten thousand years is hardly an unattainable goal." "What I require... is eternity." Looking up toward the sky, the red dragon mused quietly in his heart. *** "I will never forget that coronation, nor the sheer paralyzing spell of awe and enchantment it cast upon me." "From that day forth, an unspeakable premonition took root in my heart—that perhaps this empire would accomplish feats far grander than Holy Fadlan ever did." —Memoirs of Dayev Nelson *** Late on the night of March 2, 1786 of the Third Age, in Isdalia, the coronation ceremony came to an end. The history books recorded: The Red Dragon was crowned; the Cinder Empire was founded. Within mere days, news of this momentous spectacle spread to every corner of the Feanso Continent, sending shockwaves throughout the entire Material Plane. The Cinder Empire had displayed terrifying military might and unveiled a unique military hierarchy unlike that of any existing nation. Tiamat, the Queen of Chromatic Dragons, and Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon King, had simultaneously projected their avatars to personally witness the crowning of the Lord of Cinders. The red dragon had bestowed grace upon his vassals, holding an investiture reminiscent of the "Ascension Ritual" that produced multiple legendary-tier powerhouses. These reports spread far and wide. Just as the imperial high command had anticipated, the personal presence of the two deities and the bestowal resembling the Sun God's Ascension Ritual struck profound shock into the southern powers, firmly establishing the Cinder Empire's renown across Feanso. This had been one of Cassius's primary objectives. It was easy to foresee that following this coronation, the empire would command far greater authority and hold pivotal weight across the Feanso Continent. Cassius's prestige and fame grew all the more formidable. People also seemed to realize that the red dragon's relationship with Tiamat was not nearly as close as rumors suggested—in fact, there was a noticeable rift between them. Furthermore, Cassius's distinctive and fearsome appearance, his gargantuan size rivaling that of a great wyrm, and his temperament—so uncharacteristically free of the brutish savagery typical of ordinary red dragons—aroused immense curiosity among dragon scholars everywhere. Thus, through the relentless research of dragon scholars, the moniker "Dragon Prince" was discarded entirely, replaced by a title far more emblematic: the "Red Emperor." *** "The 'Red Emperor' rose like a shooting star, yet he never fell like a comet." —Gunther, Dragon Scholar