The Military Review

March 27, 1790 of the Third Age. Outskirts of Isdalia, the Plains Drill Grounds. "The military review is about to begin—" "Please remain within your designated spectator areas. Unauthorized entry into the drill zone is strictly forbidden; violators do so at their own peril." A tiefling captain's voice blared through the megaphones. The Imperial Guard had cleared a ten-li expanse across the grounds, leaving only designated areas on either flank for spectators to stand. Rifle-bearing tiefling soldiers stood guard alongside the field in two orderly ranks, preventing anyone from intruding. Even before the review had begun, the venue was already buzzing with excitement. People discussed the coming war and eagerly anticipated the start of the procession. "What a massive ground..." "Will His Majesty truly grace us with his presence?" Crowds from across the empire—and even from across the world—packed both sides of the venue, craning their necks in anticipation of the emperor's arrival. This grand review concerned the empire's war against the demons and had been widely publicized by the authorities, drawing hundreds of thousands of spectators from far and wide. Still, it paled in comparison to the coronation that had shaken Feanso years ago. At the far end of the drill grounds stood an elevated dais temporarily conjured through magic—virtually a small hill in its own right—the "throne" prepared for the red dragon. Suddenly, a clamor of roars and the howling rush of wind swept in from the distance. "Look, it's the Wyvern Legion!" "Cassius above..." "This is magnificent!" People looked up into the sky to see hundreds upon thousands of wyverns crowding the horizon, beating their wings in a churning swarm like thick storm clouds blotting out half the sky. Leading the formation was an extraordinarily massive wyvern. It craned its neck and unleashed a raspy roar. "Roaaar—" This wyvern measured a full fifteen meters from snout to tail. Were it not for its two-legged build, even draconic scholars might have mistaken it for a true red dragon. —This was Smaug, leader of the Wyvern Legion, a kin to the Cinder Emperor holding the noble rank of marquis. Amid the dense throng in the spectator stands flanking the grounds, Adrovel lifted his head, nudged the spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and gazed somberly up at the wyverns in the sky. "Such bloodline purity... It's already approaching that of a true dragon. This wyvern possesses strength on par with a young silver dragon, perhaps even rivaling an adult." Boom! Boom! Wooo—! Suddenly, the ground trembled with dull thuds like the beating of war drums, joined by the familiar bellow of steam whistles. "That's..." "It's the Land Drake Legion!" "No, it's not just land drakes—there's something else! That's a steam whistle!" Dense, churning steam billowed along the distant horizon. As the earth shuddered, colossal silhouettes emerged from within. First came over a dozen mountain-like land drakes. Clad in heavy iron barding and carrying hobgoblin beastmasters upon their backs, they let out low, rumbling growls. "I know that one!" "That drake is called Black Rock! It trampled an entire northern knightly order to death!" All of them were mighty drakes meticulously reared at the Storm Heights ranch. Seasoned veterans of countless battles, each was equivalent to a miniature fortress. Yet this was merely the beginning. Twelve chilling mechanical monstrosities rumbled forward, spewing plumes of steam as they burst from the vaporous cloud at a speed belying their immense bulk. Beneath these "beasts" lay not legs, but high-speed continuous tracks. In front sat not heads, but heavy armor engraved with the imperial crest, cold-glinting battering rams, and thick, hair-raising cannon barrels. "Th-this is..." "It's steam tanks!" "Cassius above, wasn't this thing supposed to only exist on blueprints? The Imperial Department of Technology actually built them!" someone cried in shock. In truth, these steam tanks were not the handiwork of the players. Count Gilmour Sparrow of the Imperial Department of Technology had drawn upon the knowledge of the Starfallen to personally design and fabricate these steel behemoths, outfitting them with battering rams and steam cannons. To commemorate Gal, the old land drake who had fallen in the Northlands War, this class of steam tank was christened the "Old Pal-class." Imperial military officials widely held that compared to the sluggish land drakes that consumed massive amounts of food, these mechanical behemoths packed greater impact and were far more cost-effective. This marked the grand debut of the steam tanks before the wider imperial populace, leaving the spectators thoroughly awestruck. "Ye gods..." "Th-this is ridiculous!" "Cassius above, even demons would be crushed to pulp by these iron lumps!" Wyverns crowded the skies; behemoths dominated the earth. Gunfire and artillery resounded in unison, while even more troops steadily arrived from the distance. "Bahamut above..." Adrovel, watching from the crowd, grew increasingly solemn. In terms of pure military presence alone, the army of the Cinder Empire was already no inferior to that of Holy Fadlan in its prime. He finally understood why Genesis regarded this nation with such gravity, even bordering on panicked distress. He also grasped why the imperial citizens were in such high spirits. With an army like this, why would anyone fear defeat? Beside him, Genesis gazed up at the sky in silence, her shoulders trembling faintly and her eyes laced with tension, as if waiting for something. She could not help clutching her chest. The military review had only just begun, and the imperial army had already displayed its staggering might—yet what of the emperor himself? "Heave, ho..." Amid heavy panting, ogre artillerymen dragged massive siege guns onto the drill grounds, calibrated their positions, and aimed their muzzles toward the sky. Boom! Boom! Boom! Artillery roared. Shell after shell soared straight into the clouds before detonating high above, forming two neat lines of fiery clouds that turned half the sky a vibrant orange-red. These were imperial ceremonial shells, designed to produce brilliantly dazzling bursts of fire. The fiery clouds billowed like a rising tide, gradually weaving into an avenue of smoke and flame. "Roaaar—" An earth-shattering roar resonated from afar. All eyes turned toward the horizon, where an incomparably colossal figure emerged. The red dragon hung suspended high in the heavens, looking down upon the earth with pale golden eyes. With the slow sweep of his expansive wings, hurricanes wrapped in trailing fire surged along either side of his body, and every fire element in the world seemed to stir and leap with excitement. —The supreme ruler of the empire, Cinder Emperor Cassius, had finally appeared at this military review! "Cassius above..." "Praise Cassius!" "He... he truly came!" The spectators in the stands looked up toward the silhouette, every varied face flushed with piety and fanatical devotion. They pressed their hands together, closed their eyes, and murmured prayers as if witnessing the descent of a god. "Bahamut above, what in the world..." Adrovel, mingled within the crowd, could not help swallowing hard. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined a red dragon could be so colossal. As a mature silver dragon, he was not even half the emperor's size; by comparison, he seemed almost like a wyrmling. No wonder this dragon had vanquished his venerable, highly respected uncle. A dragon of this caliber had already transcended the bounds of ordinary dragonkind. "Ngh..." Meanwhile, Genesis still held both hands over her chest, seemingly having yet to recover her wits. She lifted her head in a daze, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs, her blue-gray eyes reflecting the firelight—and the magnificent silhouette of the dragon.