After sorting through the bountiful spoils of the battle, Cassius lay coiled atop the mist-shrouded peak of Dragonblood Mountain, his colossal draconic frame rising and falling with his breath.
"Hoo... hoo..."
Before his maw, bristling with fangs, burned a cluster of silver-white flame, ceaselessly purifying and refining the purple-black flesh to purge the chaotic black miasma within.
As a power capable of inducing entropy reduction and diminishing a system's chaos, the Flame of Ordering required an astronomical amount of energy.
Even for a being like Cassius, who was practically a draconic reactor, it took everything he had to sustain the silver-white flame and refine pure progenitor dragon blood.
*Pfft...*
Jets of scalding white smoke vented from the red dragon's nostrils and the seams of his maw. The fundus vessels within him surged with a faint luminescence; his burly, massive body was like a furnace running continuously.
At last, the flame slowly dispersed, leaving a single drop of bright red blood suspended in midair, which Cassius swallowed immediately.
[Progenitor dragon bloodline purity +0.0001%]
Compared to the mountain-sized dragon carcass hundreds of meters long, this sliver of flesh was merely a drop in the ocean.
Yet compared to Cassius's vast lifespan, the time spent was equally negligible. In the near future, the red dragon would digest the entire carcass and transform into a true progenitor dragon.
Suddenly, a magical projection of Trump appeared before the red dragon, a flattering smile spreading across the ogre's hideous, ferocious face.
"Master, the silver dragons of the Melvold Clan are still requesting an audience. There are nine adult silver dragons and four young silver dragons. The leader is a silver dragon of the wyrm tier—reportedly Oszedro's brother. His strength is not to be underestimated. What do you think...?"
"Tiresome pests. Those silver dragons of Melvold always love looking for trouble. Still, this time, they do deserve some credit."
Cassius snorted, puffing another cloud of scalding white smoke and giving his massive head an impatient shake.
He had just been immersed in the exhilaration of advancing his bloodline and growing stronger; being disturbed at such a crucial moment was hardly a pleasant experience.
Trump sensed the Emperor's irritation and hurriedly said with cautious care, "Then Master, shall I bring them before you...?"
"No, Trump. Don't forget that Dragonblood Mountain is forbidden ground."
"Since they are so eager to see me..."
Cassius pushed his heavy body up with his powerful limbs, stretched his back, and swung his thick, long tail.
"Then I shall appear before them."
*Rip—*
The red dragon raised a sharp claw and effortlessly tore open the space before him, creating a flame-wreathed spatial rift, then ducked his head and stepped right through.
...
On the edge of the Anstica Mountains, the silver dragons circled, beating their wings in full vigilance.
Pablicheko stood on all fours nearby, gazing nervously at the ogre.
"Lord Trump, His Majesty... has he agreed?"
Pablicheko's journey had not merely been to fight the Abyssal demons, but also to fulfill a task entrusted by his elder brother—to ascertain the Empire's future course.
According to the silver dragons' investigations, the Cinder Empire's military might was expanding at an astonishing pace, and its devastating weaponry clearly manifested the nation's soaring ambition.
They would likely never remain content confined to a desolate corner like the Great Anzetta Waste.
Yet the ogre archmage replied in a hushed whisper, "His Majesty has granted your audience, but... he should be descending upon this place any moment."
Pablicheko was taken aback and pressed, "What do you mean?"
*Rip—*
Sharp, massive dragon claws reached out from the void, seizing both sides of a spatial rift and tearing it open by sheer force.
Instantly, swirling flames coiled around the rift as sparks danced in the air. A roaring, scorching gale swept forth, accompanied by an overwhelming pressure that spilled out, blanketing miles around.
*Awoo!*
At once, the silver dragons flying in midair were forced downward as though crushed by an invisible colossal hand. Howling low, they slammed into the earth, their bodies crashing heavily against the ground.
These young and adult silver dragons, who would be considered mighty anywhere in the world, now lay sprawled groaning on the ground like helpless chicks, completely unable to move.
"This is..."
Even the wyrm silver dragon felt a crushing blast of wind and a trembling deep within his bloodline, compelling him to lower his majestic silver head.
As the howling wind gradually subsided and the pressure abruptly eased, Pablicheko finally raised his head. Looking up at that towering figure, he fell into profound shock.
"Bahamut above..."
Observing from a distance was vastly different from an encounter up close. Only when truly standing before this enormous red dragon could Pablicheko tangibly feel his terrifying aura and immense power.
Over forty meters—approaching fifty meters—in length, he was nearly twice Pablicheko's size.
Furthermore, this Cinder Emperor was far more robust than ordinary red dragons. His knotted muscles bulged like iron spheres beneath scarlet scales, and his thick limbs were like colossal pillars.
Yet despite such immense bulk, the red dragon's proportions were immaculate, without the slightest hint of disharmony.
Standing before this Cinder Emperor, even a wyrm silver dragon felt small and frail, like a lamb before a tiger.
"What, not pleased to see me? I heard... you were eager to meet."
Cassius's low voice echoed across the waste, sending an immediate shudder through Pablicheko, who hurried to reply, "Certainly not."
The wyrm silver dragon lowered his head, pressing his plate-bright wings close to his flanks, then slightly bent the knees of his forelegs.
Only then did he offer a respectful greeting: "Good day, Your Imperial Majesty."
Pablicheko pondered for a moment, then maintained a gentle smile. "I witnessed everything you did with my own eyes. I must say, it was truly a magnificent battle. On behalf of the Melvold Clan, I offer my congratulations—congratulations on your Empire's successful repulsion of the Abyssal invasion, and congratulations on securing yet another glorious victory."
"So you're that old fellow's younger brother, Pablicheko? Tsk, quite a mouthful."
Cassius looked the wyrm silver dragon up and down, the scaled brow-horns above his eyes twitching upward.
He was indeed Oszedro's full brother. From a dragon's perspective, they looked remarkably alike, each possessing a lean, chiseled face of shining silver.
However, the silver dragon before him was several sizes smaller than Oszedro, measuring merely around twenty-four meters in length. He bore neither opulent equipment armed to the teeth nor runes carved across his entire body.
An ordinary silver dragon.
That was Cassius's appraisal of him.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Hearing the red dragon's words, the corners of Pablicheko's mouth twitched slightly, yet he answered honestly. He had no wish to irritate this Emperor over a trifle like names.
Cassius said casually, "Speak. What is it? My time is valuable."
Pablicheko hesitated for a moment before treading carefully: "Emperor Cassius, our Melvold Clan wishes to know your perspective on the situation across the Feanso Continent. And... whether the Cinder Empire intends to take part in this conflict."
Cassius narrowed his eyes slightly, gazing at the wyrm silver dragon with pale golden pupils. In a freezing tone, he asked, "These are internal affairs of the Empire. What does that have to do with Melvold?"
Pablicheko quickly shook his head in defense. "We mean no offense. It is simply that the Empire's stance is critical to us—it concerns the state of all Feanso."
The silver dragon turned his head, gazing out over the boundless waste as if lost in Anzeta's rugged grandeur.
Then, as if making a passing remark, he sighed, "Emperor Cassius, you already possess such vast territory, with millions of loyal subjects providing for you and amassing the world's wealth right here. If I were in your place, I would already be content and disinclined to disrupt the order of the south..."
Cassius bared his teeth in a savage, cold sneer.
"Heh..."
The red dragon heard the subtext. This wyrm silver dragon was clearly saying: *You already have so much; why are you still unsatisfied, coveting southern lands?*
Cassius extended a claw, and a magical illusion formed of fire appeared in his palm.
Blazing cities, displaced refugees, weeping mothers, wailing children, mangled corpses strewn everywhere, thick smoke of gunpowder, rivers of flowing blood... one tragic scene after another manifested in the projection.
—That was the misery gripping the borderlands between the Kingdom of Thrace and the Kingdom of Cassander, the region where the war raged most fiercely.
This war had dragged on for three full years. Through endless slaughter and deepening hatred, the two nations had completely forgotten they were once kinsmen, seeing only mortal enemies who had to be eradicated.
And enemies were not considered human. Thus, countless civilians on both sides perished in the clashes of cannons, Godblood Legions, and Arcane Legions, their lives treated as worthless as weeds.
Cassius spoke mercilessly: "Is *this* the order your Melvold Clan strives so hard to maintain? If this qualifies as order, you might as well go to the Nine Hells and ask Asmodeus, Lord of the Nine, to be your ruler."
Pablicheko protested, "Yet the weapons your Empire sells..."
Cassius sneered, "Even without the guns and cannons we provide, would they stop butchering one another? The Godblood Legions seem to be slaughtering quite gleefully on their own."
Pablicheko was momentarily at a loss for words, but braced himself to continue: "Your Majesty, that is a war among mortals. They kill one another over wealth, land, and power; there is no right or wrong to it. Even we of the Melvold Clan can hardly stop them, let alone intervene. But... the order between dragons and humanoids such as humans and elves is something we have maintained for thousands of years. For millennia, dragonkind and humanoid races have remained apart without meddling in each other's affairs. Even when atrocities were instigated by Tiamat, we swiftly put an end to them. You are an ally of Melvold; we do not wish to see you standing in opposition to our clan."
Pablicheko spoke in an earnest tone of dissuasion, glancing from time to time at the Emperor's countenance—only to find a touch of... amusement across the draconic face.
"Yet in our treaty of cooperation, there is no clause dictating that the Empire must submit to Melvold's order."
Cassius lowered his head, staring down at the wyrm silver dragon who seemed rather diminutive before him, and gave a fierce grin.
"How arrogant... What right do you have to do this? On what grounds must dragonkind submit to your restraint?"
His voice grew heavier and louder, ultimately booming like thunder.
"Do you realize—even Tiamat and Bahamut, even those draconic gods on high, have no way to command me!"
*Boom!*
Vast wings snapped open, unleashing a deluge of majestic pressure.
Violent gales raged around the red dragon's massive form, and a soul-crushing oppression struck the minds of all the silver dragons.
In an instant, all fell silent.
"Wh-what is that?"
Pablicheko's gaze turned dazed, his body stiffened, and his voice trembled.
Before his eyes seemed to rise several draconic silhouettes thousands of meters long—progenitor dragons personally created by Lord Io, creatures of myth!
The wyrm silver dragon shook violently from head to claw as terror welled up from the deepest recesses of his bloodline.
Yet a thousand years of tempered will granted Pablicheko enough mental fortitude to keep from breaking completely, allowing him to prop up his body and barely remain standing.
"Th-they..."
Though the crushing pressure left Pablicheko utterly weak, he could still catch sight of his surroundings out of the corner of his eye.
Beneath that immense draconic aura, every adult and young silver dragon wore a blank, vacant expression, their bodies rigid, eyes dull and lifeless, completely overwhelmed and broken by the pressure.
"Bahamut above, such draconic presence..."
In his millennium of life, Pablicheko had never seen a dragon incapacitate adult silver dragons through mere dragon fear—not even a great wyrm gold dragon could accomplish such a feat.
Perhaps only draconic deities who had truly transcended mortal vessels could achieve such an effect.
Yet what happened next filled Pablicheko with even deeper despair and shock.
The red dragon folded his wings, opened his jaws, and gave a calm command: "Spin."
No sooner had the word fallen than the adult and young silver dragons, like trained hounds, obediently began chasing their own tails in circles.
Without receiving a subsequent order, the silver dragons continued spinning, as if they would never stop.
In that brief instant, merely through the draconic aura released by his progenitor bloodline, Cassius had seized control of multiple silver dragons!
This was the power of Progenitor Dragon Majesty!
Pablicheko goggled, agape at the spectacle before him. Never before had he witnessed dragons being controlled on such a scale.
Cassius merely watched the spinning silver dragons with amusement, his deep voice resounding over the waste.
"I have no intention of harming you, my dear 'allies.' The agreement to combat the demons and repel the Abyssal invasion together remains in effect. But I want you to understand—if I so choose, the Melvold Clan cannot exert the slightest influence over the Empire's actions."
The draconic pressure vanished abruptly. The silver dragons snapped out of their controlled stupor, looking at one another in confusion, having no grasp of what had just occurred.
"What happened just now?"
"Ugh... my head hurts."
"What did that red dragon do?!"
Pablicheko, however, was gripped by a mixture of shock and terror, standing frozen in place, rendered speechless for the moment.
Cassius paced before the wyrm silver dragon, speaking in a leisurely drawl: "Besides, if you've looked into my past, you ought to know. I am, at heart, the kindest of dragons, brimming with compassion for all things in this world. I cannot bear to see serfs suffer, nor can I stand by while the people of Fadlan are ravaged by the flames of war..."
Chapter 548