Within the Cinder Empire, atop Dragonblood Mountain in the Anstica region.
Sulfurous smoke hung thick in the air, and the blistering heat distorted the atmosphere, sending sparks and cinders dancing through the haze.
Upon a cliff sculpted into the shape of a ferocious dragon's head, a majestic palace carved entirely from solidified lava rose from the stone.
This was the current dwelling of Cassius Claubau Norixius—the supreme Emperor of the Cinder Empire and master of all the dragonblood nobility.
If any divine being or high-tier spellcaster were present, they would be astonished to discover that the pure faith of millions of people gathered and intertwined here like shimmering threads, spreading like the roots of the World Tree.
Such dense, concentrated power of faith was in no way inferior even to that commanded by true deities.
In the spoken lore passed among the empire's populace, the Cinder Emperor's status had long surpassed that of a mere mortal ruler, elevating him to a living god walking the mortal world.
And this Dragonblood Mountain, forged by the Cinder Emperor's own claws as the newly crowned highest peak in Anzeta, had been christened the "Holy Mountain" by the imperial citizens.
Every morning, devout commoners turned toward Dragonblood Mountain to bow thrice, murmuring the Hymn of Cassius under their breath to demonstrate their fealty to His Majesty.
Even the notoriously erratic Starfallen often prostrated themselves toward the mountain, while others chose to offer tribute at the Dragon Oath Sanctuary, with some kowtowing until their foreheads bled.
Yet all the while, their lips babbled baffling phrases like, "May His Majesty bless my drops!" and "Huffing that dragon luck!"
Fortunately, the imperial populace had long grown accustomed to the Starfallen and understood their odd temperaments. No matter what antics they pulled, the common folk hardly batted an eye.
Even if a Starfallen stripped naked to streak right then and there, passersby would merely cast a fleeting glance before carrying on with their business—the watch would soon drag them away anyway.
...
Inside the palace, the colossal red dragon, measuring over forty meters long, held his wings tucked close against his flanks. He exhaled a cloud of sulfurous smoke, his thick tail swaying gently.
Cassius lowered his head, staring at the drop of blood refined before him by silver-white flames, unable to suppress a low, gratified whistle.
"This steady swell of power... is truly magnificent."
Swallowing the blood into his gullet, flames surged through his primary vessels. Cassius felt a wave of warmth glide down from his throat, spreading all the way to the tips of his tail and wings.
For the red dragon now, even magma was nothing more than ordinary bathwater, and the wild flames of the underworld were mere playthings in his claws.
Few things across the entire Material Plane could make Cassius feel genuine heat, a testament to the terrifying temperature of this progenitor dragon blood.
If ordinary mortals approached it, they would burst into flames before ever touching the droplet, or even vaporize on the spot.
*Hooo—*
With Cassius's long exhalation, a scorching gale swept over the mountain peak, warping the very sky.
The forty-meter-long draconic frame shuddered faintly, rising and falling with his breath, seemingly bulking up a fraction larger to the naked eye.
[Progenitor Dragon Bloodline Concentration +0.001%]
Sensing the surging might within his veins, the corners of Cassius's maw curved upward. He pushed himself up from the ground, gave his wings a brief rustle, and turned his gaze to the flank wall of the palace.
—Mounted upon the stone wall hung an enormous map, spanning nearly two meters across. Crafted from an unbroken hide of a pyrohydra, it was a prized tribute sent from the colonies in the Elemental Plane of Fire.
The map depicted the entirety of the Feanso Continent in detail, meticulously marking every power, and even illustrating the contours of other planes, including Mount Celestia, the Nine Hells, the Abyss, and the Screaming Tunnels.
Across the map's surface floated magical motes of light, containing millions of confidential documents—all counsel and grand strategies submitted by the imperial think tank.
According to Trump, they only wished to do their humble part for the red dragon's "grand blueprint," ensuring the steady advance of the empire's conquest and expansion.
Wherever Cassius directed his gaze, the motes of light containing text burst open, unfurling dense, compact scripts that dazzled even his eyes.
*Conquest Strategy for the Kingdom of Thrace*
*Guidance on Intervention in Therenia*
*Occupation of Port Victoria*
*Annexation Plan for the Highland Dwarf Kingdom*
...
Looking upon the map blanketed with complex proposals, Cassius swung his head, unable to keep from marveling:
"Tsk, tsk. That so-called grand blueprint was just a pie I sketched out on a whim back then, and yet these vassals actually mapped it all out for me.
"It certainly saves me the trouble, but..."
Cassius extended his massive claw, pressing it down against the upper section of the map.
Instantly, the entire northern region of the continent—encompassing the Kingdom of Thrace, the Highland Dwarf Kingdom, the Free Trade Federation, and numerous other factions—was enveloped beneath his giant talons.
Glancing at the Knowledge (Future) proficiency on his interface, the corners of Cassius's mouth curled as he whispered, "They cannot see the future, after all."
As a former veteran player of Elezerg, Cassius knew the grand events of the War of Kings inside and out—such as the clash between the orcs and dwarfs, the coup in Therenia, the mind flayer invasion of Port Victoria...
And those were merely the tip of the iceberg; hidden beneath the continent's shadows lay endless strifes and entanglements.
After the fall of the Fadlan Empire, gods and demons roamed Feanso, and factions of every stripe sought to carve out a piece of the chaos.
Back then, Cassius lacked the confidence to secure a foothold in Feanso. But now, after years of lying low and gathering strength, he stood as the emperor commanding an immense empire.
At the thought, Cassius felt a wave of emotion. He lightly stroked the grand map, running his claws across the empire's sprawling borders, and murmured:
"It is time to truly set foot upon Feanso. Only in an age of turmoil can the empire seize the chance to rise above the rest..."
Cassius was certain that in the near future, he would lead his empire to the pinnacle of Feanso, establishing global hegemony.
Yet by founding the Cinder Empire, the red dragon had already completely altered the destiny of Anzeta—and this would send shockwaves tearing through the balance of power across Feanso.
In the original timeline, aided by players, the Northern realms had managed to repel the Abyssal invasion, but that was where their story ended.
As a magic-barren wasteland dismissed by mainlanders as a backwater, the Northern realms had possessed neither the strength nor the standing to interfere in the Southern strifes, confined forever to their remote corner.
A butterfly flaps its wings, and an ocean births a storm.
And what Cassius had wrought was far more than the flutter of a butterfly; it was a dragon beating its colossal wings, churning up a cataclysmic tempest over Feanso.
A faint gleam flickered in Cassius's pale-gold eyes. As his gaze swept across the continent, an unmasked trace of greed surfaced deep within his vertical pupils.
"Still, some things will not change. They are destined to occur—such as the war between the three great kingdoms.
"Humans, elves, orcs, dwarfs, nagas, giants..."
As the center of the Material Plane, this continent was home to over a hundred sapient races, nurturing vibrant cultures and entombing countless spectacular ruins.
The red dragon turned and stepped calmly out of the lava palace. Unfurling his broad wings, he let out a commanding roar.
"It has been over a decade since I crossed over into Elezerg. It is high time I witnessed the splendors of Feanso."
Cassius looked toward the south. Light surged within his pale-gold pupils, casting multiple draconic silhouettes, while scorching tongues of flame coiled around him, coalescing into physical form.
*Roar—!*
Layered roars shook the heavens. Before Cassius, two red dragons appeared, throwing back their heads to let loose synchronized roars.
Their appearance matched Cassius down to the finest detail, though their size was several sizes smaller, stretching just over thirty meters from snout to tail tip.
Even their abilities matched Cassius's entirely, though their strength was merely thirty percent of his own.
Such was the effect of the seventh-tier Draconic Spell—Dragon's Simulacrum. Both dragon shadow clones were replica projections of Cassius, bearing his will, memories, and full suite of abilities.
"What a marvelous sensation."
Cassius slowly closed his eyes, savoring the subtle thrill of controlling multiple bodies at once.
This was his strategy: keep his true form upon Dragonblood Mountain to absorb the progenitor dragon bloodline and steadily build strength, while sending clones into the continent to plunder every advantage using his foreknowledge.
Under his command, the two dragon clones beat their wings, churning up scorching gales as they took flight with thundering roars.
Effortlessly tearing through space with their claws, they forged blazing fiery portals and flew toward different horizons beyond the empire's borders.
—Their destinations were Port Victoria, adjacent to Moon Bay in the southwest, and the Blackstone Mountains in the southeast.
Gazing after the departing red dragon silhouettes, Cassius's mouth curled to reveal razor-sharp fangs, his pale-gold eyes brimming with anticipation.
He whispered softly, "Go. Carry my will, and stir the currents of this world."
...
Cinder Empire, the city of Isdalia.
The people within the city were still immersed in the festival from days ago, having yet to shake off the carnival atmosphere. Chants of the Hymn of Cassius still echoed throughout the streets.
"His Majesty is like the sun above, and we are seeds upon the soil, his boundless light shines down on all, to raise green shoots through hardship and toil..."
Whenever a dragonblood noble bearing dragon scales and golden pupils passed by, the crowds erupted in fervent cheers, competing to shout their congratulations.
Escorted by soldiers and surrounded by masses of onlookers, the dragonblood nobles strode down Emperor Avenue with heads held high. They waved to the crowds, reveling in the warm welcome that lined their path.
On such an auspicious day of imperial boons, the nobles were in exceptionally high spirits, occasionally tossing out a dozen silver nars to answer the public's adoration.
"Long live the empire!"
"Long live His Majesty Cassius!"
"Glory to our war heroes!"
Ceremonial cannons boomed in unison as petals drifted downward, the cheers and shouts of the citizens rising like wave upon relentless wave.
The Starfallen known as "I'm Eating Mantou" was in high spirits. Raising both arms high, he yelled toward the crowd, "Come on! Shout my name loud!"
"Shout it with me—Mantou!"
"Mantou!"
"Mantou!"
The imperial citizens had no idea what the name meant, but swept up in the fervent atmosphere, they bellowed along anyway.
Mantou grinned to himself, utterly pleased.
Another batch of video footage secured to highlight his towering image!
Abir, the elven ranger from Therenia, was also among the ranks. Smiling, she waved to the crowds. As the only elf present, she stood out distinctly.
Abir sighed softly, "Cassius above, what a truly harmonious sight."
As a convert to the empire, her past memories were blurred and disjointed, like flickering, broken projections.
All she knew was that she had infiltrated the empire as a spy, only to be captured personally by His Majesty and made a prisoner.
Then, under the earnest guidance of the imperial reform camp, Abir had gradually come to see the hypocritical faces of those so-called "champions of justice" and had felt firsthand the positive changes the empire brought to its people.
Years later, after achieving outstanding scores in every assessment, she was finally permitted to leave the camp.
Abir had profoundly repented of her past misdeeds, devoted herself to the Cinder Emperor, and become a proud imperial warrior. Her exquisite archery had shone brilliantly on the battlefield against the demonic incursion.
Ultimately, she was granted the title of dragonblood baron. Standing upon the Grand Altar of Isdalia beneath the gaze of hundreds of thousands, she had received His Majesty's personal blessing.
It was a supreme honor coveted by countless others. For an erstwhile enemy like her to receive such treatment was beyond extraordinary.
Abir felt profoundly content, and any desire to reclaim her old memories had gradually ebbed away.
The only trace her past life had left behind was the name "Abir," and nothing more.
*Life right now is already so good. Perhaps... there is no need to linger on things long dead and buried.*
After smiling and waving to a little girl holding flowers, Abir recalled the child's innocent smile and thought silently to herself:
*To have stood against such a magnificent empire, my past self must have been utterly brainwashed by those self-righteous hypocrites...*
*Memories like that are not worth dwelling on at all.*
Her conviction solidified, and her steps grew firmer. The dragonblooded elf was convinced she was treading the right path.
Suddenly, with the sharp instincts of a ranger, Abir sensed a gaze fixed intently upon her, sparking a flare of unease.
*An enemy?*
Abir turned swiftly, meeting the gaze.
Hidden within the crowd stood a man draped in a hooded grey cloak, staring straight at her. The partially revealed face was weathered with age and sorrow.
*Wait, that's...*
Abir could tell that the amber eyes held no hostility, but rather... a far more tangled, anguished knot of emotion.
Her heart gave an involuntary jolt.
"Richard."
For reasons unknown to her, Abir uttered that strange yet familiar name, as though it had been carved deep into her soul long ago.
Abir turned the name over in her mind, yet she could not conjure a single scrap of memory attached to it.
By the time she shook herself from her reverie, the grey-cloaked figure had melted into the crowd, vanishing without a trace.
"How strange..."
And so, Abir continued along with the procession, putting the strange encounter out of mind.
Meanwhile, in the deep shadows of an alleyway, the man crouched in a corner with his head bowed, muttering to himself, "No, how could this be... She forgot me!
"No wonder. No wonder Abir joined the empire... She lost all her memories!"
The man—Richard—slowly raised his head, determination settling in his eyes. "I will make you remember everything... Abir."
...
Isdalia, the Inner District. This was where the empire's nobility and dignitaries resided.
Everywhere stood exquisite architecture along immaculate streets. Even the wizard tower of Trump, the imperial prime minister, was situated within the Inner District.
"Approaching Inner District Station One. Please exit in an orderly manner, passengers."
The attendant's clear announcement rang out, and Abir stepped off the steam train, soon arriving before her residence.
It was a brand-new manor, granted directly by imperial authorities after her elevation to dragonblood baron—one that would easily fetch five or six hundred gold coins on the open market.
Abir withdrew a key from her uniform pocket, preparing to unlock the door.
As she inserted the silver key into the keyhole, she suddenly froze. Pausing for a heartbeat, she spoke:
"Come out. I know you are nearby."
Sure enough, a voice trembling with emotion sounded from behind.
"Abir, you truly did..."
A man stepped out from the shadows behind the building, his eyes burning with fervent warmth.
*Click.*
A crisp sound of a hammer cocking broke the silence. Abir whipped around, revealing the pistol that had been readied in her sleeve.
Aiming the muzzle squarely at the man, she knit her brows, her tone sharp: "Who are you? Why have you been tailing me?"
Seeing the hostility in her eyes, Richard could not help the flash of grief that swept over his expression. The dragonblooded elf before him was utterly unrecognizable from the lover he once knew.
"You truly don't remember me."
He sighed softly, slowly pulling down his hood to reveal a handsome yet weary face, along with the distinct pointed ears of an elf.
Abir's heart tightened. A half-elf. He was indeed an old acquaintance.
Yet she did not lower her weapon, pressing on with her interrogation: "What is your objective? Are you plotting against the empire?"
"I bear no ill will, nor do I intend to oppose the empire."
Richard shook his head hastily in defense, probing cautiously: "My name is Richard. Do you... still remember that name?"
Abir nodded slightly. "It rings a bell. You must be someone from my past."
Richard let out a breath of relief. The half-elf wanted to speak, yet knew not where to begin or how much to say. Countless words clogged his throat, desperate for release.
After a moment's thought, he stammered out, "Fifteen years ago, we met at a banquet..."
Yet Abir cut him off coldly: "Richard, none of that matters. I have no wish to hear these tales, because I am not the elf you once knew."
Her frigid words left Richard feeling suffocated.
Were all those cherished memories, those unforgettable vows, to simply vanish into nothingness?
Despair seemed to close around his throat.
The rumors were true. After receiving the Cinder Emperor's boon, Abir's very soul had undergone a fundamental transformation.
He drew a deep breath, straining to maintain a gentle smile beneath the barrel aimed at his forehead, and continued:
"Abir, you've only lost your past memories. I can help you reclaim them.
"We were both members of the Harpers. We crossed paths by chance at a vampire noble's banquet, we infiltrated the Red Wizard Tower side by side to gather intelligence, we watched the sunrise together in Kadawen'er Forest..."
Richard spoke with growing fluidity, his expression softening as tears welled in his eyes.
He relived every shared moment with Abir, his chest tightening with excitement as he anticipated her awakening and their reunion.
Had he not spent countless days undercover, enduring endless waiting, precisely for this moment?
Now, the lover he had yearned for stood right before his eyes. He only needed to reawaken those precious memories to bring her back.
*Click.*
At that moment, Richard felt a cold cylinder press against his brow, sending a jolt of ice through his veins—the muzzle of the gun.
Abir held the firearm steady in her slender hand, resting it firmly against Richard's forehead, her voice eerily calm:
"Standing before you now is not your supposed lover, nor a member of the Harpers.
"I am kin to His Majesty Cassius, a dragonblood baron dedicated unto death to the Cinder Empire—Abir."
The dragonblooded elf did not lower her weapon, nor did she shed the robes that symbolized imperial glory and fidelity. She continued coldly:
"Trespassing into Isdalia's Inner District, stalking an imperial dragonblood noble, and attempting subversion... any one of these is capital espionage.
"For the sake of our former acquaintance, leave this place at once. I will not pursue your crimes further."
Richard stared at his former lover in stunned disbelief. He stood rooted to the spot, shaking his head in profound sorrow, muttering repeatedly:
"No..."
"Abir, it shouldn't be like this..."
"Listen to me, your memories haven't returned yet, you don't know what we went through—"
Richard took a reckless step forward, reaching out to grasp the elf's arms.
Yet Abir lowered her gun, spun like a gust of wind into the manor, and shut the door without hesitation, locking the desperate Richard outside.
She left behind only a single, flat warning:
"Richard, do not linger here. The Imperial Guard will show you no mercy."
Returning to the sanctuary of her home, Abir took off the formal robes of the dragonblood nobility, hung them on the coat rack beside the door, and tucked the unloaded pistol back into its case.
After a long silence, she leaned forward and peered out through the window.
The figure who had just stood in the courtyard was gone, as though he had never been there at all.
"Richard..."
In truth, while Richard had spoken, all of her memories had already flooded back. She remembered every single detail he had tried to recount.
Yet the present was no longer the past. Now, Abir was a faithful vassal of the red dragon, and everything she was belonged solely to that Emperor—her body, her mind, and her soul.
Feelings could fade, but the bond the Emperor had forged upon them was eternal.
Abir knew all too well that as a dragonblood noble of the Cinder Empire and a worshiper of the Emperor, she could never associate with a Harper like Richard again.
It would bring nothing good to her, nor to Richard.
It might seem callous and unfeeling, but it was the only correct choice either of them could make.
More accurately: they no longer belonged to the same world.
"I am sorry. I had no choice."
Abir leaned against the heavy door, clutching her chest. A brief, sharp pang seized her heart, only to vanish into silence an instant later.
Chapter 557