Surrender and Aftermath

*Boom!* Cassius beat his broad draconic wings, his mountain-sized body landing heavily atop the city of Corinth. His colossal weight crushed a section of the wall and sent tremors shuddering through the earth. As a former Fadlan military stronghold, Corinth's walls were exceptionally imposing and sturdy. Constructed from rock and obsidian, they stood dozens of meters tall, easily capable of repelling invasions by hill giants or orcs. Yet before this red dragon measuring over fifty meters in length, Corinth's walls appeared remarkably low, like fragile toys. "Gods above..." "By Amaunator..." Rustling whispers broke out across Corinth and its outskirts. Countless gazes turned upward toward the towering, magnificent red dragon. "Mama, what is that...?" "Shh, not a sound! Don't look over there..." Adults covered the eyes of curious boys and clamped hands over the mouths of wailing baby girls. No one dared make the slightest noise, terrified that even a whisper might provoke the great dragon's wrath. Tension and terror were etched across every face. Like condemned prisoners awaiting judgment, they waited in silence for the verdict of fate. For a century, the people of Fadlan had never known such helplessness. They had always been the victors in foreign conquests, champions of righteousness. Never had they imagined that one day they too would become the victims of war, cowering inside their homes, trembling in silence. *Thud... Thud...* Cassius strolled along the battlements. Despite his massive bulk, his steps were surprisingly light, yet each pace dislodged showers of rubble and drew groaning creaks from the overburdened stone. The heavy thuds echoed like pounding heartbeats, dialing the tension within and outside the city to a fever pitch. People held their breath, drenched in cold sweat. Finally, the red dragon bounded atop the highest tower, grinding the spire of the Sun God—the very symbol of Fadlan's imperial authority—beneath his talons. Cassius lowered his head and swept his gaze over his surroundings like a lion surveying its domain. Only then did he speak, his voice slow and resonant: "In the name of the Cinder Emperor, I hereby declare that from this day forth, North Aethel belongs to the Cinder Empire! "And all of you who submit to imperial rule and accept the new order shall become imperial subjects, entitled to the protection of the Cinder Empire's laws and military might!" Cassius's voice rang out with resounding force, echoing through the battered city of Corinth and rolling across the open plains beyond. It carried a strange, hypnotic weight that compelled conviction from the depths of the heart, as though it were absolute truth—even coming from a fearsome red dragon. Perched atop the ramparts, the red dragon unfurled his sky-blotting wings. A vast shadow fell over the city, enveloping countless defenders and citizens of Corinth within its shade. For reasons none could fathom, beneath the expanse of those draconic wings, even as people trembled with terror and swallowed hard, an inexplicable sense of security took root in their chests. Some of the elders even recalled scenes from decades past, when the Fadlan Empire had similarly seized North Aethel with an iron hand, ultimately ushering in prosperity and abundance. Now that Holy Fadlan was no more, why shouldn't the Cinder Empire become master of this land? Yet for now, the air both inside and outside Corinth remained frozen. No one dared risk being labeled a traitor to humankind by speaking first. Inside the houses of Corinth, hushed whispers broke out as people anxiously debated their fate. "They say the evil dragon's broods butcher entire cities and devour women and children..." "Lord Walter once said that red dragon is a notorious lecher who loves shapeshifting into human form to commit unspeakable..." "If we surrender, will they truly guarantee our safety?" Cassius tilted his head down, looking upon the crowd from on high. In the bright sunlight, the majestic draconic visage twisted into what he considered a benevolent smile. "Humans, will you still not surrender? Do you truly insist on making an enemy of the Empire? "To oppose the Cinder Empire leads to only one outcome—just like your poor Duke, you will lose your lives, leaving not even a complete corpse behind, reduced to mere ash." Though the red dragon spoke in an exceptionally gentle tone, the words were chillingly stark, laced with undisguised menace. A terrifying draconic aura bore down, subjecting everyone to crushing psychological pressure. *Clatter!* A longsword fell to the ground with a crisp ring. The captain of Corinth's guard dropped to his knees with a thud, tears and mucus streaming down his face, his throat trembling in spasms. "I... I surrender!" He buried his face into the dirt. Fearing the dragon hadn't heard, he choked out a repetition, "Your Majesty Cassius, I surrender!" This time, the words came far more smoothly. At this moment, the people were like a scattered flock of sheep. Once the first bellwether stepped forward, a second and third were sure to follow, until every last lamb fell in line... Immediately, the crowd stirred. The captain's capitulation was like opening a floodgate; pent-up emotions poured forth like a torrent, and the final straw of resistance broke completely. "I surrender too!" "As long as you spare my family, I'll do anything!" "I... I am willing to follow Your Majesty Cassius and become a subject of the Cinder Empire!" "I yield as well! Fadlan has fallen, and only the Cinder Empire has the strength to protect North Aethel..." From the previously silent throng erupted an earth-shaking chorus of cries and pleas. Waves of soldiers threw down their weapons and collapsed trembling to the ground; others knelt, kowtowing repeatedly in the red dragon's direction. Across the Cinder Empire's lines, soldiers burst into deafening cheers. For a time, cries of "Long live His Majesty Cassius!" and "Long live the Empire!" rang out without pause, lingering over the North Aethel Plains. Cassius surveyed the scene with satisfaction. Craning his neck toward the sky, he threw his head high and let loose a clarion roar. Instantly, the white dragons, wyverns, and flame drakes in the sky, along with the land drakes, hill drakes, and pyrohydras on the ground, raised their heads and joined in a synchronized chorus of draconic roars that drowned out every other sound. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire world trembled beneath the dragons' roars, all creation bowing before the great red dragon perched atop the city gate tower. Everyone knew that the war was over. The Red Dragon Emperor from the north had achieved an exceptionally glorious victory, thoroughly conquering North Aethel. As for integrating and governing the newly acquired territory, that was merely a matter of time. In the distance, Archmage Zalan stared despairingly at the red dragon on the battlements. The hand holding his staff drooped involuntarily, his heart sinking to the very depths. "It's over... It's all over... The Cinder Emperor's power is far beyond anything the City of Myriad Laws imagined." Zalan lowered his eyelids, his tone steeped in bitterness. Just then, a furious shout erupted from the coalition lines, interrupting Zalan's thoughts. "Vile dragon, I will never bow to you!" Cullen flared his feathered wings. Clad in gleaming golden armor, he flew out from among the ranks, leveling his standard-issue longsword of the Sun God at the red dragon as he roared in fury, "I shall inherit Lord Walter's convictions and lead the people of North Aethel to fight you to the death!" "It's Lord Cullen..." "Truly worthy of Fadlan's godblood marquis... such admirable courage..." "Marquis Cullen, I will fight by your side!" Looking up at Cullen's radiant back, the coalition soldiers were deeply moved, a surge of admiration rising in their hearts. A few even mustered what courage they had left and stepped forward with drawn swords. "Cullen..." Zalan started to speak, then stopped himself. He reached out as if to halt the reckless display, but shrank back, terrified of drawing the red dragon's eye. By now, Cullen was blinded by rage. Grief over his fallen comrades, outrage at his countrymen's shameless surrender, and searing hatred for the invader mingled in his heart, stripping him of all reason. "Fadlan is eternal!" With a roaring cry, the godblood marquis raised his sword and dove toward the distant red dragon, trailing streaks of golden light. "Fool..." Cassius gave a cold sneer, watching the gleaming golden figure of the angelic godblood with utter indifference. "If that is your wish, I will grant it and send you to join Duke Walter!" Unhurriedly, the red dragon raised a claw. The massive talons, several meters long, swept downward, cleaving the air in an instant to slam squarely into the angelic godblood. *Boom!* Struck by the giant claw, Cullen crashed violently into the city wall and was embedded deep within it. Stones and bricks crumbled, dust billowed, and a dull rumble shook Corinth's ramparts. Blood spewed from his lips. His entire body was battered beyond recognition, a mangled mess of flesh and shattered bones, his wings twisted and broken in wretched disarray. Before the red dragon's overwhelming might, even a legendary angelic godblood, a seasoned Fadlan warrior who had fought across countless battlefields, was rendered pitifully fragile—little more than a plaything. Cassius was in no hurry. Looking down at the godblood with contempt, he said calmly, "Overestimating yourself, aren't you? The Fadlan Empire fell long ago, and even Duke Walter whom you followed is dead and gone. What reason do you have left to hold on?" Even then, Cullen did not yield, refusing even to lower his proud head. Cullen raised his blood-soaked head. His face twisted in a ghastly, mocking grin as he rasped with his dying breath, "Cassius... I curse you. One day, the empire you forged will come crashing down as well— "And now, feel the wrath of the sun, all you invaders and traitors!" The angelic godblood laughed and wept like a madman as blinding radiance surged from his chest. Clearly, he sought to emulate Duke Walter and orchestrate a grand finale for himself. "Ridiculous!" Losing patience, Cassius thrust his massive claw forward, its razor-sharp tip piercing Cullen's chest. *Squelch—* With practiced ease, the red dragon plucked out the godblood's divine origin and swallowed it whole before countless watching eyes, then lifted his head with a grin. "Do you see now? That is the fate of fools who do not know their place." Having enjoyed an extra treat, Cassius spoke with airy lightness. Every gaze involuntarily shifted toward his feet. There, Cullen's corpse was deeply embedded in the battlements, his chest brutally torn open to reveal mangled flesh and internal organs, with golden-red blood trickling out. A collective gasp ran through the crowd. Some even wept, faces stark with terror. Once a glorious, mighty, and majestic godblood, he was now put on display like butchered prey, stripped of all dignity and status. "Hurry, faster..." "It's far too dangerous here. We must return to the City of Myriad Laws..." In a corner of the coalition lines, Archmage Zalan gripped his staff with sweat-drenched hands, trembling as he chanted an incantation. Around him, space warped and twisted, flickering with faint magical auras as the teleportation spell model took shape. Atop Corinth's gate tower, Trump's voice reached Cassius's ears from thousands of meters away. "Master, the wizards from the City of Myriad Laws and the Arcane Hermitage are casting teleportation spells. Over a hundred of them are trying to escape. "Our large dimensional anchor is ready. Should we... keep them all here?" Cassius caught the excitement in Trump's tone and couldn't help twitching the corner of his mouth. To the former ogre archmage, every spellcaster was a treasure trove—not only could precious arcane knowledge be extracted from their lips, but their skulls could also be used to adorn his necklace. Granted, no new heads had appeared on Trump's necklace for quite some time; he seemed to have abandoned that "savage" habit, yet his obsession with capturing wizards remained as strong as ever. At the thought, Cassius shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. "Stick to the old routine. Detain half of them and let the other half go. Let them spread the name of the Cinder Empire far and wide." "Yes, Master." Across the coalition lines, many wizards, including Zalan, managed to leave Aethel, but others found themselves locked in place, crying out in dismay and frustration. The Cinder Empire's armies advanced steadily. Steam tanks rolled slowly across the earth, gouging deep ruts into the ground as imperial troops swiftly took control of the demoralized, dejected coalition soldiers. With Cullen's death, the final minor interlude drew quietly to a close without kicking up the slightest ripple. The dust had settled, and the outcome was sealed. ... Cassius beat his draconic wings once more, whipping up a scorching gale that lifted his colossal bulk into the air, ascending ten thousand meters into the sky. He looked down upon the battle-scarred earth, watching the ant-like armies, his gaze turning repeatedly toward the eastern and western flanks of Aethel. As the former heartland of the Kingdom of Thrace, North Aethel bordered the Blackstone Mountains and the Ugo Steppe to the east, Silvermoon Bay to the west, and the Central Plains to the south—a veritable strategic crossroads. With this war concluded, the Cinder Empire had firmly established a foothold on the Feanso Continent. Using North Aethel as a base, the Empire could expand outward into the surrounding territories at will. At that realization, endless greed and ambition gleamed once more within Cassius's pale-gold pupils.