With the Battle of North Aethel concluded, the main host of the Cinder Empire marched south in grandeur, swiftly taking control of the entire North Aethel Plain.
The original forces of North Aethel surrendered en masse. Most were disarmed and released, while a handful of high-ranking officers were arrested. Those who refused to comply were promptly executed on the spot, their corpses left strewn across the wilderness.
One godblood count had feigned surrender while secretly gathering more than a thousand personal retainers and reaching out to confidants of Duke Walter in a desperate bid for a final stand.
Unfortunately for them, their luck could not have been worse: they ran straight into Misha, who was overseeing the prisoners. The Daughter of Dragonfire unleashed a roaring torrent of dragonflame, incinerating the godblood noble to ash and reducing his thousand-plus followers into fertilizer for the North Aethel Plain.
Shortly thereafter, to stabilize the situation, Duke Mezrolash led the Imperial Guard into North Aethel's various cities. With practiced efficiency, they seized control of city halls, defense headquarters, armories, and other critical hubs—a routine they had long since perfected.
During this transitional period, remnants of the old regime attempted minor counterattacks. Underground gangs began stirring up trouble, and private armies belonging to various nobles staged scattered strikes.
Yet beneath the relentless hail of bullets, these sporadic skirmishes amounted to little more than flickering embers, snuffed out almost as soon as they began. The noble houses foolish enough to resist were met with ruthless slaughter.
A thick stench of blood and acrid gunpowder hung over the cities. Agonized wails frequently punctuated the gunfire, driving the terrified populace to cower inside their homes, trembling behind barred doors.
Soon, however, the civilians realized that this army of monsters, dragonkin, and fiendbloods was only purging the entrenched old powers. Toward ordinary folk, they turned a blind eye, maintaining strict discipline without taking so much as a thread or needle.
Even the constables and city guards were far from the brutal savages people had feared. After several days of purges, public order across the cities actually showed a marked improvement.
Battered by relentless sweeps from the Imperial Guard, the anti-imperial factions went underground, lurking in the dark corners of urban sprawl.
Only a few days later, official imperial proclamations were posted everywhere: anyone who reported rebel factions would be granted full imperial citizenship, a hefty sum of gold coins, and ironclad personal protection.
After several citizens took the risk and were handsomely rewarded, anonymous tips quickly became a widespread trend across every city in North Aethel. Hidden organizations were uprooted one after another.
Bit by bit, the residents grew accustomed to soldiers patrolling the streets with firearms, to the iron juggernauts that shook the earth as they rumbled past, to the wyverns soaring overhead, and to the loudspeakers singing the Cinder Emperor's praises as the Starfallen wandered through the alleys...
For imperial officials and soldiers, governing newly conquered territory had already developed into a systematic protocol. Every policy and procedure had been thoroughly road-tested; all it required was minor adjustments to suit local conditions before being rolled out wholesale.
In less than a fortnight, the Empire's administration hit its stride. Social unrest subsided, and the region steadily aligned itself with the Cinder Empire's order.
Of course, reshaping the social order was a monumental and enduring task that could only be achieved step by step. Establishing control was merely the opening move; the administrative backlog that followed was more than enough to leave imperial bureaucrats thoroughly swamped.
The former city of Corinth was rechristened Dragonhead City, while Saint Theo—originally named after a saint of the Church of Amaunator—was renamed Jinya City in honor of the kobold marquis who had fallen in the Abyssal War.
Imperial troops even began establishing a new defensive line along the border, settling into a tense standoff with the frontier garrisons of the Kingdom of Thrace.
When word of the Cinder Empire's conquest of North Aethel spread, the entire world was shaken to its core. No one had anticipated that in just over a month, the Duchy of North Aethel would fall completely into the Empire's grasp.
This territory spanning nearly seven hundred thousand square kilometers had now become the Cinder Empire's continental bridgehead, allowing it to threaten its neighbors at any moment. The Empire's "blitzkrieg" doctrine was already famous across the realm, leaving countless self-proclaimed military experts utterly flabbergasted.
The major factions of Feanso were seized by deep apprehension. From the Mountain Kingdom to the northeast, to the Free Trade Confederation to the west, to the Kingdom of Thrace to the south, and even Serenia thousands of leagues away, a pervasive chill of unease settled in.
And once visual recordings of the red dragon's battle against Barachiel and the other two champions began to circulate, people grew all the more terrified by the sheer might of the Red Dragon Emperor.
Factions devoted to good—such as the Silverymoon Alliance, the Harpers, and the Arcane Hermitage—hurriedly scrambled to confer and forge alliances. Even the churches of righteous deities like Amaunator and Tyr grew taut with tension, as if the ancient Dragon Calamity of ten thousand years ago were poised to repeat itself.
From that moment on, the Cinder Empire was no longer an isolated, overseas outlier or a mere piece of background dressing. It had formally stepped onto the stage of Feanso, establishing itself as a pivotal force shaping the continent's balance of power and a central actor in its spiraling conflicts.
Now that the Cinder Empire had taken the stage, there was no telling how many clashes and wars would unfold across the vast expanse of Feanso, nor how many families would be shattered or how many commoners would perish in the fires of conflict.
Yet one thing was certain: with the Cinder Empire's arrival, the continent's future had become vastly more turbulent, volatile, and unpredictable.
* * *
Meanwhile, the very entity occupying the thoughts of countless humans, dwarves, elves, dragons—and even deities—was lounging lazily on his side inside a cavern in North Aethel, cheerfully inspecting his status panel.
[You have slain a Lord of Heaven. You have unlocked the Legendary Achievement: Holy Slayer.]
[Holy Slayer]
[In the days of Creation, while the multiverse still trembled from the aftershocks of its birth, seven blessed martyrs who sacrificed themselves for Order and Good emerged in the Upper Planes with unique and mighty forms.]
[These seven martyrs and their successors formed the Celestial Hebdomad. Appointed by the Heavens themselves, they serve the Seven Heavens as its immortal rulers. Whoever slays them shall bear an eternal curse.]
["To slay a Lord of Heaven?
With all due respect, even entertaining such a notion borders on transgression. It is a delusion fit only for the vilest fiends and the most savage demons."
—*Sacred Scroll of Heaven*, recorded by Estran, Scholar of the Outer Planes.]
[Passive Trait Gained:]
[Holy Slaying]
[Constitution +1, Charisma +1]
[Bearing profound contempt for Order and Good, you personally slew a Lord of Heaven, devouring a portion of celestial origin and drawing the gaze of the World's Will.]
[You have gained the additional traits: Body of Divine Contempt, Dirge of Holy Slaying.]
[Body of Divine Contempt: From now on, you possess inherent resistance against all sacred power originating from Mount Celestia, and your being cannot be easily altered by the Celestial Will.]
[Dirge of Holy Slaying: By expending a set amount of mental energy, you can cause a lament for the fall of a Lord of Heaven to echo around you. Lawful Good creatures within range will be unsettled, and your attacks will deal increased damage against them.]
A trophy of black and gold radiated a soft, ethereal luminescence before gradually sinking into the red dragon's colossal frame, suffusing him with power that warped reality itself.
Cassius narrowed his eyes slightly and relaxed his body, letting the invisible force reshape his flesh.
He had long since grown accustomed to receiving attribute gains. Rather than resisting, he found the process immensely enjoyable.
[Constitution: 35 → 36]
[Charisma: 37 → 38]
A wave of searing heat surged through his limbs and torso. The muscle fibers beneath his scales knotted even tighter, while bursts of pale steam hissed from the vents along his neck and tail. His constitution had leaped forward once again.
Meanwhile, the boost to Charisma vastly expanded Cassius's psychic reservoir, enabling his will to reach even deeper into the Weave until it brushed against the pinnacle of its nine tiers.
From this point forward, even weaving intricate Ninth-Tier spells would require nothing more than a passing thought.
Naturally, Cassius's rewards did not end there. Over the past ten-odd days spent nursing his injuries, the experience harvested from killing Walter and Barachiel, combined with his share of experience siphoned from imperial faction players, had pushed him over the threshold for another level.
Looking at the notification on his panel, a smile of eager anticipation crossed the dragon's face. He had waited quite a while for this level-up; after all, his life tier had reached a height ordinary mortals could scarcely conceive of, and every step upward demanded an astronomical sum of experience.
[You have slain Barachiel, Lord of the Heralds (Challenge Rating: 32). Gained 185,000 XP.]
[Your Total Class Level has increased to: 26.]
[Current Classes: True Dragon Sorcerer 18 / Bloodscaled Fury 3 / Elemental Master 4 / Hidecarved Dragon 1.]
In gamer terms, Cassius was practically an "all-rounder" among dragons, having acquired nearly every draconic prestige class within reach, though none had reached max level yet.
Consequently, Cassius wanted to double down on his primary class first, ensuring his spellcasting potency could hold its own against top-tier peers.
[You chose to advance True Dragon Sorcerer to Level 19.]
[Benefiting from innate draconic casting and your Elemental Lord authority, your current Caster Level is: 30.]
A familiar sensation washed over Cassius's frame. His mind roamed freely within the Weave like an embodiment of the world itself, where a mere flick of his wrist could sway all creation.
Yet that was not the end of it.
[Upon reaching Level 19 in this class, you gain 2 Epic Attribute Points (applicable to attributes of 20 or higher) to assign to an attribute of your choice.]
Under Elezerg's advancement framework, Level 19 offered the final opportunity to gain raw attribute points; anything beyond was reserved for capstone traits. This choice was exceptionally precious.
Cassius licked his lips and grinned ferociously. Gazing eagerly at the panel, his mind was already made up.
[You chose to increase: Charisma.]
[Charisma: 38 → 40]
Cosmic energy, the Words of Creation, and the fundamental laws of the world surged through the red dragon's core, drawing a low, reverberating roar from his throat. Nothing compared to the sheer euphoria of seizing raw power.
*Roar—*
In an instant, Cassius felt the entire world resonating with him. His awareness reached the absolute boundaries of the Weave, allowing him to perceive the primal essence of magic and shape it at will.
The true name of Cassius Claubau Norixius was etched into the Source Sea, sending a shiver through the Weave and prompting every epic spellcaster in existence to feel a subtle jolt, accompanied by the echo of a resounding draconic roar.
At this moment, Cassius finally shattered the constraints of the ninth tier, stepping into a realm that ordinary casters could chase for lifetimes without ever touching.
And yet, Cassius had crossed that threshold in a matter of moments. Had those wizened mages who spent centuries buried in magical research learned of this, they would have gone stark raving mad with envy.
[Your Charisma attribute has reached 40. You have gained the trait: Transcendent Spellcaster.]
With his ability to project influence over reality reaching its zenith, Cassius was now fully qualified to cast epic spells beyond the ninth tier.
*Boom!*
With a mere stray thought, surging dragonflame materialized inside the cavern, instantly hollowing out the interior of the mountain. He had not cast a single spell; through sheer force of will alone, he had unleashed destruction comparable to magic of the seventh tier or higher.
Even his roars now carried the fundamental essence of magic, capable of crumbling stone and sundering peaks. It was no exaggeration to say that his every movement could trigger terrifying natural disasters, bringing ruin down upon mortal kingdoms.
Even setting aside the formidable bloodline and physiology of a progenitor dragon, Cassius was now fully capable of standing among the undisputed apex figures of the Material Plane, more than worthy of being courted and placated as an honored guest by the rulers of any nation.
Staring at the notifications steadily rolling across his panel, Cassius's gaze grew hotter, like a volcano on the verge of erupting.
With this caliber of spellcasting prowess already in hand, if he were to roll an epic draconic spell dating back to the Age of Thunder, just how absurd would the power spike be?
[Tracing your ancient progenitor dragon bloodline, you have gained draconic spells: Burning Blood, Phantom Thief, Mass Draconic Allies.]
[Burning Blood]
[5th-Tier Transmutation Spell]
[It is said that when the mightiest red dragons fall, even their deaths bring disaster, for their blood rivals magma!
Upon taking damage, your dragon blood deals continuous energy damage to nearby creatures and permanently alters the terrain.]
[Phantom Thief]
[7th-Tier Conjuration Spell]
[Dragons frequently covet the hoards of their kin, engaging in endless intrigue that gave rise to a variety of specialized spells.
You conjure an invisible force; phantom dragon claws will automatically pilfer the treasures of others.]
[Mass Draconic Allies]
[9th-Tier Conjuration Spell]
[Battles between dragons often stem from clan rivalries and territorial disputes; the side with greater numbers usually triumphs.
By expending a vast sum of wealth, you summon five dragons of your alignment, younger than mature adults, to serve as allies and temporarily obey your commands.]
"..."
Staring at the three draconic spells listed on his panel, Cassius's face darkened. He gritted his teeth, hot, sulfurous puffs of white smoke venting from his nostrils.
To him in his current state, these spells were not merely underwhelming—they were utterly useless junk!
Burning Blood?
There was barely anything left on the Material Plane capable of making him bleed.
Besides, if he wished to obliterate mortals now, he had no need for such clumsy methods. A passing thought was more than enough; volatile fire elementals would happily burn everything to cinder on his behalf.
Phantom Thief?
As the emperor of an entire realm who sat upon millions of square kilometers of territory, did he really need to go around picking pockets? The daily dividend profits from the Claubau Military Industry Group alone dwarfed whatever scraps a thief could steal.
As for Mass Draconic Allies, Cassius genuinely could not fathom what use he would have for a handful of sub-adult chromatic dragons. What was he supposed to do, hold their lives hostage to threaten Tiamat?
The Dragon Queen hardly cared whether a few mature dragons lived or died, even if they happened to be her favored red dragons.
"Goddess of Fate, one of these days I'm going to drag you into my cave and interrogate you within an inch of your life... assuming you actually exist," Cassius muttered through clenched teeth.
Exhaling deeply, he stretched his mountain-sized draconic bulk and shifted into a far more comfortable position, sprawling flat on his back.
Chapter 628