Spoils and the Wounded Gold Dragon

"Still... this isn't all I gained this time." Cassius snorted, exhaling a puff of sulfurous white smoke. He felt the steady rhythm of his body, the surge of energy coursing through his primary vessels. Now, the red dragon's physique was like a vast ocean. The bloodline of a progenitor dragon, Chaos Fire, the power of order, the planar authority of the Elemental Plane of Fire... countless forces of differing natures surged and intertwined within him like ocean tides, forging an immense and intricate system. Using the power of *True Seeing* to peer inward, Cassius finally located the two forces he had just plundered—the planar origin of Mount Celestia and the divine power of the sun. Both had coalesced into peculiar objects within his draconic frame. A delicate, translucent sphere drifted within his dragon blood, slowly revolving. It was a portion of Mount Celestia's origin, accounting for two percent of the Silver Heaven of Lunia, brimming with majestic laws. *** **Heart of Lunia** *Wondrous Item, Mythic* **Domains:** Order, Justice, Good, Law, Light **Effect:** Unknown **Description:** Mount Celestia is home to numerous good-aligned creatures, including aasimars, astral devas, planetars, and solars. Seven blessed martyrs who sacrificed themselves for order and good emerged upon this young plane in formidable, unique forms. Entrusted by Celestia itself to serve the Seven Heavens as its immortal rulers, each wields a portion of the plane's authority. *** *So this is Celestia's planar authority...? Merely gazing upon it evokes order, justice, and pure goodness,* Cassius thought. Barachiel had brought down a mere five percent of the Silver Heaven's origin this time, yet it had enabled him to fight Cassius to a standstill. And Lunia was only the lowest of the Seven Heavens—a clear testament to Mount Celestia's sheer might. As for Zaphkiel, perched high within the radiant heights of Chronias, he was an existence that even Cassius had to look up to. The planar origin was, after all, a cosmic force nurtured across endless ages. Even for Cassius, digesting and mastering it in short order would be impossible; it required careful, long-term planning. The other object was a miniature sun suspended within his heart. It continuously radiated light and heat, illuminating the surrounding space—the divine power derived from Amaunator, the Sun God. Over the past few days, Cassius had not only seized the divine power of Walter and Cullen, but had also rounded up every angel godblood in North Aethel and ruthlessly extracted the divinity within them. *** **Blood of Amaunator** *Wondrous Item, Mythic* **Domains:** Law, Order, Sun, Light, Fire **Description:** A century ago, Aragorn I, the great "Sun Emperor" of the Holy Fadlan Empire, held a grand ceremony to offer sacrifices to the Sun God, Amaunator. During that glorious rite of worship, nobles chosen by the emperor received Amaunator's blessing, becoming "godbloods" endowed with tremendous might and extended lifespans. *** "So this is the so-called power of the sun? How fascinating..." Staring at the miniature sun, Cassius could not help but lick his lips. Divine power was something he was already quite familiar with. Divine power, true to its name, was the prime mover of deities—the concrete manifestation of their might and the vessel through which they performed miracles and unleashed cosmic power. For mortals, the aura of divinity contained within it was enough to make them "godbloods," granting them millennia of life and strength beyond the reach of ordinary men. Yet only an entity who had ignited a divine spark could generate divine power. Cassius did not meet that condition; to him, the solar divinity in his body was like water without a source—a pure consumable. As the God of Law and the Sun, Amaunator's divine power encompassed numerous concepts and laws—law, order, sun, light, and fire. These harmonized exceptionally well with Cassius's innate attributes, allowing him to wield them with effortless grace. [You have absorbed the divine power of Amaunator, God of Law and the Sun, obtaining special abilities: Solar Breath, Orb of the Blazing Sun] *** **Solar Breath** *Empowered by the divine might of the Sun God, your breath weapon possesses the terrifying force of a stellar outburst, annihilating everything before you like a wrathful sun.* **Orb of the Blazing Sun** *You can manifest a phantom sun in the sky, rendering the surrounding area scorching and arid, altering the climate across a radius of one thousand kilometers.* *** Both special abilities possessed power surpassing ninth-tier spells, rivaling epic magic. However, because the solar divinity Cassius had gathered was limited, they could only be cast a handful of times. Cassius was not displeased with this result. Instead, he nodded with deep satisfaction and murmured: "Don't all Fadlanese revere the Sun God? If I display such 'miracles' before the public eye, what will they think? "Duke Walter, thank you for handing me such a strong claim. I'll fulfill your dying wish of restoring Fadlan—just perhaps not quite in the manner you imagined." He strode out of the cave, his high-ridged spine rising like a mountain range as his broad wings slowly unfurled. "What right do puppet kingdoms like Cassander, Thrace, and Seleucia have to call themselves Fadlan? Our Cinder Empire is the true and legitimate successor!" The red dragon's lips curled into a ferocious smile across his imposing draconic visage. In his past life, because the kings endlessly squabbled over the imperial title, the three realms of Cassander, Thrace, and Seleucia were mocked by players as East Fadlan, North Fadlan, and West Fadlan. Now, Cassius would let everyone across the Feanso Continent know—only "Dragon Fadlan" was the true Holy Fadlan! *** Realm of Eternal Order, the White Monastery. *Gasp... wheeze...* A massive ancient gold dragon lay bruised and battered, his wings tattered and torn, resting on his side in the monastery's holy water and gasping for breath. Atop the monastery, the Scale of Lendys emanated a serene radiance that bathed the gold dragon, slowly mending his grievous wounds. Titus lifted his head with great effort, his voice trembling. "Lord Crassus... as a fellow gold dragon, why do you stand idly by in the face of that evil dragon's atrocities? "He... he murdered the benefactor of our gold dragon clan—Walter Graham! *Cough, cough!*" Overcome by agitation, the gold dragon coughed violently, bringing up a mouthful of blood. Standing nearby, the great wyrm gold dragon Crassus let out a heavy sigh and stepped forward to soothe him. "Do not agitate yourself, Titus. Right now, the most important thing for you is to recover. "Your injuries are far too severe. You have thirty-seven broken bones throughout your body, and a third of your blood has drained away. Any worse, and you would be reporting to the Lord of the North Wind..." "Lord Crassus, answer my question! Why show such indulgence to that vile dragon?" Ignoring his pain, Titus growled hoarsely, his tone laced with indignation, bewilderment, and a deep well of grief. "I cannot defeat him." Crassus spoke calmly. The answer was extraordinarily simple, almost dismissive. "Even if you cannot defeat that red dragon, could our entire gold dragon clan united fail to overcome him?" Suddenly, Titus froze. Confusion crept over his battered draconic face, and his breathing grew rapid. "Wait... could it be... this is the will of Lord Bahamut?" "..." A bitter look crossed Crassus's face. He remained silent, offering no direct reply—a silence that spoke louder than any words. At last, the revered great wyrm sighed once more before speaking slowly: "Titus, we admire your dedication, your courage, and your selflessness. You remind me of myself in my youth. But... not everything in this world is black and white." Crassus tapped his staff lightly against the ground, ringing against the monastery's tiled floor. An illusionary projection flickered to life before Titus. Within the projection stood a magnificent palace. Inside were countless cultists clad in robes of black and purple, their leader wearing a golden mask shaped like a five-headed dragon, praying with fervent devotion. At the head of the hall sat a crowned man upon a throne—yet his head was that of a hideous dragon, dark blue-gray with a metallic sheen! Titus caught the chants of the cultists: *"Praise be to the great Immortal Queen, the Dark Lady, the Enemy of the Gods..."* The ancient gold dragon's expression shifted drastically. Furrowing his brow, he murmured, "Those are... prayers to the Dragon Queen?" "Yes. The followers of the Dragon Queen have gradually taken control of the Kingdom of Seleucia, and Her cult is expanding rapidly there." Crassus gave a slight nod, his expression grave. "According to our intelligence, that wicked Dragon Queen is poised to descend once more, bringing catastrophic calamity across Feanso. "Therefore... to us, the Cinder Emperor's stance is of paramount importance. We must at least keep him neutral in this coming war, or the consequences could prove irreversible." "But that red dragon..." Titus tried to protest, but faint traces of magical light began to shimmer across Crassus's form, causing him to fade into an illusion. Only a final piece of advice lingered: "Titus, tread carefully. Do your best to avoid provoking that red dragon again. I was barely able to save your life this time. Next time... there may be no such luck." With those words, the great wyrm vanished, leaving Titus alone in the sacred pool to nurse his injuries. As the presiding Justiciar of the Gold Dragon Council, Crassus had been exceptionally busy of late. Lying where he was, Titus struggled to spread his wings. His face still bore an expression of fury and grievance, but his mind raced with countless thoughts. *According to the history of my past life, the Dragon Tyranny storyline wasn't supposed to begin until the late stages of the War of Kings. I didn't expect it to start so early in this life...* *It seems Tiamat is remarkably confident this time around. Does she actually think I'd side with the chromatic dragons? That old hag is daydreaming,* Titus—or rather, Cassius—sneered inwardly. The ripples caused by the red dragon and his Cinder Empire could no longer be called a mere "butterfly effect." It was the buffeting gale whipped up by a colossal dragon beating its wings. The plotlines from his memories were already altered beyond recognition. Take a certain renowned ranger, for instance—he had been fated to stage a daring rescue of an elven maiden imprisoned by nobles, slipping past heavy guards to flee far and wide. Instead, he had been shot dead in the street by city guards armed with rifles. Not only had such minor details changed, but the grand currents of history had diverged entirely. Following the Battle of North Aethel, several factions that should have been bitter enemies had even begun banding together to guard against the threat of the Empire. "Senior Titus! Senior Titus!" A bell-like, crisp feminine voice interrupted Titus's contemplation, dragging him back to reality. Titus turned his head to see a familiar, slender young gold dragon—Aurora. Seeing the ancient gold dragon covered in wounds, Aurora immediately looked stricken with worry and sorrow. "Senior Titus, forgive the intrusion, but your injuries..." "Just flesh wounds. Nothing serious," Titus replied, shaking his head and stroking his barbels, affecting an unconcerned air. Yet his trembling frame and the slow trickle of dragon blood betrayed the severity of his condition. The ghastly, gruesome wounds could not be hidden, deepening the worry in Aurora's eyes. After a moment's hesitation, she said softly, "Senior Titus, I heard about what happened two days ago... "I want you to know: regardless of how the clan elders see it, your determination to fight the Cinder Emperor to the death and avenge your friend earns both my respect and the world's. You are still a hero in our hearts." Her voice was resolute. "Heh, what hero? Just a hysterical failure..." Titus shook his head gently. A bitter smile appeared on his majestic, wise face, the scars across his cheeks lending him an air of seasoned weariness. "Just like before, I couldn't protect anything. I could only watch helplessly as my friends died before me, and watch my people reduced to slaves of an evil dragon..." "That's not true, Senior Titus. You did everything you could," Aurora consoled him, though her words felt frail. The ancient gold dragon's expression quickly smoothed over, and he asked calmly, "Aurora, setting aside these meaningless matters of the past, is there something else you needed?" "Ah, I almost forgot—" Remembering her errand, Aurora nodded vigorously. "Senior Titus, King Ed Klein of the Mountain Kingdom wishes to see you. "From what I observed, he appears to be in very poor health. The flame of his life has grown exceedingly faint, like a candle flickering in the wind." "I understand. You go on ahead; I will visit him myself in due time," Titus said steadily with a nod. Yet the moment the words left his mouth, a mouthful of fresh blood welled up from his throat. Panicked, Aurora rushed forward to support him. "Senior Titus! Are you all right?" The ancient gold dragon firmly pushed the young dragon away. His gaze turned stubborn as he waved a claw with visible effort. "Aurora, I am fine for now. Leave me, there's no need to fuss over me." Seeing the "Wings of Dawn" battered from head to tail yet forcing himself to stay upright, and recalling his former majestic strength, Aurora's eyes welled with tears. She shook her head firmly, speaking through choked sobs: "Senior Titus, in your condition, you cannot cast spells. Let me accompany you." "..." The ancient gold dragon fell silent. Under Aurora's pleading gaze, he finally gave a wordless nod.