"There are even titles to earn in the Air Corps?" Mantou beamed, staring at the notification on his system panel.
Titles were strictly personal and nontransferable, with abysmally low drop rates, typically obtainable only from certain major quests—like Conqueror of the Northlands or Imperial Champion.
Some titles even came with cosmetic visual effects: golden halos, crackling flames, or radiant rainbows floating overhead, making a player stand out in a crowd from a mile away and drawing endless envy from novices.
To Cassius, generating these titles cost next to nothing—essentially pure profit.
Yet players flocked to them like moths to a flame. Whale players would even drop hundreds of gold coins just for the flashiest, most domineering title on the server.
—After all, for gamers, showing off was paramount!
Singo put on an expression of mock disdain and chuckled. "What a bumpkin. It's just a title. Would any insider quest I drag you along for ever be lacking?"
Swoosh—
Before the words were even out of his mouth, more than a dozen garish titles stacked above his head: Conqueror of the Northlands, War Hero, Aethel Arbiter, Skyhunter Ranger...
A chaotic collision of dazzling effects erupted—a bona fide light hazard that nearly blinded Mantou's titanium-grade gamer eyes, leaving his jaw hanging slack.
"Tch, what a poser..."
Mantou curled his lip, turned around, and said to the hobgoblin, "Sir, please walk us through the mission! I can hardly wait to strive for the Empire's grand blueprint—for His Majesty Cassius!"
Veteran players had by now developed a standard dialogue template with NPCs: when in doubt, declare undying loyalty.
"For the Empire, for His Majesty Cassius." The hobgoblin's lips twitched slightly, but he still pressed a hand to his chest, returning the loyalty salute.
Then, he turned and led the two deeper into the armory.
Seeing that Singo still had the full constellation of overhead effects blazing and hadn't turned them off, Mantou grumbled, "Alright, Sing-dog, let's get on with the quest. Damn, if flexing were a crime, you'd get life without parole. Good, honest lads like me who never flex are an endangered species these days."
Singo remarked flatly, "Do you really hate flexing? You looked plenty smug in front of those newbies earlier."
He stepped forward, patted Mantou on the shoulder, and sighed. "Tsk, face reality, Mantou. You don't hate flexing—you just hate that it isn't you doing it."
"..."
Lies never hurt; the truth was the sharpest blade.
At those words, memories of Singo stealing his thunder and the novices ignoring him came flooding back, leaving Mantou utterly speechless and ready to weep.
Clank—
The iron gate ground slowly upward with a crisp metallic rattle.
"What's this...?"
Mantou's eyes lit up, his earlier annoyance flung straight to the winds.
The room was lined with transparent glass display cases enclosing massive, futuristic suits of armor. Emblazoned with patterns of dragonfire across their plating, they exuded an unmistakably imperial aesthetic.
—At a single glance, it was obvious they were tailored specifically for wyverns. The helmets hugged the contours of a dragon's head perfectly, and the suits even featured specialized armored plates fitted for their wings.
Singo was equally intrigued. "Is this... standard-issue armor for the Imperial Air Corps bomber squadrons?"
Over the past few months, the Empire's aerial bombing units had shone brilliantly in the North Aethel campaign and the conquest of the dwarven kingdom, becoming the waking nightmare of countless foes.
Swooping low with shrill, piercing shrieks, these armored wyverns had reaped lives like reapers incarnate.
Even now, many natives in North Aethel remained deeply traumatized; the mere sound of that screech made them tremble uncontrollably or instinctively drop to the ground and curl into a ball.
"You could say that, but what stands before you is far more advanced—the crystallization of the Empire's cutting-edge technology."
The hobgoblin gestured toward the armor inside the cases and introduced with a faint smile, "This is the specialized equipment provided by the Empire for the Air Corps. We call it the 'Skyfire' set—symbolizing the great dragon's wrath raining from the heavens to turn any who dare oppose the Empire into ash."
"Damn, even the name sounds badass!" Mantou exclaimed.
This time, even Singo nodded in heartfelt agreement.
The hobgoblin stepped forward and continued, "The military engineers of the Imperial Department of Technology continuously overhauled and upgraded the bombers' standard gear, incorporating rocket boosters, gravity-levitation arrays, spell-targeting systems...
"This armor boasts epoch-making performance, enabling a mature adult wyvern to carry over two tons of munitions and accurately strike targets from an altitude of thousands of meters.
"At the same time, the wyvern's speed and maneuverability will not suffer in the least; rather, they undergo a qualitative leap, reaching top speeds of up to seven hundred kilometers per hour..."
Mantou leaned in, practically pressing his face against the glass.
Spanning several meters, the wing armor gleamed with a metallic sheen in a sleek, aerodynamic silhouette. Along the edges lay slender steel feather-vanes capable of rapidly shifting the flight angle at the rider's command.
"The functions of this armor," the hobgoblin remarked smugly, "are far beyond what you might imagine."
Snap!
He clicked his fingers.
Instantly, several steel exhaust tubes extended from the trailing edges of the wing plates, venting brilliant bursts of fiery exhaust.
The hobgoblin went on, "These rocket boosters can unleash horrifying thrust in a split second, multiplying the wyvern's speed several times over in an instant..."
Listening to the hobgoblin's explanation, Singo and Mantou examined the Skyfire armor inside the display case with rapt attention.
Mounted beneath the wing plating were several intricate metal discs—the gravity-levitation devices, designed to let a wyvern carry heavier ordnance and land safely even if shot out of the air.
Even the talons were encased in tailored plate, fitted on either side with wheels to enable the wyvern to accelerate down ground runways despite the crushing weight of its plating.
Mantou stared at the armor behind the glass, his eyes utterly transfixed with an intensity so burning that a bystander might have thought he was gazing upon his dream lover. "So damn cool..."
Singo couldn't help clapping his hands in admiration either. "True to form for the Machine Cult. They practically turned a wyvern into a bomber aircraft."
The hobgoblin gently reminded them, "All of this is owed to the wise leadership of His Majesty Cassius."
Singo didn't miss a beat. "Naturally! The great Cinder Emperor is omnipresent. Whether it is the Empire's economy, politics, military, or technology, all credit belongs to our supreme sovereign. His wisdom permeates every corner of the Empire..."
"Well said! As expected of an imperial earl—your political awareness is truly inspiring."
The hobgoblin nodded with deep satisfaction and began applauding.
Watching the two trade praises in seamless harmony, flattering the Emperor with effortless mastery, even the thick-skinned Mantou cursed inwardly: *Shameless bastards, why didn't you cue me in?!*
"Indeed! Whenever I think of His Majesty toiling so tirelessly for the Empire, a spontaneous surge of loyalty wells up within me, inspiring me to burst into a stirring hymn of Cassius: *How can such boundless grace ever be repaid?!*..."
Mantou dabbed at his eyes with utter sincerity, leaning on his natural acting talent to join this cultural salon unique to the Cinder Empire. Only after an extravagant round of unabashed flattery did the three finally steer back to business.
Gazing at the Skyfire set, Singo pondered for a moment before asking, "Equipping this armor is bound to change our original wyvern-handling techniques quite a bit, won't it?"
The hobgoblin nodded solemnly. "Yes. This armor brings an epochal transformation, and the flight control techniques derived from it are vastly different from traditional riding. However..."
He chuckled under his breath before continuing, "With your talent, mastering this new gear will be child's play. While the equipment has modernized, mechanically speaking, piloting a wyvern is actually far simpler than before. Back then, it took me half a year just to barely control a wyvern and grow into a wyvern knight, whereas you needed only half a day."
"Naturally, this time will be no different."
On this matter, Singo was brimming with confidence.
"In that case, please begin your training at once! I hope you can swiftly complete the task entrusted by His Majesty and eradicate those orcs to the last!"
The hobgoblin snapped his fingers once more. With a heavy, muffled rumble, two massive iron doors slowly swung open.
The view opened up dramatically under a cloudless azure sky. Behind the chamber lay a long, flat runway constructed specifically for wyverns.
The glass cases lining the walls slid open, and two brand-new Skyfire suits were hauled out and laid before the two players.
Not only did the wyverns get badass armor, but their pilots also had matching flight suits—including a windbreaker tailored from drake hide and fur, along with a helmet resembling a modern motorcycle helmet.
Mantou wasted no time strapping on the helmet. A semi-transparent heads-up display instantly flickered to life before his eyes, locking onto his current coordinates. Precise red markers were dotted across the tactical map, while the bottom-right corner displayed fine readouts of distance, altitude, and wind speed.
The hobgoblin explained, "This helmet functions similarly to the Empire's previous tactical maps. You can verify your own position and that of your targets to execute precision strikes. You can also use the radio communicator to contact imperial ground crews, gather intel, and receive real-time commands..."
Out on the exterior runway, Mantou waved his hand excitedly, activating the covenant mark on the back of his hand.
"Come on out, Noodles!"
*Roaaar—*
With a resounding roar, the wyvern materialized midair before plunging downward, kicking up billows of dust in a truly imposing entrance.
Mantou pointed at the heap of armor nearby and said enthusiastically, "Noodles, try this on!"
"Rwo?" Staring at the bizarre pile of metal contraptions, the wyvern shook its head and let out a bewildered low growl. What looked exceptionally slick to Mantou resembled nothing less than a giant cage in Noodles's eyes.
Due to their weight and bulk, wyverns already found sustained flight physically demanding. If strapped into a clunky lump of iron like that, it would be lucky to move at all, let alone beat its wings and soar freely through the skies!
Mantou grasped the wyvern's reluctance. He quickly patted its head, stroked down the nape of its neck, and gently coaxed, "Don't worry, Noodles, I'd never keep you grounded... Just give it a shot. Who knows, you might actually end up loving it?"
"Rwo..." The wyvern gave a soft growl, nudging its massive head against Mantou's shoulder before reluctantly consenting.
"Heave, ho!"
"A little more to the left—yes, lock the wing plate into the groove!"
"Rwo?"
The installation procedure for the Skyfire armor was exceptionally tedious, requiring every step to fit seamlessly together like assembling an aircraft over a biological skeleton. Amid heavy, guttural panting, several burly ogre laborers hauled the hefty components, piecing and slotting them into place.
At last, an armored wyvern resembling a futuristic mechanical beast stood before Mantou.
"Holy shit, that's badass!"
Mantou rushed forward and hugged the wyvern's talons, admiringly caressing the heavy, intricately patterned plating with sheer delight in his eyes.
The wyvern, however, was still ill at ease. Tilting its head and shaking its body, it attempted to flap its wings, only to find them bound by the wing plating, requiring tremendous effort just to produce a slight twitch.
Mantou bounded upward and vaulted onto the wyvern's back. His uniform locked seamlessly into the dorsal armor, docking almost as one unified piece.
"This one is emergency braking, this is jet boost, and this one is..."
Flipping through the Skyfire Operations Manual in his hands, Mantou surveyed the dense cluster of buttons and control levers along the wyvern's saddle mount, feeling flustered and clumsy.
After spending a dozen minutes familiarizing himself, Mantou finally gathered some confidence and took hold of the control stick. The sensation was completely alien compared to traditional wyvern riding.
With a nervous flutter in his chest, he spoke into the communicator: "Requesting clearance for takeoff. Runway A01, wind speed..."
"Takeoff cleared."
Holland's voice came through from the other end.
Mantou leaned low against the wyvern's neck, gritting his teeth. "Noodles, I haven't quite gotten the hang of the controls yet—to hell with it, let's go!"
*Boom—*
In an instant, the steel pipes trailing behind the wing plates blasted plumes of gas and fire, generating ferocious thrust. The wheels mounted alongside the talons spun furiously, accelerating so fast that sparks flew from the friction.
*Roaaar—*
Noodles let out an alarmed shriek; never in its life had it hurtled across the ground at such terrifying speed.
"Holy crap, this—this fast...?!"
The violent force pressing him back into the seat startled Mantou, but exhilarating thrill quickly drowned out his panic. He had hit such speeds many times while riding wyverns, but he had never experienced acceleration this sudden—it hit like a sudden, violent gale.
Mantou felt the airflow whipping harder around him as aerodynamic lift surged under the wyvern's wings. Amid the howling wind and ear-splitting sonic cracks, rider and beast broke free of the earth, launching off the inclined ramp straight toward the azure sky.
"Liftoff!"
Chapter 661