In the mere months since the Cinder Empire pushed south, the landscape of the northern Feanso Continent had undergone earth-shattering changes, leaving countless souls dumbfounded and in utter disbelief.
First, the Duchy of North Aethel was overrun by the empire. Soon after, the Highland Dwarf Kingdom, an enduring realm of thousands of years, fell to ruin under its iron heel. In the end, even the orcs of the Ugo Steppe were systematically butchered to extinction.
With the Ugo Steppe absorbed into its territory, the Cinder Empire held near-total dominion over northern Feanso—the vast expanse lying north of the Radiant Mountains. Only a handful of petty realms and the Kingdom of Thrace remained, trembling and suffocating under the empire’s dread shadow.
Throughout the empire’s relentless campaigns, godblood dukes of Fadlan had detonated their own lives in suicidal defiance, the master of the Silver Heaven had plummeted from the firmament, and avatars of deities had been slaughtered...
Every single clash tore the skies asunder and shattered the earth, enough to shake the entire Material Plane to its foundations. Yet every battle concluded with only one victor—the Cinder Emperor, Cassius.
Cassius. The name surfaced endlessly in the encrypted missives of kingdoms and major factions, projected through their scrying mirrors, striking terror into kings, lords, and generals, leaving them drenched in cold sweat.
Naturally, the name also dominated the newspapers of every nation, resounded in the ballads of bards, and crept into the terrifying tales southern parents told to frighten unruly children into obedience.
History was repeating itself in astonishing ways. In the eyes of people across Feanso, the red dragon had become an atrocity incarnate: a monstrous brute, a ruthless tyrant, and a slavelord holding the north in an iron grip.
In the propaganda of foreign realms, the red dragon brutally enslaved the northern populace. Cunning half-dragons and kobold overseers lashed human laborers with leather whips, driving them to forge firearms in the biting, icy winds, while even half-grown children were conscripted into the army as expendable cannon fodder for imperial conquest.
Beneath the flourishing pens of bards, the Cinder Empire's conquests were painted in even more grotesque, bloodcurdling detail, tinged with a macabre fascination.
It was whispered that wherever soldiers carrying the fell dragon’s blood conquered, they plucked a thousand tender children to butcher and devour, offering their pure souls as sacrifices to their emperor. This, rumors claimed, was the secret behind the imperial army’s invincibility and the red dragon emperor’s ability to defy gods.
Others whispered that the weapons the empire sold were so cheap and destructive because the ruthless imperial artisans bound the souls of human smiths inside the gun barrels, so that every roar of gunfire was in truth the agonized screech of an innocent spirit.
Many self-proclaimed champions of righteousness stepped forward, pleading with the powers of the world to halt their purchases of imperial arms. They pointed out fiercely that every rifle purchased was funding the Cinder Empire, empowering it to wage war with ever greater impunity.
Yet the nations turned a deaf ear. They were already hopelessly mired in an arms race. Every time the empire unveiled new equipment, they scrambled to buy it, lest they fall behind and face slaughter in the next war.
...
The Duchy of Wilson was a small realm nestled near the Blackstone Mountains. Filled with rugged peaks and rolling hills, it was commonly known as the Realm of Hills.
Seventy years ago, the legendary paladin Said Wilson had drawn the Sword in the Stone and slain a wicked giant over thirty meters tall. For his deed, the Emperor of Fadlan bestowed upon him the title of grand duke, and this stronghold was christened Stone Sword City.
Yet times had changed. Grand Duke Wilson had long since fallen in battle, and the Sword in the Stone had vanished without a trace.
The duchy’s geographical position was precariously awkward. To its south lay the Kingdom of Thrace, while to its north loomed the ravenous Cinder Empire. Wedged between the two colossal titans, it risked being crushed into dust at any moment.
Now, inside Stone Sword City, a bleak and chilly wind howled through the streets. Aside from the whistling gusts, the only sound was the crisp tramp of patrolling guards. Behind closed doors and shuttered windows, every home was bolted tight.
Inside a stone cottage tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, a middle-aged man and woman sat opposite each other. Exhaustion and anxiety were etched deep into their faces. News of the Cinder Empire occupying North Aethel and annihilating the Highland Dwarf Kingdom had already swept the entire city.
Their Duchy of Wilson was among the precious few northern lands that still retained their independence.
Ren let out a heavy sigh, his calloused thumb rubbing rhythmically against the wooden table. "Irene... how much longer can this go on?"
The woman set down her needlework and shook her head, the kerosene lamp highlighting the fine lines etched across her face. "I don't know. The highborn lords are scared out of their wits too. They won't even let us leave the city."
Ren stared out the window, deep dread gleaming in his eyes. "They say every time the Cinder Empire takes a city, they slaughter a thousand children. I'm terrified..."
"Ah!" A sharp cry rang out from their daughter, who had just emerged from the cellar. Her face was deathly pale, and her gaunt, sickly frame trembled as she nearly fainted from fright.
"Ellie!" The woman sprang to her feet, wrapping a woolen blanket around the girl. She pulled her into a protective embrace, her eyes full of anguish as she scolded him, "I told you never to talk about that in the house! You know Ellie could hear!"
Ren looked at his terrified daughter, his expression grim. "Hiding it forever won't save us. One day, those brutal imperial savages will breach these walls."
The woman sighed in sorrow. "What else can we do? Thrace has sealed its borders, and everything else is already in imperial hands..."
Ren gazed out the window, his jaw hardening and his throat bobbing. "Stone Sword City is nothing more than a giant prison right now. We have to get out—for Ellie's sake."
Similar conversations played out across Stone Sword City countless times. Terror of the Cinder Empire gripped the citizens, driving them to desperation to flee southward into the Kingdom of Thrace.
Halfway up the mountainside north of Stone Sword City, an opulent fortress lay cloaked under the suffocating dread of an impending storm. It was the ancestral seat of House Wilson, named after their heroic forefather—Castle Said.
Heavy oak doors creaked beneath the buffeting wind, and the faded crest of the Sword in the Stone on the gilded chair back flickered in the candlelight. At the far end of the long table sat the current duke, Eli Wilson, resting his chin on laced fingers, his brow furrowed in grim silence.
"My lord, smoke rises from the northern watchtowers..." The guard captain knelt upon the carpet, his voice punctuated by the crackle of pine resin in the hearth. "Our sentries have spotted wyvern knights of the Cinder Empire."
"They've come at last, those damned imperials!" Eli ground his teeth, but his trembling fingertips betrayed the sheer terror seizing his heart.
He asked nervously, "Where are the reinforcements from Thrace? His Majesty Wilhelm promised us—he swore he would send troops to our aid!"
The guard captain shook his head with a grave grimace. "All of our couriers were turned back at the border. My lord, I fear... King Wilhelm has abandoned us completely. He refuses to provoke the Cinder Empire on our account."
"H-how could this happen?"
Eli went ashen. He slumped back into his seat, his fingers nervously fidgeting with his signet ring as he muttered, "His Majesty Wilhelm is the son of the Sun Emperor, a king blessed with divine blood! How... how could he be afraid of a red dragon?"
Standing beside the duke, the silver-haired old butler let out a weary sigh and explained, "The three orthodox kingdoms are still locked in war. If he provokes the Cinder Empire, Thrace would be forced to fight on two fronts, squeezed from both north and south. That shrewd, miserly king would never take such a risk.
"Besides, the Cinder Emperor—no, that fell dragon of the north—has already proved his terrifying might across countless wars of conquest. Not a soul in the Material Plane dares claim they can defeat him."
Hearing this, Eli broke out in a drenching sweat, nearly sliding off his chair. He asked feebly, "Then... what are we to do?"
The butler hesitated for a moment before answering, "Yield to the red dragon and swear fealty to the Cinder Empire. Or..."
The guard captain picked up the thought in a solemn voice, "Fight to the bitter end, and perish alongside Stone Sword City and the Duchy of Wilson."
"No!" Eli shot to his feet, wheeling around to face the portrait hanging upon the wall. It depicted his grandfather, the realm's founder—Said Wilson.
The portrait showed a middle-aged warrior with a neatly trimmed mustache, clad in plate armor and gripping an ancient greatsword, looking dashing, valiant, and majestic.
Yet now, the Sword in the Stone that embodied the family's honor had vanished, and Eli was nothing more than an ordinary, fallen noble, a far cry from his illustrious ancestor.
At the thought, Eli gathered a sliver of courage and puffed out his chest. "Th-this is the legacy my grandfather left to me! Ever since we slew the giant, our Wilson family has been renowned as heroes far and wide! How could we bow our heads to a wicked dragon!"
After a long silence, the guard captain asked in a heavy voice, "My lord Duke... are you truly willing to die for family honor?"
Eli desperately wanted to say 'yes,' but the thought of being torn apart by draconic claws and incinerated in dragonfire sent violent shivers down his spine. His throat contracted, and the words choked in his mouth.
He offered a feeble protest, "Can't we... can't we defend Stone Sword City and live?"
The butler sighed, offering a bitter smile. "Even the angelic godblood of Fadlan could not halt the imperial tide. How could we? And then there is the red dragon himself... Even if Lord Said returned from the dead, he would be no match for him."
Both he and the guard captain had watched Eli grow up. They understood his nature thoroughly—weak, cowardly, terrified of death, yet desperate to put on a brave face to preserve his vanity.
Sure enough, Eli pointed out the door in irritation. "Is that red dragon truly so terrifying? We are House Wilson!"
*Whoosh—*
A sudden tempest erupted, slamming open the heavy oak doors. The chandeliers in the hall swung violently, ringing in sharp succession, while glass goblets clattered from the long table and shattered against the floor.
Eli, whose face had been full of indignation an instant earlier, collapsed to the floor in sheer panic, scrambling desperately to cower behind the guard captain.
"Greetings, mortals—"
A voice like thunder echoed across the heavens of Stone Sword City. The sheer sound was enough to make countless souls shudder in dread.
Eli peeked upward with immense caution, peering through the gap in the doorway toward the outside world, only to discover that the sky had plunged into sudden darkness.
"Amaunator above... Is... is that the Cinder Emperor?"
The duke was chalk-white, paralyzed on the floor. What little defiance he possessed shattered into dust, replaced by an abyss of terror.
Unable to endure the sight for more than a few seconds, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out cold, a wet stain spreading across his breeches.
An unfathomably massive red dragon loomed in the sky. His body was more colossal and imposing than a mountain, his wings eclipsing the sun and plunging the entire city beneath his shadow.
"Ye gods..."
"That... that's the Cinder Emperor! He's here!"
"Curse it all—he's going to burn this city to ash! How can such a dragon even exist!"
The city descended into sheer pandemonium. Wails, sobs, and screams rose in an unending cacophony. House Wilson's guards could no longer maintain order; they too were paralyzed with terror.
What manner of dragon was this!
Never before today could they have imagined a dragon whose wings alone could blot out the sky over an entire city!
Nor could they fathom how many people could be swallowed in a single gulp by that bloody maw—a maw vast enough to swallow the city's tallest spire whole—or what horrific torrents of dragonfire it could unleash.
The rumors that the red dragon devoured a thousand children wherever he conquered suddenly did not seem like fabrications at all.
Ren and Irene huddled tightly together, wrapping their trembling, weeping daughter between them. Ren's voice shook uncontrollably. "Ellie, don't be afraid. We won't let the beast in the sky eat you... We won't let him..."
The red dragon looked down upon the inhabitants of the city from on high, cold detachment gleaming in his pool-of-gold slit pupils. Beating his vast wings, he spoke slowly.
"I trust you recognize me. I am the Emperor of the Cinder Empire, sovereign of the Great Anzetta Waste, the North Aethel Plains, and the Ugo Steppe—the supreme ruler of northern Feanso.
"I come today to inform you: the land beneath your feet shall now be incorporated into the territory of the Cinder Empire. And you shall become glorious citizens of the empire."
It was not only Stone Sword City that heard this declaration. Over more than a dozen small realms and across hundreds of cities in northern Feanso, the towering silhouette of the red dragon manifested in the sky, delivering the Cinder Empire's ultimatum.
Nor was it mere intimidation. The empire's Redscale Conquerors and Wyvern Legions were already mobilized, flying in disciplined swarms toward every city in the north, poised to crush any resistance underfoot.
...
"My lord Duke, are you all right?"
The guard captain stepped forward and asked with concern.
Eli blearily opened his eyes. The terrifying sight that had frightened him into fainting flashed before him once more, conjuring the image of that dread red dragon.
By reflex, he grabbed the guard captain's leg and wailed, "Don't let that dragon near me! He's a monster!"
The corner of the guard captain's mouth twitched. "My lord, the Cinder Emperor has departed. He has delivered his ultimatum, demanding our unconditional surrender. What is your..."
"Surrender! I surrender! He's too terrifying! No mortal could ever defeat him!" Eli cried out in haste.
"Understood, my lord."
Remembering the valor of the old duke and looking at his pathetic heir, the butler behind them let out a long sigh, yet felt an undeniable sense of relief wash over him.
Chapter 684