With mixed reluctance and curiosity, Adrian allowed the young man named Xiven to usher him into a building cast from steel-reinforced concrete. The air around them hung heavy with the pungent stench of gunpowder.
Outside the building stood a massive steel sculpture intertwining cannons and dragon claws, forged from scrapped firearms, striking the beholder with an inexplicable sense of awe.
"Come, Lord Adrian, right this way, please." Xiven's cheeks flushed with excitement as he gestured toward a set of heavy metal doors, his voice brimming with proud enthusiasm.
"This is the headquarters of our Claubau Military Industrial Group! We are the largest arms supplier in the entire Empire—in fact, in all of Feanso. We boast the finest weaponry and equipment, along with the most elite mercenaries. As long as you have the coin, we could even conquer a kingdom for you!"
Adrian and Rolf followed Xiven into the building's exhibition gallery. Models of rifles and cannons lined both sides of the corridor, accompanied by magical projections demonstrating their lethal prowess.
In a projection beside an exceptionally large-caliber firearm, an imperial soldier faced down a ferocious abyssal drake. The soldier held his breath, raised his weapon, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
*Bang!*
With a deafening crack, the soldier was thrown backward by the fierce recoil.
At the same time, a bullet trailing fiery light erupted from the barrel, piercing straight through the abyssal drake's chest. The beast's mountain-sized bulk crashed to the ground, kicking up billowing clouds of dust.
"Such power... its lethality is on par with a fourth-circle spell!" Rolf couldn't help but gasp in shock.
*No wonder rumors claim mortal souls are imprisoned inside these firearms. To think such devastating power comes merely from assembled iron, steel, and wood... it's truly incredible,* Rolf thought to himself.
Adrian was equally astonished, murmuring under his breath, "If we had equipment like this, we could face those Cult of—"
Seeing Adrian nearly blurt out the Cult of the Dragon's name, Rolf quickly tugged at his cloak, warning him to be discreet. After all, they still had no idea where the Emperor stood regarding the dragon cult.
Xiven didn't seem to care at all, acting as if he hadn't noticed. He smiled and said, "This is our latest release, the Demon Slayer Model-III semi-automatic rifle. It packs immense power and deals bonus damage against creatures of evil alignment—truly the premier choice for slaying devils, demons, and cultists."
"Then how much does—"
"You want to know the price, right? Ah, you've asked the right man! I just happen to have a quota for our new customer discount. A rifle like this costs only two gold coins! If you purchase over fifty in a single order, we'll even throw in a mortar for free..."
Xiven beamed, his words flowing like an open floodgate as he rattled on tirelessly.
Adrian's face fell into an awkward grimace, and he sighed. "Unfortunately, we are displaced exiles. All our belongings were seized by those villains, so we don't have enough funds..."
Xiven paused for a brief beat, but his formulaic salesman smile snapped right back into place. "Not a problem at all, my friend! You can take out a loan! The Imperial Bank recently launched an 'Arms Loan' program specifically to assist civilian classed individuals. The annual interest rate is a mere fifteen percent, and you can borrow up to a hundred thousand gold coins!
"They'll dispatch professionals to conduct a comprehensive appraisal of your strength, equipment, and status until they determine your repayment capacity..."
Listening to this practiced pitch gave Adrian a massive headache. Even though he didn't fully comprehend the financial jargon, he could vaguely sense the trap lurking behind it.
With that in mind, the paladin unbuckled part of his armor, retrieved an exquisite magical dagger from the lining, and offered it forward. "I don't understand these novel contraptions. Could you evaluate this Blade of Flashing Insight and tell me how much it's worth?"
"Oh? You have something like this? Of course, no problem! Magic items are hard currency throughout the Empire; we will certainly offer you a fair price..."
Xiven's eyes lit up with delight. But just as he reached out to take it, his gaze caught the imperial token hanging inside the armor lining, and his expression transformed instantly.
"Is that... an Audience Token? Cassius above, you actually have one of those!"
An obsequious look immediately spread across his face. He quickly handed the magic dagger back, bowing low and stooping with deference.
Rolf looked tense. Even though the Weave here was nearly blocked off, his hand reflexively tightened around his staff.
Adrian, however, calmly asked, "Master Xiven, what does this token signify?"
"Th-this is..."
The salesman who had just been speaking with torrential eloquence now stammered, his words slurring and his throat trembling.
He swallowed hard before managing to say in a cautious, hushed voice, "L-Lord Adrian, this is an Audience Token!
"It means you are granted an audience with His Supreme Majesty Cassius! You can even speak to Him face to face!
"That's His Majesty Cassius! Our supreme Emperor, the dragon who embodies victory and glory! This is an unmatched honor that ordinary imperial citizens could only dream of! O-only great figures ranked count or higher ever earn His Majesty's personal favor..."
Adrian studied Xiven's flushed face, which radiated unvarnished excitement, adoration, and shock. It clearly wasn't feigned.
This filled Adrian's heart with astonishment and bewilderment.
After all, according to his lifelong understanding, red dragons were brutal, tyrannical beasts—maniacs entirely devoid of morality. In the Kingdom of Seleucia, they often flew in packs over cities, spewing lethal fire and spreading wails and screams.
Then, these terrifying red monsters would descend upon the streets, plucking young boys and girls from their houses like pieces of tender roast meat to toss straight into their gullets, bones and flesh crunching between their jaws.
By the time they flapped their wings and departed, the once-thriving city would be reduced to a burning ruin of thick smoke, echoing with cries of sheer despair.
Moreover, the older a red dragon became, the more virulent its cruelty grew, driving it to commit even more insane, inhuman atrocities.
Adrian was all too accustomed to such draconic atrocities—numb to them, even. It was precisely why his subordinates had refused to set foot in the Cinder Empire, preferring death over becoming dragon feed.
In Adrian's mind, no matter what, that Emperor was still just a red dragon, a dreadful monster. No amount of elaborate titles before His name could change that fact.
Yet now, Adrian saw nothing but genuine worship and reverence in this young man's eyes. For a moment, he even wondered if it was the result of mind control.
Yet when they stepped out of the building, a procession clad in red robes marched toward them. Their faces shone with fanatic fervor as they loudly chanted a stirring anthem:
"His Majesty is the sun in the sky; we are the seeds in the earth. Endless radiance bathes the land, helping us grow into lush sprouts—"
"Amaunator above..."
Adrian and Rolf stared dumbfounded, disbelief written across their faces.
Xiven explained as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world: "Those are devotees of the Cinder Cult. They revere His Majesty Cassius as a god walking upon the earth. Every few days, they hold processions to proclaim His Majesty's glory."
Adrian turned his eyes toward the armored wyvern knights patrolling along fixed routes in the sky, unable to hold back his question: "Good gods, how did you tame these beasts to carry humans through the air like the gentlest warhorses...?"
"Beasts?"
Xiven shook his head, speaking with surprising gravity: "No, no, no. They are official citizens of the Cinder Empire, each with their own rank and stipend. Many of them are decorated veterans!
"See that building over there? That is the Redscale Garrison. All wyverns are required to take off and land at the designated wyvern landing pad."
On the platform, wyverns flapped their wings as they rose and descended in immaculate order. Not a single collision or scuffle occurred; the entire operation ran like the intricate clockwork of a precision timepiece.
Beside the platform, at an observation post, an ogre lay lazily on its side, holding a large megaphone and bellowing instructions to direct the wyverns' departures and arrivals.
"This..."
Beholding these surreal sights unfolding one after another, Adrian felt utterly overwhelmed, barely finding time to process his amazement.
Beside him, Xiven gave a wave of his hand and urged softly, "Let us hurry, Lord Adrian. His Majesty Cassius's time cannot be bought for any amount of gold. You must cherish every moment."
...
Before long, they arrived at their destination: the Grand Altar of Isdalia.
"Here we are. This is the Grand Altar of Isdalia, the sacred site where the Cinder Emperor was enthroned," Xiven said.
Before them, a sheer stone mountain—or rather, a colossal stone pillar—rose straight from the earth, piercing through the clouds to spear into the heavens. Even tilting one's head back as far as possible, the peak remained hidden from view.
Circling about it were several massive wyverns, alongside over a hundred heavily armored, solemn-faced tiefling soldiers standing guard.
"Amaunator above..."
Taking in this magnificent and wondrous sight, both Adrian and Rolf breathed an involuntary gasp of awe and instinctively began to pray.
However, their prayer to the Sun God immediately caught the guards' attention. Wyverns snarled, and the tiefling guards leveled their fierce gazes at the trio, raising their polearms toward them.
"Who goes there? Why are you approaching the sacred grounds?"
Adrian and Rolf grew tense, but Xiven held up his hands with an ingratiating smile. "My lords, they possess an Audience Token. They are guests whom His Majesty summoned personally."
"The token," demanded the tiefling guard, extending a hand.
Adrian calmly drew the token engraved with the slitted pupil and flame crest from his robes and handed it over.
After inspecting it for a moment, the tiefling stepped aside to clear a path, stating coldly, "You may proceed up."
His face flushed with excitement and his legs trembling, Xiven moved to follow them, but the guards lowered their spears to bar his path. "Apologies. You are not invited."
With a crestfallen face, Xiven looked up and waved frantically toward the two men, crying out in agitation, "Lord Adrian, give His Majesty my regards! Tell Him—wait, don't shove me! I have a right to stand here!"
Watching Xiven vacillate between laughter and tears like a madman, Adrian felt not only nervousness and trepidation, but also a growing curiosity.
Just what made this Emperor inspire such veneration that people revered him like a living deity? In all the decades Adrian had lived, he had only seen such a quality once before—in the old emperor of Fadlan, Aragorn I.
Even if this sovereign was a red dragon, Adrian could not resist the urge to see him with his own eyes.
"I wonder... what manner of majesty that Emperor possesses," he murmured to himself, waving a hand to the wizard behind him.
"Rolf, let us go."
"My lord, please remain vigilant. Do not lower your guard and fall into someone's elaborate trap," Rolf murmured under his breath.
Adrian let out a soft chuckle. "I am merely a ruined nobleman who has lost his lands. What could an Emperor possibly want from me?
"Besides, we are on someone else's territory. Come what may—the worst that can happen is death." With these words, the steps that had felt so heavy beneath Adrian seemed to lighten.
Following the stairway hundreds of meters into the air, Adrian looked out across the panorama of Isdalia. Gazing upon the endless, magnificent city forged of iron and steel, and the throngs of people flowing through its streets like tides, he couldn't help but sigh with heartfelt admiration.
"What a remarkable city. What a bizarre, wondrous realm—so utterly unlike the rumors. No, this place is completely different from any city in Feanso."
Rolf cautioned, "Perhaps it is merely a glittering facade, with countless bones and rivers of blood buried in the dark depths where we cannot see."
"Why jump to conclusions?"
Adrian continued climbing, his stride growing firmer. "Once we meet the Emperor, all will be revealed. Still... I have a premonition that the fate of Seleucia will begin to shift from this very moment."
For reasons he could not explain, as he climbed the steps, Adrian felt an uncanny sense of affinity toward this red dragon emperor he had never met.
Soon, their brisk pace brought them near the summit of the altar.
An intense pressure rolled over them unbidden. Adrian unconsciously slowed his pace, his breath catching as beads of sweat formed on his brow.
Rolf gripped his staff even tighter, his body hunched and his knees shaking, not daring to take a full breath.
Summoning his courage, Adrian held his breath and forced his head up against the suffocating pressure.
Bathing in the sunlight, he finally beheld the true form of the legendary Cinder Emperor.
There, atop the distant altar, coiled a dragon larger than anything known to history.
Adrian was certain this dragon was more colossal than any he had ever laid eyes upon—vast as a mountain.
Even Kazul, the Crimson Embers, would appear petite and comical before this Emperor, like a mere hatchling.
What met his eyes was not merely the usual crimson, but also a magnificent, brilliant gold.
Beneath the sun's rays, the dragon's scarlet scales glinted with flecks of golden light, bathed in a soft halo as though clad in armor forged of pure brilliance.
The red dragon's horns were massive, resting upon his head like an ornate, heavy crown. His pale-golden slitted pupils resembled spheres of molten magma churning with endless fire, looking down upon him from on high.
Yet what shocked Adrian most of all was what hovered behind the Cinder Emperor—
A crimson sun was slowly rotating behind him, radiating boundless light and heat, casting forth ten thousand rays of brilliance! And within that radiant glow flowed the divine power of the sun—a warmth so familiar and comforting to his soul.
At that moment, Adrian finally understood where that inexplicable sense of affinity had come from.
This was a sun miracle so sublime that not even a high priest of holy rank could manifest it!
An absurd thought sprang unbidden to his mind:
Could this red dragon emperor be just like him—a devotee of Amaunator, the Master of Eternal Radiance, God of Law and the Sun?
Chapter 773