Adrian held his longsword aloft. The blade resonated with the rising crimson sun in the sky, unleashing dazzling bursts of radiance. He shouted at the top of his lungs, "Look, everyone! Have you seen? The Lord of Eternal Radiance, the great Sun God, has not abandoned us!"
"We Seleucians—no, we Fadlanians—will never bow to brutal evil dragons! For the Sun!"
"For the Sun!"
The soldiers following Adrian were the first to raise their weapons and pump their arms, roaring in unison.
Then the cheers surged outward like a tidal wave. Duke Franz's personal guards, the Green Valley garrison, and even the townsfolk who still worshipped the Sun God joined the roar. Armors jostled shoulder to shoulder, raising a clamorous din.
In the end, even the players who had traveled from afar were swept up by the mood, cheering along with the natives—though their shouts were muddled with bizarre slogans like "For the dragon waifu!"
Yet once the cheering died down, the tens of thousands of teleported players descended into total chaos.
"I brought this green dragon down! Its heart is mine!"
"Finders keepers!"
"Watch out! Someone cast Invisibility while we weren't looking to steal gear! I can smell him!"
"Share and share alike! How can you call it stealing?"
"Get him, boys! Beat him half to death! Let's see if he dares steal again!"
Like vultures, they scavenged and squabbled over the battered corpses across the battlefield, sparing neither friend nor foe. They even turned their weapons on each other in the frenzy, the collateral damage nearly spilling over into the townsfolk.
Meanwhile, around the few dragon carcasses and rare equipment, members of prominent guilds clashed as well. Moving in organized formations, they assaulted one another, pouring out bullets and bursting shells that created an enormous racket.
This was the Kingdom of Seleucia, far beyond the reach of imperial law, leaving the players completely free to engage in passionate PvP.
Even though the battle had ended, the players teleporting through the magic circles continued to multiply. After all, the Kingdom of Seleucia was a rare "new map," and plenty were eager to explore out of sheer curiosity.
Watching the battlefield devolve into madness, Adrian found it utterly absurd. Moments ago, they had been brothers-in-arms fighting side by side; now, they were trying their best to slaughter one another over a handful of loot.
"This... this makes no sense," he mumbled, shaking his head.
Right then, two players began blasting each other—one draped in long wizard robes, the other encased in heavy kinetic armor.
"You Magic Coin bastards already took the ancient dragon, and now you're muscling in on our loot? Greedy pigs!"
"We brought that one down ourselves to begin with!"
The wizard swung his staff, launching a massive fireball through the air, while a rocket launcher deployed from the Machine Cult player's back, firing four rockets trailing thick smoke straight at the wizard.
Boom! Boom!
Boom!
Flames burst in all directions as shattered stone hurled tens of meters away toward the distant townsfolk, provoking terrified screams.
"Outrageous! They treat war like a children's game!"
Duke Franz bellowed in fury, hoisting his greatsword—wide as a door plank—to deflect the incoming rocks. With another midair sweep of the blade, a fierce gale surged skyward, tearing apart the distant blast.
He turned toward Adrian. "This cannot go on! If these Northerners keep running amok, Green Valley's situation will only worsen. Not only will the Cult of the Dragon strike amid the chaos, but innocent people will get hurt!"
"Who commands them? Which of them can rein these people in?"
Adrian hesitated, replying with a touch of embarrassment, "Perhaps... that Cinder Emperor?"
Fortunately, a terrifyingly authoritative roar echoed across the sky in the distance, drowning out every sound on the battlefield, cutting their conversation short and sparing Adrian further awkwardness.
Players and natives alike instinctively turned toward the sound. Stepping out of the portal above the stone monument was a tall young woman with long, fiery-crimson hair cascading down her shoulders.
Behind her loomed the mountainous phantom of a red dragon, its head thrown back with its cavernous maw agape—the very source of that roar.
Her identity was unmistakable: Misha, Imperial Duchess, master of the Tower of Karmic Fire, and the Empire's first Dragon-Pact Sorcerer.
"Such immense pressure... The dread she inspires is no less than that ancient green dragon—perhaps even worse." Duke Franz stared grimly at the girl in the sky, his grip on his greatsword tightening instinctively.
Beholding this young sorcerer, Franz felt the suffocating weight of facing an ancient dragon, or perhaps even a great wyrm.
Adrian, on the other hand, let out a long sigh of relief. Turning to Duke Franz, he introduced her: "That is Duchess Misha, likely the Emperor's closest confidante. A few days ago, she saved my life and granted me audience with the Emperor. Young as she appears, her standing within the Empire is not to be underestimated. She ought to be able to rein in these madmen."
Duke Franz narrowed his eyes, saying in a low voice, "I see. Possessing such bloodline, she is practically a red dragon wrapped in human skin. In a realm where dragons rule the earth, how could her status be anything but paramount?"
Under countless stares of fear or doubt, Misha looked down upon the crowd below. Drawing a medallion carved with intricate patterns from her sleeve, she spoke in a clear, icy voice: "By the Cinder Edict, as though His Majesty Cassius were here in person—"
"Anyone attacking allies or killing one another shall lose 15,000 Faction Contribution points and be fined 500 gold dinars!"
"Any guild violating this rule shall lose 8,000 Guild Level points and be fined 10,000 gold dinars!"
In an instant, the tumultuous battlefield fell dead silent. Players who had been battering each other half to death seconds ago stood side by side like sworn brothers.
Guilds that had been launching organized assaults on one another suddenly acted like family, even politely helping each other clear the battlefield in a picture of idyllic harmony.
Individual players had no desire to shoulder crippling debt over a single mission, while the guilds were terrified of losing guild levels and being stripped of their privileges and perks.
Both Adrian and Duke Franz were left dumbfounded, speechless.
A vicious dispute had ended with just a few words?
Players fighting tooth and nail had instantly changed their nature at the Duchess's command, turning into model citizens.
How did that make any sense?
Was Duchess Misha's authority in the Empire even more exalted than they had imagined?
Yet the spectacle that followed shocked them even more, leaving their jaws on the floor.
Over a hundred players dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves and chanting in unison, "Lady Misha, please step on me! Dragon waifus are supreme!"
Another dropped to one knee, whipping out a ring from who-knew-where, and yelled, "My wife, marry me!"
Still others flung themselves flat on the ground in religious ecstasy, muttering incoherently except for one distinctly audible word: "Mommy!"
Even nearby players were thoroughly at a loss, unable to bear the sight, only managing to grumble after an awkward silence, "Valorant kids really are something else..."
Adrian stroked his chin, lost in thought. "Could this be how the people of the Empire show their respect?"
Misha fought down the urge to incinerate these players to ash. Descending slowly from the sky, she landed before Adrian and Franz.
"We meet again, Count Adrian. It seems... our cooperation has gone rather well."
Adrian inclined his head politely. "Thank you for coming to our aid, Duchess Misha. Last time, it was also you who pulled me from dire straits."
Misha replied coldly, "You ought to thank the Empire, and His Majesty Cassius. Without reinforcements from the Empire, Green Valley would already be a pile of ruins!"
Duke Franz stepped forward, his tone sour. "Even without these madmen, we Seleucians could rely on our unyielding will to drive the evil dragons and their kin from Green Valley! From the lands of Fadlan!"
When he said "the lands of Fadlan," the duke deliberately emphasized each word with resolute force.
Misha did not lose her temper; she merely sneered and glanced at Adrian, asking provocatively, "And who might this be—?"
Sensing the sparks threatening to ignite, Adrian hastily stepped between them and said in a rush, "This is Duke Franz, general of the Kingdom of Seleucia and a hero in the fight against the Cult of the Dragon."
Misha scoffed. "A defeated general hounded all the way to the border by the Cult of the Dragon dares call himself a hero? Utterly laughable."
"You—!" Fury flared in Duke Franz's eyes.
Unfazed, Misha said calmly, "Did you truly think the few thousand men under your command could stand against that green dragon host? Pure delusion. Without imperial reinforcements, Green Valley would already be reduced to ash. Yet far from showing gratitude to the Empire, you harbor hostility. What gives you such bravado? Your ragtag army?"
Indeed, in the original course of history, that was precisely what had happened.
Duke Franz had led his personal guards in defending Green Valley to the death, ultimately perishing alongside the ancient green dragon. The Battle of Green Valley had been remembered by later generations as "Seleucia's Last Elegy."
Misha sneered once more and continued, "Franz, before absolute power, sheer tenacity is worthless. Across ten thousand li, only the Empire possesses the strength and resolve to aid you. You would do well to recognize that."
In truth, even Duke Franz knew full well that the Kingdom of Seleucia was rotten to its core from the Cult of the Dragon's corruption. They desperately needed outside help—even if that help came from the Cinder Empire.
Yet having lived through that horrific Dragon Calamity, Duke Franz harbored deep-seated, indelible animosity toward all dragons and dragonkin.
He could not believe these greedy beings who carried dragon blood would selflessly assist them against the Cult of the Dragon.
Adrian stepped in to mediate. "Your Grace, Seleucia's situation hangs by a thread, and the Cult of the Dragon still ravages our land. Please, consider the bigger picture..."
"The bigger picture..."
Franz let out a heavy sigh, finally withdrawing his hostility and accepting this temporary ally for the time being.
Misha remained proud and aloof, seemingly indifferent to their reaction. Her pale-golden slitted pupils held an unmistakable trace of disgust. "I know you all harbor prejudice against dragonkin, but what does it matter? Be grateful to the great and merciful His Majesty Cassius. Had my master not ordered it personally, I would never have helped hypocritical, repulsive human nobles like you."
In Misha's eyes, most human nobles were of the exact same stripe as the Northlands nobility—greedy, foolish, and arrogant, long deserving of physical annihilation at the Cinder Emperor's hands.
Adrian felt rather awkward, but he offered a dry smile anyway. "My lords, let us set aside these trivial matters and discuss our next steps."
Misha nodded with haughty pride, and Duke Franz grunted in agreement.
Adrian pulled out a map, pointing to the numerous red circles drawn across it. "The Cult of the Dragon has already overrun most of Seleucia's territory. Though they suffered a setback here, they will not let the matter rest. They are bound to launch an even more ferocious offensive against those of us who resist."
Duke Franz stroked his beard and said in a heavy voice, "We can dig in at the southern canyon to hold off their advances and secure the Green Valley area."
Adrian shook his head. "Blind defense only surrenders the initiative to our enemy. If we simply hold our ground, the Cult of the Dragon will only continue to swell, growing stronger and ever more rampant."
Misha said in a haughty, commanding tone, "My master, the supreme Emperor Cassius, once said that offense is the best defense. The Empire's Starfallen can easily spearhead an offensive, launching indiscriminate assaults on the towns held by the Cult of the Dragon."
Adrian shook his head again, countering, "No, that would scatter our strength far too thin. The cultists and dragonbeasts far outnumber us."
"In that case..." Duke Franz narrowed his eyes as he studied the map for a moment, then pointed resolutely at a circled city south of Green Valley. "We shall concentrate all our forces to attack Forest Hawk City and reclaim it at all costs."
"Why there?" Misha asked, her gaze filled with skepticism.
Duke Franz answered calmly, with absolute certainty: "It is the northern military stronghold of Seleucia, the confluence of rivers, and the source of the Ash Swamp—as well as home to the largest dragon breeding ground within a hundred li. If we take it, the tensions across the entire north—no, across all of Seleucia—will ease. The breeding rate of the Cult of the Dragon's dragonbeasts will plummet, and even the rituals for the Mother of Evil Dragons will be disrupted."
Adrian looked hesitant. "However... once we attack Forest Hawk City, the Lord of the Rotting Bog will surely move with all his might to stop us. Practically every green dragon in the north will converge there."
Duke Franz shot him a glance. "Which is precisely what will relieve the dire peril in other regions, giving our alliance sufficient breathing room."
Misha's golden eyes flared with confidence, and her tone rose with spirited resolve. "Then we march on Forest Hawk City! Before the might of the Empire, no city can withstand our onslaught. Besides... His Majesty declared that should we face an adversary beyond our strength, he will personally step forth and strike them down."
Hearing this, both Adrian and Franz felt a jolt of alarm. The very last thing they wanted was for the mightiest dragon currently dwelling in the Material Plane to set foot in Seleucia. Even as an ally, his presence promised boundless catastrophe.
After all... that was the Cinder Emperor, Lord of Thunder and Flame, the Dragon of Cataclysm—a terrifying sovereign legendary for a mountainous stature that could sunder earth, shatter peaks, and summon tidal waves of molten magma with a single stride.
Chapter 781