Crimson Embers

At last, the great wyrm red dragon emerged completely from the pool of magma. The lava streamed down his mountain-like frame like foul, filthy blood. His scales resembled glowing metal fresh from a forge, shimmering with the sheen of liquid fire and giving off heat waves that warped the air. The shadow cast by his colossal form instantly swallowed a vast swath of burning land. In the next instant, the great wyrm red dragon reared his head high and snapped open his draconic maw. Deep within his throat shone an incandescent brilliance, compressed to the extreme and blinding to behold! *Roar—!* Blinding flame pierced the sky as an earth-shattering roar detonated! The acoustic shockwave crushed the molten lava in the pool into a sunken depression before kicking up surging waves dozens of meters high. Rubble shaken loose from the rock walls rained down, melting in midair into droplets of crimson rain before ever striking the ground. The entire cavern trembled, groaned, and wailed beneath that single roar! While the aftershocks of the dragon's roar still violently rattled the scorching air, the dragon slowly lowered his head. Those colossal dark-gold pupils grew clearer, their gaze sweeping across the rivers of molten lava running through the cavern and the craggy black stone pillars, as if embers had settled deep within them. Gazing at the sky, the red dragon bowed his head with deliberate slowness. His massive chest rose and fell faintly, each breath like a heavy pulse echoing from deep beneath the earth. His maw parted slightly, letting slip a deep guttural rumble from between his razor teeth, like muffled thunder rolling through the core of the earth. Carrying an ancient, indifferent resonance, the sound echoed clearly over the din of boiling lava: "By your will, Your Majesty Tiamat. It seems... we have no choice but to enact the final plan. "Rest assured, it will not be long before that traitor's body is placed at your disposal, and the Feanso Continent—indeed, the entire Material Plane—shall welcome your arrival." The light of the lava flickered in his eyes. Deep within those dark-golden irises, an intent of annihilation spread ceaselessly, gradually seizing his mind. *Roar—!* The great wyrm red dragon reared his head once more, roaring toward the heavens. The earth shuddered violently in response, trembling and thundering as long-dormant volcanic clusters abruptly awakened. The sky was dyed blood-red. Lava surged forth from fissures in the crust like a boiling sea, cascading down and tearing the land into fragmented ruin. Like the veins of the earth, it wound through the mountain ranges, its scorching heat consuming everything in its path. Volcanic ash blotted out the sky and sun, spreading with frantic speed like an unfolding apocalypse. Innumerable cinders drifted through the air, draping everything in sight in a dreary, somber veil. Outside Pacaya Volcano, people gazed at the ash shrouding the sky and the torrents of lava pouring down, terrified as panicked cries broke out: "Ye gods—the end! The End of Days is upon us!" "Could this be the Sun God's punishment?" "Amaunator above!" "The lava is coming! Run, quick!" Yet amidst the crowd, a man wrapped head to toe in bandages stood motionless, staring despairingly up at the ash-choked sky in utter silence. Someone tapped him frantically on the shoulder and shouted, "Raymond! What are you standing there for? Do you want to be burned to cinders by the lava?" "Run?" The man called Raymond gave a tragic laugh, unwinding the bandages around him to reveal harrowing burns scored across his flesh. "Give up. We can't escape." He lifted his head, gazing into the dim sky. Through the shroud of ash, he glimpsed that colossal, hideous figure, his voice trembling as he muttered, "It really is him... the Crimson Embers, Kazul." "Ka—Kazul?" Upon hearing the name, the people were struck as if by lightning. Despair and terror washed over every face, as if they had just heard the most horrifying tale in existence. Kazul, "the Crimson Embers," was one of the Cult of the Dragon's "Three Dragon Gods," a favored servant of the Chromatic Dragon Queen, and the most powerful and brutal among them. Years ago, during the brutal Battle of the Three Emperors, the weakest of the trio—the Kingdom of Seleucia—had been driven back step by step beneath the fierce offensives of Thrace and the Kingdom of Cassander. It had lost over a hundred kilometers of vast territory, and its armies had been ruthlessly shattered by the Titan godblood. At that moment of utter desperation, Kazul appeared. Leading hordes of Seleucian soldiers in bloody battle, he turned the tide. Relying on his formidable might, this invincible general conquered city after fortress; within a mere fortnight, he crisscrossed the land, recapturing over a hundred cities and repelling the Cassandrian armies from the north. From then on, Kazul's renown soared throughout Seleucia. King Felipe Aragorn personally appointed him marshal, and the people hailed him as "the Chosen," "the One from Above," "the Marshal Favored by the Gods," and "the Angel of Victory." Yet following that glorious triumph, Kazul showed no humility or restraint. Instead, he embraced the title of "the Chosen" and established the Cult of the Chosen to worship himself, loudly proclaiming that he would become the savior of the world, the next deity—attracting countless devout followers. And that very cult was the predecessor to the Cult of the Dragon. For reasons unknown, King Felipe did not stop such blatant transgression; instead, he stood firmly behind Kazul with full support, enabling the burgeoning cult to flourish. Until the Day of Embers arrived, and everything changed. Beneath the blazing sun, over a hundred thousand devotees of the Cult of the Chosen gathered on the outskirts of Sunset City. They erected a towering altar and sang rousing hymns in unison, feverishly chanting the name of Kazul, the Chosen. Yet at that very moment, Kazul, standing atop the altar, revealed his monstrous true form—a horrific great wyrm red dragon. Slowly beating his wings, he took flight beneath countless shocked, horrified gazes. The earth boiled. Scorching torrents of lava erupted from beneath the ground, billows of ash and smoke sweeping across the sky until even the sun was blotted out. On that day, wails filled the land. Magma ran rampant and the earth was scorched to cinders. Countless Seleucians perished in the terrifying cataclysm, swallowed by scalding lava and reduced to charred skeletons. It was a grand sacrifice! A phantom avatar of Tiamat materialized in the sky, greedily reaping the souls and faith of the Seleucian people. She cast down violent, wicked divine light, bestowing a pulsing "Heart of the Evil Dragon." Kazul swallowed without hesitation the heart purchased with the souls and lives of over a hundred thousand believers. Roaring toward the heavens, he spread his vast wings and evolved amid the wails and roars, becoming a genuine demigod-tier entity. From that day forth, a vast, boundless expanse formed of lava and ash sprawled outside Sunset City, known to the people as the "Death Wastes" or the "Ember Plains." And Kazul earned the dread title of "the Crimson Embers." To this day, thin volcanic ash still lingered over the Ember Plains, keeping the sky perpetually dim and somber. In southern Seleucia, the name Kazul had become synonymous with fire, ash, and death—a forbidden taboo on the lips of mortals. Yet now, they were witnessing the taboo's awakening with their very own eyes. Raymond's eyes were hollow. Half crying, half laughing, he murmured, "It has come after all... Perhaps I should have died in that disaster years ago. Nancy, Meg... perhaps we will reunite in the hells." "The Day of Embers..." Beside him, an old man stood rooted to the spot, staring in despair at the advancing ash. Pale and shivering, his feet felt anchored to the ground. The old man recalled a rhyme from Sunset City, reciting it with a trembling voice: "Before the Crimson Embers, all living souls are buried alike..." "Move! Run!" "Damn it! The lava is about to reach us!" *Rumble!* Accompanied by a dull, massive boom, the ground before them suddenly split open. Torrents of lava erupted from the massive fissure, cutting off their final avenue of escape. Yet Raymond knew full well it made little difference—merely a matter of how soon death arrived. With a bitter smile, he pointed toward the sky. "It's useless. Don't bother struggling. That is Kazul, 'the Crimson Embers.' In this moment, the only thing we can do... is pray to Amaunator and beg for a miracle." "O great Lord of Eternal Radiance! We beg You to extend Your hand, grant us salvation—" One after another, people clasped their hands in prayer toward the heavens, hoping for a miracle to descend, for the sun's light to pierce the ash and soot. Yet the only response was the howling wind, the rumbling earth—and the ceaselessly billowing volcanic ash that choked the sky. No miracle came. The slumbering Sun God seemed to have long abandoned this land, and Seleucia now languished beneath the shadow of the crimson dragon. In the next instant, the lava surged forward, rampaging across the wilderness and melting the earth. Like ravenous, frenzied beasts, accompanied by furious hissing, it swallowed those pitiful mortals whole. Upon crags in the distance, cultists of the red dragon sect cloaked in dark-red robes gazed fanatically at the sky, shouting in ecstasy: "The day is finally here! Praise Kazul! Praise Tiamat! "Ash shrouds the heavens, lava drowns the earth, and the great, supreme Mother of Evil Dragons shall tread upon the bones of mortals to descend upon the world, ushering in a new era of draconic dominion over the earth!" Endless, brilliant firelight and rolling plumes of smoke and ash surged across the land, incinerating everything in their path. The cultists spread their arms wide, ecstatically embracing the arrival of death and letting the lava consume them. This was catastrophe, curse, and boon all at once. According to the cult's dogma, their souls would ascend to the heavens, transform into noble dragons, and enter eternal life and bliss within Tiamat's divine realm. In just half a day after the Crimson Embers awakened, hundreds of li of land were submerged in lava. Ash blotted out the sky, plunging the world into darkness—a portrait of the apocalypse. ... Southern Seleucia, Sunset City. The Tower of the Eternal Sun God still stood tall within the city, but its solar disc had grown utterly dim. The former palace of the Kingdom of Seleucia lay in dilapidated ruins, littered with broken walls and charred scars from past conflagrations. At this moment, the most prominent structure in the city was an altar adorned with gleaming scales of various hues and skeletal remains—an altar to Tiamat. At the altar's core stood a stepped pyramid piled from coarse, massive black boulders that looked as if they had been clawed and torn by monstrous talons. Its shape was not a geometric ideal, but twisted and asymmetrical, like the petrified bodies of five savage dragons frozen mid-struggle and forced into a knot. Within it rose five grotesque, twisted pillars of colossal stone, each carved into the likeness of one of Tiamat's dragon heads, corresponding to the five chromatic hues. The five heads did not sit in harmony; they glared at one another with bared fangs in striking, biting postures. Their eyes were inlaid with corresponding gemstones—rubies, sapphires, emeralds, white crystals, and black jade—which cast an unnerving, malevolent glow even in the gloom. At the center of the five stone carvings lay a sunken profane blood pool spanning over a hundred meters in diameter. Within the pool churned not water, but a boiling, variegated slurry as thick as grease—red like molten lava, blue like plasma, green like toxic bile, white like frost, and black like a decaying marsh. Incapable of true fusion, they violently corroded and collided with one another in the pool, letting out hisses, pops, and low growls. This was the heart of the sacrifice, where all offerings—whether living creatures, treasures, or magical items—were cast into this chaotic vortex as tribute to appease the Dragon Queen. Around the rim of the pool, thick, layered blood and grease had congealed, intermingled with severed limbs and shattered bone. Within this sinister altar, followers of the Cult of the Dragon clad in dark red and crimson robes looked up into the distance at the ash sweeping across the land. Beneath their hoods, draconic-humanoid faces shone with the same feverish zeal. "Praise the great Mother of Evil Dragons—Tiamat!" "Praise Kazul!" "When lava covers the earth and ash shrouds the sky, the Mother of Evil Dragons shall descend upon the world to destroy the old age and inaugurate a new era!" The evil dragon priests once more chanted the prophecy. Beside the profane blood pool, a tall, masked man also raised his head, gazing at the overwhelming ash. An eerie gleam shone in his eyes, and from the corner of his eye visible through a slit in the mask, a barely noticeable tear trickled down. His face was concealed beneath a mask forged of gold. Hideously contorted, it depicted the combined heads of the five chromatic dragons, each seeming to roar its fealty to the Dragon Queen, forming a crown atop his head. Beneath the heavy mask, one could faintly glimpse an azure, draconic face whose shimmering scales gleamed like polished gemstones. A dragon's head upon a human body. What was more, it was of a sapphire dragon—revered by Amaunator, the "God of the Sun and the Order of Time," as his servants and heralds. The man's identity was self-evident: he was the reigning king of the Kingdom of Seleucia, the third son of the old Fadlan Emperor, and a guardinal godblood blessed by the Sun God—Felipe Aragorn. Now, wearing the Dragon Queen's mask and cloaked in five-colored robes, he had become the nominal leader of the Cult of the Dragon, venerated by the cultists as their Pope. "Praise... Tiamat." His voice was numb, speaking in a tone devoid of emotion.