Chapter 148: Dragon's Leadership
The people of Northwind Keep would never forget that morning.
There, atop the ancient City Wall—worn down by a century of wind and war—stood the figure known as "Purgatory Cataclysm," Kai Xiusu. His vast Wings stretched wide, blotting out the sun. From that towering perch, the Red Dragon surveyed the gathered throng of thirty thousand citizens, and declared the birth of the Kingdom of Ashen—announcing the end of the nation their ancestors had known for generations.
"Who is in favor? Who opposes?"
On the Long Spears of the Great Goblins, cold gleams danced like death’s whisper.
There was no room for negotiation—only a cold, unyielding proclamation.
And so, the age of Dragon Leadership began.
At first, fear gripped the people. Homes were locked tight, doors barred against the unknown. They feared the monsters would commit atrocities—just as the Song of Ashen Embers had warned: dishonoring, devouring, burning homes to the ground, feasting on wives and daughters.
But things did not unfold as the nobles beyond Northwind Keep had hoped. Nor as many in the city feared.
Brad Lakanman, Duke of the realm, was exposed. Evidence from the Underground Bastion was irrefutable. For two centuries under his rule, thousands had been tortured to death. Countless disappearances—each a crime of his own making.
"This is a slander!"
"They seek to erase our history!"
The populace erupted in outrage. Their instinctive reaction was to dismiss the accusations as lies—fabrications by the new regime.
But as more evidence surfaced—bones piled beneath Lakanman Castle, a Sea of Blood revealed from the depths of the earth—no one could deny it. Even the most stubborn, the most bitter opponents of the Red Dragon, had to admit: the Duke they once revered was truly evil. Cruel. Tyrannical.
Only the Northern Regions’ nobles clung to denial, insisting the evidence was forged by the Kingdom of Ashen. Some even claimed the Red Dragon had slaughtered these people himself—despite the kingdom’s arrival in Northwind Keep only days prior.
Then came panic. And regret.
Now, under the new order, the Tieflings—those who had obeyed the law—had become the backbone of the Northwind Keep City Defense Force. But among the citizens, many still bore blood on their hands. Blood of Tieflings, shed in the past.
The trials came swiftly. The Tieflings arrested every noble who knew the truth and had aided in the crimes. In the Council Square, dozens of fresh heads fell beneath the executioner’s blade. That day, the plaza ran crimson.
Yet for the common folk—those who had not known the truth—though hatred still simmered in some hearts, waiting for a chance to strike back, the Tieflings did not retaliate. Not one step further.
This was unlike the image the world had of Meizhuolashi. He was no fanatic of revenge. He was a pragmatist—driven not by rage, but by survival. He had, in the years of war on Storm Ridge, elevated the Hawk Faction, those who demanded vengeance, to preserve the strength of his people, to keep their resistance alive.
But now, in the moment of restoration, he chose to empower the Dove Faction—those who had long advocated peace with humans. A balance. A check on the bloodthirsty.
Standing atop the City Wall, Meizhuolashi looked down upon a Northwind Keep that had begun to breathe again.
The streets teemed with life—Humans, Tieflings, even Great Goblins. Though their coexistence was far from perfect, it was no longer one of open enmity. No longer was the threat of racial massacre ever-present.
"Leirisha," he murmured, "you should have known this all along."
"War."
"Only war brings peace."
His eyes—deep, blue, like a still lake—seemed to see her again. That gaze, so innocent, so full of kindness. He often felt sorrow for it. A pang of guilt. But never regret.
Because in that moment, it had been the rational choice.
Only reason could save his people.
Meizhuolashi never let emotion dictate his path. He knew—if he had followed the Hawks’ call, if he had ordered a massacre of humans, the Tiefling Clan would have had no place in the Kingdom of Ashen. Not under the Red Dragon’s rule.
The Red Dragon tolerated no chaos. No disruption of order—no matter how powerful or vital a people might become.
…
"Fresh Raw Meat!"
"Large-Sized Leather Pants—Great Goblin Special!"
"Sold: Former Lakanman Kingdom Standard Silver Swords!"
The streets, long silent from war, began to stir once more—though still pale in comparison to their former vibrancy.
For the tens of thousands of residents, it didn’t matter who ruled above. Whether vampire, Dragon, or something else—life went on. People had to survive. They had to move forward.
And to their surprise, the Dragon Vein Beasts weren’t as brutal as they’d feared. At least not after they’d gorged themselves on the stolen Alcohol, Meat, and Treasure hidden in the nobles’ vaults.
But the future? That remained uncertain.
"Public theft is forbidden."
"Private duels are banned."
"Murderers will be executed."
Kai Xiusu, stationed in the Council Chamber, issued one edict after another—short, sharp, absolute.
Though he could not enforce the same “death on violation” rule for the native Commoners as he did for Players, he didn’t need to. He shaped their subconscious through subtle influence—enough to make order stick.
Under his Dictatorial Edicts, even the Dragon Vein Beasts—those whose Bloodlines burned with cruelty—temporarily reined in their darker instincts. They didn’t cause chaos. Instead, they created farce:
Like the Ogre named Daitou, who emptied an entire tavern’s stock, then fled without paying. He was caught by the Public Order Unit and sentenced to three years of unpaid labor—no food, no shelter—just cleaning, scrubbing, and serving.
People were astonished. The city had changed.
Thanks to the relentless searches by the Ashen Claw Public Order Unit and the Nocturne forces, the power vacuum left by the fallen nobles had been filled—no longer were secret gangs like the Nine-Finger Guild or the Devil Syndicate lurking in the shadows. Crime dropped. The streets felt safer.
The once-arrogant nobles—now stripped of their titles—were brought down to earth. No longer could they oppress the commoners. Some even faced trial.
Slaves were freed. Children were pulled from dark cellars. A boy, once thought dead, was found alive in a basement.
And Players poured into the city, eager to claim their share.
The Mechanical Divinity Guild built a Motive Steam Engine and began constructing massive mechanized factories.
The Magic Coin Guild used Spells to serve the people—offering healing, transport, and labor—turning once-rare magic into something ordinary, accessible.
The Royal Power Guild, bold and unapologetic, bought an entire hall and declared it open to all Hiring Tasks.
Some whispered it was all a facade—a ploy by the Kingdom of Ashen to win hearts. That beneath the surface, they were plotting to rally resistance against the empire.
But others—more and more—had begun to accept this new world. To let go of the old ways.
(End of Chapter)
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