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Chapter 344: The Final Act
Ingrid Galces clutched the ceremonial staff tightly, standing rigid on the battlefield, her full figure wrapped in a pristine white long robe trembling in the cold wind.
"Amanata above," she whispered, invoking the name of her god in a desperate plea for comfort.
Around her stood four towering figures of golden light—her Divine Spell: Devoted Guardians Summoning—spiritual armored guardians capable of blocking entire armies. Yet, not even their presence offered her a single ounce of safety. She knew, with chilling certainty, that the dreaded Red Dragon could return at any moment.
Suddenly, a shiver ran through her. Her eyes snapped upward, filled with dread.
The space around her rippled violently.
Slash—
Two massive claws tore through reality like paper, ripping open a jagged fissure edged with blazing fire.
Then, the Red Dragon’s monstrous head emerged—hulking, grotesque, its pale golden eyes locking onto her with an overwhelming, almost mocking gaze. A faint, cruel smile seemed to linger in its expression.
The oppressive aura of the dragon filled the air. Its immense shadow swallowed the fading sunlight, forcing Ingrid to recoil instinctively—yet she remained frozen, paralyzed by sheer dread.
Kai Xiusu stretched his wings and spoke:
"Your companion survived my grasp. But he paid a heavy price—for both himself and the power he represents."
"What price are you willing to pay?"
"I—I—"
Ingrid faltered, shrinking back in fear.
"I am an Honorary Bishop of the Fadalan Empire Church. The Empire will surely—"
She did not fabricate the lie of being a Divine Chosen. She had witnessed Dekks Flamegold die because of such falsehoods. The Red Dragon despised liars.
Kai Xiusu tilted his head, feigning surprise.
"The Empire?"
"Have you not heard?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Your old emperor is dead. Your Fadalan Empire has shattered into hundreds of pieces. Even your beloved Divine Being is now overwhelmed—how could anyone care about a single Honorary Bishop?"
"What?!"
Ingrid staggered as if struck by lightning. Her mouth hung open, her body rigid. The Sun God’s staff trembled in her grip.
She had grown up in the heart of the Fadalan capital. At eight, her exceptional affinity had earned her a place in the Amanata Church. By twenty-five, she had risen to become a Legendary Priest, an Honorary Bishop. Throughout it all, the Empire had been her shield—her fortress against the world’s storms.
Now, facing an enemy that seemed invincible, that protection was gone. She stood alone, cornered, staring into the abyss of death.
"I—I don’t want to fight you!"
"Can I go?" Her voice cracked, thick with unshed tears.
She spoke the truth, dropping to her knees in a raw plea for mercy.
Kai Xiusu lowered his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"I know you’re the only one here who still holds reason. But that doesn’t change anything."
"Once more—what price are you willing to pay?"
As the dragon leaned closer, she felt the scorching breath blast against her face, the stench of sulfur filling her nostrils.
In that moment, she considered surrender.
But she was a Legendary Tier Priestess. To abandon her faith so easily—especially to pledge allegiance to a specific being—could trigger Divine Punishment.
Kai Xiusu lifted his head again, his voice calm, yet charged with ambition.
"Thirty years. You will serve in my realm for thirty years. Your Divine Spells, which once served the Fadalan Empire, can just as well serve the Kingdom of Ashen."
He paused, a slow, confident smile spreading across his face.
"And my kingdom does not reject any faith. Even those of Fadalan, even believers of Amanata, may become citizens of the Kingdom."
"Perhaps… in the near future, you may return to your homeland not as a prisoner, but as a Church bishop under the Kingdom’s protection."
Ingrid’s expression shifted—shock, disbelief, then dawning realization.
The Fadalan Empire had ruled the Feiansuo Continent for a thousand years. Its magic was far superior to Anzeta’s. And yet, the Red Dragon—this monstrous entity—had set his gaze upon such a colossal power!
But now, her life hung in the balance. Survival was fleeting.
She bit her lip, her golden eyes flickering with turmoil. Yet, in the end, she made her choice.
"Your Majesty… King Kai Xiusu."
She lowered the staff to the ground and bowed deeply, performing the formal audience ritual for a sovereign.
As her head dipped, a flood of guilt and regret surged through her. She, who had been raised in the Empire’s Church, who had devoted her life to Amanata—now serving a realm led by a dragon!
But in her heart, she repeated: I’m still alive. That’s all that matters.
"Good."
"Ingrid, as a Legendary Light Priestess, you know Weather Manipulation Spells, do you not?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then let the sky be reborn."
Kai Xiusu spoke.
After such a long and grueling battle, even he felt weary. He had no desire to cast the spell himself.
The earth had been reduced to ruin. The once-familiar landscape was now a wasteland of shattered debris, mounds of corpses, rivers of blood, rivers of hardened lava, and melting glaciers.
The broad Inaki River and Olyur River, once clear and flowing, now ran red with blood. Fragments of limbs floated on the surface.
Dusk had fallen. The sky darkened. The last traces of sunset faded into the approaching night. The biting wind howled without pause.
The allied forces were as bleak as the sky—despairing, broken, trembling with fear.
An oppressive silence hung over their ranks. No one dared look toward the Red Dragon.
These Northern nobles had witnessed the legendary "King of the Burnt" annihilate their ancient Silver Dragon. They had watched, helpless, as every Legendary Adventurer they had hired—one after another—was slain. Even Duke Leo, their so-called hero, had vanished without a trace.
Then, from somewhere beyond the ruins, a mournful lament echoed across the battlefield.
"I wander with the Northern Wind…"
It was the Ballad of the North—a song born from the Scandian refugees who fled to Anzeta. Whenever White Dragons or Frost Giants invaded, driving people from their homes, the resilient people of the Northern Regions would sing this lament to endure.
"Snow covers my corpse, my lover cannot recognize my face."
Viscount Luton began to hum along, staring blankly at the scarred, lifeless earth. Grief twisted his face.
He knew—this was the end. The Northern Regions. The Northern Union Kingdom. It was over.
The enemy before them was not merely powerful. It was invincible. Not a man, not a force of war—but the embodiment of natural disaster, a punishment of fate, a reckoning for their corrupt leadership.
Then—suddenly—Viscount Luton lifted his gaze to the sky. His mouth fell open.
And so did every other Northern noble, caught in the same stunned silence.
Because…
The sky was brightening.
It was daylight again.
(End of Chapter)
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