Chapter 376: Coronation (II)
On the first day of March in the 1786th year of the Third Era, the Coronation Ceremony commenced as scheduled.
The newly built Isdalia arena was vast enough to accommodate hundreds of thousands, allowing spectators to view the ritual from various vantage points. Yet the main thoroughfares and the central altar were strictly guarded by Tiefling Soldiers, barring all unauthorized personnel from entry.
Even before the ritual began, the place had already teemed with life. Over a hundred thousand people—drawn from every corner of Anzeta, and even from distant regions of Feiansuo—had arrived with dry rations, water, and makeshift bedding, staking out positions around the perimeter of Isdalia and settling in for the night.
Among them were curious Kingdom citizens, merchants and minstrels from the South, and hidden Lutehand spies. Naturally, Players couldn’t resist such a grand event either—they arrived late at night, hauling folding stools and eager anticipation.
With the exception of those Players previously sentenced to forced labor for siding with the Northern Regions, nearly every Player in Anzeta had made the journey to witness this rare spectacle.
Numerous summoned Monster Familiars, assigned by the Kingdom’s official authorities, occupied designated spots within the inner grounds.
Diplomats from across Feiansuo arrived, bearing formal greetings, gifts, and messages of goodwill, and were assigned to specific zones inside the venue.
Not only did envoys from the three great kingdoms—Cassander, Thrace, and Seleucus—appear, but also representatives from unique powers such as the Tower of Time, the Corrupted Marsh, and the Star-Moon Hills.
Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Dragonborn, Halflings—every race was present, their diverse voices filling the air with a chaotic hum of anticipation.
“Aaaarrrrgh!”
Then came the roar—deep, resonant, primal.
The Faria Family’s Blue Dragon had sent not only Christina but also their revered elder Blue Dragon, Isami.
Even more surprising, the Melward Clan dispatched a distinguished envoy: Kruzeray Melward, a mature Silver Dragon and Olivia’s uncle.
“How dare a silver-scaled bastard show up here? That old home is still not ready to submit?”
“Blue Dragon—war is over! We’re here for a future of peace among dragons!”
“Peace? You hypocrites don’t even deserve the word!”
Instantly, the air crackled with tension between the Blue and Silver Dragons. Their mutual hostility flared, palpable and dangerous—until Lanpu arrived, his presence alone radiating an invisible, overwhelming Dragon威 (Dragon aura), which forced a temporary truce. Yet even then, their eyes remained locked in silent, simmering hostility.
Similar scenes unfolded elsewhere. Given the immense strategic importance of the Kingdom of Ashen, both evil and benevolent powers had taken deep interest in its rise.
“Esteemed guests, please remain calm.”
“This is King Kai Xiusu’s Coronation Ceremony. He will not tolerate any mistake.”
Lanpu stood before the altar, bowing slightly. His voice, amplified by magic, echoed across the entire arena.
The once-empty field was now packed to the brim. Dragon Vein kin, envoys from foreign nations, and common citizens alike took their seats. Beings of every race, alignment, and power gathered in one place, waiting for the coronation to begin.
Then, from the otherwise still wasteland, a sudden gale tore through the air. People turned, staring outward in disbelief.
“Look!”
“What’s that? A Wyvern?”
“By the gods—how many are there?!”
Thousands of Wyverns erupted from the surrounding terrain, filling the sky in a dense, swirling mass. Their wings beat in unison, casting vast, overlapping shadows across the plains, forming a dark, ring-like cloud that encircled the entire venue.
Under Kai Xiusu’s Realm influence, these Wyverns had experienced unprecedented reproductive growth. In just a decade, their population had surged into the thousands.
To sustain this vast number, four massive feed factories operated nonstop, while a pasture spanning half of Storm Ridge remained fully active, raising cattle to feed the beasts.
Now, for the first time, these Wyverns—normally secluded in the Wyvern Valley—had emerged in full force, unveiling their terrifying presence to the world.
“Wyverns?”
“An army of two-headed dragons on such a scale…”
Deyef Marshall, the envoy from the Kingdom of Thrace, stared upward, adjusting his silver-rimmed spectacles. His expression was grim.
Wyverns were no real threat to Thrace—its arcane artillery could easily bring them down. But a thousand such beasts? That was a different story.
And worse still was what lay beneath: the sheer scale of the Kingdom of Ashen’s logistical might, its unmatched military mobilization capacity.
“Are they threatening us… or offering peace to our enemies?”
Deyef clenched his fists, lowering his head, his face etched with solemn seriousness.
Before he could process it further, thunderous booms shook the earth.
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
Cannon salutes erupted across the sky, erupting in fiery bursts. Explosions followed in rapid succession. In the relentless barrage of artillery, a hill blocking the urban planning route was obliterated, its peak reduced to flat ground.
From afar, the Ogre Artillery Corps arrived—Ogre tribesmen dragging massive heavy cannons, breathing heavily, wheels grinding over the road with a deep, rhythmic roll.
Finally, the cannons were positioned around the perimeter of the arena, standing silent and imposing.
The crowd gasped in awe—but not in shock. The people of Anzeta had endured artillery fire before; they were accustomed to it.
To those from the South, however, this was a revelation. They marveled at the sheer destructive power—especially the way Ashen seemed to hurl shells like they were worthless.
They had no idea these were specially engineered shells, designed by the Ashen Technology Department for the sole purpose of reshaping mountains and leveling land.
Then, the Satyr Military Band struck up a lively, majestic symphony—a grand fusion of classic melodies suggested by Players and the musical heritage of the Northern Regions.
The magical resonance of the music flowed into the ears of every listener, sending chills through their bones. Nearly everyone felt overwhelmed.
As the rhythm drove forward, crisp drumbeats echoed in time. From the far end of the road, a massive infantry formation marched into view—tens of thousands of Medium-sized Humanoids: Humans, Tieflings, Great Goblins—marching in perfect unison, forming tight, disciplined lines.
Their bayonets glinted like silver in the sunlight, their uniforms immaculate, their steps precise.
“It’s the Ashen Infantry!”
“So imposing!”
The phalanx halted just outside the arena. From it, elite detachments—each numbering a thousand—marched into the venue, forming two solid lines along the wide pathway, standing like living walls.
But the spectacle was far from over.
“Boom… boom…”
A deep, rumbling tremor shook the earth once more.
On the distant horizon, colossal, mountain-sized Earth-Crawling Dragonbeasts emerged—clad in heavy armor, their sheer mass covering half the sky.
Great Goblin cavalry rode atop them, raising lances and war hammers, roaring battle cries that shook the ground. Even Dolo stood atop the largest of them, a golden-scaled beast, raising his Bloodfire Battle Axe with one arm.
The blade, stained with blood, gleamed under the sun.
“For the Great Blueprint of the Red Dragon!”
“For the King of the Burnt!”
A man cried out in ecstasy.
To the Minstrels, merchants, envoys, and spies from across Feiansuo, this was the first time they truly felt the overwhelming military power of the Kingdom of Ashen.
To envoys from hostile powers, the sight was devastating.
Deyef’s face darkened, his expression clouded with dread.
“How… how is this possible?”
“According to our intelligence, this nation only emerged ten years ago.”
“Did they inherit the Legacy of the Ancient Empire? Or are they being aided by some divine power?”
He whispered in disbelief, a chilling suspicion forming in his mind. Having once served in the Holy Faedran Empire, Deyef could not fathom how a fledgling realm could possess such a formidable military and logistics network—unless it had divine support.
“Ah… Queen Tiamat was never wrong. This new empire will be a crucial pillar in the revival of the Five-Colored Dragons.”
The elderly Blue Dragon Isami’s face lit up with excitement. His deep indigo scales flared, his frilled ears trembling.
“And all the wealth of this realm… shall belong to the Queen’s share.”
Christina, lost in dreams of imperial power, nodded fiercely, her eyes alight with greed.
“Such a nation… such an army…”
“Ah… I only pray they don’t bring another cataclysm upon the continent.”
Klu, the Silver Dragon, sighed deeply.
The envoys from other powers reacted in varied ways—but all were utterly astonished. Their long-held assumptions had been shattered.
They had imagined the Kingdom of Ashen as a barbaric, primitive tribal land—where monsters, led by the Red Dragon’s strength, ruled recklessly over the people of Anzeta.
But after this “military parade,” they realized—profoundly and painfully—that they were utterly wrong.
This was not a savage tribe. This was a vibrant, thriving empire. A unified realm where diverse races and powers coexisted under the rule of a Dragon. It wielded terrifying power—great armies, vast territory, diverse peoples, and a singular, supreme ruler.
“Roar—”
A crushing pressure surged through the air. Eardrums pounded. A suffocating, overwhelming aura of intimidation made bodies tremble.
To the north of Isdalia, the azure sky turned crimson. From the horizon, the massive Red Dragon emerged, spreading his vast wings, unleashing a scorching wind that howled across the wasteland.
Was it illusion? The entire wasteland seemed to grow hotter. The air shimmered, warped by heat.
“He… he’s coming!”
“It’s King Kai Xiusu!”
“This is his Great Form!”
“For the King of the Burnt! No—For the Emperor of Ashen!”
Fear and terror gripped the crowd—but quickly gave way to roaring cheers, waves of ecstatic noise that surged like a tidal wave, whether genuine or feigned.
“I want to lick King Kai Xiusu’s feet!”
“Don’t stop me—I want to touch his tail!”
“Dragon!”
“You perverts, reign in your Dragon lust! But when will Master Kai Xiusu turn human? Hehe…”
Players were even more unrestrained. Even as guards glared at them, they shouted outrageous slogans, undeterred.
“My god! Such a massive form—no wonder he defeated the Silver Wings!”
“By the Gods Above…”
“He’s grown stronger!”
“He’s my destined mate, Kai Xiusu-sama!”
Envoys from all corners of Feiansuo gasped in awe. Such a Dragon—this scale of power—was unmatched even across the entire Feiansuo Continent.
After months of passive assimilation of ancestral Dragon blood, Kai Xiusu had grown further. His current form stretched an astonishing thirty-six meters in length—comparable to ancient Red Dragons, a feat that shattered the limits of common Red Dragon size. Yet Kai Xiusu was still only in the early stages of growth.
In the depths of the crowd, in a quiet, unremarkable corner, a gaunt, weathered man stared upward, his face etched with despair.
“That man… has grown stronger.”
“Abeir… how can I save you?”
He was Richard Sieg—the once-bold Fairy Ranger, now a double agent for the Kingdom of Ashen. This time, he had been sent by the Lute Players’ Alliance to investigate the coronation.
“Huff… huff…”
The scorching winds howled past, burning skin.
And Kai Xiusu, with wings spread wide, descended slowly toward Isdalia, landing with a thunderous impact at the start of the road.
The noise within the arena vanished instantly. Under the weight of his oppressive aura, silence fell like a blanket.
The guards snapped to attention, standing rigid, eyes fixed forward—yet sweat dripped from their chins, betraying their tension and excitement.
A low, rumbling roar escaped the Red Dragon’s throat. He folded his wings tightly against his body.
Four massive feet touched the ground. Step by step, he walked along the wide road toward the altar, leaving deep, visible footprints.
Kai Xiusu’s overwhelming height dwarfed the crowd. His pale golden eyes swept across the people lining the path—scanning faces filled with excitement, fear, and terror.
“Thrace… Cassander… Serrynia… Silvermoon City… Free Trade Federation…”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. On a face so fearsome, it was a subtle, almost imperceptible curve.
“All the major powers of the Feiansuo Continent are here. They’re all accounted for. Quite complete.”
Kai Xiusu’s thoughts drifted, quiet and knowing.
(End of Chapter)
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