Chapter 381 Grace (Part 2)
One by one, names were called out by the Announcer. On the High Platform reserved for Empire Barons, nearly fifty individuals had already been summoned. Those whose names were read burst into ecstatic joy, their Home clans and supporting Powers erupting in celebration. Meanwhile, those left unmentioned wept in despair, hearts heavy with regret.
The Half-Dragons cleared their throats and began the next list.
"Ennobled as Charlotte, Viscount."
"Ennobled as Singo, Viscount."
"Ennobled as Ernie Beams, Viscount."
...
By the time they reached the Viscount rank, the number of Players had swelled dramatically. Among them were several names that had become widely recognized—mostly members of Great Guilds or elite Solo Players.
Unlike the others, Charlotte, the Guild Leader of Magic Coin, stepped onto the platform with a forced smile.
"My Baron seat...," Charlotte silently wailed within her heart.
The Half-Dragon Announcers continued their chant. One by one, Empire subjects were summoned to the Altar. By the end, the number of Viscounts had grown to over a hundred.
For Common Civilians, positions like Baron and Viscount still seemed distant and unattainable. But the Baron title—though still lofty—was now within reach for those willing to risk everything. It was the coveted gateway that allowed Commoners to cross the threshold into the Dragon-Blooded Noble class.
Thus, many stood tense, breath held, silently praying to hear their own name.
—George was among them.
Standing within the military formation below, his grip on his Long Spear trembled slightly. Sweat had already soaked through his military uniform. After months of relentless combat, he had risen to Sergeant within his Party, earning several Honor Medals for slaying enemy commanders. Yet still, unease gnawed at his heart.
In his mind, he repeated the same silent plea:
"King Kai Xiusu, protect me."
"Please let me become a Dragon-Blooded Noble."
"Ennobled as Jokri Leiman, Baron."
"Ennobled as Brinton Landry, Baron."
With each name, the crowd erupted in astonishment. George stood frozen, heart pounding, ears straining to catch his own.
Then—again, the voice echoed from above.
"Ennobled as George, Baron."
Instantly, an overwhelming euphoria surged through George’s body, so intense it nearly caused him to faint. Only after several ragged breaths did he regain his senses.
"Is this… really happening?"
"I… I’m actually becoming a Dragon-Blooded Noble?"
His legs trembled uncontrollably. Guided by guards, he staggered forward toward the High Platform. When he finally knelt before the Altar, tears welled in his eyes—hot, blinding, overwhelming.
The crowd roared in shock and awe.
"That’s the Peasant Slave Mark!"
"Again? It’s him—the Chosen One of the Fate God!"
"He really became a Dragon-Blooded Noble? How enviable!"
"That’s George, sir! I worked alongside him! Look at him now—so dignified! He’s Lord Baron George!"
George’s story had become legendary among the laborers. The Propaganda Department had crafted him into the ultimate symbol of the Kingdom Dream. Many looked up to him as a beacon of hope, while others scoffed, dismissing him as just a lucky fool.
Regardless, he was now to be a Baron.
He had crossed the threshold. He was stepping into the heart of the Empire’s elite, becoming what the people called an Important Figure.
"From this day forward…"
"I am a Dragon-Blooded Noble."
Beneath the gaze of hundreds of thousands, George wept—not from sorrow, but from pure, uncontainable joy. He had tasted the sweet reward of climbing the social ladder through sheer effort.
"Glory to King Kai Xiusu," he whispered in prayer.
Yes—prayer.
For the arrogant, supreme Emperor, George felt only gratitude. The man had become, in his heart, a Divine Being.
Had it not been for Kai Xiusu’s arrival, and the founding of the Empire, George would have spent his life as a Peasant Laborer in the frozen wastes of the Northern Regions—endlessly toiling, never dreaming, and dying forgotten in the cold wind.
Now, thanks to the Empire, he had gained freedom. He had risen to become a Noble. He had become someone who could shape his own fate.
As the absolute beneficiary of the Imperial System—how could he not be eternally grateful?
Even if Kai Xiusu commanded him to march into certain death, George would not hesitate.
Everything he had—his status, his honor, even his life—had been given to him by the Empire.
"May Your Majesty live forever. May the Empire endure."
When the final name was called, the High Platform now bore over three hundred Barons—most of them fearless soldiers who had proven themselves in battle, heroes among the Common-born masses. To the ordinary citizens, they were the closest thing to living legends. Their success felt within reach, like a tentacle of influence stretching toward the common man.
The ceremony had ended.
Or perhaps—this was only the beginning.
"Let it begin."
Kai Xiusu hovered high above the sky, slowly unfolding his wings. His pale golden eyes gazed down upon the kneeling subjects at the Altar.
"Roar—!"
A long, thunderous roar echoed across the land. The Dragon Crystal on the Red Dragon’s chest flared with blinding, spine-like radiance, flooding the entire sky with light.
The intense brilliance forced tens of thousands in the crowd to shield their eyes.
In an instant, the night of Anzeta’s Great Wasteland was illuminated like midday.
[Imperial Grace]
A cascade of flowing flames descended from the heavens—like meteors streaking through the air, piercing into the bodies of those standing upon the Altar.
Hundreds of brilliant flame trails lingered in the sky, painting the scene with breathtaking splendor.
Those who had already received the Bloodline Gift felt the fiery essence coursing through their veins, awaiting their rebirth.
Ogre Magus Lanpu knelt motionless, eyes closed. He felt his body transforming—becoming stronger, more perfect.
But soon, he opened his eyes.
His golden irises blazed with fire, filled with uncontainable excitement.
"Master," he whispered.
For those who had never before tasted Dragon blood, the transformation was agony. Screams and howls tore from their throats as they endured the pain of ascension, climbing toward a higher essence of life.
"This… this is the Bestowal!"
"After all we’ve suffered—hold on! Keep going!"
George’s thin frame convulsed violently. Beneath his skin, scales began to rise. Unable to contain himself, he threw back his head and roared.
"Aaaagh!"
His bloodshot, swollen eyes were forcibly reshaped—transformed into sharp, vertical golden pupils. The unmistakable mark of a Dragon-Blooded Noble. Known to all as the Golden Eye.
"I… I’m a Dragon-Blooded Noble too…"
Staring at the scales now growing on his hands, George collapsed into unconsciousness, the last thought in his mind:
"I’ve made it."
On the Altar, hundreds of subjects underwent the same transformation. They were no longer mere mortals. They had become beings of true magical essence—living conduits of the Dragon Vein.
The magnificent, radiant Altar shimmered with dancing flames—like a robe woven from fire and heat. The scene was no longer of this world.
High above, the Red Dragon spread his wings in unrestrained display of power, bestowing Imperial Grace from the heavens.
"No…"
"That’s not just a ceremony…"
"That’s the Ascension Rite."
Deyef gazed upward at the awe-inspiring spectacle, his face ashen with dread.
(End of Chapter)
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