Chapter 475: Imperial Era (1)
“Woo—” A cacophony of whistles, the rhythmic clatter of machinery, and the screech of iron wheels grinding along tracks filled the air.
On Isdalia’s vast Dragonfly Street, multiple rail lines crisscrossed beneath a sky still heavy with the scent of steam and industry. Steam locomotives glided along the tracks, ferrying people from all walks of life deep into the heart of the city.
“Extra! Extra! The latest Imperial Daily! King Kai Xiusu has arrived in the Elemental Plane of Fire—once again expanding the Empire’s borders!”
“Claudew Military Industry Group issues official statement: unconditional support for all special operations of the Imperial Taxation Department. Strong condemnation of tax evasion and corruption!”
“Recruiting armed escorts! Guard caravans bound for the Fadalan Region! Requirements:”
“Seeking party members for the newest giant ruin dungeon! Level 4 or higher required. Must have ample Battle Experience Points (XP). No wild sorcerers! No wild sorcerers!”
“Daimo Blacksmith Shop—Adventurer’s paradise! Your one-stop destination for crafting elite gear!”
“Citizens, please abide by the regulations!”
“King Kai Xiusu is always watching your every move!”
A wyvern, wings beating powerfully, swooped low overhead, its rider in full knight’s armor.
Listening to the familiar chaos, watching the bustling crowd below, George sat by the window, a quiet smile spreading across his face.
So this is it.
They are the true bearers of the “Imperial Dream.”
It was only now that George remembered why he had chosen to settle in Isdalia—and why he felt such pride in this city.
Here, life pulsed with raw, untamed energy. It was messy, brutal, unrefined—yet vibrantly alive.
From the street vendors hawking goods, to the newsboys shouting headlines, the blacksmiths hammering at anvils, even the strange, otherworldly Stellarfallen—everyone was clawing upward, scrambling for a better place, no matter the cost.
Just like the George of the past.
The Northern Regions had been a place of despair. The gap between Nobles and commoners was a chasm, unbridgeable.
It wasn’t just status, or wealth, or power—it was a total disparity in worldview, opportunity, and strength. In that world, Nobles and slaves were as different as night and day—two species from entirely different realms.
Even when George fought with everything he had, his efforts were rewarded with nothing more than a Noble’s casual praise: “A good workhorse, that one.”
Under the old Northern Order, every soul was shackled to their station. No escape. No change.
And George—branded a slave from birth—was crushed beneath the feet of everyone else.
He was dirt. He was trash.
According to the priests in the church, a slave’s spiritual soul was foul, like stagnant water and ash—impure, defective, to be cleansed only through endless labor.
Thinking of it, George shivered.
Thank the gods… thank the gods the Northern Regions are gone.
He was cursed to be born a lowly slave.
But he was also blessed.
Because unlike his ancestors—countless generations of nameless, broken slaves—he had been given a chance to change his fate.
The Emperor had risen like the sun, crushing the millennia-old Northern Union Kingdom like dry stalks beneath a boot.
The Empire had utterly destroyed the old order, dragged Nobles to the guillotine, and forged a new world.
George knew the Ashen Empire was not fair. It was not kind.
It was a monstrous machine, devouring everyone, forcing them into its vast, grinding frame.
Yet… it was also generous.
It offered a way up.
If you gave your life to the Empire, if you fought and bled for it—there was a chance, however slim, of reward.
As Lanpu put it: social mobility.
And George was that lucky one.
He’d struck fortune twice—first by earning First-Class Citizen status through experience points gained in espionage, then by rising to Baron through military achievements.
His story had even made the front page of the Imperial Daily, becoming a beacon for the countless others born in the shadows.
He looked out the window at the rushing crowd, a wistful sigh escaping his lips.
But then, Graes’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“George, what are you staring at?”
George turned. “Nothing much. Just watching the city. Isdalia’s growing faster than ever.”
Graes chuckled. “All national resources are concentrated here. Of course it’s changing fast.”
“You don’t go out much, do you? This street’s just a corner. The Emperor’s Plaza is where it’s really happening. Next time, I’ll take you to see the newly completed Great Arena—now that’s something to behold.”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’m not particularly interested.” George smiled again, turning back to the window. “After you’ve experienced it, no matter how grand a construction you see, it just feels… ordinary.”
Graes followed George’s finger.
There, rising from the earth like a vision from legend, stood the Isdalia Grand Altar.
Wrapped in soft clouds, its white marble façade gleamed under the sun, so pure and divine it seemed to exist beyond the mortal world.
Even from the farthest edge of the city, one could look up and see it—the eternal symbol of the Emperor’s radiance.
Graes blinked, stunned. Then he shook his head, laughing softly.
“Of course. After all, it’s the sacred site where King Kai Xiusu was crowned Emperor.”
“I saw it rise into the sky with my own eyes. That moment… I’ll never forget it.”
“Indeed,” George murmured. “I even helped build it—two years ago. Back then, Isdalia was just wilderness. Who could have imagined it would become what it is today?”
He paused. “But what’s done is done. We’re not the ones who shape the Empire’s fate. Who knows what the future holds?”
Graes nodded slowly, silently agreeing. Then he paused, as if remembering something.
“Oh—have you heard about the new system in the Military Bureau?”
“Something called a Rank System?” George frowned, recalling a rumor from a few days prior. “I think it’s a separate hierarchy from the Noble ranks—specifically designed for the Army.”
“We battalion commanders should be promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and probably get commissions.”
Graes waved dismissively. “Pfft. Doesn’t matter much to us. We’re already ennobled.”
He leaned in, lowering his voice with mock seriousness.
“I’m talking about Marshal Dolo’s new statement—‘Military Specialization’!”
George’s interest sparked.
“What’s that? I haven’t bought today’s Imperial Military Gazette yet.”
Graes pulled a crumpled sheet from his military uniform’s pocket, grinning.
“You wouldn’t even know if you’d bought it. This is a two-day exclusive. I got it from a friend in the Propaganda Department.”
“You know, the Empire has established several new colonies recently?”
George nodded. “Of course. The Bronze Fortress in the Elemental Plane of Fire, Dragonshadow City in The Underdark, and the Caspar Highlands in the South.”
Graes nodded. “And their environments couldn’t be more different. The Elemental Plane of Fire is like a Purgatory—scorching, unbearable. The Underdark is pitch-black, eternal night. But the Caspar Highlands? It’s nearly like Anzeta—warm, lush, almost habitable.”
George understood. “So that’s why they’re pushing for Military Specialization. The Empire will train specialized units for each battlefield—forces built to survive and fight in extreme conditions.”
“Exactly.” Graes’s expression turned grave. “This is huge. This will shape our future. Will you brave the inferno of the Elemental Plane? The endless darkness of The Underdark? Or will you fight for glory in the fertile South?”
George studied the document in his hands, his face serious.
The Empire’s peace wouldn’t last.
This beast, born of war, would never stop expanding.
And for men like George—soldiers of the Empire—what mattered most was where they would go next. Whether they’d carve their names into history.
“Military Specialization…”
The whistle pierced the air once more.
“Woo—”
“Third Imperial Military Training Base—next stop. Please disembark in an orderly fashion.”
A voice, amplified by a simple megaphone, echoed through the carriage. Officers and soldiers stood, filing out.
“I’m off, George.”
“See you later.”
The two parted ways, walking toward different wings of the military base.
George belonged to the Empire Infantry.
Graes was part of the Artillery Unit.
During the Unification War, Graes had made his name by opening fire with precision, obliterating an enemy command center and killing a Northern Regions Baron—rising from among the ranks of ogre artillery to become a legend in his own right.
“Good morning, Lord Seth.”
“Hmm.”
The barracks were a melting pot of races: Great Goblins, Ogres, Humans, Tieflings—all mingling in the same halls.
But Great Goblins and Tieflings often held higher ranks—veterans from the Ashen Hollow era, backed by dukes and powerful patrons.
Something George could only envy.
Yet now, with Dragon blood coursing through his veins, racial tensions had faded.
To the Empire’s army, Dragon Blood was the only true measure of noble lineage.
Even as a Baron, George was nothing special here.
His unit’s commanding officer was a Great Goblin Marquis—old, loyal, one of Marshal Dolo’s inner circle.
As a towering Dragonblood Goblin approached, George snapped to attention.
“Good morning, Baron Arturo. You’re looking well today.”
“George?”
The massive Goblin tilted his head, eyeing the Human.
George had been a latecomer—a provisional recruit—but his relentless training and battlefield achievements had earned him a promotion.
Arturo, though skeptical of Humans—whom his kind often mocked as “upright lambs” or “cowards”—had seen enough to know they were capable of more than the average Goblin assumed.
With his experience points, Arturo knew: Great Goblins were fierce, ambitious, often volatile.
Humans? More predictable. More manageable.
“You’re just in time. I’m preparing to call a Military Council. Come with me.”
“Yes, Lord Baron.”
George followed the Earl of Goliath up the spiral staircase, reaching the second floor and entering the war room.
After half an hour, all regiment and battalion commanders had arrived.
Since the recent military reforms, the Empire Infantry had been organized into battalions as its core tactical unit.
Each battalion contained four to six companies, numbering 300 to 600 soldiers.
Three battalions formed a regiment.
Six regiments made a division.
Above that—armies—were strategic formations, combining infantry, cavalry, and artillery units.
George’s Seventh Army, for instance, included three Infantry Divisions, one heavy Dragon-Beast Cavalry Division, and an artillery division dominated by Ogres.
George commanded a battalion within the Second Infantry Division’s Third Regiment—473 men, mostly Human.
Arturo Redspine was the Division Commander.
Now, seated at the head of the table, Arturo Barons stared down the room.
“Gentlemen,” he began, “you’ve all heard the rumors, haven’t you?”
A regimental commander hesitantly replied, “You mean Marshal Dolo’s announcement—‘Military Specialization’?”
“Precisely.”
The Great Goblin stood, his voice like iron.
“Since you’re aware of the basics, I’ll be direct: the Empire’s army is about to undergo a sweeping transformation. Your days of idleness are over!”
“Marshal Dolo has ordered the creation of specialized, systematized units—trained for specific battlefields.”
He raised a hand.
A magic crystal flared to life.
Before them, the scorched, hellish landscape of the Elemental Plane of Fire appeared—crackling with heat, red as molten rock.
“Soldiers with high Dragonization Levels may volunteer for the Fire Element Expansion Corps.”
“You’ll undergo elite training. Equip yourself with heat-resistant gear. Deploy to the most dangerous, hostile environments in the Elemental Plane of Fire.”
“But for every risk, there is reward. You’ll earn immense Battle Merit.”
“Those who don’t meet the standards will be assigned to Home Defense Corps—garrison duty at the frontiers.”
“And the elite? They’ll be consolidated into the Imperial Continental Corps—joining the future conquest of the Feiansuo Continent.”
Arturo slammed his fist on the table.
Excitement surged through his voice.
The magical projection shifted—vast continents unfolded, towering cities rose from the earth, and the Sacred Fedran Holy City shimmered into view.
The officers erupted in murmurs.
Arturo’s tone turned heavy, his gaze piercing.
“Higher command will send Military Advisors to evaluate us.”
“Will you stay here, coasting on your laurels? Or will you risk it all—into The Underdark, into the Fire Plane, or into the wealthy South?”
“Your choice. Your future.”
George stared at the projection, silent.
His heart thundered.
His golden eyes burned with fire.
Isdalia is good. But… I want to experience a greater world. I want to conquer the South for King Kai Xiusu.
His fist clenched. His gaze hardened.
Around him, officers exchanged glances—some eager, some hesitant, a few already dreaming of glory, of fortune, of destiny.
In this age, monsters and humans lived side by side. They shared faith. Shared language. Submitted to the same Imperial leadership.
They traveled across realms. Brought firearms and cannons to every corner of the world.
Driven by ambition, by wealth, by the hunger to rise—no matter the cost.
This was a feverish age.
This was the Empire’s Era.
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(End of Chapter)
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