Chapter 555: Wrath
“Your Majesty,” Deyef Summon Courage stepped forward beside Duke Saxis, his voice ringing with conviction. “The Emperor of the Ashen Flame is not an Evil Dragon in the traditional sense. Not only in strength—but in ambition—he surpasses all of you present here.”
Saxis narrowed his eyes at the dissent from his subordinate, his expression darkening. “Deyef, do not forget—I am the head of this mission to the Empire.”
Deyef hesitated for a moment, then clenched his jaw. “But, Your Grace, I have traveled across countless cities within the Ember Empire. I lived for days in Isdalia. You cannot possibly know this realm as I do.”
He raised his gaze toward the throne, where the figure of the “King of Angels” was veiled in a shimmering haze.
“Your Majesty, Wilhelm—do you know what I saw?”
Wilhelm leaned forward slightly, his voice low and resonant as he looked down upon the young diplomat. “Speak. What did you see?”
Deyef lowered his head, lost in memory of that unforgettable journey years past.
“I saw mechanical titans racing across the earth—not for war, but for farming. I witnessed steel cities rising from the ground, churning out endless goods. I watched factories belch thick smoke into the sky. And I saw the people of the Empire—of every race—worshiping the Emperor as a deity. This Dragon Emperor is not driven by greed alone. He has poured tens of millions of gold coins into building these wonders—something no stingy, traditional Evil Dragon could ever fathom.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Consider Osaros, the Red Dragon Lord from a century past. He would raid his people every few years without restraint—this is the essence of a classic, traditional Evil Dragon Lordship. But Emperor Kai Xiusu of the Ember Empire operates on an entirely different plane. His goals are not plunder. More accurately, he is…”
Deyef’s voice faltered, searching for the right words. At last, he spoke with heavy finality:
“The Emperor of the Ashen Flame is creating a new civilization.”
“Impossible!”
“Deyef is exaggerating!”
“He’s just a Red Dragon—no matter how powerful, he’s still a beast! He cannot rule with wisdom!”
“That’s right—he’s only trying to impress the King!”
The chamber erupted in murmurs. The ministers argued fiercely. Duke Saxis’ face turned as black as coal.
“But if this is true… aren’t we simply handing our wealth to the enemy?”
“Using magic constructs for commoners? Unheard of!”
“This Red Dragon’s corruption of the heart is terrifying!”
The vast majority of the ministers backed Duke Saxis—none wished to face the monstrous Red Dragon to the north.
Yet a few were unsettled by Deyef’s words, their unease growing at the thought of a Dragon Monarch with such ambition.
The ministers of the Thrace Kingdom did not fear the bloodthirsty, pillaging Red Dragon. To them, he was merely a beast.
But they feared a wise, ambitious Dragon King—the kind who could shatter their very authority.
Wilhelm lowered his head, deep in thought. Even his pure white wings curled slightly in hesitation.
“Such ambition… no wonder the fool from the Northern Regions trembles before him.”
The “King of Angels” still remembered the battle’s image projection. Though he remained wary of the Red Dragon of the North, his true focus was always the same: reclaim the Holy City, seize the legacy of the old Emperor, and ascend to become a being on par with the gods—at all costs.
After all, he was a descendant of the Sun God, the rightful ruler of Fadalan. How could he fear a mere Red Dragon?
But then Deyef spoke again—and Wilhelm’s heart sank.
“Moreover, Your Majesty… I witnessed with my own eyes hundreds of followers from the Ember Empire receiving the Red Dragon’s bestowal. They were transformed into beings of immense power—performing something akin to Ascension! Kai Xiusu… he is not merely a ruler. He seeks to become a god in the hearts of his people.”
Deyef looked up, his voice heavy with dread, toward the throne.
“What?!” Wilhelm’s eyes shot wide. His entire body trembled with shock and fury. Even his white wings quivered violently.
The Red Dragon wants to become a god on earth?
In Wilhelm’s plan, he would seize the Holy City, eliminate his two elder brothers, claim Aragon I’s legacy, ascend, and then rebuild the Sacred Fedran Empire. He would gather the faith of all living beings, become an eternal Emperor—and a true god upon the earth.
Now, another being dared to claim that same throne?
It was unforgivable.
Wilhelm’s voice cracked like thunder, oppressive and thunderous:
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deyef replied, voice steady. “I saw it. I felt it. It was like the Ascension of King Aragon centuries ago.”
Slowly, Wilhelm rose from his throne. His three pairs of vast, pristine wings unfurled, casting a long, dark shadow.
“Gentlemen… what say you now? My most elite Angel-blooded guard, the Arcane Legion, is locked in battle in the South against Cassander’s traitors. Should we now send you to face the Red Dragon in the North?”
“Your Majesty…”
“Forgive us…”
“This Red Dragon cannot be defeated by mere manpower!”
“A hundred-meter dragon—sending our soldiers is suicide!”
Suddenly, Duke Saxis stepped forward again. His cloudy eyes narrowed, calculating.
“Your Majesty… do you remember Isa and Mukin?”
Wilhelm’s expression hardened instantly. “Of course. Damned traitors. They were the ones who first sparked this rebellion.”
Isa and Mukin had once been powerful Divine Offspring Dukes—Wilhelm’s trusted lieutenants, his right hand. But years ago, weary of endless war and seeing the kingdom’s decline, they broke away at the border, declaring themselves “Angel Princes.” In their lands, they proclaimed themselves divine beings.
With Wilhelm consumed by war in the South, he had no time to respond.
The rebellion sparked a chain reaction. Within days, dozens of Divine Offspring across the three kingdoms declared independence, carving out their own kingdoms upon the remnants of Sacred Fedran.
This massive uprising by the Divine Offspring became known to scholars as the “Sacred Uprising.”
Even now, several rebel Angel Divine Offspring still held power within Thrace, leading their private armies in defiance of Veerham’s rule, claiming they had been ennobled by the old Emperor.
But this time, Wilhelm had sent armies to crush them—hoping to restore the kingdom’s dignity.
Saxis knew full well how much Wilhelm loathed these “holy rebels.” Yet he pressed on:
“Your Majesty, if the kingdom can no longer control them—why not use them?”
Wilhelm paused. “You mean…”
“Enoble the rebellious, disobedient Divine-Blooded nobles in the North. Let these ungrateful traitors become our northern bulwark—shielding us from the Ember Empire’s invasion.”
Saxis leaned in, his face creased into a fawning smile.
“In doing so, Your Majesty can focus entirely on war with Cassander. Once you reclaim the Holy City, you’ll lead the restored Fedran Empire northward, crushing both the Red Dragon and the rebels in one stroke.”
The ministers murmured in approval. Their praise was immediate and lavish—this was the path of least cost.
“Truly, Duke Saxis is unmatched.”
“Who would have thought of such a plan?”
“We pit our two enemies against each other, and Thrace remains untouched.”
But Deyef spoke again, his voice laced with worry. “And if the Ember Empire destroys all the self-proclaimed Angel Princes… then how do we face the Empire and Cassander, now pressing from both north and south?”
From the crowd, a frail old man stepped forward—his white beard and robes rich with gold. In his hand, a staff pulsed with golden light. He bowed slightly, his back bent.
Herbert Fawari, former Archbishop of the Amanatara Church in the Thrace Region, now the kingdom’s Grand Archbishop.
“Your Majesty Wilhelm,” he said, his voice long and solemn, like a hymn to the Sun God. “Though the great Sun God lies in deep slumber due to Cassander’s conspiracy, the Celestial Race upon Heaven’s Mountain still maintains contact with us. They remain our last hope—willing that the Sun God’s radiance may once again shine upon the world. They will not allow a brutal Red Dragon’s rule.”
He lifted his gaze, reverent, toward Wilhelm’s obscured face and pristine wings.
“You are the one anointed by Amanata, Your Majesty. You bear bloodline as noble as the blazing angels. The celestial beings will support Thrace. That Red Dragon—no matter how powerful—remains but a mortal beast. He cannot withstand the light of heaven.”
He paused, then declared:
“I shall journey to Heaven’s Mountain. I will bring back a noble Blazing Sky Divine Attendant—our divine ally—to repel this Red Dragon.”
Perhaps due to a century of habit, the old archbishop’s voice carried the same rhythm as a morning prayer.
“Very well,” Wilhelm replied, returning to his throne. The golden haze enveloped him once more—like a divine manifestation.
“Gentlemen, when Sacred Fedran is restored, those rebels… and that evil Red Dragon to the North… shall all be reduced to ash beneath Amanata’s light!”
“Long live His Majesty Wilhelm!”
“Long live Sacred Fedran!”
The chamber roared with cheers.
Yet beneath the shimmering veil, Wilhelm’s once-pure skin now bore jagged cracks of black—like shattered porcelain.
Damned…
This cannot go on. I must find the legacy Father left behind. I must become immortal.
The “King of Angels,” outwardly radiant, trembled with pain and distortion. His voice, barely audible, whispered to himself.
Crack.
A faint, sharp sound. The black fissures widened—spreading like cracks in a broken vessel.
A deep, resonant voice echoed in his mind.
“Your Majesty… your ‘immortality’ is running out.”
“If you do not find that so-called Fadalan legacy… the Nine Hells will claim their due.”
Behind him, faintly, the intricate carvings of a Hell Devil began to form—like a shadow beneath the surface.
Wilhelm shuddered violently. His expression twisted in horror. He flared his three massive wings and roared down at the trembling court.
“Get out! You useless fools—get out!”
White feathers scattered like snow. Expensive porcelain shattered across the floor. The ministers exchanged glances, then silently retreated—well-versed in the King’s moods.
Since the old Emperor’s death, His Majesty had grown increasingly volatile. Perhaps grief had taken its toll.
---
Ember Empire, Dragonblood Mountain.
Sulfuric smoke curled through the air, crackling with fire. A massive shadow loomed from within.
At the peak, the Red Dragon—over forty meters long—lay lazily, exhaling silver-white flames as he refined the blood drawn from a dragon corpse.
In just weeks, fueled by the continuous intake of Ancestral Dragon Blood, Kai Xiusu’s form had grown noticeably larger. His length now approached fifty meters.
The Red Dragon relished the slow, steady rise in power. If left undisturbed, he could spend decades refining the blood—until he fully became an Ancestral Dragon.
But a flicker of magical aura sparked. Images materialized before him—distorted projections.
“Hmm… Thrace is finally awake. But I didn’t expect Wilhelm to start playing the ennoblement game. How amusing.”
Kai Xiusu scanned the intelligence reports from Lanpu, murmuring with quiet assessment.
“Cassander is reaching out again. Are they eager to use my strength to crush Thrace? Or are they simply impatient?”
For nearly a month, the image projections of his battle against the Abyssal Dragon in Anstica had spread far and wide. All powers were stunned. The Ember Empire had once again become the focal point of the entire Feanso continent—drawing the eyes of every major power.
Kai Xiusu rose slowly, stretching his massive body. He spread his wings wide, then swallowed another drop of Ancestral Dragon Blood.
“Prepare all departments for war,” he ordered. “The Cattapa region has been ready for years. It’s time… to begin the true conquest of the South.”
Wilhelm had given him an opening. Good. He didn’t want to devour the entire Thrace Kingdom all at once.
(End of Chapter)
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