Chapter 558: Representative
"Rise."
Under the collective gaze of tens of thousands, the remarkably young Noble slowly stood, folding her Dragon Wing behind her back before stepping to her designated seat.
Misha and Lanpu, standing side by side atop the Altar, locked eyes. A quiet nod passed between them—greeting, acknowledgment, respect.
"Lord Lanpu," Misha murmured.
The Imperial Prime Minister had once brought her before His Majesty. He had shared with her countless secrets of Arcane Knowledge—so much so that calling him a mentor felt not just appropriate, but deserved.
In Misha’s heart, this grotesque, hideous Ogre was nothing short of a Division Chief—an unshakable presence, a pillar of authority.
Beside her, the Great Goblin Duke Dolo narrowed his murky little eyes, sensing something. His expression darkened, as if he’d just swallowed a bitter pill.
"Damn it," he growled through clenched teeth—a low, rasping sound only he could hear.
Another Half-Dragon Proclaimer stepped forward, scroll in hand, spine rigid, voice booming with divine resonance.
"Strategic planning, coordination of all forces, extraordinary contribution to the Empire’s logistical strength. Promote Dailenna to Marquis."
"It’s Lady Dailenna!"
"Is that the ‘Flower of Northern Wind Keep’?"
Amidst gasps and exclamations, the woman in her flowing gown was lifted by an invisible force and carried to the High Platform. She waved at the crowd below, her smile radiant.
"His Majesty," she said, kneeling before Kai Xiusu with a graceful bow. Her expression was calm, but the faint tremble in her pale legs betrayed her nerves.
Who wouldn’t be tense?
At last, she had become a noble. She stood at the very pinnacle of Imperial power—fulfilling a dream she’d held since youth. Even Dailenna felt like she was dreaming.
Yet the Proclaimer’s voice did not cease. It echoed through the packed chamber, sharp and unrelenting.
"Brave in battle, unyielding before the foe, embodying the might of the Empire’s Dragonborn. Promote Smaug to Marquis."
A guttural, rasping cry split the air—embers flared like sparks from a forge.
From the swirling mass of Wyverns, a creature emerged—twenty meters long, its form resembling a true Red Dragon. Two heads, each crowned with jagged horns, snapped forward as it beat its massive wings and took flight.
It landed with a thunderous crash upon the Altar, lowering its neck before the Red Dragon, pressing its head tightly to the stone, folding its wings in submission. A low, obedient rumble rumbled from its chest.
Only after Emperor Kai Xiusu granted approval did the Wyverns take their places—balancing on their tails, rear legs planted firmly on the ground.
Now, all eyes turned to the final marble seat.
Nine Dukes. Only one remained.
Who would be the fortunate soul to claim the last Imperial Duke position?
"Kai Xiusu above!"
"I think Lord Bro, Marquis of the Infantry Legion, deserves it—his service has been unparalleled."
"Shut up! You know how many Demons Lord Daitou’s Artillery Corps obliterated?"
"Jilmo Marquis has served faithfully for years, assisting Lord Lanpu with the Empire’s endless bureaucracy. He’s more than qualified."
The crowd—Human, Ogre, Tiefling, Lizardfolk, and more—breathed with eager anticipation.
Though none dared believe they themselves could be chosen, each hoped their own race might have a representative ascend to the highest rank.
In the multi-ethnic Empire of Ashen, though official doctrine preached equality and meritocracy, who among them didn’t secretly wish for their kind to occupy the throne of power?
The Marquis themselves were on edge—tense, breathless, hearts pounding.
The Barons favored by the people held their breath, eyes fixed on the Proclaimer’s scroll, their gaze burning with longing.
But the voice did not pause.
"Ennobled as Duke: Tinia, who turned thousands of Demons into ice blocks, and faced the Balor Fire Demon head-on."
Another direct ennoblement—this time from civilian status, with no Noble rank at all.
Yet the chosen one was no ordinary figure. She was the famed White Dragon, heir to the bloodline known as the “Wings of the Empire’s Northwind,” venerated across the realm.
A piercing, frigid wind howled through the hall.
A thunderous Dragon Roar split the sky.
From the chaos of the Dragon Horde, a White Dragon—over twenty-five meters long—spread her wings. Her shadow blanketed the crowd like a storm.
Twenty-five meters. For a species normally slender and small, this was already nearing Ancient Dragon level. And yet, Tinia was still a juvenile.
Her lineage was undeniable.
She strode forward, her grotesque white head raised high, her broad wings—lined with bony spines—flaring with each step, sending waves of cold air rippling through the hall.
Her eyes, pale blue with vertical pupils, shimmered with inner light. In her mind, she whispered: Master has finally remembered me!
That battle against the Demon Invasion—she had fought with everything she had. And now, her loyalty was rewarded.
Boom.
The ground trembled slightly as the White Dragon descended upon the Altar.
She lowered her forelegs, folded her wings, pressed her head almost flush to the stone—submitting before Kai Xiusu.
"Master… I witnessed your battle with my own eyes. You are… so vast. So strong. Truly… incredible," she whispered, searching desperately for words in her simple mind. Her entire body trembled with ecstasy. Her thick tail swayed uncontrollably.
Her massive white form inched forward, claws scraping the stone as she dragged herself across the floor—unconcerned with dignity, driven only by instinct.
She wanted to be close to the Red Dragon.
To rub against him.
But the ceremony demanded dignity. The solemnity of the occasion.
Finally, Kai Xiusu could no longer ignore it.
He frowned, raising a single finger—sharp, clawed, radiating immense power.
A surge of force erupted.
"Aaagh!"
The twenty-meter White Dragon was suddenly enveloped in a gale-force wind. No matter how she struggled, she could not break free.
Then—crack—her body slammed into the ground before her seat.
Thud.
Tinia lay sprawled, pain shooting through every limb. Yet on her Dragon face, a look of rapture spread. A string of Dragon saliva dripped from her jaws, falling to the stone.
"Master… hehe… still so powerful. My roots can’t rebel, not even a little…"
Watching her delirious expression, Kai Xiusu’s lips twitched.
So this is what happens when a White Dragon’s mind can’t control the strength of her Ancestral Bloodline.
No wonder she’s this… obsessed.
After the brief, awkward interlude, the ritual resumed.
Names of the known and revered were called one after another, each met with cheers, gasps, and awed murmurs.
"Promote Daitou to Marquis."
"Promote Lord An·Wilkinson to Marquis."
"Promote Selkan to—Marquis."
"Who is Selkan?"
"How did he get this?"
The crowd buzzed with confusion—until a few seasoned Empire citizens recognized the name.
"I read about him in the Imperial Daily’s Colonial Section. He’s the Overseer of the Elemental Plane of Fire."
"I met him in Bronze Fortress. A man with real ambition."
A portal burst open with a roar of heat. From within stepped a Half-Red Dragon—clad in light armor, his eyes blazing with inner flame, ears and nostrils wreathed in tiny flames.
This was Selkan, Governor of the Elemental Plane of Fire.
Compared to other Half-Red Dragons in the Empire, his appearance was striking—his body subtly transformed by years of living in the fire realm. Flames danced at his joints. His skin shimmered with latent elemental energy.
Behind him marched a legion of Flame Wyverns, Fire Lizards, Fire Dwarves, and more—shouting in unison, their voices like crackling fire.
"Promote Steel Tide to Marquis."
Even after years of service, the Half-Red Dragon Proclaimer still struggled with the strange, arcane-sounding names.
But the Stellarfallen reacted instantly.
A roar of cheers erupted—chaotic, thunderous, like a tidal wave.
"Wait—War狂哥’s a Marquis?!"
"Flesh is frail, machines shall ascend!"
"Glory to the God of All Machines! HAHA! Our Mechanical Divinity prestige is through the roof!"
"Watch it—don’t shout. The Imperial Religious Affairs Office already came to talk to me about this."
"Ring the great bell three times! Sing in unison—praise the… uh… King Kai Xiusu!"
"Whatever, War狂哥’s the man!"
Some players even pulled out miniature mechanical bells, hammering them relentlessly.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Amidst the chimes and the roar of the crowd, Steel Tide emerged—confident, vibrant, beaming.
"Hahahaha! What a day! How’d you know I was ennobled?"
He pressed a button on his chest. With a hiss, two steel tubes extended from his back—then erupted in a dazzling blaze of light and thick white smoke.
Whoosh!
A mushroom cloud bloomed on the ground. Steel Tide shot upward like a rocket, reaching the hundred-meter-altar in seconds, then descending with grace.
New players—those who had only just entered the game, still struggling to kill a single chicken—stared in awe at the trail he left in the sky.
One whispered, stunned: "...Is this even the same game?"
After bowing to the Emperor, Steel Tide stood proudly at his Marquis seat, chest puffed, eyes scanning the crowd—savoring every moment of the spotlight.
But inside, he was weeping.
His experimental Personal Flight Unit was destroyed. He’d have to pay a fortune to rebuild it.
"General Mai Kong Watts, for his command of the Infantry Legion and steadfast defense of strategic strongholds—promoted to Marquis."
"Jilmo, for pioneering weapon research and decisive battlefield impact—promoted to Marquis."
"Fried, for guiding the Oath of the Dragon Sanctuary—promoted to Marquis."
"George, for leading the Army Relief on the frontlines, holding the high ground, repelling the Demon onslaught, and slaying multiple Bazut Demons—deserves promotion to Baron."
"It’s Baron George!"
"The former peasant laborer from the Northern Regions!"
"Kai Xiusu above! He’s been promoted two ranks at once!"
"Unbelievable—how many would envy a man who rose from peasant to Baron?"
"I worked in the same factory as George back then. We were like brothers. And even then… I knew he had big dreams. He was never meant to be ordinary."
Amidst the murmurs, envy, and admiration, George strode forward with purpose, stepping onto the base of the Isdalia Grand Altar.
He stood tall, breathing deeply. He could feel the Dragon Blood pulsing in his chest—racing like a war drum.
Finally… a Baron.
So close. So close. Almost there. Almost… a real important figure.
An invisible force lifted him upward. He watched the crowd shrink below him—becoming tiny, insignificant.
He couldn’t help but sigh.
The past me… I was just another face in the crowd.
But now… everything is different.
He lifted his head, eyes burning with resolve, and marched forward—onto the Grand Altar.
Under the crushing weight of Dragon presence, he forced his body still. But his heart thundered. His Bloodline surged like a storm.
Still, he managed to hold himself together—half-kneeling before the Red Dragon.
"Your Majesty. Thank you for this honor."
He gritted his teeth. Sweat poured down his forehead, dripping onto the stone.
The Red Dragon slowly lowered his head, studying him.
Then, a whisper.
"George… you’re impressive. You actually activated the Bloodseed I left behind."
He… he noticed me?
He actually praised me?
The joy surged through George—so overwhelming it threatened to drown him. He nearly fainted.
But he held on.
He bowed once more, then returned to his seat.
Yet Kai Xiusu’s words replayed in his mind, over and over:
"George… you’re impressive."
He noticed me.
Maybe… I can reach the very top of the Empire’s power.
George turned, eyes fixed on the higher seats—Marquis, Duke.
His gaze burned with fire.
"Ennobled as Viscount: Mai Kong Watts, Crimson Scale Conqueror, Valiant and Fearless, repeatedly entering Demon hordes."
"Ennobled as Viscount: Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang, who fought Demons in brutal close combat, sacrificing everything."
"Ennobled as Baron: Russell."
"Ennobled as Baron: Hulm."
As the names faded, the Proclaimers folded their scrolls and retreated into the shadows.
The ceremony concluded.
Nine Dukes. Twenty-six Marquis. Over fifty Barons. More than a hundred Viscounts. Four hundred-plus Baron equivalents.
Finally, under the eyes of hundreds of thousands—perhaps even millions—the Red Dragon rose slowly from his throne.
"A tedious ritual," he muttered, exhaling a plume of white smoke laced with sulfur.
He stretched his vast wings, pale golden eyes sweeping across the sea of faces—expectant, excited, trembling with hope.
Kai Xiusu knew.
The true Bestowal… was about to begin.
(End of Chapter)
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