Chapter 561: God of the Mortal Realm (6k Masterpiece)
Empire of Ashen, Anstika Region, summit of Dragonblood Mountain.
The air still reeked of sulfur, thick with smoke, its heat so intense that the very atmosphere shimmered with distortion. Ember sparks and ash swirled like dancing ghosts in the sky. On the jagged cliff face, shaped like a snarling dragon’s maw, rose a colossal palace carved from solidified molten lava—majestic, ancient, and utterly unyielding.
This was the sanctuary of Kai Xiusu Claudew Noirikexius—the Emperor of the Ashen Flame, the supreme master of the Dragon-Blooded Nobles, and the living embodiment of divine authority within the mortal realm.
Had a being of divine origin or a high-tier spellcaster stood here, they would have been stunned to discover the sheer weight of faith—hundreds of millions of pure devotion threads converging, intertwining like the roots of a world tree, pulsing with sacred energy. Such a concentration of faith power was not inferior to that of true deities.
In the whispered legends of the Empire, the Emperor had long since transcended the title of mere ruler. He was now spoken of as the God of the Mortal Realm—a living force beyond mortal comprehension.
And this mountain, the tallest peak in Anzeta, forged by the Emperor’s own hand, had been reborn as the Sacred Mountain—a name bestowed by the people in reverence. Every morning, pious citizens would kneel three times toward Dragonblood Mountain, chanting the low, resonant Hymn to Kai Xiusu in solemn devotion, swearing their eternal loyalty.
Even the famously erratic Stellarfallen—those lost souls of fractured minds—would often bow toward the mountain, offering gifts at the Oath of the Dragon Sanctuary. Some even crawled on their knees, head bleeding from the impact, muttering incomprehensible prayers: “His Majesty bless me with dropping loot,” “let me inhale dragon aura.”
But the citizens of the Empire had grown accustomed to such quirks. They knew the nature of the Stellarfallen by heart. No matter what they did—whether they danced naked in the streets or screamed into the wind—the people would simply glance up, blink once, and return to their daily lives. Soon, Public Order Units would arrive to escort them away, as if nothing had happened.
Inside the palace, a red dragon over forty meters long pressed its wings tightly against its body, exhaling a plume of sulfur-scented smoke. Its massive tail swayed slowly, like a pendulum of fire. Kai Xiusu lowered his head, gazing intently at a single drop of blood refined by silver-white flame. A deep, exhilarated roar escaped his throat.
"The feeling of steady, unrelenting growth… it’s exquisite."
He swallowed the blood. Flames surged through his basal vessels. Warmth flooded from his throat, cascading down his spine, spreading through his tail and wings—like molten sunlight flowing through his veins.
For this dragon, magma was merely bathwater. The wildfires of Purgatory? Toys in his claws.
To feel heat—true heat—was a rare sensation in the Material Plane. The sheer temperature of this ancestral dragon blood was enough to vaporize any ordinary mortal before they even touched it.
"Huuuuh…"
With a long, slow exhale, Kai Xiusu unleashed a gale so scorching it warped the sky itself. The colossal dragon body trembled slightly, its form expanding ever so subtly with each breath.
[Ancestral Dragon Blood concentration +0.001%]
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He rose slowly from the ground, shook his wings with deliberate grace, then turned his gaze toward the palace wall.
There, carved into the rock, hung a massive map—nearly two meters long—crafted from the hide of a multi-headed flame lizard, a prized relic from the Elemental Plane of Fire. It depicted the entire Feiansuo Continent in intricate detail: every power, every frontier, even the shapes of the otherworldly realms—Heaven’s Mountain, the Nine Hells, the Bottomless Abyss, the Howling Void.
On the map’s surface, countless spell-lit points flickered like stars—each one a strategic report, a plan, a piece of intelligence compiled by the Empire’s intellectual elite.
According to Lanpu, they merely wished to assist in the Emperor’s Great Blueprint, ensuring the Empire’s conquest and expansion proceeded with steady, calculated precision.
Kai Xiusu’s gaze swept across the map. Instantly, the floating light points burst into view—overwhelming walls of text flooding his vision, so dense they made his eyes ache.
“Thrace Kingdom Conquest Strategy”
“Serrynia Interference Guide”
“Conquest of Victoria Harbor”
“High Mountain Dwarf Kingdom Annexation Plan”
Kai Xiusu shook his head, chuckling in amusement.
"Tsk tsk. The so-called Great Blueprint was just a doodle I sketched back then. And yet, my followers actually built it. What a relief. But—"
He raised his massive claw and pressed it down upon the map’s northern region.
In an instant, the entire northern continent—Thrace Kingdom, the High Mountain Dwarf Kingdom, the Free Trade Federation, and countless other powers—was enveloped beneath his claw.
His eyes glinted with quiet triumph as he glanced at the skill tree on his Character Sheet: [Knowledge (Future)].
"They can’t see the future," he whispered. "Only I can."
As a veteran player of Ailezegai, Kai Xiusu knew every major event of The Age of Kings by heart—the war between orcs and dwarves, the Serrynia coup, the Mind Flayer invasion of Victoria Harbor.
But this was only the surface. Beneath it all, the continent teemed with hidden conflicts, buried betrayals, and ancient grudges.
Now, after the fall of the Faldran Empire, Feiansuo had plunged into an Age of Gods and Demons—a chaotic era where every power vied for dominance.
Back then, Kai Xiusu had lacked the strength to establish a presence here. But now? After years of stealth, growth, and quiet expansion, he stood at the peak of an empire built on fire and blood.
He ran a claw along the map’s edge, his voice low and reverent.
"It’s time. The Empire must step onto the stage of Feiansuo. Only in this age of war and upheaval can we rise above the rest."
He believed, deep in his soul, that one day, the Empire of Ashen would claim the world.
And yet—this act of his had already altered Anzeta’s fate. The creation of the Ashen Empire had rewritten history.
In the original timeline, the Northern Kingdoms had repelled the Abyssal invasion, thanks to player aid—but that was all they achieved. Isolated, forgotten, and unvalued by the rest of the continent, they had remained confined to the north, powerless to influence southern affairs.
But Kai Xiusu’s actions were not mere butterfly flaps.
They were dragon wings—unleashing a storm that would shake the very foundations of Feiansuo.
His pale golden eyes glowed faintly, vertical pupils dilating as he scanned the entire continent. Deep within their depths, a flicker of hunger stirred.
"Still… some things will never change. The great wars are inevitable. The clash of the three great kingdoms—the human, the elven, the orcish, the dwarven, the naga, the giants—"
Feiansuo was the heart of the Prime Material Plane. Hundreds of intelligent races lived here, their cultures diverse, their ruins countless, their histories buried beneath dust and time.
The red dragon turned, stepping out of the molten lava palace with regal ease. He spread his vast wings wide, letting out a low, majestic hum that echoed across the mountain.
"More than a decade has passed since we crossed into Ailezegai. It’s time we witnessed the wonders of Feiansuo firsthand."
He gazed southward. The pale gold of his pupils pulsed with fire. Dragon shadows coiled around him, their forms made of flame, swirling like smoke in a storm.
"Arooo—!"
A thunderous roar split the sky. Two red dragons emerged from the mountain’s shadow—identical to Kai Xiusu, but smaller, each measuring just over thirty meters from snout to tail.
Their power was identical to his—yet only a third of his strength.
This was the effect of the 7th Circle Dragon Spell: [Dragon’s Simulacrum]. These were perfect copies of Kai Xiusu—duplicates of his will, memory, and abilities.
"What a strange sensation," Kai Xiusu murmured, closing his eyes. He felt the delicate balance of controlling multiple bodies, each responding to his mind with flawless precision.
This was his plan: leave his true form here, deep within Dragonblood Mountain, drawing strength from the ancestral dragon’s bloodline, while sending his simulacra into the world—stealthy, foresighted, and unstoppable.
Under his command, the two dragons flared their wings, unleashing scorching gales. They tore open rifts in space with their claws, igniting flaming portals. With a roar, they launched into the sky, soaring toward different corners of the Empire.
Their targets: Victoria Harbor—on the western southern border, nestled by Moon Bay—and the Blackstone Mountains, in the eastern southern reaches.
Watching them vanish into the horizon, Kai Xiusu smiled, fangs glinting in the sunlight.
"Go. Carry my will. Stir the world."
---
Empire of Ashen, Isdalia City.
The city still thrummed with the energy of the recent ritual. The people had yet to fully emerge from the frenzy of celebration. The chorus of Hymn to Kai Xiusu still echoed through the streets.
"His Majesty is like the sun above, we are the seeds below. His endless radiance lights the Earth, and we grow strong, like sprouts in the sun."
Every time a Dragon-Blooded Noble—skin etched with scales, eyes blazing gold—passed by, the crowd erupted into cheers. People surged forward, shouting blessings, pressing forward to touch them, to be near the divine.
Under the guarded escort of soldiers and the adoring gaze of thousands, the nobles marched down Emperor’s Avenue, waving to the crowd, basking in the adoration.
It was a day of great honor. The Dragon-Blooded Nobles were in high spirits, tossing out dozens of silver ginnar coins as tokens of goodwill.
"Long Live the Empire!"
"Long Live Emperor Kai Xiusu!"
"Honor our War Heroes!"
Cannon salutes thundered. Flowers rained from the sky. The people’s cheers rolled like waves, endless and loud.
Among them, a Stellarfallen named “I’m Going to Eat a Steamed Bun” stood with wild excitement, arms raised high.
"Come on! Shout my name!"
"Say it with me—Stuffed Bun!"
"Stuffed Bun!"
"Stuffed Bun!"
Though the people didn’t understand the name’s meaning, they were swept up in the moment. They chanted anyway.
Stuffed Bun beamed, already savoring the moment—another perfect video clip to showcase his legendary presence.
Nearby, the elven noble Abeir smiled, waving gently to the crowd. As the only elf in the procession, she stood out, but her presence was met with warm acceptance.
"Kai Xiusu above," she whispered. "What a harmonious world this is."
Once a spy sent to infiltrate the Empire, her memories were now fragmented—like a broken film reel. She remembered only being captured by His Majesty himself, thrown into chains, imprisoned.
Then came the Imperial Re-Education Camp. Under its teachings, she saw the hypocrisy of the so-called "just" factions. She felt the Empire’s warmth—the justice, the order, the transformation it brought to the people.
Years later, after passing every test with flying colors, she emerged from the Transformation Battalion.
She repented. She pledged her soul. She became a loyal warrior of the Ashen Flame.
And when she fought bravely in the battle against the demon invasion—her arrows striking true—she was ennobled as a Dragon Blood Baron, ascending to the Isdalia Grand Altar before tens of thousands.
This was glory. Unattainable, unimaginable.
And yet, here she stood—once an enemy, now a hero.
She felt no desire to reclaim her past. The memories of her old life had faded. The only thing left was her name: Abeir.
"This life is enough," she thought, watching a little girl laugh as she threw flowers into the air. "Maybe… I don’t need to remember the past."
She had once been a pawn of the Pharisaical factions. Now, she stood with the Empire. That was enough.
Her steps grew firmer. The dragon blood in her veins burned with certainty.
Then—something shifted.
A sudden chill. A gaze.
Abeir’s archer’s instincts flared. She felt eyes on her—focused, unblinking.
Enemy?
She turned sharply. There, in the crowd, a man in a gray hooded robe stood motionless, staring at her. His face, half-hidden, bore the lines of time and sorrow.
"Wait… is that…"
His amber eyes held no malice—only a deep, tangled emotion.
Abeir’s heart skipped.
"Richard Sieg."
The name slipped out—familiar, yet foreign. It felt carved into her soul.
She repeated it in her mind, but no memory came.
When she looked again, the man had vanished—dissolved into the crowd like smoke.
"Strange…"
She resumed walking, brushing the moment aside.
But in a dark alley, the man sat hunched, head bowed.
"No… how could this be? She forgot me. That’s why she joined the Empire. She lost all her memories!"
Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes hardened.
"I will make you remember, Abeir."
---
Isdalia, Inner District.
The heart of the Empire’s elite. Gleaming buildings. Immaculate streets. Even the Imperial Prime Minister Lanpu’s wizard tower stood proudly here.
"Inner District—next stop. Please disembark in an orderly fashion."
Abeir stepped off the steam train, walking toward her new home—still fresh, a gift from the Empire after her ennoblement. Outside, it would fetch over five hundred gold coins.
She pulled the silver key from her military uniform and inserted it into the lock.
The door clicked.
Then—stillness.
She hesitated.
"Come out. I know you’re here."
From the shadows behind the house, a soft, trembling voice.
"Abeir… you really did come back."
A man stepped forward—his gaze burning with longing.
"Click."
A sharp, metallic sound.
Abeir spun around, her pistol drawn from her sleeve, aimed directly at his forehead.
Her voice was cold, sharp.
"Who are you? Why are you following me?"
The man—Richard Sieg—froze. His eyes dimmed with sorrow.
"You… don’t remember me."
He slowly removed his hood, revealing a face both handsome and weathered, with the pointed ears of an elf.
Abeir’s grip tightened.
"You’re a half-elf. You were someone I knew."
But she didn’t lower the gun.
"What’s your purpose? Are you plotting against the Empire?"
"I have no ill will. I don’t oppose the Empire." Richard held up his hands. "My name is Richard Sieg. Do you remember it?"
Abeir nodded slightly. "A little. You were an old acquaintance."
Relief washed over him. But words failed. He opened his mouth—then closed it. A thousand memories pressed against his throat, yet none could escape.
After a long pause, he whispered:
"Fifteen years ago… we met at a banquet."
Abeir cut him off coldly.
"Richard Sieg. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear your story. I’m not the elf you knew."
The words struck him like a blade.
All those memories… those promises… gone?
Despair clawed at his chest.
The rumors were true. After receiving the Emperor’s blessing, Abeir’s spiritual soul had been transformed—irrevocably.
He exhaled slowly, forcing a smile.
"You just lost your memories. I can help you get them back. We were both members of the Lute Players’ Alliance. We infiltrated the Red Robe Wizard Tower. We watched the sunrise in Kadawen Forest…"
His voice grew softer, more tender. Tears welled in his eyes.
"I remember every moment. I’ve waited for this day—just to see you again."
"Click."
A cold barrel pressed against his forehead.
Abeir’s voice remained calm.
"You’re wrong. I am not your lost love. I am not a member of the Lute Players’ Alliance. I am Abeir—Dragon Blood Baron of the Empire of Ashen, sworn to serve Emperor Kai Xiusu."
She didn’t lower the gun. She didn’t remove the imperial insignia on her coat.
"You’ve trespassed in the Inner District. You’ve followed a Dragon-Blooded Noble. You’ve attempted subversion. That’s a capital offense. But… I’ll let it go—for old times’ sake. Leave now. I won’t pursue you."
Richard stood frozen, staring at her—his past love, now a stranger.
"No…"
"Abeir… this isn’t how it should be…"
"Listen! You haven’t recovered your memories yet! You don’t know what we shared—!"
He took a step forward, reaching for her.
She turned—like wind through a door—slammed it shut behind her, locking him out.
Only one last sentence echoed into the silence.
"Richard Sieg. Don’t stay. The Imperial Guard won’t spare your subordinates."
Inside, Abeir removed her coat, hung it on the rack. She placed the unloaded pistol into its case.
She stood in silence, then looked out the window.
He was gone. Vanished. As if he had never been.
"Richard Sieg."
She knew. She remembered everything—every word, every memory.
But she was no longer the same.
Now, she belonged to Kai Xiusu—body, mind, soul. The bond forged by the Emperor was eternal.
Love could fade. But the chain binding them to the Empire could not be broken.
She knew this was the only right choice.
Not cruel. Not heartless.
Just… inevitable.
They were no longer from the same world.
"I’m sorry," she whispered, pressing her hand to her chest.
(End of Chapter)
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