The Ember Dragon Chapter 578: Gold Dragon and the Elves - Novel Cool

Chapter 578: Gold Dragon and the Elves

At last, the dwarves emerged from the euphoria of victory, quietly beginning to clean the battlefield and gather the fallen comrades. The city wall was scarred with blackened burn marks and patchy bloodstains; below, vast stretches of solidified metal lay scattered like remnants of war. Thousands of dwarven warriors had sacrificed their lives in this battle. Even in death, they had not forgotten their duty—fighting the ogres, defending their shared homeland.

Elder dwarves lifted the corpses still frozen in battle stances, gently brushing their hands across the faces of the dead, closing their furious, wide-open eyes.

"Child, rest in peace. Aivendeldan still stands. May you find immortality in Molradin’s realms."

His voice cracked at the end, choked with emotion. Even the most rugged dwarves could not remain untouched by the grief of losing family.

A fellow dwarf stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "They’ll be fine, Karl. These fallen comrades are heroes of our people. The Gods of Morindasman will not forsake them. Our heroes will live eternally on Heaven’s Mountain, forging the finest armor and weapons for Father God."

The dwarf known as Karl nodded deeply, his gaze sharpening with resolve.

"I will stand with His Majesty to defend Aivendeldan. I will drive the ogres back to the North—so their spirits may rest in peace."

"Yes," the other replied. "The ogres’ assault is far from over. Now is no time for sorrow."

In truth, the Shield Dwarves of the High Mountain Kingdom had only repelled the first wave of the ogres’ offensive. The massive army—tens of thousands strong, encircling Aivendeldan like a shadow of doom—still loomed over them, its weight pressing down like a storm cloud.

"What a brutal battle… But thank the gods, we held. We preserved the honor of the High Mountain Kingdom."

Standing atop the towering city wall, gazing down upon the ash-strewn ruins below, King Aid exhaled a long, weary sigh. Even when the Sacred Fedran legions had invaded centuries ago, he had not felt such tension. This time, the ogres had thrown everything they had. And with centuries of bloodshed between them, there could be no reconciliation—only death or victory.

Biyao stepped beside him, still trembling with relief. "Your Majesty, we owe our lives to that stranger."

Aid nodded sincerely. "Indeed. Without that Gold Dragon, Aivendeldan would have fallen today. But Biyao… you don’t know him?"

Biyao shook his head. "A Gold Dragon of that size—no less than Ancient Dragon level—rarely ventures beyond the Feiansuo Continent. He’s likely a relief force from Heaven’s Mountain, a champion of Faith King Bahamut."

Aid looked up at the sky. The golden dragon still hovered high above, scanning the orcish army with calm, regal eyes.

The dwarf king raised his hand and shouted toward the heavens.

"Powerful and noble Gold Dragon! You are the savior of our High Mountain Kingdom—and of the entire dwarven people! I am the King of the Shield Dwarves. I beg you—descend upon Aivendeldan and speak with me!"

"Arooo—!"

The Gold Dragon above responded with a thunderous, echoing roar. Then, with a graceful sweep of its undulating wings, it glided through the air like a drifting leaf, circling the city wall in slow, deliberate motion.

Many scholars agreed: the Gold Dragon was the most elegant flier among all True Dragons—and the dragons themselves took pride in that fact.

The dragon’s shadow swept over the city wall, casting a golden glow across the dwarves.

"Molradin above!"

"By the gods..."

Even knowing the dragon was an ally, the dwarven warriors trembled, swallowing hard, fingers tightening on their bows and crossbows.

"Boom!"

A massive, thirty-meter-long body landed upon the sturdy city tower with a thunderous impact—yet moved with surprising lightness. The dragon had taken extraordinary care, tiptoeing as best it could, but still shattered the stone beneath its feet.

Countless eyes—filled with surprise, awe, and reverence—looked up at the golden statue-like giant before them.

Aid stared upward, stunned, as the creature descended.

The Gold Dragon folded its vast, flowing wings tightly against its back, resembling a colossal golden moth. Its eyes glowed like molten gold, and around its mouth floated a dozen long, slender gill whiskers—giving it an air of wisdom, maturity, and the dignified aura unique to Gold Dragons.

Definitely a Gold Dragon. And an elder one—possibly a Noble Ancient Dragon.

Aid and Biyao thought in unison.

As rulers of the High Mountain Kingdom, they had once visited Heaven’s Mountain and witnessed the towering, majestic Metal Dragons. Among them, the Gold Dragons—distinguished by their golden scales and gill whiskers—were the most unique, the most radiant.

The Gold Dragon surveyed the battlefield, then fixed its gaze on the King of the Dwarves.

To a dragon of such arrogance, only legendary figures among dwarves held any worth.

Aid quickly bowed deeply. "Most gracious Gold Dragon… forgive my rudeness. Your presence overwhelms me. Thanks to you, our kingdom survived the ogres’ assault. Our people will never forget your kindness. My gratitude is eternal."

He took a deep breath, then spoke with solemn reverence.

"I am Aid Klein, King of Blackstone Mountain, descendant of Dumason, and follower of Molradin. I do not know your noble title… but may I ask it?"

"Titus."

The dragon’s voice was deep, smooth, and resonant.

"You may call me Titus. My status is merely that of a passing Golden Dragon. I intervened only because I could not stand the ogres’ crude, savage ways."

Aid laughed heartily. "Titus, you do not merely intervene—you changed the course of this war! Without your aid, Aivendeldan might have fallen. Rest assured—our High Mountain Kingdom will offer you the most precious treasures as recompense. In crafting tools and jewelry, we dwarves are unmatched."

He knew the rules of dealing with Metal Dragons. Experience had taught him: even if they claim to care nothing for wealth, they must be rewarded—handsomely. Otherwise, they would remember the slight. Vengeance, greed—these were the nature of dragons, even the noblest among them.

"Aid."

The Gold Dragon turned its gaze toward the horizon, its golden eyes narrowing slightly, a faint gleam of light flickering within them.

"Rewards can wait. What matters now is this: your war is far from over. That was merely a probe. The ogre army numbers over two hundred thousand—and includes many who could stand against you and me."

"Two hundred thousand?"

"Yes. And from my observation, more are gathering in the Ugo Grasslands, marching southward."

Aid’s heart sank.

The ogre army outnumbered the entire population of the High Mountain Kingdom. If this continued, Aivendeldan’s fall was inevitable.

The dragon sensed his unease. "You fear?"

Aid exhaled, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Of course I fear. Who wouldn’t? But I am not afraid of their army. I fear the fall of Aivendeldan—the symbol of our people’s glory. I fear my subjects becoming slaves."

He raised his head, his voice steady.

"Titus, thank you again for your wisdom. The High Mountain Kingdom is our ancestral inheritance. Even if the enemy multiplies tenfold, we will never surrender."

"Good," the dragon said, folding its wings and stepping lightly along the towering wall, surveying the dwarf defenders.

"Dwarves… I see your determination, your will to resist. The ogres are powerful—but not invincible. I will remain in Aivendeldan to aid you, until victory is ours."

Aid placed his war hammer against his chest, voice thick with gratitude.

"I, on behalf of all the people of the High Mountain Kingdom, salute you, great Titus. From this moment, you are our eternal friend. My power is limited, but no matter where you are in Feanso, the dwarves will stand by you."

Unlike the reserved elves, dwarves were blunt in their emotions—loving fiercely, hating openly. And in the heart of their king, this mysterious, powerful Gold Dragon had become an unshakable ally.

Though Aid did not know the true origin of “Titus,” he knew one thing: this was a noble Gold Dragon. A symbol of justice and order, a faithful servant of Bahamut, the leader among Metal Dragons. Who could question such a being?

Yet, within the dragon’s mind, a quiet, satisfied smile curled.

If they called him “Titus,” so be it. But his true name—his real identity—was Kai Xiusu Claudew Noirikexius.

Yes. This Gold Dragon was the Emperor of the Ashen Flame. More precisely, the Dragon Shadow Avatar carrying the Emperor’s will.

At that moment, his true form still remained in the Dragonblood Mountain within the Empire, refining the Karex Bloodline.

After leaving the Anzeta Great Wasteland, Kai Xiusu had used the ability Embodiment of the Ancient Dragon to transform into an Ancient Gold Dragon.

Then, drawing on his knowledge of the plot, he had intervened at the crucial moment in what would later become one of history’s most famous battles—the Battle of Black Stone Mountain—turning the tide in favor of the dwarves.

In truth, even without the dragon’s intervention, Aid—the “Lord of the High Mountain”—would have eventually broken free, using sacred relics left by the Gods of Morindasman to resist the ogres’ onslaught and defend Aivendeldan to the death.

But Kai Xiusu had not merely assisted—he had become the decisive factor, making the “Gold Dragon Titus” an indispensable force in the dwarves’ victory.

Ha… Dwarves. Since I saved your kingdom, and you’re so grateful… why not repay me with the entire Blackstone Mountains? In time, my empire will claim its due reward.

Gazing upon the dwarves’ grateful faces, Titus—Kai Xiusu—chuckled inwardly.

But then Aid spoke, voice heavy with concern.

"Titus, can you contact King Bahamut of Heaven’s Mountain?"

A soft, bitter sigh escaped the dragon’s lips.

"…Now? I have no right to stand before King Bahamut. I cannot even face my comrades. Now, I can only strive to walk the path of justice—my only way to atone."

He looked up at the azure sky, voice low and hollow.

Aid sensed something was wrong. He recalled the countless legends of those who defied divine beings and were punished.

The king bowed deeply.

"Forgive me, Titus. I meant no disrespect. I did not mean to pry into your past."

"I know," the dragon replied.

"But… our strength is too weak. Even with Aivendeldan’s warriors, we cannot stand against an army of hundreds of thousands."

The dragon turned, gazing at the ruins below. His gill whiskers swayed gently in the air, graceful as silk.

"Never mind. Aid… if I recall correctly, the time is almost upon us."

"What time?" The king frowned.

The dragon’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

"The time for your allies to arrive at Aivendeldan."

According to fate, the Elven Queen, upon receiving the letter, had defied the Senate of Elders and marched her elite guard straight to Aivendeldan—coming to aid the dwarves against the ogres’ southern advance.

Among her reinforcements was none other than the legendary Holy Knight—Ria Nai Luo, known as "Dawnblade."

Ah… what a familiar face. Though I’d rather call her an old enemy.

Kai Xiusu smiled faintly, recalling the moment he had fled in panic before that powerful Paladin—only a few years ago.

Though he barely remembered the dragon mother from their brief encounter, the memory of being at her mercy—of helplessness, of humiliation—still burned deep within.

Years had passed. And now, meeting her again, he stood not as a fleeing coward, but as a revered Ancient Gold Dragon.

"Shimmer—!"

Before the words had even faded, the air beneath the city wall rippled with white light.

Then, in the midst of tense silence, a radiant star portal unfolded slowly in the sky.

From it stepped a half-elf, clad in silver light armor, her silver sword at her hip. She lifted her head, revealing a face both beautiful and serene—her silver hair tied back with precision.

She looked up at the city tower, her gaze briefly widening in surprise at the sight of the colossal Gold Dragon—then she nodded in greeting.

"Respected Lord of the High Mountain, I come bearing the will of King Serrynia and Queen Iserlin, co-ruler of the Moon Elves. We honor the sacred alliance of millennia, and stand with the Shield Dwarves of the High Mountain Kingdom to repel the ogres’ invasion."

Behind her, hundreds of pure-blooded elves emerged—one by one—from the portal. Pale-skinned, with long, elegant ears, they wore silver armor, carried silver longbows or wooden staves, and rode upon Pegasi and Unicorns—gentle, magical beasts of noble spirit.

These were the Silver Moon Followers—the elite guard loyal only to Queen Iserlin. The full strength she could muster.

To preserve the ancient sacred alliance and halt the ogres’ southern advance, this so-called “puppet queen” had staked everything.

Aid’s expression shifted from shock to uncontainable joy.

"Titus, your divination is beyond belief."

(End of Chapter)

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