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Chapter 604: Mochulia and the Plea for Aid
The Plane Form of Heaven's Mountain was extraordinarily peculiar—impossibly majestic mountains rose from a boundless ocean, layered one upon another in perfect, ascending order, seven levels in total. Here, Justice, Mercy, Order, Divine Grace, and Compassion were eternal laws. Watchful eyes stood vigilant against any form of Evil, and every aspect of existence radiated infinite beauty. With each ascending tier, a visitor’s Spiritual Soul underwent refinement and elevation. Only those with pure,善良 (good) Spiritual Souls could ascend the mountain and reach its highest peak. Upon arrival at the summit, even the most righteous lawful existence would dissolve into the Essence of Ultimate Good, surrendering individual consciousness for Glory. It was said that countless powerful Divine Beings dwelled here, though no one could confirm it.
Swish—
A pair of pristine white wings unfurled. Walter Graham, a Divine Offspring Warrior clad in silver armor and glowing with radiant light, soared into the sky, his Greatsword gripped tightly as he raced up the Sacred Mountain. He was a celestial being from the Material Realm, having just submitted his token at the Bastion of Stars and secured the aid of the Messenger Barachiel. Now, his objective was the second tier of Heaven's Mountain—Mochulia.
In the Silver Heaven, a realm teeming with Aetherian Divine Races, Walter wasn’t particularly striking. Dozens of Angels flapped their wings, ascending with fierce determination. Soon, the howling wind carried him through Luciya’s inky night sky.
Swish—
A sudden surge of golden light struck his face, burning away the taint of Evil and sin he had carried from the Material Realm. Instinctively, Walter raised his Greatsword overhead like an umbrella, shielding himself from the overwhelming, blinding radiance. But after a moment, he lowered the weapon, eyes closing. His brow, once furrowed with tension, slowly relaxed. He stood still, bathed in the light, his soul purifying, his spirit calming.
“So familiar…”
That golden Radiance—its warmth, its intensity—it stirred memories from decades past, when the Faldran Empire still stood at the height of its glory. During the Ascension Rite, the sun had felt just like this—bright, fierce, and full of life.
Walter opened his eyes. His expression was serene. The lingering anger had vanished.
He surveyed the unfamiliar plane, murmuring softly:
“Finally… Mochulia.”
Mochulia, the second layer of Heaven’s Mountain, was a realm of thin but life-giving air, saturated with Last Hope. Golden Radiance bathed every living thing, earning it the name “Golden Heaven” among pilgrims. Gentle slopes, swift-running streams, and lush, vibrant vegetation covered the land. Elevated plateaus and mountain passes provided ample Survival Space for the Aetherian Divine Races, the Gedintian Celestial Races, and other benevolent beings.
Here stood vast, awe-inspiring mausoleums—monuments to the noblest warriors, granting them eternal rest. Each year on Remembrance Day, the inhabitants of Heaven would strum their Harps, singing hymns in honor of their Radiance.
Armories and parade grounds for the Aetherian Divine Races dotted the entire layer. When needed, Heaven’s Mountain could summon an Army. The Divine Army often gathered here for drills and training.
And at the heart of it all stood Bahamut’s Palace—a sanctuary for the God of Good Dragons. This was Walter’s destination.
His enemy was no ordinary foe. It was a Five-Colored Dragon—specifically, the most powerful among them: a Red Dragon. To stand against such a beast, seeking aid from a Metal Dragon deity was the wisest course.
Walter spread his pure white wings and surged forward through the sky, flying at full speed. After what felt like an eternity, he finally saw the distant Palace.
On a regiment of swirling clouds, a palace of dazzling golden glory loomed. Its windows were inlaid with gemstones set in gold and silver. The walls were adorned with red copper and emerald, and the floor itself was crafted from refined Mithril. Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Copper Dragons stood guard at the entrance, forming a ceremonial garrison. Thousands of winged Aeon Dragons flitted through the air, and armored Dragonkin Holy Knights patrolled the perimeter.
Even Walter—battle-hardened, experienced across the Multiverse—had never seen such a luxurious, awe-inspiring palace.
He stood frozen, breathless. From the depths of his heart, he whispered:
“Is this truly Bahamut’s sanctuary? It’s… incomprehensible.”
At the same time, a quiet relief stirred within him. If I can secure aid from a being of this magnitude, I may yet defeat that Red Dragon.
Walter folded his wings and, with his Greatsword as a staff, knelt halfway on the cloud, bowing his head in solemn respect.
He lifted his gaze, voice firm and resolute:
“Most Noble and Powerful Lord of the Northern Wind! I, Walter Graham, Divine Offspring of the Sacred Fedran, Duke of the Northern Aether—here I humbly petition you. Grant me your aid, and let your Last Hope shine upon my people!”
His golden eyes burned with determination, fixed on the distant palace.
Swish—
A sudden shock of surprise crossed his face.
A cold wind roared beneath him, lifting the Divine-Blooded Noble into the air. The wind surged upward, carrying him directly toward the palace, suspended high above the clouds.
Dragonkin Holy Knights and Aeon Dragons alike stepped aside with reverence. Even the Gold and Silver Dragons at the gate bowed their heads. They knew—this cold wind was the embodiment of Bahamut’s Will.
The golden front door, etched with sacred emblems, slowly creaked open. The wind carried Walter into the vast hall, where he stepped onto the Mithril floor.
The chamber was piled high with treasure—golden statues, gemstone constellations, radiant chandeliers. Everywhere, light danced off precious metals and dazzling jewels. Walter kept his eyes forward, heart pounding. He felt tense, afraid of offending the God of Good Dragons.
Bahamut did not reveal his form. Yet his voice echoed through the hall—deep, dignified, ancient.
“Ah… the Divine Offspring of Sacred Fedran, who endured such trials yet preserved a pure Spiritual Soul, untouched by Evil. You are remarkable, Walter Graham. Would you consider settling here on Heaven’s Mountain, becoming my beloved follower?”
Walter froze—then quickly knelt fully upon the floor, bowing deeply.
“Your Majesty,” he said, voice strong and clear, “I am honored beyond words to be praised by you, a being of such Radiance and grandeur. To serve you would be my highest glory. But I bear responsibilities in the Material Realm. My people—tens of thousands of Fadalan souls—await me. I must return.”
His words rang like forged steel.
Bahamut’s voice softened, growing distant yet calm.
“Then… why have you come?”
Walter’s face lit up. He answered without hesitation:
“Your Majesty, my realm faces invasion from the North. I seek your aid. My enemy—Kai Xiusu Claudew Noirikexius—a brutal, ambitious Red Dragon—has built a vast Empire in the North, eyeing Fadalan’s ancestral lands. I suspect he is entangled in a conspiracy with the Five-Colored Dragon Queen. I beg you—grant us your strength, so we may repel this threat.”
A pause. Then a hesitation in the divine voice.
“I admire your steadfast commitment to Justice. But… I cannot offer direct aid. I abide by the World Will’s decree: Deities must not interfere in the affairs of the Material Realm. This is merely a mortal war. And it has no connection to the Five-Colored Dragon Queen.”
Walter’s heart sank. Disappointment washed over him—but he bowed once more, respectful and composed.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your hospitality. I shall not disturb you further. My people, my warriors—waiting in anxious hope—need me.”
“Very well.”
Swish—
No further words. A whirlwind roared from within the palace, and in an instant, Walter was swept beyond its gates.
He turned back, staring at the golden palace. Though disappointed, he did not despair. This had been only one attempt. Though the God of Good Dragons could not intervene, other Metal Dragons who followed Order and Justice might. And among them, the Golden Dragon Council—those he had once helped—was the best hope.
Deep within Bahamut’s Palace, in the vast, sprawling Main Palace spanning tens of thousands of hectares, treasures piled high in endless accumulation. Thousands of corpses of daring thieves lay scattered among the hoard, their bones long since turned to dust.
This was Bahamut’s domain. Always accompanied by seven ancient, loyal, and powerful Ancient Metal Dragons.
“He is a worthy mortal,” the Platinum Dragon King murmured, his voice like distant thunder. “Brave. Good. Almost perfect. But… he walks a path doomed to failure.”
A colossal Platinum Dragon coiled upon the throne, his body so vast it dwarfed mortal perception—like a mountain range made flesh. His silver-white scales shimmered with radiant light. His eyes—deep, icy gray, like frozen glacial hearts—gazed into the infinite.
This was Bahamut, Lord of the Northern Wind, God of Good Dragons.
A massive Silver Dragon, crouched at his feet, claws wrapped around a Scepter, tilted his head.
“Your Majesty… do you mean—?”
“Sacred Fedran is already dead,” Bahamut declared, voice unwavering. “From the moment that mortal chose that path, rebirth became impossible. Without the Sun God’s aid, these fading mortals can never rebuild Sacred Fedran. It is folly.”
The Primordial Golden Dragon lifted a Crystal Ball from beside him, staring into its depths. Within it, Walter soared through the sky.
“But… Your Majesty,” the Golden Dragon hesitated, “if that Red Dragon truly advances Southward… could it trigger an irreversible Cataclysm in the Material Plane?”
Bahamut’s voice grew slow, contemplative.
“Kai Xiusu is indeed a wild card. Though he has the potential to become a Dragon King, he may yet turn against us.”
His eyes—vertical pupils of icy blue—flared with visions: Heaven, the Elysian Realm, the Wilderness Garden, Baator’s Hell, the Bottomless Abyss. The gaze seemed to swallow the Outer Planes whole.
“This is not choice. It is necessity. A single, still-redeemable Dragon Sovereignty on Earth… is better than letting Devils, Demons, or the Dragon Queen seize the world.”
The Platinum Dragon rose, spreading wings that spanned the heavens.
“That mortal, Walter—was not wrong. But the Material Realm… no longer holds room for a true Idealist.”
---
Mochulia, Glory Residence—the eternal home of every elected Golden Dragon Regent. Within its core lay a Stellar Pool, connecting directly to the Golden Dragon Council’s chamber in the Material Realm.
The residence was forged from unyielding metal, inlaid with gems and pearls. Its walls were gilded with gold. At its entrance, several young Gold Dragons stood guard, armored and resolute—devoted followers of Bahamut, known as the “Guardians of Justice.”
The current Golden Dragon Regent was Krasus, a Primordial Golden Dragon who had ruled for six centuries. Revered by all good dragons, he was hailed as the “Golden Sage.”
Every century, the venerable Regent journeyed to the Material Realm, summoning Gold Dragons from across the world to convene, elect a new Chief Regent, and deliberate on matters of great importance.
Decades ago, Walter had saved an Ancient Gold Dragon. The Golden Dragon Council had owed him a debt. And Krasus had given him a solemn promise.
“Stop, Mortal.”
At the entrance, two Gold Dragon guards blocked Walter’s path, wings flared wide with metallic sheen, eyes cold and aloof.
Walter stood firm, Greatsword gripped tight. His voice rang clear:
“Krasus, my Lord—do you remember me? I am your friend. I am the ally recognized by the entire Golden Dragon lineage. I am Walter Graham, of Sacred Fedran.”
“Let him pass.”
A deep, resonant voice—like an ancient bell—echoed through the air. It carried the weight of eons, the wisdom of millennia.
“Yes, Lord Krasus.”
The guards bowed, stepping aside with reverence.
Walter strode forward along a path far too wide for a human. He reached the heart of the residence. There, the Golden Dragon Regent revealed himself.
A colossal Gold Dragon, with a short, spined snout, twin dull-metal horns atop his head, and dozens of beard-like Gill Whiskers framing his mouth. His pale golden eyes—faded like old gold—held the depth of centuries. The combination of eyes and whiskers gave him an air of profound wisdom.
The white-gold crown upon his head, and the Scepter in his claw—carved with milky nebulae and polar stars—radiated divine authority.
This was Krasus, the Primordial Golden Dragon, the “Golden Sage,” the current Regent.
Krasus regarded the Divine Offspring with his淡金色 (pale golden) eyes, as if he had been waiting.
“Long time no see, Walter. My friend. What brings you here?”
Walter stared at the dragon—his appearance unchanged from decades past.
He let out a wry smile, then said:
“Krasus, I have nowhere left to turn. I must come to you… or rather, to the Golden Dragon people.”
Krasus did not react. His expression remained calm.
“Who is your enemy?”
Walter answered without pause:
“Kai Xiusu.”
As the name left his lips, he felt it—the breath of the Primordial Golden Dragon falter, just for an instant.
(End of Chapter)
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