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Chapter 611: War's Flood
Near the town of Nimir in western Anzeta, the largest desolate desert within the Empire sprawled across the land—yet beneath its endless dunes lay a hidden district of mysterious warehouses.
Hundreds of identical storage buildings stood in perfect formation, enclosed by towering concrete walls and barbed wire. At first glance, the scene was tranquil, far removed from the clamor of city life. But behind this calm facade loomed strict secrecy. Wyverns and Flame Wyverns circled overhead, while fully armed Imperial Guards patrolled day and night. Any unauthorized entry would be met with swift and severe consequences.
“Woo—”
A shrill whistle pierced the air, and dozens of military Steam Train Booms rumbled into view, pulling up at the warehouse complex’s entrance.
With a sharp command from the Quartermaster, well-trained Half-Dragon Soldiers marched in precise lines from the train cars.
“Soldiers, stand at ease!”
“Yes, sir!”
A dragon-born officer in a deep green wool coat stepped down from the rail transport, scanning the documents in his hand before turning his gaze toward the distant warehouses. Only high-ranking Imperial military officials knew the truth: this was the Dragon Nest, the Empire’s largest military supply depot—its scale staggering, covering an area of 45 square kilometers.
The ammunition stockpile here was nothing short of exhaustive. From traditional Fire Shells to advanced Enchanted Artillery Rounds, nearly every type of heat-powered weapon ever used by the Empire was stored within. Estimates placed the total weight at tens of thousands of tons.
In addition to ammunition, the complex housed Steam Tanks, armored vehicles, and a vast array of rifles and artillery—essentially a living monument to the Empire’s military might.
Beside the officer walked a human with a low Dragonization Level, clutching a thick stack of papers. His face was a mask of sycophantic reverence.
“Sir, I’ve completed the inventory as requested. Please review.”
This was Raj—once a forgotten laborer, now a First-Class Citizen after the Demon Cataclysm. Today, he served proudly as an Imperial Army Quartermaster, even assigned a house in Isdalia.
“Good.”
The officer nodded after verifying the list, then approached the Tiefling Guard at the gate with calm precision.
“Boom—”
In the distance, dust clouds billowed as the massive front gates slowly groaned open. Trucks laden with rifles and ammunition rolled out, while Steam Tanks rumbled across the ground, shaking the earth beneath them.
Raj stared at the spectacle, his face flushed with excitement, his heart pounding. Born into poverty, he never imagined he’d one day serve in the Imperial Army—let alone in such a comfortable role. And now, with a home in Isdalia, he felt gratitude so deep it bordered on reverence.
He owed everything to King Kai Xiusu. The Empire’s generous wartime subsidies made him wish this war could last forever.
Gazing at the colossal, majestic war machines, Raj straightened his back instinctively. Visions flooded his mind: enemies screaming in artillery fire, writhing under tank treads.
“After this victory… maybe I’ll become a Baron,” he mused.
Even the lowliest soldier in the Empire stood tall with pride, certain of victory.
Under the tireless efforts of the Half-Dragon Soldiers, countless gears and munitions were loaded onto the Steam Trains.
And across hundreds of miles of rail lines, countless other trains raced across the land, ferrying soldiers, weapons, and supplies southward.
The Empire had prepared for war—its readiness was not born in haste, but forged over years of infrastructure development and meticulous battle planning.
In Isdalia City, streets had been cleared. Barriers lined both sides of the road, with Tiefling Guards stationed every few meters. Citizens packed the sidewalks, waving inscribed banners bearing the vertical pupil and flame of the Empire, screaming in frenzied unison:
“Conquest! Conquest!”
“Long Live the Empire! Long Live Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
“The damned Southerners don’t deserve our fertile lands—we claim the Sunlit Territories!”
A Military Band composed of semi-goatfolk beat war drums and blew trumpets, their music bold and stirring—fueled by fire, designed to ignite courage and elevate the spirit.
Amid the rhythm, Imperial officers in crisp uniforms, adorned with shoulder insignia, marched into view. Each wore a proud smile, standing tall, waving to the crowd. The people responded with scattered flowers and thunderous cheers.
“Long Live the Empire! May you return victorious!”
“You are heroes of the Ashen Empire—and saviors of Feanso!”
This grand parade was not only for officers.
Land Drakes growled low, Wyverns and Chimeras hovered midair, and elite soldiers fired rifle salutes in unison—chaos in harmony, spectacle in motion.
Suddenly, a wave of louder cheers erupted from the crowd.
“Look! It’s Marshal Dolo!”
“By Kai Xiusu’s grace—what dignity, what power!”
“No wonder he’s the Imperial Duke, the pinnacle of Dragon-Blooded nobility!”
Dolo stood atop the towering back of a Land Drake, spreading his broad Dragon Wings. With a mighty beat, he leapt into the sky.
“Soldiers! This campaign faces enemies unlike any we’ve known. But remember—
We are the favored of the Great Red Dragon.
We carry the glory of the Ashen Empire!”
Dragonblood Goblins looked down upon the sea of people, raising their Bloodfire Battle Axes high, roaring with thunderous voices.
“For the Empire!”
The cry echoed like a dragon’s roar—weighty, unyielding, shaking the heavens. It ignited the hearts of the nation, sending the army into a euphoric frenzy.
“For the Empire!”
“For King Kai Xiusu!”
In the parade, George—wearing a military uniform and the insignia of a Colonel with a Chimera shoulder patch—turned and waved to the crowd.
“Look! It’s Baron George!”
“By Kai Xiusu’s grace! Lord George, you’re my idol!”
“I want to be a hero like you!”
A teenage boy waved his hat wildly, voice full of awe.
The crowd erupted in a small, joyful storm. George was already a minor celebrity across the Empire—far more renowned than other nobles of his rank.
His rise from peasant laborer to Dragon-Blooded Noble had been hailed by The Imperial Daily as the ultimate “Imperial Dream,” a beacon for the poor and downtrodden. His heroics during the Demon War had been endlessly celebrated in newspapers, inspiring countless souls.
To the adoration, George had long grown accustomed—indeed, he even relished it.
He spotted his old comrade, Baron Graes, among the cheering masses, watching him depart.
No longer the timid, lowly laborer of the past, George now stood at the peak of his destiny—Colonel of the Imperial Army, a newly minted Dragonblood Baron with a bright future ahead.
As he walked through the gates, surrounded by flowers, music, and cheers, George turned back. His golden eyes—almost reptilian in their vertical pupils—gazed upon the banners flapping along the city walls, upon the distant, magnificent structures rising beyond.
He had lived in this city, a miracle of engineering and order, for years. It had witnessed his rise, step by step.
He did not know when he would return.
“When I come back… I will return radiant. Honor will be my crown.”
His voice was soft, but his face—lean, yet resolute—was etched with ambition.
The parade neared its end. Cheers, cannon fire, gunfire, and the synchronized battle cries of soldiers merged into a roaring flood, drowning Isdalia in sound, echoing through every street and alley.
In a forgotten alley, far from the public eye, Olivia stood wrapped in a gray long robe, her silhouette hidden in shadow.
She had been here for hours, ever since her conversation with Kai Xiusu.
She needed to know—what did war truly mean to the Ashen Empire?
She had lived among them for years, yet never truly belonged. She remained on the fringes of Kai Xiusu’s “New Order,” doing what she believed would make the Empire better—alone, apart.
During the last Demon War, she could understand the people’s fury—fought for homeland, for friends, for family.
But now?
Sunlit Territories. The Emperor’s promised land. A new world order.
It sounded absurd. Fantastical. Yet countless souls were willing to die for it.
How could such devotion exist?
Soldiers gained honor, status, spoils—but what of the common people? Why would they throw themselves into such brutal conflict?
Olivia let out a wry smile, shaking her head.
“I’m being too arrogant. I thought the world would follow my logic, my order. Maybe I need to truly become part of this society—only then can I understand the people, only then can I grasp what Kai Xiusu truly meant.”
She lowered her head, hesitated, then clenched her fist—resolute. She stepped forward, leaving the shadows behind.
In the Prime Minister’s office on the top level of the Imperial Council Hall, Lanpu stood before the door, his grotesque face wearing a polite smile—but his eyes betrayed surprise.
“Lady Olivia… you’re here?”
“I wish to join the Empire’s Staff Department,” she said, voice unwavering.
Olivia lifted her head, staring up at the towering Cannibal Magician. Her blue-gray eyes shimmered, like scattered stars in the night.
She would uncover the truth—about Kai Xiusu’s New Order.
---
The Elemental Plane of Fire, Bronze Fortress.
Lava flowed like rivers across the land. Flame clouds drifted through the sky. The air reeked of sulfur. Fire grew wild and unchecked, like weeds in a field.
Selkan rode atop a multi-headed Flame Lizard, eyes fixed on the giant portal now emerging in the distance. He knew—it was the work of the Empire’s Arcane Division.
“War… is beginning again.”
A Half-Red Dragon licked his cracked lips, the heat having dried them to the point of fissures. His expression was one of eager anticipation, almost euphoric.
For him, this was a rare chance.
He knew: the more he distinguished himself in battle in the Material Realm, the more valuable he would become in the eyes of King Kai Xiusu. The more resources the Empire would pour into the Fire Plane’s colony.
Behind him, waves of Imperial soldiers poured from the Bronze Fortress—Half-Red Dragons, Fire Lizards, Fire Giants, Fire Elemental Apostles, and—countless, identical Fire Dwarves.
These Fire Dwarves were mass-produced on automated assembly lines. Yet, due to the Player’s whims, some had developed strange, unique forms.
In the face of the Fire Giant’s relentless capture and the species’ naturally slow reproduction, no city-state had ever achieved such numbers. But the Ashen Empire had.
And now, these thousands of Fire Dwarves toiled ceaselessly—mining ore, swinging iron hammers, forging the finest weapons for the Empire. In return, the Empire’s merchants paid only with cheap industrial goods.
Selkan raised his flaming long spear, shouting in the Empire’s common tongue:
“For the Empire!”
“For the Empire!”
Though their command of the language was still rough, tinged with crackling Fire Race dialects, the Fire Elementals raised their weapons in unison, roaring their loyalty.
The Half-Red Dragon soldiers behind him roared even louder—overjoyed to return to their homeland.
Their armor, battle axes, longswords, and flails glinted under the flame-light, shimmering with metallic brilliance.
It had to be said—when it came to classic gear, the Fire Plane Army might possess the finest armaments in the entire Imperial force.
---
The Underdark, Dragonshadow City.
The sky was black, winds howled with cold, and the earth cracked like broken glass. Yet the black city stood firm, defiant.
Hart stood atop the city’s tallest tower, his eyes—pure black, devoid of light—scanning the walls below.
Skeleton Serpents writhed in massive coils. Skeletons and Undead advanced like a gray tide. Shadowwing Dragons hovered above, shrieking with eerie voices.
Gray Dwarves, Swamp Bears, Underground Gnomes, Gray Horsemen—each race now pledged to the Ashen Empire—marched in vast military formations.
“It is the decree of King Kai Xiusu. Mortals of the surface world—prepare. Face fear. Face death.”
Hart drew his pale, bone-white longsword. His face—sunken, skin stretched tight over bone—twisted into a fierce, feral grin.
War’s flood was upon them.
A roar of aura, immense and unstoppable, thundered across the land—its power so vast, it could not be blocked.
Its influence stretched beyond the world, into the Multiverse. Not just Anzeta—every colony of the Empire across the planes felt the call.
Conscription had begun.
Teleportation readiness was immediate.
In just three days, the Ashen Empire had awakened.
The South had barely reacted—too slow, too unprepared.
The proud people of Feanso still didn’t realize—this Empire, born in the remote North, was about to shake the entire continent to its core.
(End of Chapter)
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