Chapter 631: Surrender and the Aftermath
“Boom!”
Kai Xiusu swung his vast Dragon Wing, and with a thunderous crash, his mountainous form descended upon the summit of Collins City, crushing the city wall beneath him and sending tremors rippling through the earth.
As a major stronghold of the past Phadran Army, Collins City’s walls were colossal—imposing, unyielding, built from stone and obsidian, towering dozens of meters high. They had long withstood invasions from Hill Giants and Ogres alike. But before the fifty-meter-long Red Dragon, they seemed pitifully small, like a fragile toy.
“Gods…”
“Amanata above…”
A hush fell over the city, broken only by the soft rustling of countless eyes turning upward, fixed upon the awe-inspiring beast now dominating the skyline.
“Mother… that’s…”
“Shh! Don’t speak! Don’t look!”
An adult covered a child’s eyes, stifling a crying infant’s mouth, frozen in fear. No sound, no movement—any sudden motion might provoke the dragon’s wrath.
Tension hung thick in the air. The people of Collins stood like condemned sinners, awaiting their fate in silence, hearts pounding. For a century, the Fadalan people had known only conquest and victory, the guardians of justice. Never had they imagined the day they’d become victims of war—hiding in homes, trembling in silence, afraid to breathe.
“Boom… Boom…”
Kai Xiusu paced along the city wall, his massive frame moving with surprising lightness. Each step sent debris cascading, and the ancient wall groaned under the weight, its foundations straining with a deep, muffled protest.
The sound echoed like a heartbeat—steady, relentless—pounding in the chests of everyone within earshot. Breath caught in throats. Sweat beaded on brows.
At last, the Red Dragon leapt to the very top of the city’s central tower, crushing the Sun God Spire—the sacred symbol of Fadalan Imperial authority—beneath its clawed feet.
Kai Xiusu lowered his head, surveying the land below like a lion claiming its domain. Then, slowly, he spoke:
> “By the authority of the Emperor of the Ashen Flame, I proclaim—henceforth, Northern Aether shall belong to the Empire of Ashen!
> All who submit to our rule, who accept the New Order, shall become citizens of the Empire, protected by its laws and its military might!”
His voice rang out—strong, resonant, echoing across the ruined streets of Collins City and the vast, open plains beyond. It carried a strange, almost magical power, stirring belief deep within the soul. Even though the words came from a monstrous Red Dragon, they felt like truth.
Perched atop the tower, Kai Xiusu slowly unfurled his wings—massive, dark, blotting out the sun. Shadows cascaded over the city, swallowing soldiers and civilians alike.
Yet, strange as it seemed, those beneath the shadow trembled not only with fear, but also with an odd sense of safety. Some old men recalled decades past—when the Faldran Empire had conquered Northern Aether with iron might, bringing prosperity and peace. Now, the Sacred Faldran was gone. Could this Empire of Ashen, too, become a master worthy of the land?
But the air remained frozen. No one dared risk being branded a traitor by speaking first.
Inside homes, whispers spread like wildfire—fearful, anxious discussions about what the future held.
“They say the Dragon’s followers massacre cities, devour women and children.”
“Walter said this Red Dragon is a lustful monster, prone to shape-shifting into human form to commit unspeakable horrors.”
“If we surrender… will they truly protect us?”
Kai Xiusu lowered his head, towering over the crowd, his dignified dragon face illuminated by sunlight, wearing a smile that seemed almost kind.
> “Human… have you not yet surrendered? Are you so eager to defy the Empire? To oppose the Empire of Ashen?”
> “There is only one fate for those who resist. Like your poor Duke, you will lose your life force—left with nothing but ash. No body. No remains.”
Though his tone was calm, the threat beneath was undeniable. The sheer, oppressive presence of the dragon pressed down on every soul, a psychological weight that crushed wills.
“Clang!”
A longsword fell to the ground, its metallic ring cutting through the silence.
The captain of Collins City’s guard dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, his throat convulsing with sobs.
“I… I surrender!”
He buried his face in the dirt, afraid the dragon hadn’t heard—then choked out a second plea, clearer now:
> “King Kai Xiusu! I surrender!”
One surrender. Then another.
Like sheep breaking from the flock, the people followed. Once the first lamb stepped forward, others soon joined—then more, until every man, woman, and child in the city was on their knees, begging for mercy.
“Me too—I surrender!”
“Just spare my family! I’ll do anything!”
“I’ll serve King Kai Xiusu! I want to be part of the Empire of Ashen!”
“Fadalan is dead. Only the Empire of Ashen can protect Northern Aether!”
From silence, a storm erupted—cries of despair, pleas for mercy, the sound of weapons clattering to the ground, soldiers collapsing in fear, some even bowing their heads in worship toward the Red Dragon.
And on the battlefield of the Empire of Ashen, the soldiers roared in triumph—cheers rising like a wave:
> “Long live Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
> “Long live the Empire!”
The cries echoed across the Northern Aether Plain, a chorus of victory that hung in the air like smoke.
Kai Xiusu surveyed the scene with satisfaction. He stretched his neck toward the sky, lifting his head high, and let out a thunderous roar.
Instantly, the White Dragons, Wyverns, and Flame Wyverns in the sky raised their heads. On the ground, Earth Drakes, Hill Wyverns, and Multi-Headed Flame Lizards joined in, their collective cries drowning out all other sound.
For a moment, the world seemed to tremble beneath the weight of dragon song. Every creature, every soul, bowed beneath the might of the Red Dragon perched atop the city tower.
Everyone knew—this war was over.
The Red Dragon Emperor of the North had won a glorious victory, conquering Northern Aether utterly. The only question left was time: how long would it take to integrate the land?
Far away, High-level Mage Zalan stared, his hands trembling, his staff slipping from his grasp. His heart sank into the depths.
“It’s over… it’s all over. The Emperor of the Ashen Flame… his strength exceeds even the City of All Arts’ imagination.”
Zalan lowered his gaze, voice bitter.
Just then, a roar split the air from the Allied Forces’ frontline.
> “Evil Dragon! I will never surrender to you!”
Kalen surged into the sky, wings flaring, golden armor blazing with radiant light. He raised the Sun God’s Longsword, pointing it at the Red Dragon.
> “I will take up Walter’s will! I will lead the people of Northern Aether in battle—to the death!”
“Kalen, the Divine Marquis!”
“True courage, worthy of Fadalan!”
“Lord Karren! I stand with you!”
The soldiers looked up, awestruck by Kalen’s radiant form. A surge of admiration and courage surged through them. Some even summoned the strength to step forward, swords raised.
But Zalan hesitated, hand outstretched, wanting to stop him—afraid the dragon would notice.
At that moment, Kalen was blinded by rage. Grief for fallen comrades, fury at traitors, hatred for invaders—all consumed him. Reason had fled.
> “Fadalan Eternal Endurance!”
With a cry, the Divine Marquis plunged forward, trailing golden light like a comet.
“Fool,” Kai Xiusu murmured, his voice cold. He stared at the approaching figure, a golden light dancing in the air. “Then I shall grant your wish. Let you join Duke Walter’s regiment.”
With deliberate slowness, the Red Dragon raised one massive claw—its length measured in meters—and brought it down in a single, crushing motion.
Boom!
The blow tore through the air, and Kalen was struck like a ragdoll, slamming into the city wall with such force that stone cracked and dust exploded in every direction.
He spat blood, his body mangled beyond recognition—bones shattered, flesh torn, wings twisted and broken. Even a Legendary-Level Angel Divine Offspring, a veteran of countless battles, was reduced to nothing more than a plaything in the dragon’s grasp.
Kai Xiusu looked down with contempt.
> “Arrogant fool. The Faldran Empire is gone. Your Duke is dead. What reason do you have to fight?”
Still, Kalen refused to yield. He lifted his bloodied head, his face twisted in a ghastly, defiant grin.
> “Kai Xiusu… I curse you. One day, your empire will collapse in an instant.
> But now… let you and your invaders feel the wrath of the sun!”
The Divine Marquis laughed and cried at once, his chest blazing with radiant light—seeking to summon a final, grand conclusion, just as Duke Walter had done.
“Pathetic,” Kai Xiusu said, growing bored.
He lunged forward with one claw, piercing straight through Kalen’s chest.
> “Spines—!”
Then, with practiced ease, he plucked out the Divine Offspring’s Essence Core. In front of countless eyes, he swallowed it whole—then smiled.
> “Did you feel it? That is the fate of those who overreach.”
A hint of amusement in his voice—perhaps because he’d just enjoyed a little extra meal.
All eyes turned to the ground.
There, Kalen’s body was embedded deep into the wall, his chest ripped open, organs exposed, golden-red blood oozing slowly. His once-proud form now lay naked and lifeless—no dignity, no status, just prey.
A collective gasp. Some wept. Others trembled.
The man who had once stood above all—powerful, dignified, divine—was now displayed like a trophy.
> “Hurry… hurry!”
> “This place is too dangerous! We must return to the City of All Arts!”
In the far corner of the battlefield, Zalan clutched his staff with trembling, sweat-slick hands. He chanted, voice shaking, as space began to twist and ripple around him, spells flickering into existence—constructing a teleportation portal.
From thousands of meters away, Kai Xiusu’s ear caught the voice of Lanpu.
> “Master, the mages from the City of All Arts and the Arcane Hermitage are activating teleportation spells. Over a hundred of them—trying to flee. Our Large Dimensional Anchor is ready. Shall we trap them all here?”
Kai Xiusu heard the excitement in Lanpu’s tone. He almost smiled.
To a past Ogre Magus, every spellcaster was a treasure—valuable not only for their arcane knowledge, but for their skulls, which could adorn a necklace.
Yet now, Lanpu’s necklace had been empty for too long. He’d even begun to abandon such barbaric habits—though the desire to capture mages still burned in him.
Kai Xiusu shook his head, chuckling softly.
> “Use the old method. Leave half here. Let the other half go. Let them carry the name and title of the Empire of Ashen into the world.”
> “Yes, Master.”
On the battlefield, many mages escaped—Zalan among them. But some were trapped, screaming in frustration.
The Army of the Empire of Ashen advanced steadily. Steam Tanks rumbled over the earth, leaving deep grooves in their wake, swiftly taking control of the demoralized, broken Allied forces.
With Kalen’s death, the final spark of resistance died out. No splash, no ripple—just silence.
The war was over.
Kai Xiusu spread his wings once more, unleashing a scorching gale that lifted his massive form into the sky, soaring to an altitude of ten kilometers.
He gazed down at the scarred, wounded land—armies like ants beneath him. He scanned east and west.
Northern Aether—once the sacred heart of the old Thrace Kingdom—was bordered to the east by the Blackstone Mountains and Ugo Grassland, to the west by Silvermoon Bay, and to the south by the Central Plain. A true strategic jewel.
Now, the Empire of Ashen had firmly planted its roots on the Feanso Continent. From this base, expansion into neighboring lands was inevitable.
And in the pale golden eyes of Kai Xiusu, a new hunger stirred—boundless greed, boundless ambition.
(End of Chapter)
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