Chapter 687: Ugo Great Plain
A lone Imperial Soldier, emboldened by curiosity, stepped forward and pressed his hand against an Ogre’s nose—his voice rising in shock. “By Kai Xiusu, they’re all dead! No breath at all!”
“What? All of them… dead?”
“No wonder His Majesty is unmatched! With a single gesture, he wiped out tens of thousands of Ogres!”
The surrounding Imperial soldiers erupted into a frenzy. They were stunned by the ease with which the Ogres had been slain—and awestruck by Kai Xiusu’s godlike might.
Let’s be clear—this was an army of tens of thousands! These Homeborn Ogres were tough, fearless, and relentless, even the Empire’s elite forces had struggled to break them. But before the Emperor of the Ashen Flame, they were nothing more than ants underfoot—crushed without resistance, vanishing into silence.
At that moment, a Paladin of the Oath of the Dragon Sanctuary seized the chance to preach. “This is the power of King Kai Xiusu! Any who dare defy or blaspheme Him shall face the ultimate punishment—Death! Praise King Kai Xiusu! Praise the mighty Red Dragon!”
The Paladin raised his Flames Greatsword high, his voice thundering.
“Praise King Kai Xiusu!”
“Praise the mighty Red Dragon!”
In an instant, the entire crowd of Imperial citizens dropped to their knees, their faces flushed with ecstatic fervor. Their cries soared into the sky, a storm of devotion and zeal.
Even the Players watching from afar were speechless, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief.
One Player, eyes wide with envy, stared in disbelief. “Dude… what kind of AoE skill was that? One flash of light and poof—all the Ogres gone!”
“Don’t even think about it. That’s gotta be a boss-exclusive ability. The Dog Officials won’t let us have it. They just want us to stay obedient cannon fodder.”
“Wait… that Spear—it’s gotta be a legendary Artifact, right? Could I steal it? I’d be unstoppable!”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Even if you could steal it, you’d be committing sacrilege against the Emperor. The Imperial Guard’s Tiefling Guards would hunt you down at the respawn point—game over, restart.”
Another Player, face twisted in agony, was clearly a level-obsessed grindaholic. “So many Ogres… just wiped out by a Non-Player Character plot kill. Wasteful destruction… such a waste!”
Kai Xiusu stood motionless, his claw gripping the Crimson Spear—formed from the Divine Power he had seized from Ghuush. He slowly unfurled his wings, crimson divine light pulsing from his body as he surveyed the field below: the lifeless Ogres, the frenzied, devout Imperial soldiers.
The chattering Players? He ignored them entirely.
In the state of wielding Divine Power, Kai Xiusu could feel the Faith pouring from the soldiers—tiny, glowing motes rising from their bodies. That was Faith.
War. Strength. Victory. Territory. Industry.
Their collective belief in Kai Xiusu coalesced under the influence of Divinity and Divine Office, transforming into raw, potent Divine Power across multiple realms. The power surged through him—God of War, God of Strength, God of Empire and Territory, God of Industry and Machinery.
Each fragment of Faith became a symbol of Divine Authority—golden thrones forged from belief, each one pulsing with power.
It was intoxicating. The golden vertical pupils in Kai Xiusu’s eyes glowed with unquenchable greed.
Deification… truly a temptation that could drive even the wisest to madness. But not yet. Not now.
He reminded himself. The conditions weren’t ready. To ascend to the Divine Position without proper preparation would be suicide—just like the fleeting “Momentary Gods” of old, Calthas and the ancient Emperor of Sacred Fedran, whose pride had led to their utter annihilation.
Now, the most urgent task is to eliminate the lingering threat left by Lady Zuggmoi and the Orcish Deity.
With that thought, Kai Xiusu calmed his mind. Then, with a sudden, powerful sweep of his wings, he ascended nearly a hundred meters into the air. His voice, resonant and dignified, rang out like a decree from the heavens.
“These Ogres are the source of calamity. Chaotic. Unordered. Bloodthirsty. They have committed grave offenses—defying me, provoking the Empire with open rebellion! By the name of the Ember Emperor, I decree their complete annihilation!”
His voice was thunderous, divine—like a verdict from the gods, like a lightning strike tearing through the sky. It echoed across the shattered, scarred wasteland.
“King Kai Xiusu!”
“Praise the mighty Red Dragon!”
The people of the Empire roared in unison, their hearts filled with righteous fury. To them, any who defied the Empire of Ashen deserved total erasure—no mercy, no survivors.
Kai Xiusu’s words weren’t just for his subjects. They were a warning—to every hidden watcher, every lurking predator. Do not test the Empire.
After Ghuush’s Avatar descended, the surge of Divine Power had drawn countless eyes across the multiverse: the Divine Envoy of the Amanatara Church, the Angel from the Seventh Heaven, the Prophecy Mage of the City of All Arts, the Bast Demon from Hell Lordship, the Legendary Ranger of the Lute Players’ Alliance.
Countless powerful beings had watched in secret, hoping for a mutual destruction between Ghuush’s Avatar and Kai Xiusu. If things didn’t end cleanly, they were ready to step in—just to deliver the final blow.
But the outcome had shocked them all.
The Emperor of the Ashen Flame had allied with the past enemy, Dumason—striking down Ghuush with brutal efficiency.
“Damn evil dragon!”
“He must have sensed our position! Move quickly!”
“That Red Dragon possesses such strength… we must report back immediately!”
Kai Xiusu regarded the fleeing shadows with cold detachment. They vanished in a flurry—tearing rifts in space, teleporting, vanishing into thin air, or dissolving into light—all within seconds.
“Tch. A bunch of rats hiding in the ditch,” Kai Xiusu muttered, disdainful. He could have wiped them all out—but not yet. The time for open war had not come.
Under the gazes of countless observers, Kai Xiusu spread his wings and soared into the sky, gliding over the Ugo Great Plain—this land scorched by gunsmoke and war flames. His massive shadow fell across the ground, and the crimson radiance of his presence spread like wildfire, engulfing the earth beneath him.
Wherever the Bloodlight touched, the Ogres hiding in the dark—those who had just begun to celebrate their survival—died instantly. The fungal Ogres in the shadows exploded in bursts of gore. The Green-Skinned Ogres still in the soil, still in the womb of the earth, were reduced to pulpy flesh.
Only the Crimson Blood Tribe, loyal to Soro, remained. But even they were not safe—many other tribes and clans had hidden in remote corners, living off the land, cut off from the Ogre world.
In a secluded valley, an old Ogre trembled, his face alight with ecstatic joy. Even his wrinkles seemed to smile. “This… this is the breath of the Father God! I was once a Shaman—I know this feeling! We must go meet Him—He’s descending!”
“Ogres live forever!”
“Father God is returning! Our people will rise!”
The tribe charged from the valley, spears raised, hearts ablaze with hope.
But when they looked up—stunned, their breath caught in their throats—they saw a Red Dragon, impossibly vast, wings outstretched against the sky.
The old Shaman stumbled back, whispering in horror. “No… no… this can’t be. This is exactly the Father God…”
Swish—
The Bloodlight swept across the valley. Dozens of Ogres fell, stiff and lifeless, mouths open, blood trickling from their lips.
And Kai Xiusu, still clutching the Crimson Spear—once belonging to Ghuush—let the crimson radiance fall upon the earth.
But unlike the Orcish Deity, his light did not grant strength. It brought only death. Only massacre.
The Red Dragon descended like a Reaper, his divine light a scythe, harvesting the life force of every Ogre in the land.
In just a few short days, Kai Xiusu had swept across the entire Ugo Great Plain—eradicating every last Ogre, whether hidden in shadows, buried beneath the soil, pure-blooded, or Green-Skinned. He had fulfilled his judgment.
Using the Divine Power taken from the Orcish Deity, he had utterly wiped out the Ogres—every last one.
And he didn’t fear any survivors. As the chief deity of the Ogre Pantheon, Ghuush’s power could destroy any Ogre below Legendary tier, across all realities. It was meant to demonstrate Ghuush’s supreme authority—now, Kai Xiusu wielded that very power to slaughter Ghuush’s own children.
A bitter irony.
A ripple passed through the air—and Lanpu appeared beside Kai Xiusu, a smile on his face.
“Master, congratulations. You have defeated the Orcish Deity, eliminated the threat of the Ogres, and brought the Ugo Great Plain into the vast expanse of the Empire’s dominion. Your name now echoes across the Multiverse. Every being who hears it trembles with reverence—and terror.”
Kai Xiusu chuckled. “Enough flattery. You know as well as I do—it was just an Avatar. Its strength was less than one percent of the true Deity.”
“But even so, your power has broken the chains of the Material Plane. You stand now on equal footing with a True God.”
Seeing the faint impatience in Kai Xiusu’s gaze, Lanpu shifted to the matter at hand.
“Due to your actions, the Empire’s caravans and expeditions in every realm have faced increasing attacks from Ogres. We’ve become the common enemy of the Multiverse’s Ogres—just like Elves and Dwarves. As you put it, this hatred is now built into their nature. Our experiments confirm it: even newborn Ogre infants attack us with mindless fury, utterly devoid of reason.”
Kai Xiusu’s expression remained cold. “From the moment I decided to purge the Ogres completely, I expected this. So issue the decree: Any Imperial citizen who encounters an Ogre—kill without hesitation.”
Lanpu bowed. “Yes, Master.”
“Regarding the Ugo Great Plain,” Kai Xiusu continued. “It’s vast, sparsely populated, perfect for new pastures and hunting grounds. Send a portion of the Lizardfolk and Goblin clans here. Transfer some of the Storm Ridge Dragon Beast Ranch—enough to stock at least five hundred Earth-Crawling Dragonbeasts. We’ll need them to supply leather armor and meat rations for Feanso’s northern front.”
“Master, I will carry out your command. I will not fail your trust.”
As he spoke, Kai Xiusu soared dozens of miles into the distance. In the far distance, he saw the fortress nestled against the mountains—the old Dwarven capital, Aivendeldan, now the City of Flying Dragons.
“Awooo—!”
Within the Dragonfly Capital, Wyverns let out triumphant roars, welcoming their master’s return.
Kai Xiusu spread his wings, descending with a mighty boom onto the peak of Blackstone Mountain. He stood at the northern edge, gazing across the endless expanse of the Ugo Great Plain.
The Red Dragon unfurled his wings, and spoke—each word deliberate, eternal.
“From this day forward, all land north of Blackstone Mountain shall be territory of the Empire of Ashen.”
---
Nishak Kingdom
Inside a towering, monstrous steel citadel—hundreds of meters tall, dark and foreboding—a single-eyed Ogre sat upon a throne, his massive frame radiating an aura of terrifying dominance. Around him, countless Ogres worked or guarded the fortress. Beyond, the land was divided into vast battlefields, where countless Ogres from across the Material Planes fought to the death. The final victor would earn Ghuush’s favor—and entry into the citadel.
But now, Ghuush had no patience for slaughter.
His single eye burned with fury. His right hand gripped a bloodstained spear. The sky above the kingdom turned crimson. Dark clouds churned. Thunder roared. Blood fell like rain from the heavens.
“Kai Xiusu…” Ghuush hissed the name, as if he wished to devour the man alive.
For days, he had felt the Faith from the Prime Material Plane—specifically, from the Ugo Great Plain—faltering. Now, it had vanished entirely.
That audacious Red Dragon had not only stolen his Avatar—but annihilated every last follower in the region. Ghuush’s plan to unleash a Beast Tide, to bring ruin and chaos, had been shattered.
How could he not be enraged?
In his wrath, the sky split open—gigantic crimson eyes, like those of a god, appeared above the kingdom. Even the beings of the Divine Realm trembled in fear.
Suddenly, another Ogre emerged from outside the citadel—wounded, panting, barely standing.
“Lord! The damned Dwarves are still attacking our domain! I was unprepared—suffered heavy losses. They have over thirty Legendary beings, twelve Semi-Gods, and one Mid-Level Divine Power Deity! Their Supernatural Army… countless!”
Ghuush narrowed his eyes. “Which Dwarf Deity?”
“The one—Dumason! It’s Dumason!”
“Again that bastard?” Ghuush roared, leaping from his throne, the bloodied spear in hand. “I will make them pay!”
Below, in the Astral Void, the corpses of Dwarves and Ogres floated among the stars—limbs torn, bodies fragmented. Golden Divine Blood seeped into the void, forming a meteor belt of flesh, turning the space around them into a blood-soaked wasteland.
On a floating island the size of a continent, countless Dwarves and Ogres clashed in endless battle—fighting for survival, for faith, for territory. Behind them, the towering figures of their Deities stood, locked in silent, terrifying confrontation—emitting an aura so immense it warped reality.
This war between divine factions had raged for millennia. Millions had died—Dwarves, Ogres, their believers, consumed in an endless cycle of blood and fire.
And still… no end in sight.
(End of Chapter)
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