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Chapter 703: Blazing Sun Barrier
In the northern reaches of Thrace, Isengard.
Perched atop the Steel Citadel, the Red Dragon loomed like a storm given flesh—the sheer scale of its body nearly swallowing the fortress whole. Where its crimson scales brushed against the iron, the metal glowed white-hot, steaming with billowing white smoke.
Below, Dragonblood Goblins knelt in submission, Imperial Marshal Dolo among them, head bowed low as he spoke in a grave tone:
"Your Majesty, the combined three divisions of the Western Front were ambushed by the Holy Guard. Complete annihilation. We have brought shame upon you."
The Great Goblin observed the Red Dragon’s expression, relieved to see no immediate wrath. Only then did he continue:
"Furthermore, the situation on the Eastern Front is dire. In the City of Saint Michael, we encountered an Ancient Weapon of the Sacred Fedran—the Blazing Sun Barrier. The Eastern Front has failed to breach it for days. Duke Misha and Marquis Anthony have already departed to reinforce."
Kai Xiusu spread his wings, lowering his head to stare down at Dolo with cold detachment.
"War is a game of wins and losses. But our Empire has rarely faced opponents of equal strength—so long accustomed to victory that we’ve forgotten what real challenge feels like. Our officers are still too arrogant. They treated the Thrace Kingdom like a weak northern province, dividing their forces recklessly deep within enemy territory."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Dolo replied instantly, his voice sharpening with resolve. "I shall ensure this becomes a cautionary tale across the entire army."
A loss of fifteen thousand lives and hundreds of thousands of gold coins—such a price was still within the Empire’s grasp. Kai Xiusu would not rage over it. But he would need to soothe the imperial populace with careful words. And in truth, if this cost could teach the army to shed its reckless, glory-seeking arrogance, then even greater losses would be worth it.
With a puff of sulfur-scented white smoke, Kai Xiusu turned his gaze to the Tiefling kneeling beside Dolo.
"Meizhuolashi. Have you uncovered the origins of these so-called 'Holy Guard'? After so many years of the Sun God’s deep slumber, how have they cultivated such an army? How could they consume one of my entire divisions?"
Meizhuolashi replied with a solemn tone:
"Report, Your Majesty—I dispatched Nocturne and the Empire Intelligence Bureau for a full investigation. According to our findings, this Holy Crusade Army first emerged three years ago. But their source of power… is not the sleeping Sun God. It is Baator, the Hell."
"Oh?" Kai Xiusu arched a brow. Golden vertical pupils flared with sudden interest.
Meizhuolashi produced a sealed box of charred remains.
"Yes, Your Majesty. We collected samples from Hill 103—the site of the ambush. The ash residue bore unmistakable traces of Hellfire. This so-called 'Holy Guard' is no divine army. It is a legion in angelic disguise. My suspicion? This is Zaril’s doing."
Kai Xiusu leaned forward.
"Yet Hell values exchange. What did Wilhelm pay for such an army?"
"His soul," Meizhuolashi answered without hesitation. He produced a prepared dossier.
"According to Imperial Intelligence records, the number of missing persons in Thrace has risen steadily over the past three years. Even beggars on the streets have vanished. The entire nation lives in fear."
He activated an Image Stone. A series of magical projections unfolded in midair—images of Thrace soldiers dragging unconscious beggars into underground cavern tunnels. On the walls of those tunnels, grotesque, distorted Rune Arrays pulsed like monstrous faces.
"Based on the evidence," Meizhuolashi continued, "the King has sacrificed over ten thousand—perhaps even more—spiritual souls to Hell, in order to secure his rule."
As a Tiefling of Devil bloodline, Meizhuolashi held no affection for his infernal kin. He loathed them. Their very existence had brought centuries of suffering and humiliation upon his people.
Kai Xiusu scoffed, sarcasm lacing his voice:
"Self-proclaimed descendants of the Sun God—glorious, radiant angels—yet they sacrifice their own citizens’ souls to demons. Utterly ridiculous. It seems we were right to speak of liberating the Thracians. At least we wouldn’t feed them to Hell."
"Indeed, Your Majesty. Under your Great Blueprint, all things shall find true fairness and freedom. That is the only justice that truly matters."
"But… is it truly Wilhelm?" Olivia, standing nearby, frowned. Her pale face flickered with disbelief.
For years, this silver dragon had shuttled between the Mervold Clan and the Empire, maintaining ties between the Ashen Empire and the Metal Dragon race. Yet she remained deeply conflicted about the Empire’s conquests. She understood Kai Xiusu’s vision—but she still grieved for the lives lost in war. She had opposed declaring war on the Thrace Kingdom with all her might, even drafting a formal motion in the Imperial Parliament. But the tide had already turned. Her cries were drowned beneath the roar of the Empire: "Overthrow Thrace!" "Conquest August!"
Now, seeing the proof—Thrace’s alliance with Hell—she could barely believe it.
This was the Thrace Kingdom! A successor to the Sacred Fedran, revered by countless lawful and good beings as a beacon of purity.
Kai Xiusu let out a dry laugh.
"Those are just the images they want you to see. Like the so-called Holy Guard—beautiful on the surface. But peel back the mask of hypocrisy, and you’ll find only filth beneath."
Olivia stared at the magical images, her voice firm.
"The Empire should expose their true face to the world. Only then…"
"You really think those Pharisaical hypocrites don’t see it?" Kai Xiusu sneered.
"Then why—"
"Why do they still oppose us?" Olivia lifted her gaze, eyes searching.
"Because they’re willfully blind. To them, the lives of Thrace’s people mean nothing. Their own benefit is all that matters. They’d rather fight tooth and nail against the Empire—facing the Abyssal Invasion—than confront a regime that murders its own citizens and consorts with Hell."
The Red Dragon lowered his massive head, voice like thunder.
"Can’t you see yet? At the root of it all… there is no ideal, no willpower. Only interests. Only profit."
Olivia fell silent, her expression complex, standing frozen in place.
Lanpu clapped slowly, applauding.
"Master, you speak the truth. One sentence, and the essence is laid bare. Only under your Great Blueprint can the world finally know peace and progress."
Kai Xiusu turned his head toward the nearby Ogre.
"Lanpu. Continue issuing quests. Increase rewards. Summon all Stellarfallers across the Empire to Thrace."
"Yes, Master," Lanpu replied eagerly.
"Angel Divine Offspring. Holy Crusade Army. Ancient Weapon. So Thrace has truly left no stone unturned. In the end, the fate of this war will be decided in the City of Dawn—August."
The Red Dragon lifted his head, gazing southward. Pale golden eyes flared with inner fire. Beneath him, the steel-winged citadel groaned like a living beast.
---
Thrace Kingdom, City of Saint Michael.
Named after the Angel Michael, the city was known as the "City of Angels." Its history stretched back to the age of the Ancient Sun God Sects. Strategically vital, it stood as the eastern stronghold of Thrace, guarding the Radiant Mountain Pass—the necessary route to August.
Now, it was encircled by the Ashen Empire’s army. The sky bristled with massive airship clusters, dense as storm clouds, while swarms of Wyverns and Flame Wyverns filled the air. On the ground, mountain-sized steam tanks and armored vehicles marched in formation, countless heavy cannons aimed skyward. With nearly one hundred thousand troops, the Imperial Army formed a mottled tide before the northern gates.
From sky to land, the Empire held total control—like a tidal wave bearing down. Any ordinary mortal would have surrendered long ago.
Yet the city stood defiant, having withstood days of relentless assault.
The Imperial commander raised his battle flag, roaring:
"ALL UNITS! OPEN FIRE!"
Boom!
Boom! Boom!
The sky trembled. Thousands of heavy cannons fired in unison, spewing flames from their muzzles like the breath of dragons. Hundred of tanks targeted the city walls, launching armor-piercing shells that streaked through the air.
The scream of tearing air split the heavens. Shells arced through the sky, weaving a fiery web—aimed at total destruction.
But a luminous, hemispherical membrane shimmered above the city, untouched. Even the armor-piercing rounds bounced off, leaving only faint energy ripples. This was why Saint Michael had endured.
Before the pristine, angel-carved walls stood a towering, awe-inspiring fortress—the Blazing Sun Barrier, a relic of the Sacred Fedran.
Legends claimed it was forged from a fragment of a fallen star, by the Ancient Sun God Sect. In the Blood Moon Wars, it had evaporated an entire Vampire Army.
To operate it, guardians had to pass the "Trial of Light"—a sacred solar ritual. Their eyes would be permanently marked with the Sun Wheel sigil. Some even gained temporary transformation into the Light Element.
The barrier’s core was a massive arc-shaped shield of golden and white crystal. Its surface bore a relief of the Sun God’s chariot racing across the sky. At its center floated the Sun Core Eye, a pulsating orb suspended above a sacred vase of Mithril.
On either side, twelve foldable light prisms extended—when unfolded, they formed fan-shaped wings, like those of an angel. These prisms, guided by a floating Rune Array, could adjust their angles freely, forming a Light Prism Coordination Array capable of refracting the core’s energy into various forms:
- Focused Mode: A penetrating beam of light, capable of cutting through steel.
- Scattered Mode: A rain of fire that blanketed the battlefield.
- Reflective Mode: A luminous membrane shielding the city from all harm.
Currently, the barrier was in Reflection Mode. The twelve prisms faced outward, projecting a hemispherical shield thirty meters above the wall—capable of blocking both magical and physical attacks.
Additionally, undead and demonic creatures would burst into flame on contact. Common enemies suffered continuous light-induced blindness, severe burns, dehydration, and unbearable agony.
"For Thrace!"
"Long live Sacred Fedran! Saint Michael shall never fall!"
Inside the barrier, several Angel Divine Offspring hovered in midair, wings flared, raising their flame swords high as they channeled their Sun God power into the Sun Core Eye.
The Ashen Empire’s officers roared:
"Attack! Crush their shell! For the Empire!"
Boom—
The earth shook violently. Steam tanks charged forward, their treads tearing deep grooves into the ground. Dozens of them surged like a frenzied beast toward the city.
"The Dragon’s Claws are coming! Prepare the Blazing Judgment!"
Woo—
The horns sounded. Six Sun Priests scattered golden powder into the sacred vase. The liquid light within began to boil, revealing ancient Divine Scripts etched into the Sun Wheel Totem.
On the third horn blast, the twelve prisms spun. The blazing white light poured from the vase, refracted through mirrors, and focused high above—into a solar flare so intense it could melt gold and shatter stone.
"For the Empire!"
Under cover of artillery fire and rifle volleys, gnomes with dragon-vein limbs slammed the control sticks, driving steam tanks into the fortress wall. Their massive metal rams struck like battering rams.
Behind them, the Imperial infantry advanced, coordinating with the tanks in a synchronized assault.
Then—suddenly—the defending Holy Knights all removed their helms and dropped to their knees. Not surrender. A defense against the blinding light.
"Praise the Sun! Hail the God of Golden Radiance, Eternal Lord of Light!"
The chief Sun Priest slit his wrist, pouring golden-red blood into the sacred vase. Instantly, streams of light erupted—shaping into roaring, dragon-like beams of pure radiance.
Boom—
The steam tank thirty paces from the gate exploded first—shattered into a fireball. Its steel armor melted into molten red liquid, seeping into scorched earth.
"Kai Xiusu above!"
"Another Divine Spell! Quick—Spell Defense Units!"
Ogre tribesmen raised their anti-magic shields. As the light stream swept over them, the shields cracked with a sound like shattered glass. Even the shields’ wielders’ bones glowed faintly red.
When the light faded, only a field of glassified trenches remained—radiating outward like shattered suns. Even the drifting black smoke evaporated into golden mist, consumed by residual heat.
"Damn Thracians!"
On the distant battlefield, Drool slammed his heavy hammer onto the table, staring through his telescope at the unyielding barrier.
For the first time in history, the once-invincible, unbreakable Imperial Army had met a true equal.
(End of Chapter)
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