Chapter 716: Fallen Day
“Wooom—”
Across a radius of thousands of miles, every living being felt a sudden weight crush their hearts. A piercing, spine-chilling hum filled the air—like the newborn cry of a lost soul, sending shivers down every spine.
High above, within a swirling vortex of sulfur-yellow chaos, a pitch-black sun slowly ascended—sucking in light like a devouring void.
At the sight of that obsidian sun, nearly everyone froze in place, eyes wide and vacant, staring upward as if drawn by an invisible force—some monstrous pull meant to drain their very spiritual essence.
As the Black Sun rose, crimson light flooded the sky. The heavens above turned blood-red, rippling like molten magma. For a moment, the dark sun stood in fierce opposition to Kai Xiusu’s [Sacred Day]—and for now, it seemed to hold the upper hand.
[Fallen Day]
The Black Sun hung high. Bloodlight spread. This was Zaril’s ritual—the rite that would drag August into Hell.
"By the name of the Nine Hells, I swear: the Pact is a chain, the soul is currency—what you desire, you shall have. What you fear, you shall pay."
Zaril spread her wings, flames writhing around them, and soared into the sky. From the earth, countless chains erupted—burning, searing—connecting Heaven and Earth, sealing the entire City of August within a prison of fire and damnation.
“Boom!”
A thunderous roar shook the ground. Buildings cracked. The great cathedral of August split open, molten lava oozing from its fissures. Beneath the city, Hellsteel cables coiled like serpents through the soil. Each chain was etched with runes of distortion. As they tightened, the city sank several feet—descending into the abyss, plunging toward Hell. Cracks split the earth, spewing rivers of molten lava. In the city, nightmares unfolded: the spire of the Highest Sanctum shattered, crashing down upon fleeing civilians, and in the dust, ghostly Devil Phantom Images flickered into existence.
"No—!"
"Oh gods, the earth is splitting!"
"By Amanata!"
"King Kai Xiusu, please, intervene and save us!"
Panic-stricken cries filled the air. One misstep, and a person would fall into the chasm, swallowed by scorching magma—soul and body alike consumed by the Black Sun.
The citizens’ prayers turned to screams. Their shadows twisted and warped, as if dragged by invisible chains into the earth. Beneath their feet, Pact Formations flared into life. On their skin, Hellish tattoos bloomed—omens that they would soon become Zaril’s Soul Coins or wretched Demon Soldiers.
A chilling Song of the Abyss echoed across the sky. On the face of the Black Sun, burning demon glyphs flared into being.
The material plane itself began to crumble, collapsing into the abyss. The descent toward Baator, the Hell of Avernus, accelerated. In less than half a day, August would be fully consumed—reduced to a soul domain of the Nine Hells.
Kai Xiusu would not allow this to happen.
August—nay, the entire Thrace Kingdom—was an indispensable part of the Empire of Ashen!
“Roar—!”
The red dragon, over sixty meters in length, roared—its voice shattering the charred stone pillars. With a sweep of its wings, a hurricane of ember sparks surged through the air.
Zaril’s expression darkened. Her eyes burned with fury.
"Insolent, meddling dragon—stop him!"
“Aaaarrrrgh!”
At her command, the three-headed Hellfire Ancient Dragons roared, flapping their vast wings and leaping into the sky, claws outstretched, lunging at the red dragon above.
Behind them, hundreds of Purgatory Dragons surged upward, filling the heavens like a storm of fire.
"Stop him! This soul domain is ours!"
"Hail Avernus!"
Twelve towering Deep Hell Forgemasters, clad in massive, forged armor, emerged from the clouds—Zaril’s twelve most loyal lieutenants, each wielding strength beyond legend, all at least Legendary Level. They gripped steel whips, giant hammers, and belched sulfur smoke from their mouths. Behind each, thousands of elite devils surged forward—like a relentless flood, blocking the path, ready to tear apart any who dared approach.
Kai Xiusu stared at the overwhelming demon army before him—and felt not fear, but amusement.
“You think to overwhelm me with human wave tactics? Don’t you know—”
“The Red Dragon template is the last thing you want in a crowd.”
He unleashed his will. A palpable, near-physical Ancestral Dragon Presence erupted from him, a hurricane of raw power that swept across the sky.
“Wooom—”
Within a hundred meters, demons and Purgatory Dragons alike were struck by a psychic detonation. Their eyes glazed over. Bodies locked stiff. They fell like stones, crashing to the ground. Some exploded from internal pressure—brains bursting in a spray of gore. Even the three ancient Hellfire dragons—each the size of a small mountain, over a thousand years old—staggered, as if struck by lightning.
The Red Dragon dived. From its throat burst a breath of fire so intense it could melt Mithril. A tidal wave of flame surged forward, obliterating everything in its path.
“Boom—”
Thousand of elite devils and one Deep Hell Infernal Commander were reduced to ash—gone without a trace.
The Red Dragon tore through the demon line with brute force, slicing the chaotic current in two, carving a massive gap in the enemy’s formation.
No one could stop it. No one dared.
These high-ranking demon officers weren’t Zaril—she was a mad zealot. They weighed risk and reward. And facing a dragon that could erase them in an instant? They had no desire to die.
Zaril’s fury boiled over. She whipped her Hellsteel chains, the metal clattering with a crisp, sharp sound.
"Useless fools! All of you—attack! Stop that red dragon!"
“Roar—”
The three Hellfire Ancient Dragons let out deep, guttural roars. Their souls were bound by the chains—forced to obey, even if it meant death.
Then, hundreds more Purgatory Dragons, shackled by chains, surged toward Kai Xiusu—like moths drawn to a flame.
Just then, a clear, melodic voice cut through the chaos.
“Kai Xiusu, don’t worry about those Hellish dragons—we’ve got this!”
A slender, elegant silver dragon soared into the sky, unleashing a freezing Ice Breath—Olivia’s true form.
Behind her, space rippled. Arcane distortions flared. Dozens of silver dragons poured from a portal, roaring into the fray, wings gleaming with radiant silver scales—striking a stark contrast against the war-torn battlefield.
“Good morning, King Kai Xiusu. We felt the material plane under invasion by Hell. The Mervold Clan stands ready to support.”
A massive, ancient female silver dragon, clutching a scepter in her claw, gave a dignified nod toward Kai Xiusu—respectful, yet unyielding.
She raised the scepter. A frozen silver star plummeted from the sky, crashing into the Hellfire Ancient Dragon—sending it shrieking in agony.
This was Imelda, one of the Three Pillars of the Mervold Clan—whose duty was to defend the material plane. She had once destroyed Steel Duke Dispart’s conspiracy.
“For the Material Plane!”
“Bahamut above—send these damned devils back to Hell!”
Dragon breaths clashed—flame and ice spiraled through the air. The silver dragons roared, their wings beating like war drums, charging into the Hellish legion—cutting them down in bloody waves.
Yet none of them knew—deep within the hearts of the Hellfire Ancient Dragons, a silent sigh of relief escaped. Compared to the terrifying aura of the red dragon, this was a welcome relief.
Kai Xiusu gave a distant nod to the ancient silver dragon, then turned his gaze forward. With a sweep of his wings, he summoned another furnace-like storm, becoming a blur of motion as he surged toward Zaril.
The demons under the Deep Hell Forgemasters were clever—too smart to charge headfirst. They kept their distance, firing arrows and spells, but none dared close in.
The Red Dragon sneered. With a flick of his massive claw, he unleashed several blinding white fire columns—racing across the sky like lightning. In an instant, over a thousand demons were reduced to ash.
If he had more time, Kai Xiusu could have slaughtered every demon descending from Hell. But time was not his ally. His mission was clear: stop Zaril.
He reached into his soul, calling upon his followers. Then, with wings tightly tucked, he plunged forward—faster than thought.
A distortion in space. Flames surged.
“Dragonfire Maiden” Misha appeared behind him—flanked by dozens of Dragon Oath Mages in crimson-gold long robes.
“Destroy them! Clear the path for the Master!”
She spread her dragon wings, raised her hand—flames erupted from her palm, consuming hundreds of devil soldiers in a heartbeat.
But a Deep Hell Forgemaster roared, swinging his Hellish greatsword. With a slash that tore through space, he brought the blade down toward Misha’s head.
“Swish—”
Misha dissolved into a swirling mass of intense flame—her form shimmering like heat haze—before reforming hundreds of meters away, whole and unharmed.
Then—a roar.
A dragon’s cry split the sky. The sheer Dragon Presence was overwhelming. Even the Deep Hell Forgemaster staggered, his eyes wide with terror.
From the distance, Alje descended with hundreds of Crimson Scale Conquerors—a torrent of red fire, their unified roar shaking even ancient dragons.
“For Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
“Charge!”
Misha saw her chance. She raised her finger—firing a dark green beam that shattered the Forgemaster’s magical wards. His Hell-iron armor dimmed, its power broken.
“Spines!”
With momentum behind her, Alje swung his sword—lightning flashed across the sky. A crimson geyser erupted from the demon’s neck. His head—still frozen in shock—flew into the air.
Zaril’s twenty-seventh army commander—just ascended, still raw with power—was dead.
“Enforcement of Order by Iron Hand! The Dragon Lord Above All!”
On the wasteland, the war cry echoed. Dragon-Bound Holy Knights, clad in heavy armor, marched forward—unyielding, steady. The Empire’s War Banner fluttered in the wind above them.
Above them, a phantom of the Red Dragon roared—its fury so immense, it seemed ready to tear apart the very source of existence.
Thanks to the Mass Flight Spell, they rose from the earth—ascending toward the sky, forming an unbreakable floating fortress. Their armor gleamed under the firelight.
Now, for the first time, the Empire’s three elite units—united, determined—faced the Hellish legion.
Far away, cannons roared. Airships and heavy artillery pounded Zaril’s forces. The Mervold Clan’s silver dragons arrived as reinforcements.
With no mercenaries to slow them, Kai Xiusu became a comet streaking through the sky.
“Zaril! You will pay for your pride and arrogance!”
The dragon crystal in his chest blazed. From his throat, a miniature sun of fire ignited. With a roar, he unleashed a tidal wave of dragon flame—surging toward Zaril.
It was only a probe—but its power was enough to kill a Primordial Dragon with thick armor.
“Boom—”
“Foolish red dragon. Let me show you the strength of Avernus!”
Zaril laughed, spreading her blazing wings. The flames of Hell could not harm her. She shot forward like an arrow, piercing through the crimson flood.
Her greatsword, blazing with Hell’s fury, slashed through the air—cracking open dozens of protective spells, slicing through the very fabric of reality. It carried the laws of Hell—capable of striking not just flesh, but the soul itself.
At this moment, Zaril was being empowered by Avernus’s will. She was stronger than ever—nearly divine.
“Kai Xiusu! Not just Thrace—but your entire empire shall become nourishment for Avernus. I will end this blood war once and for all!”
“Clang—”
Kai Xiusu flinched. He twisted sideways—just in time. The blade grazed his crimson-gold scales, sending embers flying. A chunk of his armor was torn away, bloodied and smoking.
He turned, his eyes blazing with fire—within the pale golden iris, a flicker of euphoria.
“Then let’s see if you’re strong enough.”
“You, Zaril… are perfect as spoils of war for the Empire.”
On his shoulder, a deep wound remained—slit by the Hellish greatsword. Around it, the cursed mark of Hell pulsed, devouring his flesh with relentless hunger.
(End of Chapter)
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