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Chapter 838: Kazul's Devotee
Taliro Great Desert, Shalin City.
Within the Imperial Experience Points Editionary Force’s Supreme Command, Marshal Dolo sat surrounded by a council of high-ranking Empire officers, convening a strategic war meeting. Christina, as the Empire’s foremost expert on Red Dragon Sect research, had been invited to attend.
Dolo swept his gaze across the room, his sharp eyes scanning each officer’s face. His hands rested folded on the table, and he spoke in a low, deliberate tone.
“Each of you here is a pillar of the Empire—the proud warriors under the command of the Emperor of the Ashen Flame. I trust you all understand the gravity of this war. This is the dawn of our dominance across the Feanso Continent, a crucial step toward fulfilling the Great Blueprint.”
He lowered his hands and slammed them flat onto the table with a heavy thud. His voice grew more fervent, his pale golden eyes flashing with an unnatural light.
“If we win, the Empire of Ashen shall claim the sacred legacy of Fedran. We will become the greatest, most powerful empire this land has ever known. Every one of us shall stand tall beneath the Empire’s radiance, heads held high. We will gather raw materials from every corner of the world, building towering cities and factories belching thick smoke. Humans, Dwarves, Elves, giants, Ogres—those lesser races will toil in our factories, their labor fueling our endless production. Poverty, hunger, disease—eradicated from our homeland. We shall enjoy unparalleled prosperity, the finest lives this world has to offer. We will be the most confident, the proudest, the supreme citizens of this era. Before the rifles of the Empire and our steel might, every inferior race will tremble in fear. And only those blessed with Ember Bloodline shall rule this world—forever.”
By the end, Dolo clenched his massive fist and raised it high, shaking it fiercely.
At these words, the officers stirred with excitement. Their hearts pounded, blood surged through their veins.
“Such a bright future…”
“Truly magnificent!”
“This is the Great Blueprint King Kai Xiusu has promised us! The world should bend to our will!”
This was the dominant ideology of the Empire of Ashen Hawk Faction—deeply entrenched within the Imperial Army. Most soldiers were unwavering in their faith, staunch imperialists and monopolistic capitalists, devoted to the Empire’s vision. To them, the Great Blueprint was a world where every resource, every soul, served to elevate the Empire’s chosen few—the “Celestial Dragons.”
Even George, a former peasant laborer, was entranced by Dolo’s vision, utterly mesmerized, as if he could already taste the glory.
After rapid status progression and years of brutal military life, George had been fully transformed into a model Imperial soldier: valiant, fearless, willing to sacrifice, utterly loyal to the Emperor, and deeply contemptuous of all outside the Empire.
Yet paradoxically, despite their rhetoric of freedom and equality—of abolishing peasant labor—they carried an ironclad hierarchy in their hearts: “Equal to me, unequal beneath me.” This duality was the core of their identity.
Then Dolo’s tone darkened.
“But if we lose… the world will bow beneath Tiamat’s shadow. The brutal, mindless Five-Colored Dragons will claim dominion, and we shall face a protracted war of attrition. I trust you all know—being a proud citizen of the Empire, a warrior blessed by King Kai Xiusu’s divine favor—what we must do in this final war against the Dragon Worship Church.”
George stood at once, clenching his fist over his heart, his voice ringing with resolve:
“Give our life force for the Empire! Give our life force for Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
Inspired by George’s example, every officer rose in unison, fists pressed to their chests, performing the Loyalty Greeting with practiced precision.
“For the Empire!”
“For Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
Their chant echoed through the chamber—unified, thunderous, radiating an aura of unwavering determination.
Once seated again, a messenger from the South activated an arcane crystal. Luminous particles swirled in midair, coalescing into a magical image—recorded by Crimson Scale Conqueror reconnaissance units.
In the image, the once-prosperous Seleucus Great Plain lay in ruin—now a vast, endless wasteland of ash. Rivers of molten magma snaked across the cracked earth, flowing slowly, carving deep gashes into the ground. The sky was choked with endless volcanic ash, darkening the heavens. The sun was entirely obscured, no light reaching the surface. The world seemed drowned, swallowed by eternal darkness.
Amidst the ruins of shattered towns, scattered human remains lay frozen in their final moments—twisted, charred, arms raised in desperate prayer or futile resistance. Their bodies had been completely carbonized, turned to blackened statues of coal.
The messenger spoke: “This is the land ravaged by the cataclysm summoned by Kazul. We call it the Apocalypse Zone. Its width is estimated at three hundred kilometers. Over five million lives have been extinguished.”
Christina stood frozen, eyes wide, her expression unreadable.
“He… actually did it. The final ritual is imminent.”
“By Kai Xiusu’s grace!”
“The southwestern Seleucus—this is what it’s become?”
“That Red Dragon’s gone mad! This was their occupied territory! How could he massacre so many citizens?”
“Don’t they need supply lines? Of course—he’s a devotee of the Mother of Monsters. Naturally, he’s brutal… and utterly insane!”
The officers, though accustomed to fire and magma, were stunned by the scale of this apocalyptic scene. Hundreds of kilometers of fertile land—home to countless lives—had been wiped out in an instant. To the Empire, these humans were valuable laborers. To Kazul, they were nothing more than ants.
This enemy had surpassed all expectations—truly, a madman.
Dolo studied the image, then turned to the messenger. “Didn’t our reconnaissance units venture deeper?”
“They did,” the messenger replied. “But the environment is utterly hostile. The ground is crisscrossed with scorching magma rivers. The sky is choked with ash. No ordinary creature can survive more than a few minutes—suffocation is inevitable. This land is now a lifeless zone. Only fire elementals can endure. Even our Crimson Scale Conquerors, flying at low altitudes, struggled to cross. The air is thick with smoke, visibility near zero. Many were lost. Out of seventeen sent, only two returned. The rest—vanished.”
Dolo frowned. “Didn’t they all carry directional instruments?”
“The area is enveloped by a chaotic domain field. As soon as they entered, all instruments failed—some even exploded mid-flight, as if caught in magical turbulence. Wyverns became panicked, unable to navigate. They simply couldn’t cross this region.”
“What about teleportation spells? Can’t we just bypass the zone? A mass magical transport?”
The messenger gave a wry smile. “The weave of magic in that region is too unstable. Space itself is constantly distorted. Our spellcasters can’t lock onto a stable coordinate. It would take at least three months of preparation to build a reliable spellcraft model. By then…”
“By then, Kazul will have already completed the ritual,” Christina added, her voice heavy with dread. “And the Five-Colored Dragon Queen will have descended upon the Earth.”
Dolo remained unconvinced. “Can’t we attack from another direction? Perhaps through the Cassander Kingdom—like His Majesty’s tale of the ‘Maginot Line,’ breaking through from the eastern forests, bypassing the Apocalypse Zone and striking deep into the Red Dragon Sect’s heart?”
The messenger sighed. “We’ve contacted the Cassander Kingdom to the east and the Moria Dwarf Kingdom to the south. But they’ve both discovered the Apocalypse Zone at their borders. I suspect Kazul has sealed off the entire southwestern Seleucus with magma and ash, isolating himself. He’s cut off all external contact, blocking every flow of power.”
George studied the image, his voice grave. “Marshal Dolo… this situation is far worse than we anticipated. It seems the ‘Deep Crimson Embers’ never intended to face us head-on. He doesn’t even deign to summon mortal armies. His final defense—the Apocalypse Zone—is not just a battlefield. It’s a weapon, born of his own might.”
Dolo’s expression darkened. “We don’t even know who our enemy is. Are we to simply watch helplessly while Kazul completes his ritual?”
At that moment, the army’s Divine Spell Consultant stepped forward, voice calm.
“Kazul has not ascended to true divinity. Based on our research, he cannot fully control a cataclysm spanning thousands of kilometers.”
Dolo turned to him.
“Marshal Dolo,” Christina added, stepping forward, “Kazul established his own church long ago. He once had many famous devotees—those who walked the Earth on his behalf, channeling his power, controlling the disasters. Perhaps these devotees could be our key—our opening to break through.”
Dolo paused, a brief moment of silence. Then he exhaled softly.
“I’ll assign quests to the Stellarfallen. Send them into the Apocalypse Zone to gather intelligence, to find a way across. And I’ll report this directly to King Kai Xiusu.”
His gaze drifted toward the north, solemn and resolute.
---
Empire of Ashen, Anzeta Great Wasteland, Dragonblood Mountain.
“Your Majesty,” Dolo said, voice firm, “the entire expeditionary force will go all out, at any cost, to find a way through the Apocalypse Zone. We will utterly destroy the remnants of the Red Dragon Sect.”
“I understand,” Kai Xiusu replied, casually scanning the intelligence reports. “Termination of the old era. Destruction of the world. Purge all. Familiar doctrine. Is this ancient Red Dragon truly seeking to seize Karex’s divine position?”
His pale golden eyes flickered, a shadow of murderous intent forming deep within.
Karex—God of Destruction, Lord of Flames, The Utter Null, World Cleanser. His divine office was fire, annihilation, rebirth. But ten thousand years ago, he had fallen into a frenzy.
And to Kai Xiusu, who bore the Heart of Karex, that divine office was the most natural, the most attainable.
Yet the thought was swiftly discarded.
In the original timeline, Kazul had consumed two other Primordial Dragons, gathered three divine bodies, and transformed into a three-colored dragon—only to be usurped by Tiamat.
Now, Tiamat’s anchor in the Material Realm was reduced to a single point. He would not spare Kazul—this was the last chance for his descent.
“Apocalypse Zone?” Kai Xiusu sneered, rising slowly. His towering form loomed like a mountain of fire.
“Such obstacles are fit only for mortals. I’d like to see how Kazul dares to hinder me.”
With a thunderous roar, the Red Dragon Emperor spread his wings. Divine power surged from within, spilling out in shimmering, luminous particles that floated in the air. An overwhelming aura of intimidation radiated outward.
The entire Dragonblood Mountain trembled violently. Crimson lava, like blood, burst from fissures in the rock. Kai Xiusu raised his head, unleashing a deafening, soul-shattering cry.
A searing red glow tore through the clouds, piercing the sky—ripping open the heavens like a jagged scar. His presence was immense, overwhelming. People across the region looked up in awe.
“Long live Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
“Praise the Emperor of the Ashen Flame!”
“It’s His Majesty! He has shown his supreme might again! They say, if you witness His Majesty’s flames, you’ll be blessed with wealth for the coming year!”
The Imperial people nearby erupted in fervor, some even dropping to their knees, praying with devotion. They sang the passionate Song of Kai Xiusu:
> “May the mountain springs flow smooth,
> May timely rain and dew nourish every corner of the world!”
Under the glow of the flames, their faces burned with piety and ecstasy. Faith power rose from them in waves, drifting toward the Red Dragon Emperor.
Unlike the wretched followers of Kazul, who would be consumed by magma and ash, these people were not mere fuel. Kai Xiusu needed them as anchors. And they, in turn, needed the Emperor of the Ashen Flame as their faith, their protector, their Empire.
(End of Chapter)
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