Ember Dragon

Sunset City, in southwestern Seleucia.

This city has witnessed thousands of years of vicissitudes, with its walls covered in mottled marks, and outside the city lies an endless expanse of scorched earth.

Years ago, Kazur buried countless believers with its towering waves of lava, but now, this land welcomes new visitors—the large army of the coalition.

The ground trembled, and a series of muffled booms and loud horns echoed from afar. The soldiers of the Dragon Worship Cult on the city wall looked up in terror, only to see a vast, surging army marching in, dominating the horizon. Giant ships and flying dragons mingled in the sky, like a mixed school of fish in the ocean, a truly magnificent sight.

Soon, the allied forces had partially surrounded Sunset City. Faced with millions of soldiers, countless tanks, warships, and armored vehicles, the ancient city was like an isolated island in a vast ocean, about to be swallowed by the monstrous waves.

"That's the main force of the Allied forces!"

"By Tiamat, those damned Imperials!"

"How could they have arrived so quickly! Lord Kazul clearly created a restricted area on the outer layer, which even we would have difficulty passing through. How did these Imperials get through!"

"God——"

"Could it be that the Emperor of Burning Ashes has made his move?"

The arrival of the allied forces filled the soldiers of the Dragon Cult in Sunset City with a mixture of panic and discussion. They knew very well that this army had already wiped out the Green Dragon Cult and the Blue Dragon Cult.

Their Red Dragon Cult is the only remaining member of the Dragon Worship Church and the last hope for Her Majesty Tiamat's descent to earth; they have no way out.

On the city wall, a half-human, half-dragon officer raised the banner of the Red Dragon Cult and shouted to boost morale: "Fear not! They are nothing but a bunch of traitors who stole Her Majesty the Dragon Queen's power! We are the true descendants of Tiamat!"

"That's right, they're just a bunch of despicable thieves! They're no match for the power of the Five-Colored Dragon Queen!"

Just then, a man wearing a dragon mask and a heavy, five-colored robe ascended to the top of the evil dragon altar in the city, looking down at the dragon worshippers with a devout and excited expression:
"Gentlemen—this is a test given to us by the great Five-Colored Dragon Queen! When this trial is over, we will become the masters of the world!"

His voice trembled, as if he were sobbing or choking, which sounded particularly eerie.

"It's His Majesty Philippe!"

"No, it should be said that His Holiness the Pope has shed his human body, received the blood of the Mother Goddess, and completed that great sublimation!"

The followers of the Dragon Cult gazed at the man standing on the altar with envy, longing, and admiration, their voices brimming with excitement.

Everyone knows that this former descendant of the god Gadin was favored by the Mother of Dragons, bathed in the dragon blood of the altar, and was honored to become a noble and powerful humanoid dragon.

In the Church of the Dragon, this is the most enviable blessing.

But the Byron followers were unaware that Felipe's soul was writhing in agony within his body, repeatedly trying to end his life but failing each time—Tiamat was transforming him into a half-dragon vessel until his soul was completely annihilated.

At this moment, his eyes were filled with tears, his mind was filled with countless thoughts but he could not express them. He wanted to die but had no way to do so. He could only watch helplessly as he became Tiamat's accomplice.

Under the spotlight of countless gazes, Felipe spread his arms, raised his chin, and chanted at the top of his lungs as if he were in a frenzy: "When lava covers the earth and ashes cover the sky, the Mother of Dragons will descend upon the world, destroy the old age, and usher in a new era!"

"For Tiamat!"

"Praise be to the great Mother of Dragons!"

They shouted themselves hoarse with fervor, but just then, the deep, powerful voice of the earth spirits came from afar.

"Cult members of the Church of the Dragon, your unbridled violence has violated moral and legal norms and is a blatant provocation against civilization!"

"In the name of civilization, in the name of order, our allied forces will utterly destroy your Church of the Dragon, bringing Seleucia back to glory and civilization! And liberating the people of this land!"

"Long live the Empire!"

"Long live His Majesty Cassius!"

"The Allied Forces will surely win!"

The allied forces in the distance erupted in cheers and shouts, sweeping in like a tsunami and instantly drowning out all the noise inside Sunset City.

Immediately afterwards, artillery fire roared, and countless arcs trailing thick smoke crisscrossed in the sky, forming a firepower net that covered the sky, almost engulfing Sunset City.

This was unprecedented firepower. In this war, the Empire mobilized nearly 100,000 heavy artillery pieces, hundreds of AoE armored vehicles, and thousands of steam tanks. Such firepower was enough to raze the city to the ground.

"boom!"

The ancient city walls trembled, cracked, crumbled, and teetered on the brink of collapse under the bombardment of artillery fire. The defending troops were terrified and on the verge of extinction.

Amidst the howling cannon fire, Felipe, disregarding the shells raining down from the sky, remained unfazed, spreading her arms wide, raising the Scepter of Calamity high, her whole body trembling violently as if in struggle, and shouting: "All is vanity, only the Great Mother of Dragons lives on forever!"

Countless twisted, ancient dragon runes were etched onto the cold stone surface as if they were alive, forming a blasphemous array so complex it was dizzying.

Deep grooves extend from the base of the five dragon-headed pillars, converging at a bottomless circular well in the very center of the altar. A mixture of sulfur and decay from the depths of the earth seeps out from the well's opening.

—That was the polluted energy of the earth's veins, forcibly guided and generated by the resentment of countless believers buried underground; it was filthy yet powerful.

The altar was surrounded by a dense crowd of people, but there was not a trace of life in them.

The outermost layer consisted of two hundred men, women, and children, dressed in rags and covered in wounds, their hands bound behind their backs with rough ropes. They were the last prisoners of war in Sunset City.

A pungent stench of sweat, blood, and excrement emanated from them, making one want to vomit.

The faces of these prisoners of war were filled with numb or frozen fear. They were driven like livestock to be slaughtered, forming the first ring of flesh and blood around the altar.

The inner circle consists of five fanatical believers clad in strange scales. They kneel on the ground, their bodies pressed against the five stone pillars, their postures exceptionally devout. Their scales correspond to five sinister colors: white, black, green, blue, and red.

These believers, with distinctly dragon-like features, stared fervently at the pope in the center of the altar, their mouths moving silently as if they were chewing on some sacred prayer.

At the center of the five dragon-headed pillars, on the cross, was bound an old man who was half human and half dragon. His face, covered with wrinkles and scales, was a mixture of extreme piety and an indescribable confusion. His fingers caressed a five-headed dragon emblem on his chest, and his cloudy eyes reflected the dying blood sun on the horizon.

His name was Gregory Rost, the former Seleucia duke, who had been transformed into this monstrous form and became Tiamat's final sacrifice.

Maintaining this oppressive order are the most loyal henchmen of the Church of the Dragon.

Clad in dark, heavy dragon-scale armor, the "Serpent Guard Legion," wielding poisoned longswords, stood like cold statues between the crowd and the altar. Beneath their visors lay only a deep, dark abyss, their occasional glances at the crowd carrying an inhuman indifference. Closer to the altar were the "Evil Dragon Knights," these elite guards whose armor was edged with sharp, dragon-fang-like metal spikes, and whose longswords had hilts carved with ferocious dragon heads. Any attempt to break ranks would be met with their silent, deadly strikes.

There were also more than a dozen young and adult red dragons surrounding them, raising their heads and roaring in unison, creating an astonishing spectacle.

Felipe's face was hidden in the shadow of his five crowns, with only the sharp lines of his chin and his tightly pursed thin lips visible.

He raised the scepter of calamity high, and suddenly two eerie red lights shone from the eyes of the red-headed dragon.

A hoarse, cold, yet strangely penetrating voice, like countless venomous snakes rubbing against the sand, instantly covered the entire city, drowning out the bugle calls and cannon fire of the allied forces outside the city walls.

"All is vanity, only Tiamat endures!"

"The time has come, children of the Darkscale!"

Felipe's voice resonated with the energy of the dragon vein node, and everyone around the altar felt a tremor from the depths of their bones. "Do the allied forces think their cannons can extinguish the glory of the Dragon Queen? How arrogant!"

"Today, we will offer the most abundant sacrifice to the Mother of Dragons with iron and blood, with the flesh and bones and wails of mortal ants!"

Calgas shouted loudly.

Several evil dragon rose knights immediately stepped forward and poured the heavy treasure chest into a specific groove on the edge of the altar.

Gold coins, gems, exquisite utensils, and even sacred objects inlaid with pearls were dumped into those runic channels like garbage.

The brilliance of the jewels appeared particularly eerie and cheap against the backdrop of the dim dragon runes.

The crisp sound of gold coins flowing and clattering sounded like a death knell at that moment.

Praise be to Tiamat!

Calgas's voice carried a twisted plea, and as he spoke, the treasures poured into the trench seemed to be burned by invisible flames, quickly turning black and melting into a viscous, metallic-looking black stream that gurgled along the trench towards the central well.

An even stronger stench of sulfur rose into the sky, as if the earth were digesting these symbols of greed. It seemed that the Dragon Worshippers were using the last of the wealth they had plundered from the entire city to buy protection from the capricious Dragon Queen.

As the last glimmer of golden light faded and disappeared in the trench, Calgas abruptly turned to the two hundred bound prisoners on the outer perimeter.

His scepter pointed at them, his voice as cold as ice: "The ritual begins!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

The Serpent Guard Legion has moved.

They silently dispersed, their movements swift and precise, rushing into the line of prisoners like mowing grass. The poisoned blades weren't aimed at vital organs, but rather coldly sliced ​​across the wrists of each prisoner!

puff!

The sound of sharp blades cutting through flesh rang out repeatedly, accompanied by sudden, heart-wrenching screams and cries.

"No, I don't want to die!"

"Let me go please!"

All struggles were futile against the cold blade. Scalding blood, like countless scarlet snakes, gushed from the two hundred wounds, splashing onto the cold altar, where it was instantly swallowed up by the greedy rune grooves.

Fresh blood! Fresh, warm blood, carrying the last fear and pain of life!

They surged and flowed along the predetermined trajectory, converging from all directions to the five vertices of the pentagram, and then roared and surged towards the deep well at the center of the altar along the thicker main channel.

The well no longer smelled of sulfur, but instead gushed out a thick, suffocating stench of blood!
The entire altar seemed to come alive, emitting a thirsty swallowing sound. Dark red blood light surged rapidly in the runes and grooves, growing brighter and brighter, illuminating the altar like the inner wall of a hellish furnace.

The air was heated and distorted, and the stench of blood mixed with sulfur and an indescribable, primal stench belonging to ancient dragons formed a nauseating fog.

The sky suddenly darkened, not because of the sunset.

The churning dark clouds gathered above the altar into an enormous vortex, from the center of which a faint, malevolent light of mixed five colors emanated.

An unimaginable pressure, ancient, tyrannical, and filled with a destructive greed, descended like a tangible hammer!
All creatures on this land—whether indifferent snake guards, desperate prisoners, or fanatical believers—felt as if their hearts were being gripped by a cold, giant claw, their knees buckling and almost collapsing to their knees.

Even the distant Allied positions were filled with a chaotic commotion.

At the center of that crimson vortex, a colossal phantom, so large it obscured the stars and moon, slowly coalesced!
The outlines of five ferocious dragon heads appeared and disappeared in the churning clouds—a white dragon head spewing frost, a black dragon head dripping strong acid, a green dragon head surrounded by poisonous clouds, a blue dragon head wrapped in blinding lightning, and a crimson dragon head burning with infernal fire!
Tiamat's will has been projected!

Five pairs of vertical pupils of different colors coldly looked down at the tiny pope on the altar and the offerings he presented.

Immediately afterwards, a roar that could touch the soul swept through the entire city, and countless glass windows shattered instantly!

That was the might of the dragon, the oppressive power of divinity, announcing the brief grace of an evil god.

The red dragons were extremely excited, raising their heads and roaring. The dragon worshippers knelt on the ground in excitement, continuously chanting dragon-language prayers.

Without hesitation, the five fanatical believers clad in scales drew their daggers and plunged them into their own chests, tearing out their hearts alive. With their last ounce of strength, they placed their still-warm hearts onto the five dragon-headed pillars.

"The Empress has shown her favor!"

Gazing at the phantom in the sky, Felipe's voice became hoarse and distorted with ecstasy and immense pressure.

At the center of the altar, Gregor picked up the dagger he had prepared with trembling hands, but hesitated to strike, a hint of doubt in his eyes.

Philip turned abruptly, his scepter of calamity pointing at Gregory: "The time has come to offer your heart to the great Queen of the Five Colored Dragons! What are you still hesitating for?"

"I"

Gregory's voice revealed confusion and struggle.

Although the dragon's will had corrupted and controlled his mind, his soul, as a legendary paladin and former Marshal Seleucia, still cried out in defiance. (End of Chapter)