Red dragon: in charge of natural disasters

Within the city of Augusta, the Thracians emitted cries of despair, fleeing in all directions, for they had never witnessed such a sight.

The soldiers of the Blazing Empire stood their ground, merely observing with indifference, watching from afar, taking no further action, and the devils, knowing their place, did not provoke these Imperials.

Tirena flapped her wings, soaring into the sky, raising the Sword of Judgment high, unleashing a beam of golden light that shot towards the heavens, and sternly roared, "Devils, return to Hell! This is not a place for you!"

"Swish—"

She swung down her longsword, and a dozen rays of holy light descended, enveloping a dozen devils within the city, incinerating them into ashes amidst their wails.

At this moment, within Tirena's pale golden pupils, the sun wheel slowly rotated, revealing within its depths endless sorrow, regret, and self-blame.

"Your Majesty Aragon…"

In a daze, Tirena seemed to see the tall and mighty figure of Aragon I, shrouded in light, before her eyes.

Tirena seemed to return to ten years ago, when she knelt before the imperial throne in the Holy City, and the old Emperor placed the Holy Sword upon her shoulders, demanding that she swear to protect the Second Prince with her life.

At that time, she gladly agreed, resolving to protect His Highness Wilhelm at all costs.

But now, Tirena had failed, she had watched with her own eyes as the King fell into becoming a hellish monster, watched as he was killed by the Red Dragon, yet was powerless to stop it.

Tirena knew that she should never have indulged Wilhelm so much, leading him down a wicked path, even to the point of signing a contract of servitude with those cunning devils, resulting in such an end.

Now, she needed to atone.

"For Thrace, for the sacred Faderan, eliminate these sinful beings from Hell!" She raised her arm and shouted, once again swinging the Sword of Judgment, and a blade of light dozens of meters long rapidly flew out, cutting hundreds of devils in half at their waists.

"Damn angel!"

"Kill that troublesome fellow! She is the Duchess of Divine Descent!"

Hundreds of Hell Puppets flapped their dark wings, surrounding Tirena like a dense, dark cloud.

These fellows, who called themselves the "Holy Guard," were now listening to the orders of Hell, helping the devils slaughter the rebels within the city.

"Kill her!"

The leader of the Holy Guard raised his longsword, pointing it at the angel of divine descent.

Only to see rays of light pierce through the dark clouds, followed by a giant fireball appearing in the high sky, incinerating everything within a hundred meters to ashes.

Dayev gazed at Duchess Tirena in the high sky, who had perished together with hundreds of Holy Guards, sighed softly, then turned his head to look at the enemies before him.

"Die!"

Dayev raised his longsword, leapt high, and with one strike, cleaved the little devil wielding a steel fork in half, causing it to scream before turning into ashes and scattering in mid-air.

But immediately after, several burly, massive Korna Demons appeared around him, brandishing bloodstained barbed chains, surrounding the warrior, and emitting hoarse, sinister laughter.

"Hahahaha, don't struggle, mortal, your King has already sacrificed this city to Hell!"

"This place will become our soul farm! All of you—will become the personal property of Lord Zariel!"

"Not just Augusta, the entire Thrace will fall into Hell!" The Korna Demon opened its arms, spread its wings, and reveled in the fear and dread of the people.

"No! This is Augusta! The Land of the First Dawn, how can we allow you to be so presumptuous here!"

Dayev shook his head repeatedly, his face filled with sorrow, and even a trace of determination to die emerged from the depths of his pupils.

He absolutely could not bear to watch his homeland—the once glorious and sacred "Sunrise City"—become a farm for Hell, nor could he accept his relatives and friends becoming food for the devils.

But looking at the sky full of cracks, the rampaging devils, Dayev felt somewhat despairing.

After the war with the Empire, only a group of defeated soldiers remained within the city of Augusta, not to mention that Wilhelm's "Holy Guard" was also listening to the orders of Hell.

Even a Duchess of Divine Descent with such great power as Tirena had died in the siege of the demons.

An ordinary warrior like him was simply insignificant in the face of the demon legion from Hell, so what could he use to save this city and rescue the people here?

Perhaps only a miracle could truly save Augusta.

Wait... a miracle?

Dayev couldn't help but turn his head, looking at the huge Red Dragon bathed in light in the distance, and thinking of that dazzling sun.

A miracle was nothing more than that, Dayev thought, and a bold idea emerged in his mind.

Maybe...

Perhaps that Blazing Emperor was the existence that could save the city of Augusta, and even save the entire Kingdom of Thrace.

The Thracian soldiers were fighting fiercely with the demon legion, but at this moment, they collectively froze—their vertical pupils reflected the changes in the sky: the lead-gray clouds were scorched with golden cracks, as if thousands of suns were struggling behind the clouds.

"Boom—"

Accompanied by a loud noise, the crack of Hell tore through the material plane, and the sky was dyed into a sulfur-colored vortex, scorched earth spread out from the crack, and the hot, metallic stench filled the air.

A powerful pressure descended, and in an instant, almost all living beings within a hundred miles trembled, feeling a fear from the depths of their souls.

That fear came from Hell, a natural fear of the evil order that was hostile to the gods.

"Amanata above..."

"What a terrifying aura... what exactly is that?"

"God..."

"Doomsday, that is the end of the end! That is the punishment of the gods for our disrespect!"

Under the focus of millions of eyes, Zariel's body rose from the vortex—she was over fifteen feet tall, and her burning wings covered half of the battlefield, each feather engraved with holy words blackened by hellfire, dragging embers like meteorites.

Her armor was forged from molten black iron, and magma flowed from the cracks.

Her face still retained the majesty of an angel, but her eyes had become two boiling balls of blood-red fire, and the gaze from the cracks in her helmet was enough to make the most insane barbarian cower and tremble.

"Boom—"

Her magma greatsword smashed into the ground, melting the rock into a boiling lake.

Hundreds of hellish dragon beasts roared behind her, spewing black smoke, and fallen holy warriors bound by chains knelt at her feet, chanting blasphemous hymns.

Three huge dragons dragged a huge chariot made of hellish meteorite iron, carrying Zariel into the sky above the wasteland.

Those dragons had the terrifying appearance of devils, evil bone spurs extended from the top of their heads and shoulders, and their eyes burned with a terrifying yellow.

Their scales shifted colors, displaying the hues of flowing lava, and they exuded the stench of sulfur—these were the Hellfire Ancient Dragons, symbols of tyranny, dominating wars of the strong preying on the weak.

“Thracians, abandon your futile resistance!”

The Thracian Angelic Descendants fought fiercely with the devils, their rage ignited, issuing defiant battle cries: “No, we are the Fadelan people, the offspring of the sun! We will never yield to Hell!”

Zariel's voice boomed like a death knell: “The resistance of mortals? Merely kindling… Cast into my furnace, your deaths will ignite Hell's victory!”

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Before her voice faded, the cracks in the sky exploded, and six burning chains descended like black dragons, crushing dozens of Angelic Descendants.

Wings burned and fell in the air, severed limbs plummeted from the sky, and golden blood splattered everywhere, showering the earth.

Gazing at the bloody, cruel scene, Zariel's lips curled upward, revealing a crazed, twisted smile.

As the master of the Blood War, her very existence was the personification of war, a product of the conflict between order and chaos—every flame on the battlefield, every cry of anguish, crowned her.

“You've finally come, Zariel. I've been waiting for you.” In the high sky, Caius looked down at the Archduke of Hell, nodded slightly, and his eyes surged with fire.

Zariel looked up at the red dragon, her eyes narrowed, revealing a dangerous aura in her deep eyes, “Ember Emperor, if you don't want to die—take your army and leave here, leave Augusta, leave the Kingdom of Thrace.

This land has already been branded by Avernus. This is the territory of the Nine Hells, the soul pasture of the great devils.”

Hearing this, surprise appeared in Caius's eyes. He asked curiously, “Didn't you sign a contract with Wilhelm to obtain the land of Thrace in exchange for killing me?”

“Wilhelm? Heh heh,” Zariel's lips curled up again, a playful smile appearing on her face, “He was truly an incurable fool.”

Zariel raised her head, meeting the red dragon's gaze from afar, her indifferent voice full of mockery, “That's right, Caius, I will kill you, but I will kill you three thousand years from now, when you are old and decrepit; I will destroy your empire, but I will intervene five thousand years from now, when your empire is about to collapse, and completely destroy it.”

Finally, she raised her hand, summoning a parchment contract, pointing to a string of blurred words between the lines, “After all… the contract states that there is no deadline for completing this task.”

“How interesting.” Hearing this, Caius couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement, feeling particularly ridiculous, even somewhat sympathetic to the King of Thrace.

As expected of a devil's contract, it's simply black to the core. They spare no effort, constantly searching for loopholes in the rules.

Wilhelm abandoned everything, only to exchange it for such a useless blank check that's too hard to even wipe his ass with.

“Snap.”

Zariel snapped her fingers, and the contract turned to ashes, disappearing into the air, “What do you think, Your Majesty Caius? Avernus and the Empire can coexist peacefully, maintaining peace.”

“Lady Zariel, the word ‘peace’ sounds rather ironic coming from your mouth.” Caius sneered.

Zariel's expression changed slightly, and she reached out her hand, pulling out the giant sword deeply embedded in the ground, pointing it without hesitation at the distant red dragon: “So—you want war?

If that's the case, I'll have to bring forward the time to complete the contract by a few thousand years, Caius.”

She said, word by word, her voice seeming to come from the depths of Hell, containing an incomparably terrifying aura.

“I couldn't ask for more.” Caius nodded slightly, then flapped his dragon wings, stirring up a scorching gale, and soared into the air.

The red dragon hung high in the sky, raised its head, and let out a majestic roar: “In the name of the Ember Emperor—Augusta, and even the entire Thrace, will belong to the Ember Empire.

We will inherit the legal system of Holy Fadelan, and the people here will live forever under the sun—and not under the crimson sky of Avernus!”

Along with Caius's roar, endless solar divine power rose up, condensing into a dazzling sun in the high sky, releasing immense light.

【Legendary · Holy Day】

Under this light, the devils were burned all over, emitting bursts of black smoke. They struggled and wailed frantically, no longer as rampant and肆虐 as before.

“Long live His Majesty Caius! Loyalty—”

“Long live the Empire!”

“Praise the great red dragon, praise the sun!”

This time, not only the imperial soldiers outside the city walls, but even the Thracians who had suffered from the devils cheered, their expressions fanatical, already regarding Caius, the invader, as a true savior.

In a corner of the city, Daev attacked from behind, cutting off the head of a horned devil, then looked at the red dragon holding the scorching sun in its mouth.

“Ember Emperor…” He hesitated for a moment, then pinned the imperial badge on his chest, raised the long sword in his hand, and shouted with gritted teeth: “Long live His Majesty Caius!”

The Thracian soldiers behind him also shouted in unison, their emotions running high.

“Boom! Boom boom!”

The Empire's steam tanks, heavy artillery, and airships were constantly bombarding the devil legions pouring out of the spatial rifts. Rain-like shells exploded in the air, and devils were constantly turned to ashes, falling from the sky.

The Crimsonscale Conquerors fought fiercely with the winged devils in the sky, while the ground was filled with a hail of bullets, and the Empire's army was ruthlessly shooting down the attacking devil soldiers.

In this way, under the threat of a common enemy, the former invaders and the invaded actually fought side by side, shouting the name of the same emperor in unison.

Zariel looked at the distant red dragon, her blood-red eyes boiling, bursting with endless anger.

“Red dragon, you are courting death! I will cut off your head, destroy your empire, and let you see the true power of Avernus—”

Along with the Duke of Devil's anger, dazzling pillars of hellfire burst out from the cracks in the ground.

The cracks in the sky grew larger and more terrifying, and the void was intertwined with the screams of souls, as if something was about to be born from within.