Chapter 631: Surrender and Aftermath
"Boom!"
Cassius swept his massive dragon wings, and that mountain-sized body crashed down atop Collins City, crushing the city walls beneath him and making the ground tremble.
Once a military stronghold of Fadlan, the walls of Collins were exceptionally solid, built from stone and obsidian, dozens of meters high, easily able to repel hill giants and orc invasions.
But before this red dragon, over fifty meters long, Collins' walls looked tiny and weak, like fragile toys.
"God..."
"Amanata above..."
The sound of rustling spread out, as countless eyes inside and outside Collins City lifted upward, all turning to gaze at this colossal red dragon.
"Mom, that is—"
"Shh, don't make a sound, don't look over there."
The adults covered the curious boy's eyes, clamped a hand over the mouth of a girl about to cry, not daring to make the slightest noise for fear of angering the giant dragon.
Faces were tense and full of fear—they looked like criminals about to face judgment, quietly waiting for fate's verdict.
For a hundred years, Fadlans had never felt like this.
They'd always been the victors, the conquerors, the upholders of justice; they never thought that one day, they'd become the victims of war, cowering inside their houses, afraid to make a sound.
"Boom boom."
Cassius strolled along the city wall, his gigantic body stepping atop the battlements with a surprisingly light gait. Each step sent stones tumbling, the wall groaning under the strain.
The sound echoed like a heartbeat, thumping away, making the people's nerves inside and outside the city even more taut. They held their breath, sweating profusely.
Finally, the red dragon leapt to the highest point of the city tower, trampling the Sun God spire—a symbol of Fadlan royal power—beneath his claws.
Cassius lowered his head, scanning his territory like a lion, then slowly spoke: "In the name of the Ember Emperor, I declare—North Aether now belongs to the Ember Empire!
And any who submit to the Empire's rule and accept the new order shall become imperial citizens, protected by the Ember Empire's laws and armed forces!"
Cassius' voice was powerful and sonorous, echoing through the ruined Collins City, reverberating across the wide plains.
The voice seemed to possess a mysterious power, making people feel an instinctive urge to submit, as if this was the world's truth—even if it came from a terrifying red dragon.
The red dragon coiled atop the city, slowly spreading his vast wings, casting a shadow over many of Collins City's guards and citizens.
Strangely, though being under those wings made people tremble in terror and swallow nervously, it also gave them a strange sense of security.
Some elders even recalled scenes from decades ago, when Fadlan had similarly occupied North Aether and brought prosperity and wealth to the land.
Now, with Holy Fadlan dead, could the Ember Empire not become the land's new master?
But for now, the air in and around Collins City was frozen—no one dared risk being branded a traitor by speaking first.
In the houses of Collins, people began to whisper anxiously, nervously discussing their fate.
"They say the dragon's followers will slaughter the city and eat the women and children..."
"Lord Walter said the red dragon is a notorious lecher, likes to turn into a human, do things too terrible to speak of..."
"If we surrender, will they really keep us safe?"
Cassius lowered his head, looking down on the crowd from above. In the sunlight, the stern dragon face tried to show a kind smile: "Humans, are you not surrendering yet? Do you intend to oppose the Empire?
To oppose the Ember Empire leads to only one result—ending up like your pitiful duke: dead, not even a whole corpse left, just ashes."
Though the red dragon's tone was mild, the content was chilling—a naked threat, heavy with dragon might, putting enormous psychological pressure on everyone.
"Clang!"
A longsword fell to the ground with a crisp sound.
The captain of the Collins city guard dropped to his knees, sobbing, his throat trembling and spasming: "I, I surrender!"
He pressed his forehead to the ground, repeating in a choking voice, "Your Majesty Cassius, I surrender!" This time, it was much smoother.
Now people were like scattered sheep—since there was a "lead sheep", a second and third would soon follow, until all the lambs joined in.
The crowd was suddenly in an uproar.
The captain's act was like opening a floodgate. Emotions burst forth, the last straw breaking.
"I surrender too!"
"Just spare my family, I'll do anything!"
"I'm willing to follow His Majesty Cassius, to join the Ember Empire!"
"Me too, Fadlan is dead, only the Ember Empire is strong enough to protect North Aether..."
Suddenly, cries and pleas burst from the once-silent crowd, soldiers throwing down their weapons, collapsing to the ground, some kneeling and bowing toward the dragon.
In the Ember Empire's ranks, cheers erupted too. "Long live His Majesty Cassius! Long live the Empire!" echoed endlessly over the North Aether plains.
Cassius looked around in satisfaction, craned his neck, raised his head, and let out a deafening roar.
Instantly, all the white dragons, wyverns, flame drakes in the sky, and land drakes, hill drakes, and multi-headed flame serpents on the ground lifted their heads and let out a chorus of dragon roars, their voices drowning all other sounds.
For a moment, it felt like the whole world shook with the dragons' cries, all creation bowing to the red dragon atop the city tower.
Everyone knew the war was over: the red dragon emperor from the north had won a spectacular victory, completely conquering North Aether. As for digesting and managing the land, it was just a matter of time.
In the distance, Archmage Zaran stared in despair at the red dragon on the city tower, his hand on his staff dropping involuntarily, his heart sinking to the bottom.
"It's over, it's all over... That Ember Emperor's power is far beyond the imaginations of Spell City." Zaran lowered his gaze, bitterly.
Just then, a loud shout broke the silence of the allied camp, interrupting Zaran's thoughts.
"Dragon! I will never yield to you!"
Kalen spread his wings, shining with golden armor, flying out from the crowd, his standard Sun God longsword pointed at the red dragon, shouting angrily: "I will take up Lord Walter's belief, lead the people of North Aether, and fight you to the death!"
"It's Lord Kalen!"
"A true Fadlan noble, so brave..."
"Marquis Kalen, I'll fight by your side!"
The allied soldiers gazed at Kalen's radiant back, moved, admiration welling up, some even mustering the courage to raise their swords.
"Kalen..."
Zaran wanted to speak, hand raised as if to stop the rash move, but afraid the dragon would notice him.
At this point, Kalen was blinded by rage—grief for fallen comrades, shame at the cowardly surrender, and hatred for the invaders all swirling together, making him lose all reason.
"Fadlan eternal!"
With a shout, this angelic marquis charged, sword trailing golden light, diving toward the red dragon.
"Idiot."
Cassius sneered, watching the glowing angelic figure: "Fine, I'll grant your wish, send you to join Duke Walter!"
The dragon slowly raised his claw, those massive talons swinging down, tearing the air, smashing into the angelic noble.
"Boom!"
Kalen was struck, slammed hard into the wall, deeply embedded, the stone collapsing around him, dust rising, a heavy rumble.
Blood gushed from his mouth, his whole body battered and bloody, bones shattered, even his wings bent and twisted—a wretched sight.
Against the dragon's power, even a legendary angelic noble, a once-proud Fadlan warrior, was powerless, like a plaything.
Cassius was in no rush, just looked down in disdain at the noble, calmly saying: "Overestimating yourself. Fadlan's already dead, Duke Walter is gone too—what are you still holding onto?"
Even so, Kalen still didn't bow, not even lowering his proud head.
He raised his blood-soaked head, grimacing a hideous smile, and with the last of his strength said: "Cassius, I curse you—one day your empire will collapse in ruins— and now, let you invaders and rebels feel the sun's wrath!"
The angelic noble wept and laughed, almost deranged, his chest blazing with golden light, clearly wanting to copy Duke Walter's self-sacrifice for a grand exit.
"Ridiculous!" Cassius had lost patience, suddenly driving a claw straight through Kalen's chest.
"Rip—"
Then, he deftly plucked out Kalen's divine essence and, under countless gazes, swallowed it, raising his head with a smile.
"See that? That's what happens when you overestimate yourself." Maybe because of this extra "snack", Cassius sounded rather pleased.
All eyes fell to his feet.
—They saw Kalen's corpse wedged deep in the wall, chest brutally torn open, bloody and gory, golden-red blood streaming out.
The crowd couldn't help but gasp, some even bursting into tears, terror-stricken.
Once-glorious, powerful nobles, now displayed like slaughtered prey, stripped of all dignity and status.
"Quick, quick..."
"It's too dangerous here, we have to get back to Spell City..."
In a corner of the allied camp, Archmage Zaran gripped his staff, hands sweaty, chanting nervously.
Around him, space twisted, flickering with spell light, as the teleportation spell took shape.
Atop the Collins city tower, Cassius' ears caught a voice from Langpu, transmitted from kilometers away.
"Master, the mages from Spell City and the Arcane Hermitage are casting teleportation spells, more than a hundred of them trying to escape. Our dimensional anchors are ready—should we keep them all here?"
Cassius could hear the excitement in Langpu's voice, making him twitch.
To the former ogre archmage, every spellcaster was a valuable asset—not just for their knowledge, but for their heads as necklace decorations.
Though Langpu's necklace hadn't seen any new heads in a long time, and he'd mostly left behind such "barbaric" habits, he was still obsessed with catching mages.
Cassius shook his head, chuckling softly: "Stick to the old way: keep half here, let the rest go—let them spread the name of the Ember Empire."
"Yes, Master."
On the allied side, many mages including Zaran managed to leave Aether, but some were trapped, crying out in frustration.
The Ember Empire's army steadily advanced, steam tanks rolling over the land, leaving deep tracks, swiftly rounding up the broken, demoralized allied soldiers.
With Kalen's death, even the final small twist was over—everything settled, the outcome certain.
Cassius spread his wings again, summoning a blast of burning wind, lifting his enormous body into the sky, soaring to ten thousand meters.
He gazed down on the scarred earth, at the armies below like ants, glancing east and west across Aether.
As the blessed land of the original Les Kingdom, North Aether borders the Blackstone Mountains and Ugo Grasslands to the east, Silvermoon Bay to the west, and the central plains to the south—a true strategic hub.
And with this war's end, the Ember Empire had established itself firmly on the Feiansuo continent, able to use North Aether as a base to expand anywhere.
At this thought, Cassius' pale golden eyes again glinted with endless greed and ambition.