Ember Dragon

"Swish, swish, swish—"

With sharp gusts of wind, the Red Dragon beat his wings and slowly descended from the skies, overlooking the battlefield below from on high.

"Long live the Empire!"

"Long live His Majesty Cassius!"

The cheers of the imperial officers and soldiers surged like waves, growing louder and louder as the Red Dragon descended.

In the far-off Wyvern Capital, countless soldiers fired salutes, and the wyverns spread their wings, raised their necks, and howled skyward in unison.

The Red Dragon cast a massive, menacing shadow on the land. As he approached, the shadow spread wider, eventually enveloping hundreds of orcs, including Soro.

A mighty dragon’s presence descended like a mountain crushing the chest of every orc present, making their hearts pound wildly and nearly suffocating them.

Soro knelt on the ground, head bowed, trembling violently under the overwhelming pressure. Cold sweat poured down like rain.

This can’t be!

That Red Dragon actually won!

How could this be? The all-powerful, invincible Father God that Soro worshipped had been defeated by the Emperor of the Ember Empire!

"Father God!"

"Father God, please protect us!"

"The Red Dragon has returned! Father God, kill him!"

He prayed and screamed in his heart, but no matter what, the familiar voice never returned. Only silence answered him.

At that moment, Soro finally understood—the Father God had abandoned them, abandoned the orcs of the Ugo Great Prairie.

Realizing this, the orc chieftain’s eyes turned vacant. He stared ahead in a daze, kneeling motionless on the scorched land as if struck by lightning.

The roar of artillery and the cheers of imperial troops surged like tides, creating a piercing hum in his ears.

Memories flooded back: the death of the former chieftain Batu, the fall of the Bloodfang Tribe, the Father God’s blessing, the birth of a new orc generation—

Soro muttered, "I am the Grand Chieftain of the Bloodfang Tribe. I was chosen by the Father God. I was the hero destined to lead the orcs to rise again."

He was meant to have a glorious future, to unleash an unstoppable orc tide and conquer the northern Faenso—but all of it was destroyed by that Red Dragon!

After a moment of silence, he suddenly looked up at the Red Dragon in the sky, eyes wide, teeth clenched, burning with boundless rage.

That damn Red Dragon had destroyed everything—his hope, his future, his ambitions—burned to ashes!

No. He still had one last chance—if he could just kill that Red Dragon!

In a surge of fury, the orc spores within Soro’s body awakened!

The nearly six-meter-tall orc’s muscles bulged, his face flushed red, veins on his forehead pulsing as he breathed heavily, and his eyes blazed with fire.

He picked up a spear from the ground, gripped it tightly, then leapt high into the air, roaring in blind rage, "I’ll kill you!"

Though massive, the orc looked like nothing more than a leaping green flea before the nearly sixty-meter-long Red Dragon—utterly puny and laughable.

"Look, that green-skin dares challenge His Majesty!"

"He doesn’t know his place."

"Right? Even their god was defeated by His Majesty Cassius, and he dares..."

The surrounding imperial soldiers jeered, some even indignant, seeing it as an insult to His Majesty Cassius.

But none—neither imperials nor orcs—believed Soro’s assassination attempt would succeed.

Before such an overwhelming gap in strength, no amount of skill or courage mattered.

"Foolish."

Cassius looked indifferently at the leaping orc.

Then, as if remembering something, a mocking smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"In that case, let’s see if what I stole from the old green-skin works."

The Red Dragon stretched out a massive claw. His five sharp talons spread wide, and a blood-red light in his palm morphed into a spear soaked in blood.

An overwhelming divine aura erupted, striking fear and submission into every creature within a hundred miles. It wasn’t dragon might—it was divine power of War, Strength, Chaos, and Orc domains.

The moment Soro saw the bloodstained spear and felt that familiar divine fluctuation, his eyes widened and his body went rigid. Terror slammed into him like a hammer.

"Th-this is... Father God’s aura?"

Soro’s voice grew hoarse and trembled, filled with disbelief.

Thoughts raced through his mind: Had the Red Dragon stolen the Father God’s divine power? Then what did that make him, the so-called chosen one?

But Cassius didn’t give him time to think. Still smirking, the Red Dragon grasped the bloodstained spear, channeling the divine energy.

"Boom—"

Thunder rumbled from the heavens. Blood-colored divine light spread.

In an instant, every orc felt their body, mind, even soul gripped tightly by an invisible hand, trembling in the face of death—even Soro in midair.

Before the terrified gazes of the orcs, the Red Dragon raised the bloodstained spear and pointed it at Soro.

"Swish—"

A blinding beam of bloodlight shot forth, striking the orc’s body.

At once, Soro felt like an invisible giant hand had seized him. He had no strength to resist. His flesh peeled away, bones torn out, even his soul wrenched free.

Suspended in midair, Soro’s massive form shriveled. His strong limbs became thin and sunken. Even his fur dried and withered.

Soon, Soro realized the Red Dragon was doing something even worse than killing him—he was stripping away his power!

"No, no—"

"Red Dragon! You can’t take my power!"

Soro screamed silently, rage, fear, and despair flooding him.

But under the godly power controlling orcs, he was powerless—just a puppet.

In the end, Soro became a withered old orc, barely one and a half meters tall, muscles wasted, skin wrinkled, nearly bald.

No one would associate him with the once proud orc Grand Chieftain—he now looked like an aged goblin.

Only then did Cassius lower the spear. Soro fell from midair, crashing to the ground, bones snapping, groaning in agony.

"Urgh..."

Soro opened his eyes and looked down—only to see the frail, wrinkled body he once despised, the kind of old orc he thought should be executed.

He moved his fingers, terrified to realize—his strength was less than a thousandth of what it was. Lifting his arm took all his effort.

To orcs who worship strength, this was worse than death—worse than being torn to pieces.

The orcs around him murmured, then began openly talking.

"Chieftain Soro looks so weak."

"Yeah, his presence is weaker than an underdark gnome."

Soro struggled to look up at the Red Dragon in the sky, eyes full of fear, and begged, "Red Dragon—no, Your Majesty Cassius—please give me back my power."

But Cassius only looked down with amusement, like a man observing a pathetic insect.

"This kind of guy is supposed to be our chieftain?"

"He’s too weak. He’s a disgrace to the Father God’s teachings. By tribal law, he should be exiled."

"Tsk, he looks like a stray mutt."

"Toss him out on the road, vultures’ll strip him clean—just bones left."

The orcs’ voices grew louder, like blades stabbing Soro’s heart, filling him with rage, regret, and pain.

Under their gaze, Soro buried his head in the dirt, smashing his forehead again and again until blood streamed down.

Face covered in blood and tears, he cried hoarsely, "Your Majesty Cassius, please give me back my power.

I... I will lead the Bloodfang Tribe to serve you. I’ll offer everything."

But Cassius only glanced at him, then chuckled and said, "What do you have left, Soro, besides a worthless life?

Since you made your choice—you must pay the price."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing! That weak old fool doesn’t deserve to lead us!"

Suddenly, a booming shout rang out like thunder, turning all heads—even Cassius looked over.

A massive, ugly green-skinned orc stepped out. Steel claws gleamed on his hands as he stomped Soro beneath his foot.

Shockingly, it was Garon—Soro’s former elite guard, who had fought in the "Day of Blood."

Staring at his boastful ex-subordinate, Soro tried to rage, but could only whisper, "You damn lowborn orc... I gave you life.

Without me... you wouldn’t even exist."

Garon twirled his steel claws and scoffed, "Old man, didn’t you say the rejects of the old era should be purged?"

"Shlick—"

Before Soro could answer, a blade pierced his flesh. Garon stabbed his steel claw right into Soro’s head!

The elder’s face froze in disbelief—even in death, he couldn’t believe he’d be killed by the very orc he raised.

Garon pulled out the bloody claw. Blood and brain matter splattered. He grinned, "Goodbye, old man."

Then he looked up, pointed at Soro’s corpse, and said with a fawning smile, "Lord Red Dragon, I killed the old man.

We orcs want to follow a true powerhouse—someone like you! From now on, you’re our boss. Just say the word, and we’ll kill whoever you want."

"Yeah! That old guy didn’t deserve to lead us!"

"Boss Cassius!"

"I feel it too—familiar and comforting. Following the Red Dragon boss is the right choice!"

The green-skinned orcs raised by Soro instantly switched sides, shouting their loyalty, while the pureblood orcs turned pale and stayed silent.

To these simple-minded, musclebound green-skins, as long as there’s a fight, they didn’t care who they followed.

And Cassius wasn’t just powerful—he had easily killed Soro and radiated the Father God’s divine aura.

Seeing the moment was right, Garon dropped to his knees and shouted, "Your Majesty Cassius, please accept our loyalty!"

Then, mimicking the imperials, he shouted fervently, "Long live His Majesty Cassius!"

Cassius stared at the turncoat orc and almost laughed—this guy was a real piece of work.

He’d heard of Garon before. In his past life, Garon was one of the "Four Great Disasters" of the orc tide—known for orchestrating mass slaughters, killing tens of thousands of humans. A true nightmare in northern Faenso.

In the past, Cassius might’ve taken him in—made him a valuable pawn.

But now, after suffering so many losses, Cassius was far more cautious.

This orc’s body reeked of the Orc God and the Mother of Fungi—who knew how many traps lurked within. Bringing him into the Empire would be too risky.

If he wanted to harness the divine power of the orc domains, Cassius would rather create a brand-new, loyal draconic race with no hidden dangers.

With that in mind, Cassius looked down coldly at the tens of thousands of orcs on the battlefield. He raised the blood spear in his claw, releasing a wave of blood-red divine light.

"All orcs—hear my command—"

Cassius’s thunderous voice echoed across the heavens and the earth.

"Yes!"

"Boss accepted us?!"

"We’re Empire citizens now!"

Seeing the familiar blood-colored glow, the orcs erupted in excitement, waving spears and bone clubs. Even Garon was thrilled.

But Cassius’s next words chilled them to the bone.

"I grant you—eternal death!"

"Swish—"

In an instant, the blood-red divine light spread, sweeping over ten miles. Every orc touched by the light—green-skin or pureblood—collapsed like harvested wheat.

The moment the light touched them, their eyes dulled, pupils scattered, and they dropped dead, silent and motionless.

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