Ember Dragon

In just a few short months of the Ember Empire’s southern invasion, the northern situation of the Faenso continent underwent drastic, shocking changes that left countless people speechless and incredulous.

First, the Northern Ethel Duchy was occupied by the Empire. Then the ancient Highland Dwarf Kingdom, with thousands of years of heritage, was destroyed by the Empire. Finally, even the orcs of the Ugo Great Prairie were slaughtered.

With the Ugo Great Prairie annexed, the Ember Empire now controlled nearly all of Faenso’s north—everything north of the Radiant Mountains—leaving only a few small nations and the Kingdom of Thrace trembling in fear under the Empire’s terrifying might.

In the Empire’s conquests, a divine-blood duke of Fadlan self-detonated, the master of Silver Heaven fell from the skies, and divine incarnations were slain.

Each of these battles shattered the heavens and collapsed the earth, shaking the entire Material Plane, yet every battle had only one victor—the Ember Emperor, Cassius.

Cassius—his name appeared again and again in secret letters exchanged between nations and great powers, in their magical recordings, terrifying kings, nobles, and generals alike.

Of course, Cassius’s name also appeared in newspapers, in bard songs, and in southern parents’ horror stories used to scare their children.

History repeats itself. In the eyes of the Faenso people, that Red Dragon had become a monster of unending cruelty, a tyrant, the slave master of the north.

Propaganda across kingdoms depicted the Red Dragon cruelly enslaving the northern populace, with treacherous half-dragons and kobold overseers lashing humans, forcing them to forge weapons in the cold winds—even half-grown children were conscripted as cannon fodder.

In bardic retellings, the Ember Empire’s conquest became even more grotesque and brutal, tinged with blood and horror.

They claimed that every time those dragon-blooded soldiers conquered a land, they selected a thousand fresh children to be eaten alive and sacrificed their pure souls to the Emperor—supposedly the source of the Red Dragon’s divine resistance.

Others claimed that the reason Empire weapons were so cheap and powerful was that the cruel imperials imprisoned human craftsmen’s souls in the gun barrels—every shot echoing with their agonized wails.

Many righteous voices called for all forces to stop buying Empire weapons, arguing sharply: every rifle purchased was funding the Ember Empire’s atrocities.

But the nations turned a deaf ear. They were trapped in an arms race, scrambling to buy every new upgrade, or risk losing the next war.

The Duchy of Wilson was a small mountain-filled nation near the Blackstone Mountains, often called the "Hill Country."

Seventy years ago, the legendary Dragon-Oath Paladin Seth Wilson pulled the Sword in the Stone and slew a thirty-meter-tall evil giant. He was then made Grand Duke by the Fadlan Emperor, and the city was named Stoneblade City.

But times had changed. That Duke Wilson had long died in war, and the Sword in the Stone was lost.

The duchy sat awkwardly between the Kingdom of Thrace to the south and the looming Ember Empire to the north, at constant risk of being crushed.

Now, in the Duchy of Wilson, cold wind howled through Stoneblade City. Only wind and patrol footsteps echoed through the tightly shut homes.

In a stone house in a remote corner of the city, a middle-aged man and woman sat facing each other, faces filled with fatigue and anxiety. The Empire’s conquest of Northern Ethel and destruction of the Highland Kingdom had long reached them.

Their Duchy of Wilson was now one of the last independent nations in the north.

Rain sighed heavily, his rough thumb rubbing the table over and over. "Irene, how long do you think this kind of life will go on?"

The woman set down her needlework and shook her head. The kerosene lamp lit the wrinkles on her face clearly. "I don’t know. Even the nobles are terrified. They won’t even let us leave the city."

Rain looked out the window, his eyes full of fear. "They say every time the Ember Empire conquers a place, they kill a thousand children. I’m scared."

"Ah!" their daughter screamed as she emerged from the cellar, pale and trembling from malnutrition, nearly fainting.

"Ellie!" The woman stood up anxiously, wrapped the girl in a blanket, and held her tightly with a heartbroken face, scolding, "I told you not to talk about that at home! Ellie heard it again!"

The man looked at his unconscious daughter, face dark. "But... we can’t hide it forever. One day, those brutal imperials will reach this city."

The woman sighed as well. "But what can we do? Thrace has a strong border, and everywhere else is already taken by the Empire."

The man looked out the window, his gaze growing firm, throat moving. "Stoneblade City is a prison now. We have to escape—for Ellie."

Conversations like this happened countless times in Stoneblade City. Citizens were terrified of the Ember Empire and longed to flee south to the Kingdom of Thrace.

On a mountainside north of the city, a luxurious fortress sat heavy under looming storm clouds. It was the ancestral estate of the Wilson family—Castle Seth.

The thick oak door creaked in the wind, the Sword in the Stone emblem on the gilded chair back faded under candlelight. In the hall, current Duke Elai Wilson sat at the end of the long table, chin in hands, face grave.

"Milord, the northern watchtower has lit the beacon..." The guard captain knelt on the rug, his voice interrupted by the pinewood crackle in the fireplace. "Our sentries spotted Ember Empire wyvern knights."

"They’ve come, damn those imperials!" Elai clenched his jaw, but his trembling fingers betrayed his deep fear.

He asked nervously, "What about the Kingdom of Thrace? Didn’t His Majesty Wilhelm promise to send reinforcements?"

The captain shook his head solemnly. "Our envoys were stopped at the border. Milord, I believe King Wilhelm has abandoned us. He doesn’t want to anger the Ember Empire over us."

"H-how could this happen?"

Elai went pale and slumped back in his chair, fingers rubbing his family ring. "His Majesty Wilhelm is the Sun Emperor’s son, a king of divine blood. H-how can he fear a Red Dragon?"

The gray-haired butler beside him sighed and explained, "The Three Great Kingdoms are still at war. If Thrace angers the Empire, they’ll face pressure from both north and south. That shrewd, stingy king won’t take that risk.

Besides, the Ember Emperor—no, that evil Red Dragon—has proven his terrifying might. No one in the Material Realm dares say they can beat him."

Hearing this, Elai was drenched in sweat, nearly collapsing. Weakly, he asked, "Then what should we do?"

The butler hesitated before answering, "Surrender to the Red Dragon. Submit to the Ember Empire. Or..."

The captain finished his sentence darkly, "Fight to the death. Perish with Stoneblade City and the Duchy of Wilson."

"No!" Elai jumped up and turned to the portrait on the wall—his grandfather, founder of the duchy, Seth Wilson.

The painting showed a middle-aged man with a neat mustache, clad in armor and wielding a massive ancient sword. He looked heroic and proud.

But now, the family’s pride—the Sword in the Stone—was missing, and Elai was just a feeble, fallen noble, far from his ancestor’s strength.

Thinking this, Elai gathered his courage and puffed out his chest. "Th-this is my grandfather’s legacy! Our Wilsons were heroes since slaying giants—we can’t bow to a Red Dragon!"

After a long silence, the captain asked in a low voice, "Duke Elai, are you willing to die for your family’s honor?"

Elai wanted to say yes, but visions of claws tearing him apart and flames consuming him made him tremble. The words stuck in his throat.

He mumbled, "Can’t we survive and still protect Stoneblade City?"

The butler sighed bitterly. "Even the angel-bloods of Fadlan couldn’t stop the Empire. What chance do we have? Not even Lord Seth could stand against that Red Dragon."

Both the butler and captain had watched Elai grow up. They knew his nature—weak, cowardly, clinging to face yet afraid of death.

Predictably, Elai snapped in irritation, pointing outside. "Is the Red Dragon really that terrifying? We’re the Wilson family!"

"Swish—"

Suddenly, a fierce gust blew the heavy oak doors open. Chandeliers swayed and clinked. Glass cups on the table fell and shattered.

Elai, moments ago furious, collapsed to the floor in terror, hiding behind the captain.

"Greetings, everyone—"

A thunderous voice echoed over Stoneblade City, shaking souls with its mere sound.

Elai carefully peeked through the door crack. The sky had darkened.

"By Ammanata... is that the Ember Emperor?"

The duke turned pale, slumped to the ground. Whatever will he had crumbled into pure fear.

In seconds, his eyes rolled back. He fainted and wet himself.

A colossal Red Dragon loomed in the sky, larger than mountains. His wings blotted out the sun, casting the entire city in shadow.

"Oh gods..."

"That’s the Ember Emperor! He’s here!"

"Damn it—he’ll burn the whole city! How can a dragon be that big?!"

Panic and screams filled the city. Wilson soldiers couldn’t restore order—they too were paralyzed with fear.

What kind of dragon was this?

Until now, they’d never imagined a dragon so large its wings could cover a whole city!

And that gaping maw that could swallow the tallest tower—how many people could it devour? What horrors could its flames unleash?

The tale of the Red Dragon eating a thousand children—might be true.

Rain and Irene held each other tightly, shielding their trembling daughter Ellie. "Don’t be afraid, Ellie," he whispered, voice shaking. "We won’t let that monster take you. Never."

From above, the Red Dragon coldly gazed at the people. His golden slit pupils were icy. He flapped his wings and began to speak.

"You should recognize me. I am the Emperor of the Ember Empire, Lord of the Anzeta Wasteland, Northern Ethel Plains, and Ugo Prairie—Sovereign of Faenso’s North.

Today, I’ve come to inform you—this land beneath your feet will be annexed into the Ember Empire. And you—you will become proud imperial citizens."

And not just in Stoneblade City. Across the north, over a dozen small nations and hundreds of cities saw the Red Dragon and received the same ’final ultimatum.’

And this wasn’t an empty threat. The Empire’s Crimson Scaled Conquerors and Wyvern Legions had mobilized, swarming north to crush any who resisted.

"Duke, are you alright?"

The captain stepped forward in concern.

Elai groggily opened his eyes. The terrifying image that had knocked him out still haunted him.

He instinctively grabbed the captain’s leg, wailing, "Don’t let that Red Dragon near me! He’s a monster!"

The captain twitched his mouth. "Milord, the Ember Emperor has already left. He gave us a final ultimatum—unconditional surrender. What say you?"

"Surrender! I surrender! That monster is too terrifying—no mortal can defeat him!" Elai cried.

"Yes, milord."

The butler, remembering the old duke’s valor, sighed at this pathetic heir—but also felt a trace of relief.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!