Ember Dragon

"Master, a guest from Hell wishes to see you."

With a slight ripple of the Weave, Langpu’s projection appeared before Cassius—still reverent, his voice crisp and precise.

"Another one of those sales-pitch devils? Just send a simulacrum to deal with them. They’re endless." Cassius sounded a bit annoyed.

Ever since defeating Balachiel, invitations from devils had poured in, offering all sorts of flashy olive branches.

Every faction in Hell wanted a powerful Red Dragon backing them—someone to conquer battlefields and rack up glory in brutal blood wars.

But Langpu hesitated before answering, "Master, this guest claims to bring urgent news... and requests your personal audience."

"Who is it?"

That finally caught Cassius’s attention—he had a decent guess.

"The former devil lord," Langpu said cautiously, avoiding the name—such a devil could sense being spoken of and might respond.

Cassius didn’t mind. He shook his head and stretched the wings folded behind him, asking, "Where is he now?"

"In the Black Wyvern Capital. The bipedal wyvern clan’s leader—Marquis Smaug—is hosting him."

"Got it."

With that, Cassius stepped forward. The space before him shattered like glass, revealing a massive void—and the Red Dragon leapt through.

As long as he was within the Ember Empire’s territory, the Red Dragon, empowered by the [Empire Domain], could appear anywhere without restriction.

Wyvern Capital, Lonely Mountain Vault.

Once a dwarven treasury, it was now the palace of "King Under the Mountain," Smaug, who lived there lavishly with over a dozen female wyverns.

But now, the once-mighty wyvern lord cowered in a corner, trembling. His dragon face wore a smile uglier than crying.

A handsome young man with black hair, finely dressed, sat on what should’ve been Smaug’s throne, curiously looking around.

"So this is the dwarven vault beneath Lonely Mountain? Tsk tsk... even I’ve never been in here." He sighed, admiring the stone walls.

Turning his head, he smiled gently at Smaug. "Oh mighty King Under the Mountain, me sitting here—hope that’s not too rude?"

"O-of course not, sir. You’re Master’s honored guest." Feeling Hell’s oppressive aura, Smaug wanted to cry.

The young man looked frail, like a pampered noble abducted by a brutal wyvern—but those black pupils glowed with a chilling gleam.

Peer into those eyes, pierce the illusion—and you’d see a towering, vicious devil lord smirking cruelly, his oppressive presence making Smaug feel like he was in purgatory.

Smaug had thought his legendary strength, gifted by his master’s blood, would let him rule freely across Faenso.

But then divine avatars and devil lords appeared one after another, making this "King Under the Mountain" a pathetic joke.

Suddenly, a stronger pressure descended, almost solid, heating the air. Even the rocky walls turned red hot.

The Weave surged violently. Spatial cracks spread like spiderwebs. A flaming portal opened.

"Lord Bael, with your status, there’s no need to scare my vassals."

Smaug exhaled in relief like finding his backbone, his eyes lighting up. He shouted, "Master! You’re finally here!"

Cassius strode from the portal. At nearly sixty meters long, his massive dragon form made the vault feel cramped.

Bael retracted his mocking smile, stood, and politely said, "Emperor Cassius, surely you jest. As the Ember Empire’s most loyal ally, I would never provoke you.

You’ve been mighty indeed—toppling the Northern Ethel Duchy, destroying the Highland Dwarf Kingdom, and slaying a divine incarnation. Truly admirable."

Cassius sat on the throne and interrupted coldly, "Bael, I’ve had enough of devil flattery lately. Just say what you came for."

"Ah, so that’s it." Bael gave a dry chuckle, his voice turning venomous: "It’s that madwoman. I can feel it—she’s growing stronger. She’s devoured tens of thousands of souls.

Her power now touches the Material Plane. Her apostles walk the earth—especially in Sunrise City. Once that barrier breaks—"

"Auguste will fall into Hell?" Cassius asked.

Bael growled, "Yes. That whole city will become her soul pasture, granting her endless strength."

His voice seethed with hatred, envy, disgust—and deep greed.

Devils craved souls by nature. It was cosmic law. Bael, as a devil lord, even more so.

Devils had no true allies—only eternal interests.

Cassius knew: if Bael still ruled Avernus, he’d ally with Wilhelm in a heartbeat and war against the Empire.

Bael’s voice hissed like a serpent: "Cassius, Zariel is too powerful now. My forces in Hell are losing ground.

Frankly, your ’Soulless Ones,’ though immortal, offer no soul energy at all.

As your ally, I need more souls to fight her—and aid you in return, so..."

"No."

Bael hadn’t even finished when Cassius flatly refused. He already knew where this was going.

The devil wanted the Ember Empire to mimic Thrace—sacrificing citizens’ souls for power and forging a soul-harvesting domain.

But Bael didn’t realize: Cassius sought godhood. Every citizen was a precious resource—his future faith-fuel.

The Empire’s land was even more sacred—a realm solely his. No devil’s pasture.

Seeing Cassius’s firm tone, Bael tried to persuade: "Emperor Cassius, your Empire is vast and populous. All I need—"

He raised a finger carefully. "—is a tiny portion."

To him, chromatic dragons treated people as slaves or tools. He thought Cassius wouldn’t care.

With some sweet talk, surely this Red Dragon Emperor would agree to send thousands of pure souls to Hell.

But who knew—the Red Dragon was so greedy, he viewed every citizen as prized property?

"Bael, let’s not revisit this."

Cassius’s voice was final: "To help you against Zariel, I’ll dispatch thirty thousand elite Starfallers—what your kind calls Soulless Ones—to fight in Hell."

Simple logic: send players as reinforcements. They’d level up while battling Zariel—win-win.

Bael’s handsome face twisted. Cracks formed. Sulfur smoke curled from him.

His black pupils flickered with rage—Hellfire ready to burst out.

"Boom—"

A hellish aura surged, evoking visions of Avernus’s corpse mountains and blood seas.

But Cassius merely sneered. He spread his wings. Dragonfear and [Empire Domain] clashed with Bael’s power, shaking the cave.

Between them, Smaug shivered in a corner, whimpering.

Wasn’t this his lair?

How did it come to this?

Crushed by overwhelming pressure, the wyvern lord began questioning his whole existence.

Bael growled, "Cassius, you’ve gone too far! Any who cooperate with devils must pay—yes, even you. That’s an eternal truth!"

"Typical devil sophistry." Cassius sneered and stepped forward. His Dragonfear devoured Bael’s aura.

Ancestral Dragon might tore Bael’s disguise away, leaving the devil exposed and humiliated.

A winged devil appeared, blazing with Hellfire—not his true body, but a manifestation formed from infernal power.

Cassius stepped closer. "Bael, you misunderstand. In this alliance, the Ember Empire holds absolute authority.

You’re a deposed Hell lord. Without us, you’d cower in Avernus for millennia, hiding from Zariel like a stray dog.

But I have options. Plenty of Hell lords hate Zariel—they’ve all sent offers my way."

The Red Dragon looked down, eyes glinting. "Remember: it was the Empire that chose you, giving you this chance to retake Avernus.

Without Zariel, you’d never be qualified to bargain with me."

Cassius’s words struck like spears—sharp and final.

He wasn’t exaggerating. He truly could ally with other Hell lords—but they posed greater risks.

Better to control a fallen devil like Bael than risk betrayal from a stronger, craftier one.

Hearing this, Bael’s arrogance deflated. His Hellfire receded.

He shrank back into his elegant human form and bowed with a wry smile. "Forgive me, Emperor Cassius. I spoke rashly."

The Dragonfear faded. Cassius smiled. "No need for formality, Bael. I’ve always seen you as a trusted ally.

I know—it was greed and desire clouding your judgment."

"Yes."

The tension dissolved, replaced by warmth. It was like their clash never happened. Smaug stood dumbfounded.

Then Cassius asked, "But... if Zariel is so powerful now, how will you overthrow her—or even kill her?"

Bael grinned slyly. "You don’t know: the day Sunrise City falls into Hell—the so-called ’Fallen Day’—is when Zariel is weakest.

Then, she must focus all her power to maintain the material-Hell link and drag the city into Avernus. That’s when I’ll strike."

Cassius raised a brow. "Aren’t you afraid she’ll finish the ritual in secret?"

"Impossible."

Bael swore, "Wilhelm won’t give up the city unless he’s truly desperate.

And only you, Emperor Cassius, can drive him to that point.

I hope you’ll lead your army against the Thrace Kingdom, sever his last hope—and force him to offer Sunrise City to Hell.

I’ll strike Zariel on ’Fallen Day’ and end her threat to you.

Then you’ll conquer Thrace, I’ll reclaim Avernus—and we’ll both have glorious futures."

The dragon and devil shared a smile—silent understanding between them. Even Smaug was excluded from their private conversation.

But what they truly thought... only they knew.

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