Ember Dragon

South of the Elbert Mountains and north of the Radiant Mountains lay the vast region traditionally known as the "Agostino Region," once the territory of the ancient Kingdom of Agostino.

This was fertile land, rich in magical elements. Decades ago, Aragon I led his invincible Godborn Legion to annihilate the Kingdom of Agostino, annexing it into Holy Fadlan and renaming it "Thrace."

At the pass of the Elbert Mountains stood a military stronghold of immense strategic importance—Isengard, the "Unsurpassable Steel Fortress."

Two crescent-shaped twin fortresses spanned the canyon. At sunrise, magical barriers shimmered with golden patterns, while the three-mile stretch of cast-iron walls gleamed coldly in the morning mist.

This city formed a natural barrier separating North Aether from Thrace.

Inside, tens of thousands of Thrace’s elite northern troops were stationed, along with several noble Godborn angels serving as military commanders. Its military might could easily destroy a small kingdom.

Upon the walls were Sun God ballistae, Radiant Discs, and Holy Lance defense systems left behind by Holy Fadlan.

It was said that within the indestructible walls slept dozens of Steel Golems and War Colossi from the Fadlan Empire. If the city came under attack, these giants would awaken and annihilate all invaders.

But now, with the Empire’s northern expansion growing increasingly brazen, Isengard’s citizens were growing anxious and uneasy.

In the Kingdom of Thrace’s official propaganda, though the Red Dragon was savage and unstoppable, crushing many nations and enslaving much of the north—

That Red Dragon still feared the wisdom and might of His Majesty Wilhelm, and had long hesitated to head south. They even signed a decades-long peace treaty, assuring Isengard’s residents of their safety.

But people weren’t fools. Observers had long noticed the rising tensions across the continent of Faenso and spotted elite Thrace troops quietly gathering around Isengard—a sure sign of war.

On the cast-iron walls, a cold wind howled.

A messenger climbed the battlements, his voice heavy. "My Lord Count, an urgent dispatch from August—The Ember Empire has declared war on us! Those dragonspawn could arrive at any moment."

"Understood. Send word: mobilize all forces. Prepare for war. No one is to take this lightly!"

At the peak of the tall tower stood a winged Warrior clad in thick, ornate armor, his gaze fixed northward, face grave.

He was Count Hain Diaz, a Godborn noble of the Kingdom of Thrace and military commander of Isengard.

Having been stationed at Isengard for years and fully aware of the northern situation, he had anticipated the Ember Empire’s southern march.

But in his calculations, their invasion would come in a year—maybe three or four. Certainly not now.

Hain’s golden pupils burned with fury. "Those dragonspawn dare act so brazenly... After years of war, they’ve declared war on us without warning!"

Soon, the sound of wings flapping echoed. Another Godborn noble rose into the air and landed atop the tower—Viscount Elliot Evans.

"This is outrageous! Do they think the Kingdom of Thrace is like those tiny nations they’ve crushed with ease?!"

"You’re here, Elliot."

Hain turned and nodded, then snorted coldly. "Though Holy Fadlan has fallen, its glory still lingers! This young, savage Empire has never known Fadlan’s greatness—they ought to show respect."

Elliot agreed. "If not for the war in the south tying up our forces, the Ember Empire would never have gotten this bold! We’d have wiped them out long ago!"

"These dragonspawn are greedy beyond belief, selling us their finest weapons for gold. And they lack the high-end power to rival the Godborn. How could they possibly breach our fortress?"

Hain gave a slight nod but warned, "Still, we must not be careless. If that Red Dragon joins the battle, we may not be able to stop him."

Thinking of that terrifying Red Dragon, Elliot shivered but forced a reply. "As far as I know, that dragon is proud to the extreme and rarely fights personally."

"Let’s hope so."

Hain looked north again, his face grim, like a statue carved from marble.

Deep down, they both knew these words were just to bolster morale. Even they had no guarantee of victory against the Ember Empire’s northern onslaught.

But in today’s Thrace, even hinting at fear would be reported by spies to His Majesty Wilhelm, who, in his paranoia and rage, would brand them cowards and traitors.

"Dong—"

Isengard’s great bell tolled. Its solemn sound echoed through the city, accompanied by the sacred Solar Hymn, waking countless people from sleep.

At their officers’ call, soldiers poured from within Isengard and massed below the towering cast-iron walls, forming mottled rivers of steel.

"The Ember Empire declared war on us?!"

"By Ammanata!"

"Didn’t they just fight the Highland Kingdom?! Are they never drained by war?!"

"They’re lunatics!"

The troops muttered uneasily. Panic, anxiety, and tension spread. They no longer wanted to fight.

In recent years, they had heard too many stories of nations falling to the Ember Empire. In northern Thrace fairy tales, every Empire soldier was a fire-breathing monster.

But under the harsh gaze of their overseers, no one dared speak of retreat or surrender.

Under countless gazes, Hain raised the dazzling Sunlance atop the tower and shouted, his voice echoing through the city: "Loyal warriors, you’ve surely heard the news—the Ember Empire has declared war on us!

They’ve shamelessly torn up the peace treaty and seek to seize our lands, plunder our wealth, and turn our friends and families into slaves of the dragonspawn!"

Hain’s voice was impassioned, but the soldiers remained unmoved, even numb.

Many had been transferred from the southern front, having survived the brutal Triple Emperors’ Battle and watched countless comrades die outside the Holy City. Slogans meant little now.

They often wondered—weren’t we all once Fadlan? Why must we kill each other over a city’s ownership?

"All units, hear me!" Hain bellowed, his voice like a war drum. "Today, there is no retreat. If this city falls, so do all our homes.

So no matter what happens—not one step back! Fight for Thrace, for His Majesty Wilhelm, for the glory of Fadlan!"

"Move!"

"Follow me—now!"

"Get those shells to the north tower—two crates short!"

Under officer orders, soldiers rushed to their posts, inspecting cannons, loading firearms, and hauling ammo crates.

Ironically, many of these weapons were bought from the Ember Empire, bearing the mark [Made in the Empire]—now used to fend off an invasion by their makers.

"Where’s the Sun Sacred Arrows?!"

"Where’s the Arcane Legion? Hurry and charge the Radiant Discs!"

"Too late! Wake the Steel Golems now!"

Thick smoke rose in the valley. Iron-gray clouds loomed above Isengard like a black curtain, shrouding the city.

Atop the battlements, Hain’s expression darkened further. "There shouldn’t be fog in the Elbert Valley at this time."

He growled, "Arcane Legion—dispel the smoke! Show me what’s hiding in there!"

"Yes, my Lord Count."

Cloaked in crimson-gold robes, several mages floated into the air, chanting spells and raising their staffs. Their eyes flashed with brilliance as they summoned violent gales.

"Whoosh—"

Howling winds swept the ground, clearing the smoke—only for the prophecy casters to pale in horror and cry out, "Look out! Incoming shells!"

"Enemy attack!"

A shrill whistle screamed through the sky. The cleared skies revealed a dense net of artillery shells blanketing the heavens, threatening to engulf the entire city.

Hain roared, "Activate the Radiant Discs—"

Mages and clerics chanted, scrambling to activate Isengard’s magical defense systems. But the sharp-nosed shells were too fast, piercing the sky in an instant.

"Boom!"

"Boom! Boom!"

A hundred fireballs erupted along the cast-iron walls. Blinding light and searing flame swept the battlements.

The precision shells seemed to have eyes. In seconds, they destroyed over half the cannons and Sun God Ballistae, killing thousands.

"It hurts!"

"My leg! My leg!"

"Where are the enemy gunners?! I can’t even see them!" Wounded soldiers wailed in despair amid the rubble.

They had no defense—hadn’t even seen the enemy—before being devastated. They died in shock and fear.

—This was a long-prepared ambush. Ember Empire’s spies had mapped the entire city’s defenses, enabling surgical strikes.

Staring at the shattered walls, Hain stood frozen, muttering in disbelief, "How... how can they bombard us from kilometers away?"

His golden eyes burned with fury. "Damn them! Damn those Empire dogs! They sold us defective junk!!"

"Buzz—"

The Radiant Discs spun to life. A massive golden shield bearing Ammanata’s sigil enveloped Isengard.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Hundreds more shells came, but were stopped at the shield’s edge, exploding harmlessly in midair. The shield flickered but held.

In the distance, a low rumble approached like thunder—the ominous sound of steel hooves crushing soil and chariots cracking stone.

Smoke and steam rolled across the land. The very walls quaked as steel beasts rampaged through the valley—armored legions of the Empire.

Cannons blazed from their thick barrels. Armor-piercing rounds slammed the shield, dimming its glow.

"My Lord Count! We’re detecting powerful spatial fluctuations!"

"Teleportation spells!"

"By Ammanata... what is that?!"

Mages shouted. Soldiers looked up in terror as massive tears ripped through the sky.

Airships emerged—enormous vessels in tight formation, blotting out the sun and casting monstrous shadows over Isengard.

Swarms of bipedal wyverns flapped around them, screeching hoarsely.

Then, hundreds of bombs poured from the bellies of those sky-whales, raining destruction upon the city.

Explosions rocked the sky. Fire lit the heavens—divine punishment, doomsday unleashed.

Even Holy Fadlan’s Radiant Discs couldn’t withstand the barrage. Their glow dimmed... then shattered.

"Holy Lances! Take down those whales!" Hain screamed, jabbing his spear at the sky.

Arrays blazed to life. Brilliant golden lights pierced the heavens, ripping into the airships thousands of meters up.

—The Holy Lance defense system of Holy Fadlan drew power from the sun, spearing invaders from above.

Struck airships exploded, becoming massive fireballs, plummeting into the city in catastrophic blasts.

"Tear them apart! For Thrace! For Holy Fadlan!"

Hain took flight, leading his Godborn angel elites to assault the fearsome airships.

"Rooaaar—"

A massive roar echoed overhead. A colossal bipedal wyvern burst from a portal, breathing searing dragonfire—that was Smaug, King of the Lonely Mountain.

One unfortunate Godborn angel was caught unprepared and consumed by the flames, falling like a fireball.

Amid the chaos, hundreds of bipedal wyverns swarmed the angelic warriors like a stormcloud, crashing and clawing.

Wyvern corpses, golden angelic blood, and charred feathers rained down from the sky.

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