novelraw Chapter 505: Crimson Star Descends with Zero Casualties, Captures King Theo in One Minute
Chapter 505: Crimson Star Descends with Zero Casualties, Captures King Theo in One Minute
This winter did not last long.
In less than a month, spring arrived quietly.
The early spring wind still carried a slight chill, but the earth had already awakened, subtly unfurling the life that had lain dormant all winter. Grass shoots pushed through the soil, and even in rock crevices tenacious wildflowers forced their way out, pale yellows and soft purples, dotted like stars.
Whoosh!
Without warning, a wave of blazing flame tore through the scene.
Scorching air instantly swallowed that newly sprouted life; the fragile flowers did not even have time to sway before they, along with surrounding blades of grass and moss, were consumed into streams of blue smoke and drifting ash.
Centered on the Red Iron Dragon, a roaring conflagration surged, forming an immense sphere of searing heat.
The air warped and shimmered under the temperature, the ground turning a molten crimson. After more than half an hour of continuous burning, the flames that had painted half the sky red slowly drew inward and dissipated, revealing the majestic, rugged dark-red figure within.
Garoth lowered his head and watched the sparse embers drifting over the scorched earth.
A sulfur-scented hot breath hissed from his nostrils as he slightly shook his dragon head.Garoth’s progress with Domains had not been ideal.
Take this Flame Domain for example. As his life level rose and he trained day after day to adapt, the domain’s intensity and heat did grow, and it could to some degree blunt the effects of magical attacks.
But it was still far from the result Garoth had expected.
“The Domain— it was born because I stepped into Legendary ranks.”
The Red Iron Dragon held his head high, lost in thought.
“But I always feel as if it’s also the world’s rules acknowledging, or perhaps gifting, a Legendary life. It’s not completely, one hundred percent, originating from me alone. It doesn’t solely belong to me.”
That conclusion came from his own clear perception and cognition.
The Domain’s evolution was too slow, so slow that he could not sense changes distinctly.
All along, the Domain had been a relatively weak link for Garoth, lagging behind the rapid gains in his physical power, spell resistance, and so on.
And it wasn’t just him.
From the Dragon Legacy records and conversations with other great dragons, for the vast majority of dragons, Domains were not the primary crutch—far less important than their natural bodies and the various traits that awakened as they grew.
“Perhaps my expectations for Domains were always too high.”
Garoth flicked his tail and pondered.
“Trying to master everything at once is the ideal, but in reality, resources, time, and energy are limited.”
“I must make choices.”
“I should prioritize digging into my innate talents, then temper powers tied to my traits. The Domain’s priority… should be lowered for now.”
Choosing the correct direction to exert effort mattered far more than blindly grinding away.
He did not intend to abandon exploring Domains entirely, only to reduce its weight in his cultivation plan—investing less time and energy and shifting focus to areas with greater growth potential.
Of course, that was his present strategy.
If someday he discovered the root cause of the Domain’s slow evolution, or encountered a special opportunity that could trigger a qualitative leap in the Domain, or if growth in other aspects hit an unbreachable limit, he would raise the Domain’s priority again.
Gurgle……
A deep, resonant rumble rose from his belly; a strong emptiness was born from within.
Prolonged high-intensity training consumed astonishing amounts.
Garoth paused his thoughts and pulled from a storage item piled high with meat.
These were pre-processed, magic-energy-rich cuts: high-grade magical beast legs and ribs, each piece enormous.
He opened his maw and began to eat, mixing in viscous black oil like tar and several magic gems that shimmered with elemental light.
His hard teeth easily crushed bone and gems, swallowing the mix of meat and liquids.
Only after devouring tons of food did the earlier hunger slowly ebb.
After gorging, Garoth did not rest; he began to hammer his basic attributes, aiming to convert the ingested energy into tangible growth as quickly as possible.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Dull, thunderous impacts echoed through the mountains.
Seven days passed in the blink of an eye.
Garoth had just finished a round of physique training, still a bit unsatisfied, planning to adjust briefly before starting another phase of training.
At that moment the emptiness in his stomach struck again.
He froze; the fine scales on his brow creased slightly.
“In the past, one such meal could sustain me through two to three rounds of high-intensity attribute training.”
The Red Iron Dragon raised a foreclaw and examined the metallic sheen on his talons, thinking: “Has my training intensity increased, or has my body’s rate of consumption accelerated?”
Legendary beings can inhale and exhale elemental energy, recovering part of their costs through breath.
But that is not enough, especially after intense battles or training, when vast high-energy resources are needed to make up deficits and maintain demands.
For a giant dragon like Garoth, those regular means are a drop in the ocean.
Given his physique and daily training intensity, his resource consumption was terrifying, far exceeding any dragon of the same rank.
He had not yet fully entered mature prime after two hundred years, but the amount of rare resources he’d consumed likely surpassed many Ancient Dragons who had lived a thousand years.
Just the black oil he drank reached astronomical sums beyond ordinary imagination.
This was the fundamental reason he had to build a kingdom.
“My body is simply too powerful now.”
Feeling the might and hollowness within, Garoth realized a problem.
“Black oil crystals, high-grade beast meat, magic gems… these once provided sufficient satiety and energy. Now, they seem insufficient.”
“Maybe only the flesh of Legendary creatures can keep me sated for long periods.”
“But that’s unrealistic.”
“I cannot feast on Legendaries every meal.”
Moreover, the problem ran deeper.
As he grew stronger, his resource needs would only increase; the top-tier resources in this world were limited, and obtaining more would inevitably spark conflict with other powers.
More importantly…
“This is not fundamentally a quantity issue.”
“My body’s absorption and conversion efficiency can’t keep up with certain parts’ consumption speeds—especially those parts that have undergone targeted evolution.”
“My body is a whole, but evolution has not progressed uniformly.”
“Some parts, under focused training, leap forward and become extremely robust; other parts, although strengthened by association, improve much less. Over time, my overall level rises, but some internal systems’ relative strengths lag behind…”
“My digestion and energy conversion systems have now become my weak point.”
He had grasped the crux.
Next came finding solutions.
“At present there are two clear paths to strengthen.”
Garoth walked slowly to a mountain spring, lowering his head to drink while thinking.
One was to increase the efficiency of absorbing free ambient energy.
Focus evolution on the lungs, with the goal that in the future breathing alone could meet most daily consumption.
Two was to improve the conversion rate of ingested matter.
Focus evolution on the entire digestive system so the same resources could yield far more energy.
Garoth quickly sorted his plan.
He did not intend to treat it as an either-or question.
Given his already terrifying consumption and the almost certain growth trend, both directions were crucial—both should be pursued.
How to specifically train lungs or intestinal systems, guiding them to evolve directionally as desired, would require careful study and practice.
He paused conventional strength training and resumed eating.
This time he ate exceptionally slowly, chewing each bite thoroughly.
Meanwhile, brilliant light sparked in his eyes as he used his True Eye to penetrate his scales, muscles, and fascia, observing in minute detail the peristaltic motions from esophagus to stomach sac to intestines, feeling digestive secretions, food decomposition, and the whole process of energy extraction and transport.
He spent two full days and nights this way, chewing and swallowing deliberately.
On the third morning, Garoth changed his approach.
Clinging to a steep rock face, he pried off chunks of hard, gray-white rock with his claws and put them into his mouth, grinding with dragon teeth capable of crushing steel.
Crack, crunch……
Coarse stone powder mixed with saliva and was swallowed.
He concentrated fully, feeling how his stomach and intestines responded to this fare.
“In the end I still came to this… eating earth.”
A thought flashed through his mind.
By incomplete internal statistics among dragonkind, more than ninety percent of Five-colored Dragons, when losing elders’ protection and surviving harsh juvenile periods or facing resource shortages, had eaten soil.
Not because they liked it, nor solely out of desperation.
It is also an extreme manifestation of dragons’ tough constitutions.
Even the poorest soil and rock can yield a trace of weak energy and minerals to a dragon’s digestive system, keeping it from starving outright, though growth is slowed and malnutrition results.
Not only soil—bark, roots, even massive drinking could sustain dragons in dire straits.
Many intelligent species had wondered why evil dragons, born into harsh early lives, could occasionally spawn powerful individuals and not see their populations collapse.
Beyond the faint shadow of divine protection that made mass slaughter unpalatable, the most fundamental reason was dragons’ rugged bodies, which granted extraordinarily tenacious survivability.
“A giant dragon’s digestive system is already mighty; in my case it was further strengthened by overall evolution.”
“Only that other aspects advanced so rapidly that this relatively mundane digestive system gradually proved inadequate.”
Garoth then yanked up a thick iron-spruce growing in a rock crevice, roots and leaves together, and stuffed it into his mouth.
In the past two days he had tried nearly everything he could find nearby—rock, soil, various trees and herbs—shoving them into his mouth solely to observe each detail of how his gut functioned, searching for ways to fortify and evolve it.
Just as he swallowed a mouthful of soil mixed with crushed rock, savoring the subtle differences, a small green speck appeared on the distant horizon and rapidly grew, accompanied by the sound of wing membranes slicing wind.
A full-grown adult Green Dragon was folding its wings and lowering altitude, gliding toward the mountain where Garoth perched.
He wore emerald scales, with a lithe, balanced frame; his muscle lines flowed yet still exuded strength. A rather long tail swept gently, and a fresh, concentrated aura of natural life radiated from his whole being.
The Green Dragon, Ludwig.
He had followed Garoth since the Clan of Molten Iron days, one of the old elders who had once stood beside Garoth.
Besides jointly overseeing major Dragon-Forge Modification rituals with the Black Dragon Seraphina, Ludwig’s quick mind and meticulous handling of affairs also made him useful in dealing with the kingdom’s external matters, especially those related to the Theo Kingdom.
Normally he reported to Iron Dragon Sorog and handled routine matters through him.
Since Sorog had gone to the Vophal Dragon Domain and not yet returned, and because this matter was important, Ludwig chose to meet the Emperor directly.
The Green Dragon landed on a rock platform lower than Garoth’s position and respectfully bowed his head.
“Your Majesty, I have a major matter I need to report to you in person.”
Garoth lowered his eyes and asked, “A breakthrough in the Dragon-Forge rituals, or news from Theo?”
“It’s Theo, Your Majesty,” Ludwig replied. “Recently, Theo raised tariffs on our exported goods by ten percent. Additionally, they have set up non-tariff barriers and quietly supported domestic competitors, suppressing our exports of various ores, magical beast materials, and some finished goods.”
Garoth’s pupils narrowed into vertical slits.
“I recall the Norton Treaty clearly stipulates bilateral trade terms.”
His voice rumbled calm and measured. “Tariff ceilings are set at five percent, and Theo may not use administrative or legal means to restrict or obstruct the normal circulation and fair competition of Aola’s goods.”
That treaty was not an empty document.
It had been established under the watch of the God of Justice as a powerful magical contract.
Any party violating it would suffer contract backlash.
Natural disasters, national decline, royal bloodlines struck by misfortune, dramatically increased difficulty in breaking into Legendary ranks… the price would be heavy.
“To violate it even at such cost…”
Garoth weighed matters rapidly. “Either the Theo royal house has gone mad, gambling everything; or… they have gained some powerful support or promise, confident they can offset or at least bear the consequences.”
The latter seemed highly likely.
Theo had just signed that so-called New Federation Pact with Lothrian, and that might be the confidence that makes them test Aola’s bottom line and stand tall.
“Your Majesty.”
Ludwig lifted his head, a cold light flashing in his eyes. “Perhaps we have been quiet for too long, long enough for some in Theo to develop illusions—forgetting their place and the pain of the past.”
“It’s time to make them recall. And to make that memory… cut bone-deep.”
As he finished speaking, hurried footsteps and leaps sounded on the mountain path below.
A blue figure moved like a gale across the jagged rocks, quickly approaching.
It was a massive wolf-like creature, but beneath its fur one could see dense black scales; its claws and fangs were especially stout and sharp, the forepaws muscular and bird-of-prey-like.
A dragon-vein werewolf, Russell.
After decades of dedicated development and Garoth’s resource support, this follower—once not the most gifted—had raised his life level to twenty, still short of Legendary but not far. Once he broke through, the chance he would awaken the Beneath the Dragon Throne trait was high.
Stopping on a patch of ground beneath the Red Iron Dragon, a pale cyan light flashed and the giant wolf shifted, standing upright into a werewolf.
Tall and burly, wolf head on a human-like body, covered with bluish-black fur and fine scales, claws and fangs sharp.
“Your Majesty, urgent intelligence.”
Garoth adjusted his coiled posture slightly and turned his massive head down. “Also regarding Theo?”
Russell, surprised, glanced at the Green Dragon and understood instantly.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Our observers inside Theo confirm the royal house and several great nobles are concentrating rare resources, regardless of cost, to cultivate and support several quasi-Legendary strongmen, attempting to produce new Legendaries in a short time.”
“This seriously violates the Norton Treaty’s armament restrictions.”
Garoth listened quietly, then slowly lifted his head.
He opened his huge maw and unleashed a thunderous, earth-shaking laugh; the sound waves made nearby rocks fall and trees shudder.
After a few seconds, the laughter ceased abruptly.
His face snapped back to cold hardness, without a trace of emotion.
“Issue an official diplomatic announcement.”
“Severely condemn Theo Kingdom’s breach of the Norton Treaty and make clear: if they continue to act unilaterally, they will bear all consequences.”
Just like that?
Ludwig and Russell were a little taken aback.
From their understanding of the Red Emperor’s style, a more ferocious reaction might have seemed more fitting.
But they knew Garoth’s wisdom ran deeper than surface displays. If he made that decision, there was profound intent behind it.
They suppressed their questions and responded in unison, “As you command, Your Majesty.”
They bowed and withdrew to carry out orders.
“Trade privileges, armament limits, and their bypassing us to privately sign with Lothrian…”
Garoth beat his wings and rose to the highest nearby peak, gazing south as if his sight pierced thousands of mountains and rivers.
“Besides the territorial concessions and reparations already paid, Theo has probed nearly every core clause of the Norton Treaty. It won’t be long before they even challenge the sovereignty of those two provinces.”
Theo’s current violations, taken piece by piece, did limited practical damage to Aola.
But they were an extremely dangerous signal—an attempt, with Lothrian’s backing, to probe and challenge Aola.
They could not, and would not, be ignored.
New Calendar year 417, spring.
Aola issued a strongly worded diplomatic announcement through official channels, formally condemning Theo’s breach of the Norton Treaty and demanding an immediate halt to all violations, warning of unpredictable and severe consequences otherwise.
Not long after the announcement, before Theo could respond, the Lothrian Kingdom moved first.
They issued a statement saying that under the current theme of peace and development, historical issues between the Twin Aola could be resolved through “friendly, equal, and fair renegotiation.”
Lothrian and the New Federation member states offered to serve as “impartial witnesses” to such negotiations.
These statements caused notable ripples among the plains nations; many powers watched to see how the long-silent Red Emperor would respond.
However, beyond that condemnation, Aola took no further action.
They showed no interest in negotiation and did not muster armies to the border, as if the condemnation were a paper tiger.
Some observers drew conclusions.
Many felt Aola had been forced into this posture by the overwhelming pressure from Lothrian and the New Federation.
Spring thickened.
A month slipped by seemingly peaceful at the surface.
In Aola’s northern mountains, deep in the ranges.
The Red Iron Dragon lay on a vast exposed rock, eyes closed.
His chest heaved violently with every breath like a hurricane rolling inward; the surrounding airflow roiled. Each exhale spewed scorching breath riddled with sparks and sulfur.
His heavy breathing was an unending, muffled thunder.
Garoth was meticulously feeling his respiratory system.
While he focused, two tiny black dots suddenly appeared on the distant horizon and grew at astonishing speed.
Swoosh! Swoosh!
Two silhouettes plummeted from the cloud line like meteors, carrying overwhelming force. At the last instant before reaching the peak they traced two perfect arcs and drastically slowed, landing steadily on the ground before Garoth.
As dust settled, two colossal beings came into view.
On the left was an Iron Dragon over thirty meters long.
His body was covered in lustrous black scales like refined steel—thick, hard-edged plates tightly fitted, forming seemingly indestructible armor.
Beneath the scales were massive muscles bristling with explosive power.
Even standing still he radiated oppressive gravity like a mountain.
The Iron Dragon: Sorog Igneous.
On the right was a Red Dragon even larger than the Iron Dragon.
Every limb, neck, and tail bulged with sinew and force far surpassing ordinary red dragons’ brawn.
Her scales were vivid scarlet like cooled magma or the most brilliant rubies, gleaming under sunlight. When she unfurled her huge wings, the membranes showed dark-red, burning veins. Her majestic horns curved back; sharp fangs protruded beyond her lips and interlocked even when her mouth was closed, adding ferocity.
Samantha Igneous.
Both exuded steady, tremendous Legendary pressure.
Like mountains and tides.
“Haha! Garoth, my dear brother, I’m back! I’m a Legendary Dragon now too!”
Red Dragon Samantha raised her long neck and roared with pride.
Iron Dragon Sorog was more composed; he stepped forward with lowered head. “The Vophal Domain trip was very fruitful. Those Metal Dragons do have skill. Our Legendary states are consolidated; we fully grasp our power.”
On the opposite rock, Garoth had opened his eyes.
He scanned his kin to confirm they had achieved Legendary status, satisfaction briefly shining in his gaze.
“Good. Only Legendary bodies can stand at the forefront when the coming storm arrives and seize their fate.”
He didn’t immediately ask for the Vophal Domain details—those could be discussed later.
Now a more pressing matter demanded attention.
“You must have heard Theo’s recent moves on your return?”
Garoth went straight to the point.
Sorog’s eyes flashed coldly as he answered in a low voice, “We heard. They violated the Norton Treaty and overstepped…”
“It seems Lothrian’s pact has given them unrealistic courage and delusions that having a backer means they can ignore dragon wrath. The opportunists on the Romanian Plains probably think with Lothrian’s coalition they can pressure us into silence.”
Samantha let out a low, hot nasal hiss; a small flame flickered at the corner of her mouth.
“Negotiation? That’s for the weak seeking a breather—a toy used only when you cannot utterly crush your enemy!”
“As for deterrence… hm, for those already reckless and arrogant fools, mere words are nearly meaningless!”
“They remember Lothrian’s promises and the so-called alliance but have long forgotten the terror of trembling under dragons’ shadows and wailing in dragonfire! Brother, it’s time to make them remember! With the hottest flames and boiling blood!”
Her tail thumped the ground in excitement, cracking stone.
Under his kin’s fierce gazes, the Red Iron Dragon lifted his head and looked south once more.
“Since they choose to test the bottom line by breaching the treaty and rely on that pact as courage, then we will respond in the only way they truly understand.”
Sorog and Samantha instinctively spread their wings, martial intent blazing in their eyes as Legendary might unfurled.
Sorog asked in a steady voice, “You mean…?”
Garoth rose from his resting pose, wings fully opened, casting a vast shadow.
“I have been silent for long enough to give some the illusion that they can provoke dragon might.”
“It is time… to make the whole Romanian Plains, all intelligent beings, remember the name of the Red Emperor.”
He paused, his tone shifting from calm to exalted.
“And let us ignite this inevitable blaze with our own hands, so that it burns strongly and according to our will.”
New Calendar 417, late spring.
Silverglow City, Royal Court Hall.
Great chandeliers scattered light into every corner, reflecting the king seated on the throne and rows of courtiers onto the mirror-polished marble floor.
The young king, Tolfen Chapman, sat with a composed back on his high throne.
He wore a simple yet refined white-gold crown and royal robes embroidered with the Chapman sigil, his gaze dark but excited.
Over ten years earlier, his father—the aging king who had been broken by the Twin Aola war and the humiliation of the Norton Treaty—had died on his sickbed, passing the heavy burden to him.
Human kings, supported by royal resources, even if they do not ascend to Legendary, often live to around two hundred years.
Tolfen was young and had not ruled long.
But from the end of his father’s reign to his own succession, the Theo royal house and the upper nobility had been shrouded in humiliation and dark clouds.
Ceding two wealthy provinces, astronomical war reparations, severely limited arms development, granting trade privileges to Aola…
Each was like a hot iron brand seared into Theo’s body, leaving deep scars.
Now, at last, a turning point had appeared.
“Your Majesty, the New Federation Pact with Lothrian has completed all exchanges of documents and magical seals as of last month, and is now in effect.”
An austere Minister of Foreign Affairs reported with excitement.
“Lothrian’s knight detachment has already arrived in our southern city and was warmly welcomed by the populace.”
“Material aid, alchemical technology sharing, and necessary military advisors stipulated in the agreement will be delivered over the next three months.”
Murmurs rippled in the hall and many nobles showed uplifted expressions.
“Your Majesty,” a younger noble stepped forward, eager. “This means Theo is no longer isolated! Lothrian—the acknowledged strongest state on the Romanian Plains—will be our steadfast and reliable backing!”
“The past gloom will be driven away by new sunlight!”
Tolfen tapped the arm of his throne lightly and scanned the faces below.
His gaze finally fixed on one elder, brows furrowed and silent.
Grand Duke Lawrence, an old statesman who had seen the entire Twin Aola war and fought desperately in the post-defeat negotiations, was among the few ministers who truly grasped that war’s cruelty and the kingdom’s plight.
Before his death, the former king had grasped Tolfen’s hand and urged him: when state matters are uncertain, first consult Grand Duke Lawrence.
“Grand Duke,” Tolfen said, “you seem… troubled?”
Lawrence rose slowly.
His posture had bent with age and the duke’s attire hung a bit loose, but his eyes remained sharp.
He bowed to the throne then straightened.
“Your Majesty, I do not oppose our kingdom seeking renewal and self-strengthening. I welcome help from a capable state.”
“Lothrian’s aid, if used wisely, could indeed strengthen our power.”
Then his tone turned grave. “But… breach of treaty is no light matter.”
“The Norton Treaty was signed under divine witness. You know the cost of violating it. Even with Lothrian’s tacit approval and support, the consequences should not be underestimated.”
“And the one we must truly fear is not the human monarchs who follow rules but Garoth Ignas—the Red Emperor.”
Mentioning the Red Emperor brought a hush.
The old duke continued, “Do you think an alliance with Lothrian can sway or restrain that Emperor’s decisions? I doubt it deeply.”
“That is a dragon. We once paid dearly to anger him—terrible cost, blood and broken lands.”
“I ask Your Majesty to think twice and act… more tactfully.”
“Leave room for maneuver and avoid pushing the situation to irreversible extremes.”
Some younger nobles scoffed inwardly; several elder ministers who had lived through that era looked conflicted and silent.
Tolfen’s eyelids twitched.
That tone—reminding him and his nation how pitiably they had crouched under a dragon’s shadow—was all he had endured and hated.
He had enough!
As king he should bask in sunlight and prosperity, not feel invisible shackles and constant whispers of royal weakness, not feel profound humiliation daily.
Now he had Lothrian, the dominant power on the Romanian Plains, and the New Federation as allies.
Why should he keep bowing and swallowing insults before that wretched dragon?
The king inhaled and forced calm.
“Grand Duke Lawrence’s caution and loyalty to the realm I deeply respect and appreciate.”
“But times change!”
His gaze sharpened. “Shall Theo live forever under the past’s shadow, always under that dragon’s nose, giving and taking at will? No! Never!”
“Lothrian has risen from fire and is strong, with powerful military might; they are unquestioned as the leading state on the plains. The New Federation is structurally solid enough to balance Aola’s threat.”
“Violation requires a price, yes, but this kingdom rebuilding its dignity is worth that price!”
“Look at Aola’s reaction! They’ve issued a hollow denunciation—what substantive action? None! That shows their hesitation, or rather, their fear of Lothrian and our new alliance!”
“We should advance step by step under the pact’s protection and engage Aola in a prolonged negotiation.”
“With Lothrian mediating and allies voicing support, the situation will tilt toward our aims.”
“A realm largely composed of monsters—how can they win at a negotiating table with us?”
His words kindled many hearts.
Why should they forever tremble?
They had allies and backing—time to reclaim dignity and interests!
Grand Duke Lawrence looked at the king’s youthful face and bowed his head, retreating to the line.
He knew some arguments now were futile.
As the older generation faded, and when the present king and most young nobles had forgotten just how terrifying Aola truly was, the lure of Lothrian’s promises and the desire to change their situation clouded judgment.
The hall’s mood warmed and talk turned to using the pact and maximizing gains in negotiation, as though dawn of victory was near.
Yet before Tolfen’s confident speech settled, while optimism still hummed in the hall—
Bang!
A guard in royal gendarme armor burst in, pale and stumbling.
His helmet askew, breathing ragged, he nearly collapsed on one knee midway to the throne, voice a frantic staccato.
“Your—Your Majesty! Emergency military report!”
“The northern border! Over Eisen Province… a dragon has appeared! Three Legendary Dragons!!!”
In an instant, ministers’ expressions froze.
Their confidence, composure, and deliberation melted into stunned bewilderment then rapidly into rising suspicion.
Eisen Province—one of the two provinces ceded under the Norton Treaty, on Aola’s southwest border adjoining Theo.
Dragons appearing there weren’t unheard of, but three Legendary Dragons simultaneously over the border…
This was extraordinary.
At the same time—
Eisen Province, Aola’s southwest border.
Once Theo’s granary, the province had been part of Aola’s map for decades.
The sky had been clear with drifting clouds.
But now the heavens changed.
Heavy leaden gray clouds converged, pressing low and blocking light.
Beneath the clouds, three enormous silhouettes hovered.
They circled slowly. Each massive wingbeat rolled like distant thunder and churned the clouds below.
Three Legendary Dragons.
Iron Dragon, Red Dragon, White Dragon.
They did not roar—only existed there, circling, casting their gaze beyond the border.
At the nearest Theo province, several Legendaries mobilized upon receiving word and arrived quickly.
They stood ready, faces pale with gravity.
Even without the most fearsome Red Emperor present, three Legendary Dragons here made Aola’s terror grow in the minds of men.
Time crept under the dark clouds.
Yet the dragons merely circled; they gave no sign of mustering armies to wage war on Theo.
Back at Silverglow City, Royal Court Hall.
After the initial shock, Tolfen slowly regained composure.
“See! I told you!”
“They obviously don’t dare launch an outright invasion, start a full-scale war! They only send a few dragons to the border to circle and intimidate us, trying to frighten us into disorder.”
His words soothed some anxious ministers’ faces.
“This proves their hesitation and fear!”
“If we overreact by mustering troops to the border or showing panic, we play right into their provocation and appear weak.”
“Contact Lothrian’s envoys—have them pressure Aola immediately.”
Last time Theo picked the wrong side and followed Reebos into disaster.
This time Theo had firmly chosen Lothrian.
For this choice Tolfen felt vindicated.
Because Lothrian was so strong, Aola, despite displeasure, would only perform hollow shows of force and not dare risk full-scale attacks.
However, less than half an hour after his remarks, the unexpected happened.
Runes carved into the dome and walls of the court began to violently fluctuate without warning; countless lights swirled and manifested the sky above the court.
The image blurred at first, then snapped clear, locking on a blue firmament.
A meteorite—small at first—plummeted straight down from the highest heavens.
It rapidly grew, its luminous tail thickening and brightening like a burning spear hurled by a god.
And its target was unmistakable.
Directly toward the Royal Court!
“What… what is that?!”
A minister cried out.
In brief silence, the court’s mages turned pale.
“Enemy strike! A dragon! The Red Emperor!!!”
“Activate the Silverglow Array! Quickly! Raise the palace’s iron-wall protective array now!!”
Not only one noticed the incoming meteor.
Theo’s reaction was not slow.
The entire city trembled as embedded street and building runes lit in sequence; surging energy poured forth and swiftly converged above the city.
A giant silver-gleaming magic barrier like an inverted bowl rose and enveloped Silverglow City.
Almost simultaneously, the Royal Court complex flared bright and a second, more compact layer of shield, its surface mapped with dense heraldic runes, rose from the ground to wrap the palace itself.
Tolfen leapt from his throne, eyes fixed on the dome projection.
He went pale as he finally saw clearly—the meteor was not a stone but a monstrously majestic, savage creature!
Dark-red near-black scales burned in frictional flames; jagged horns pierced the blaze. Even through the magical image, its vertical-pupil eyes seemed studded with stars, coldly locking onto this place and him.
“No… impossible… how dare he…”
The king murmured.
Before he finished, the next moment’s tremendous roar drowned him out.
Rumble!!!
The projection shuddered violently; blinding white light and rolling dust filled the image.
Everyone felt a tremor underfoot as if the palace itself had risen.
The Silverglow Array—an ancient capital formation reputed to withstand a Crowned Legendary’s full-strength assault—emitted an anguished cry under the impact of the crimson meteor.
Countless runes blinked and exploded in rapid succession.
Silver-white light flakes rained down like a storm. Inscribed buildings crumbled; bricks and tiles were hurled by the shockwave, causing panic and secondary destruction in the streets.
The blazing, hellish star showed almost no loss of speed.
With the momentum that shattered the first defense, it smashed into the palace’s second shield.
The brilliance at that moment rivaled the sun; shield phantoms layered and tried to resist.
All was in vain.
After only a few breaths, the barrier phantoms collapsed inward like brittle eggshells, cracking and shattering into splinters.
Boom!!!
This impact was even more thunderous.
The palace dome was violently blown open, beams splintered, frescoes shattered, magical crystals burst—hot air and debris tumbled down into the main hall.
Dust churned; stone fragments fell like rain.
When the roiling smoke thinned, the courtiers and Tolfen—protected only barely by the guards—saw the disaster before them.
A huge crater replaced the dome and part of the floor; shattered stone and molten metal hissed and smoked.
At the crater’s center, a massive, imposing Red Iron Dragon was slowly refolding wings that had blotted out the sky.
He was even more awe-inspiring and despairing than any painting or legend.
His robust limbs stood firm on broken ground; his long tail coiled, snapping nearby columns and the throne podium to rubble.
He lowered his head slightly, vertical pupils surveying the tiny human forms around him.
Time felt frozen.
Screams choked back as instinct to flee was crushed by the immense dragon might.
Tolfen stared up at the Red Iron Dragon in stunned silence, crown askew.
The Red Emperor’s gaze fixed on the crown-wearing human and he simply raised a dragon claw.
“Protect the king!”
Two figures flashed almost at once—one ringed by tangible-looking cyan wind blades, the other gripping a massive warhammer formed purely of holy light.
These were Theo’s hidden royal trump cards, two Legendary guardians long concealed as palace protectors.
Wind blades sliced the air; the holy hammer carried purifying might as they lunged at the Red Iron Dragon’s neck and flank, attempting a diversion to rescue the king.
Garoth merely tilted his head and coldly glanced at the two Legendary humans.
Boom! Boom!
Black-red flame exploded into being, blasting the incoming forms violently away.
In that brief instant Garoth’s dragon paw reached out.
With a simple grab, the magic trinkets on the king burst into light and shattered one after another; a space item barely activated but could not resist becoming frozen solid in the dragon’s grip.
Garoth pinched the Theo king within his claw like a trifling insect.
This entire sequence—descending before all Theo’s gaze, breaching two layers of defense, intimidating retreating foes, and capturing the king—took no more than a few dozen breaths.
So fast that meaningful reaction was impossible, like an absurd and horrific nightmare.
A king, in his own capital and deepest royal hall, became prey in a dragon’s claw.
The two Legendaries who tried to rescue him were driven back with another glance from the dragon.
Then the Red Emperor raised his head and surveyed the devastated hall and the pale, collapsed courtiers.
“Heh.”
He gave a low, sardonic laugh and left no more words. His wings beat mightily.
A hurricane swept the hall; the crimson silhouette shot upward through the breach he had made, still clutching the Theo king, becoming a streaking meteor in the sky and disappearing toward the northern horizon.
New Calendar 417, April 15.
On that day, the long-silent Red Emperor descended like a catastrophe, striking Theo’s capital with a single dragon’s might. In under a minute he seized their king alive, completing a raid that stunned the nations.
On that day, Theo’s backbone was utterly broken.
On that day, the fragile peace between nations was torn wide.
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