Ember Dragon

Chapter 617: Chapter 617: The Prelude to War

Chapter 617: The Prelude to War

Collins City.

This is the largest city in the Northern Aether plains, located at the junction of the Ivo River and Mason River.

Here there are broad, fertile lands, and two wide rivers as natural barriers, enough to fend off foreign invasions—the geography is exceptionally advantageous.

Centuries ago, this was the capital of the Aether Kingdom. When Aragon led the former Fadlan Kingdom to conquer Northern Aether, he expanded Collins City, making it the northern center of politics, economy, and military.

To this day, a bronze statue of Aragon I still stands in the city center. The legendary emperor points his sword north, his gaze sharp as if still conquering. freewebnøvel.coɱ

In the distance, the sun slowly rises from the horizon, painting the sky gold. Rays of morning light spill over the land and onto Collins’s towering city towers.

"Duke, according to our latest intelligence, Burg City has also—"

"I know. You may go."

"Yes, sir."

Atop the city wall, an armored, longsword-wielding angel-blooded gazed into the distance, his expression grave and resolute. A bitter smile curled at his lips: "I never thought this day would come so soon.

Nineteen days. In just nineteen days, all of Northern Aether has fallen. It seems I underestimated their military might."

"Don’t worry, Duke Walter. Their arrogance is only temporary." The voice was powerful and steady, belonging to a man appearing in his forties.

He wore a golden robe and a neatly groomed beard, with deep, pale-golden eyes shining with unmasked pride and integrity.

—This was Titus, the ’Dawn Dragon’ and ’Wings of the Morning,’ who helped the dwarves repel orc invasions. He was the Golden Dragon Council’s envoy and Duke Walter’s vital ally.

Titus stroked his beard and continued, "Justice and righteousness will ultimately prevail, and those brutal beings will perish—this is the inevitable trend of history. No one can change it."

Walter nodded. "Sir Titus, your kindness and wisdom earn my respect." He raised his head, eyes locked on the smoke-filled horizon, brows slightly furrowed.

"But... I’m still worried about that red dragon. Amanata above, a hundred-meter-long red dragon—in the past century, I’ve never seen a dragon of such absurd size." Thinking of that unseen enemy, he couldn’t help but pray.

Walter turned to Titus and said softly, "As fellow dragons, you must know what this means."

"Duke, it’s the Third Era now. After that dreadful Dragonfall War, it’s nearly impossible for a hundred-meter dragon to appear in the material plane."

"You mean the Ember Emperor hasn’t truly reached that size?" Walter asked, then shook his head with a wry smile. "No matter if the hundred-meter form is real or not, the power he’s shown isn’t something a fallen angel-blood like me can match.

Even in my prime under the Sun God’s light, I wouldn’t be a match for that red dragon. Much less now, with the Holy Fadlan Empire long gone."

As the staunchest ’Fadlanist,’ Walter pursued the empire’s past like an ascetic, but knew the empire’s true state better than anyone.

After the old emperor died, the vast empire was only an empty shell—just a huge corpse, torn by heirs fighting for power.

Unable to bear the infighting, Walter started a rebellion against the Kingdom of Thrace.

Hearing this, Titus nodded solemnly. "Of course. But that red dragon is indeed strong and cruel. Yet, weren’t Tiamat and Karrikex even stronger? Where are those evil dragon gods now?

Affonas, Howling Void, Shadowfallen Netherworld... They had mountain-sized bodies, but were still exiled to those cursed places."

The noble-looking man said word by word, "I firmly believe the material plane will always belong to justice and light. It’s always been so, and it always will be."

He stepped forward, overlooking the land, and pointed at the surging, wide river.

"Just as the Ivo River’s waters must reach the sea, unstoppable, so too will cruel tyrants and evil rulers be driven to darkness, never to rise again!

What’s more—"

Titus paused, confidence shining in his eyes, his whole form radiating faint motes of light.

His voice grew louder, finally thundering like a roar: "You are not alone!"

The middle-aged noble was gone—in his place stood a proud golden dragon, instantly drawing countless eyes.

That massive body was like a moving hill. Molten-gold scales glittered in the dawn, etched with mysterious, intricate patterns, making the dragon appear clad in the most lavish armor.

The golden dragon’s eyes burned like suns, full of wisdom and might. With a light sweep of its vast wings, the air boomed and twisted, creating fierce winds.

Titus, now in his ancient gold dragon form, looked down on the dazed angel-blooded duke and declared, "Whether sky, earth, or sea, all beings of the material plane who value justice and law stand behind you, resisting the evil dragon’s tyranny!"

"Sir Titus—"

Duke Walter gazed up at the golden dragon, deeply moved, then looked down to his army below.

In dawn’s first light, towering walls stood tall, banners fluttered, and on the field before the city gathered a grand, mighty coalition army unlike any before.

On the ground, tens of thousands of Northern Aether soldiers lined up in shining steel armor, swords or shields in hand, faces resolute, eyes wild, ranks dense as iron walls.

They were the elite, drawn from all corners of Northern Aether—many were powerful professionals, veterans who’d fought and bled with Walter, never wavering in faith he would rebuild Holy Fadlan.

Behind them stood the mages, in splendid robes, staffs in hand, magic runes glowing around them.

Some pondered, some chanted spells—energy surges filled the air, sparks of light danced at their fingertips.

Among them were former Fadlan Arcane Legion members, reinforcements from Walter’s appeal to the City of a Thousand Spells, and righteous from the Arcane Hermitage.

In the sky, nine angel-blooded wielded flaming swords, wings flared, eyes sharp—Fadlan’s divine-blooded, with three legendary powerhouses among them.

And above Collins, it wasn’t just angel-blooded from Fadlan—genuine outsiders from the celestial plane hovered there too.

Ethereal hymns echoed through the sky, blurred figures appearing in the clouds as the air rippled, slowly becoming solid.

Justicar angels, legion angels, herald angels, choristers—the host of Silver Heaven formed ranks in the heights, their wings pure as clouds, fluttering, radiating holy light.

Celestial steeds, cloud giants, heavenly spirits, celestial eagles—kindly creatures of Mount Celestia—joined them atop the clouds, part of the heavenly host.

Then, in the glow of stars, a tall silver figure appeared at the host’s forefront.

He held a sword crackling with lightning, a shining silver horn, and wore a violet robe dusted with starlight.

His vast white-feathered wings lent an elegant grace. His dark-violet eyes looked down on the land with radiant compassion.

A majestic voice echoed below: "Walter, I am here by invitation, representing Mount Celestia’s will, to aid Northern Aether!"

From his arrival, gentle, orderly light filled the sky, bringing all present an unprecedented peace, as if their inner filth and sin had been washed away.

All held their breath and looked up, seeing behind the tall figure an eternal night sky, stars, and silver moonlight—that was a projection of Silver Heaven Lunia.

Walter smiled, newfound confidence in his eyes—he knew what this meant.

—The noble master of Silver Heaven Lunia, protector of messengers, Barachiel, had descended to the material plane!

Walter quickly flapped his wings, soared up, and bowed deeply, voice quivering: "Greetings, Lord Barachiel! All of Northern Aether has awaited you."

Titus too flew up, and even the proud gold dragon bowed his head to this noble lord of Silver Heaven.

Barachiel nodded, then unfastened the bright silver horn at his waist and blew it.

Instantly, every herald in the heavenly host sounded their horns, and harpist angels softly sang hymns.

"Hoooo—"

The horn call soared, a war anthem of heaven, bringing rousing strength. All present felt a surge of courage and resolve in their hearts.

A faint light like starlight shimmered over them, clearing their minds and sharpening their wits—their bodies grew lighter and stronger.

Unlike battle hymns that rouse men to a fearless frenzy, heaven’s song evokes the best visions and greatest wishes, urging all to strive for them.

Walter closed his eyes. Suddenly, he saw the grand Holy City, the Tower of the Eternal Sun God, sunlight blessing the land, the faces of Fadlan’s people brimming with joy and confidence.

He was back in that golden age, in the unforgettable ascension ceremony.

After a long silence, the angel-blooded duke opened his eyes. Before him: the massive, awe-inspiring coalition army.

Divine-blooded, humans, half-elves, angels, celestial steeds, cloud giants—so many good, just souls had gathered, their races mixed but their power undeniable, with a dozen legendary heroes among them.

Such an army would be a force anywhere in Feianso. Not even the three great kingdoms could easily defeat them. freeweɓnøvel.com

In these months, Walter burned every connection, traveled across planes, even humbled himself to gather this mighty host.

"I will win. I’ll lead the coalition to drive out the red dragon and reclaim Fadlan’s homeland!

Walter gripped his sword and said word by word, "Wherever sunlight falls, that land belongs to the Empire." In his pale golden eyes, new resolve blazed.

The duke knew he’d done everything possible. He had no reason to lose—he couldn’t lose.

With that, Walter flapped his wings and went to the front, raising his golden-flamed sword, drawing every gaze.

"Today, standing here, I feel not just the coming battle’s challenge, but a new strength and determination.

Every inch of air over this land echoes our vow. Every heart beats for the same goal—we will defend our home, protect our faith, and never let this land bow to a dragon’s threat!"

His voice grew louder, pounding like drums in every ear.

"This isn’t just a war, but our vow, our belief, our unbreakable will! Today, the evil dragon will see our swords, our shields, the fire and light burning in our eyes!

Law and justice will win, and the evil dragon’s arrogance will turn to ash before our mighty army!"

"Justice will prevail!"

The coalition’s soldiers raised weapons high, cheers shaking the sky, the gold dragon roared, even the angels’ faces shone with battle spirit.

Yet Duke Walter did not know—the enemy he hated was already brazenly among their army, even joining the cheers.

As the noise faded, the Collins coalition began frantic preparations. Walter and his two greatest allies entered the secret chamber to plan for the red dragon.

"Whooo—"

Cold wind howled, dawn lit the sky, Holy Fadlan’s golden banner snapped on the walls, the air heavy, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.

All knew: war was now inevitable. In just nineteen days, almost all Northern Aether had fallen—Collins City was their final stronghold.

This was the final battle, deciding the fate of Northern Aether and the entire continent of Feianso.