Free Web NovelThe collapse of the empire began with the spreading news of Kalian's death in battle.
This news was initially whispered only among high-ranking officers, met with disbelief.
Soon, a second piece of news followed. Duke Remont surrendered to the Emerald Federation.
This time, the order within the military camps disintegrated within a few breaths. The defensive lines, which had barely held, seemed to have their backbone ripped out.
Kalian still had heirs, but continuing to hold on seemed utterly meaningless.
On the third night, the first entire military unit abandoned their positions without orders and surrendered to the Emerald Federation.
That was like a signal; thereafter, the retreat turned into a flood.
Knights no longer marched in formation but scattered in twos and threes, fleeing back along any path they remembered, or simply turning Southeast.
They no longer cared about the empire's borders, only about where there was still a chance to survive.
The empire became a land without a master. Cities once controlled by the radiating power of the central administration lost contact one after another.
And the Emerald Federation did not waste this opportunity.
The Board of Directors' directive was simple: disregard cost, prioritize efficiency.
The Federation's siege columns advanced along the old imperial highways.
It wasn't a legion's marching formation, but a disposal team composed of a mixed force of Alchemists, Accountants, and Knights.
Heavy alchemical wagons moved slowly down the center of the road, their carriages reinforced with riveted steel plates, their sides engraved with the marks of various guilds.
When they reached the first town that refused to surrender, there was no siege and no call for surrender.
Alchemists opened sealed valves on the wagons and released the prepared alchemical poison gas, carried by the wind from higher ground.
The poisonous fog slowly spread through the streets, flowing along the base of walls, seeping into window cracks and drainage ditches.
A knight on guard duty had just begun sounding the alarm bell. The bell rang only twice before the man slumped inside the tower.
On the streets, a merchant pushing a half-loaded cart tried to flee but fell at a corner, never to rise again.
In less than a quarter of an hour, the entire town was left with only the alchemical gas slowly settling in the air.
The buildings remained intact, warehouse doors stood open, and goods on the shelves were untouched.
Next to enter the city was the Takeover Team.
Wearing filtration masks, they took inventory of assets, sealed land deeds, and directly incorporated the still-intact city into the Federation's ledgers.
If they encountered a fortress that refused to surrender, the Federation's method was even more direct.
Tens of thousands of refugees were herded to the foot of the city walls.
These people had been injected with unstable alchemical potions beforehand, their consciousness dulled, their movements stiff.
A young refugee stopped at the foot of the wall, seeming to briefly regain clarity. He looked up at the battlements, his lips slightly parting, but no sound emerged.
The next moment, a whip cracked from behind. He was pushed forward, crowding with the others toward the base of the wall.
When the first body collided with the wall, the explosions began.
Flesh and stone scattered together; breaches were forcibly torn open in an extremely short time.
The fortress's defenses weren't breached; they were worn down.
And behind all this, Mammon began to advance.
Its body stretched across the plain; the tremors from its movement made the ground seem repeatedly crushed.
As it approached the first fortress, the defenders were still trying to close the steel gates.
The next moment, a piercing screech tore through the air.
The massive gates deformed on their own within a powerful magnetic field. Steel beams twisted, snapped, were forcibly ripped from their structure, and shot into the city like uncontrolled projectiles.
Metal components from the towers were pulled down, crashing into the square.
Cannons went haywire during calibration. Some barrels were forcibly twisted, others exploded on the spot, fragments flying back to overturn entire sections of the wall.
The first to fall were not those standing on the walls.
It was the knights clad in armor.
In that area, metal no longer obeyed human will.
Armor rapidly contracted under gravitational force, joints locked, bones emitting sounds of unbearable strain and fracture.
Some were pinned to the ground by their own armor before they could even draw their swords.
Longswords flew from hands, changing direction mid-air to pierce back through their owners' chests.
Remont's banner remained at the forefront of the army.
He led the Federation forces through provinces he once ruled, expertly pointing out roads, supply points, and which cities were best suited for direct takeover, and which could be treated as expendable.
Mammon slowly advanced behind them.
Areas it passed through no longer required troops for cleanup.
This army, led by Mammon, guided by Remont, and cleansed by alchemical poison gas, traversed the empire's heartland at an almost unreasonable speed.
The silhouette of the Imperial Capital had already appeared on the distant horizon.
And within that city, there was no one left who could issue a truly effective command... Crystal Rock City, suspended above the Supreme Board's council chamber.
Clement, Chairman of the Bihui Guild, raised his wine glass, gently swirling it with his fingertips, his gaze falling on the image at the center of the round table.
The image showed Mammon's colossal body slowly moving across the plain.
"Better than the ledger projections," Clement said casually. "Originally thought digesting Kalian's legion would take a month. Now it seems a day is already slowing efficiency."
He said this as if merely commenting on an investment return exceeding expectations.
Isabella, Chairman of the Silver Plate Guild, didn't look up. She was elegantly cutting a small piece of foie gras with a silver knife.
"What our ancestors left behind has been severely underestimated by us." She placed the foie gras in her mouth, chewed lightly, then continued. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ
"But since even Kalian has become fertilizer, then that Louis's Red Tide Territory in the north... at best, it's just harder dry rations."
Her tone was gentle, yet left no room for doubt.
A few low chuckles echoed around the round table.
Detailed intelligence arrived from the front: the imperial army's lines were being erased section by section beneath Mammon's feet.
The first fortress lost its gates seventeen breaths after entering the magnetic field, its main cannons exploded on the twenty-ninth breath, the wall structure destabilized on the thirty-fourth... "They didn't even manage a single effective counterattack," a Director remarked, glancing at the timeline, his tone noticeably impatient. "From entering the effective range to complete incapacitation, averaging no more than half an hour."
He raised his glass as if confirming an insignificant data point.
"The empire's way of fighting is too antiquated."
"They still try to hold formations, ending up as an exquisite display platter."
"Remont's surrender was a pleasant surprise. Quality management talent, familiar with the old system, pragmatic enough, low induction cost, short payback period."
"More cost-effective than training new personnel."
Then the topic naturally slid to the next agenda item.
Some mentioned food pressure, others mentioned security issues, as if the entire empire was already in their pocket.
"Migration of low-end labor." Isabella flipped through the ledger, her tone steady. "With proper guidance, it's enough to fill mining vacancies for the next five to ten years."
The image switched. The Imperial Capital appeared aged and gloomy under the night sky, a stark contrast to Crystal Rock City's light.
They began discussing the increasing number of refugees within the empire.
"That place is too old." Isabella glanced up. "High maintenance cost, but its symbolic value has long depreciated. After Mammon passes through, once the foundations are leveled, I'll personally press the button for the directional demolition."
Clement picked up the thread: "Demolish the imperial palace, build the continent's largest Magic Stone and Futures Trading Center on the original site. Turn that millennia-old throne of imperial authority into a counter for merchants to bid."
He paused, his tone carrying ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) a hint of undisguised pleasure.
"We must make future historians understand: what ended the August Family wasn't some hero's sword, but a settled bill."
This time, the laughter around the table was unrestrained.
"For Greed."
"For an empire that no longer holds inheritance value."
Crystal glasses were raised; crisp clinks echoed in the quiet council chamber.
Finally, someone casually opened a small betting pool on the table. Chips were pushed back and forth, numbers constantly changing.
The wager was simple.
How many hours Louis Calvin could last before Mammon.
In their eyes, this lord with the largest territory was not an opponent.
"It seems our previous caution was somewhat excessive. The assessment of Louis should also be revised. Continuing to treat him as a variable would only slow the pace."
"Indeed so," Clement nodded... The Imperial Capital's walls glowed pale under the setting sun. Now it had lost its edge, leaving only heaviness and age.
Standing on the plain outside the city, looking again at that stone wall that had stood for a millennium, Remont felt an illusion.
It wasn't as impregnable as imagined; it was more like a piece of wind-dried bone that would shatter with a few taps.
Mammon's colossal form stretched across the plain, like an entire mountain range lifted from the ground.
As it slowly rose upright, its diamond-structured spine ascended high into the sky, completely blocking the sunlight.
Shadow swept over the walls, over the palace's towering spires, and over the long-shattered square.
This was a confrontation of utter inequality.
On the walls, the last who could still stand were Kalian's son and a contingent of the Imperial Guard.
His voice was hoarse, yet he still gave the order to volley.
Crossbow bolts left their strings, but the moment they flew, they began to veer off course.
Mammon opened its maw.
It wasn't a conventional giant mouth, but a cavity formed from polyhedral diamond structures.
Gravity was redefined in that moment. Metal on the walls began to emit a low hum.
Steel crossbow mechanisms were the first to detach from their mounts, forcibly ripped from the battlements. Then came longswords, spears, and the heavy armor securely fastened to bodies.
The defenders died before they could even complete a scream.
Armor was pulled and deformed, joints emitting piercing snaps, flesh crushed and churned within the steel.
Men and equipment were dragged from the walls, torn into indistinguishable shapes mid-air.
Black iron filings mixed with blood mist were sucked into that gaping maw.
The Imperial Capital's gates lost their form within the next few breaths.
The massive metal components crumpled like paper, instantly collapsing.
This ancient capital, which had endured for a millennium, completely lost its defenses before mounting a single decent resistance.
High above, the Federation's frontline command platform hovered over the Imperial Capital.
Duke Remont stood at the platform's edge, looking down at the familiar yet alien cityscape below.
His cloak flapped loudly in the wind. His fingertips slowly rubbed a ruby ring, his lips unconsciously curling upward.
"I should have done this long ago," he said, his tone brimming with unconcealed satisfaction. "The August bloodline has long been rotten. Clinging to that false glory only drags one into the grave."
He turned his head to look at General Batur, the Federation's frontline commander beside him. "Gold and power are eternal."
General Batur held a cigar between his teeth, its ember flickering in the wind.
"This city holds many valuables," he said slowly. "Antiques, ancient texts, artworks... all will be sent to Federation warehouses tonight."
He paused here, casually exhaling a puff of smoke. "As for that Louis..."
Remont's smile vanished in that instant.
His gaze turned icy, his fingers unconsciously tightening. The ruby on his ring wobbled slightly.
"That northern thief," Remont's voice gradually sharpened. "Using underhanded tricks to steal the territory and glory that should have been mine. Once we digest the capital, I'll have Mammon march east, trample his Red Tide Territory flat, and make him kneel and work for the Federation."
General Batur chuckled lightly.
"High-end alchemical slave," he commented. "Perhaps a decent use."
Before they could finish, the orderly marching columns below the platform suddenly stirred. Horses simultaneously emitted low whinnies.
Remont frowned, instinctively gripping the platform's railing.
Mammon stopped moving. The Imperial Capital's gates, which had been flying, crashed heavily to the ground.
The colossal creature's focus on feeding was interrupted. It slowly raised its head, its diamond-formed skull turning toward a direction outside the Imperial Capital.
That was the location of the Ancient Burial Grounds of the imperial ancestors.
The air changed in an instant.
All sound vanished simultaneously; even the wind was suppressed. It was the arrival of an existence from a higher order.
The ground began to tremble.
The mountains outside the Imperial Capital collapsed violently. Rock layers were torn open. A pillar of dark golden light shot into the sky, piercing the clouds.
The next moment, a dragon's roar tore through heaven and earth.
"ROAR——!!!"
The explosive roar pierced eardrums, striking directly at the soul's core, carrying undisguised arrogance and displeasure.
The sonic wave swept past.
Federation banners in the air instantly turned to powder. The cigar fell from General Batur's fingers.
Duke Remont felt his legs go weak. Before his consciousness could react, his body uncontrollably knelt on the platform.
He looked up, his face deathly pale.
At the apex of that dark golden light pillar, something was slowly opening its eyes.
