Ember Dragon

Chapter 711: The True Solar Red Dragon Descends

However, Wilhelm floated in the sky, the six wings behind him gently fluttering. He raised the Spear of Final Judgement in his hand, his expression especially indifferent."They were once traitors of the Kingdom of Thrace. Becoming part of the Holy Guard and offering their souls to the Kingdom is the greatest honor of their lives!

You only need to know— they will become the Kingdom’s blade. As for where this power comes from? That doesn’t matter. As long as we can fulfill the great cause of reviving the Holy Fadlan, even sacrificing everything is worth it!"

Immediately, the entire city of August erupted in an uproar, people arguing and bickering endlessly.

"How can this be!"

"That’s the power of Hell!"

"But Your Majesty, we are subjects of the Sun God! How can we collude with Hell?" A general who had guarded the south for years stepped forward and knelt on one knee toward the king.

"Exactly! This is the City of Sunrise, a land bathed in radiance. How can such an evil presence exist here?"

Meanwhile, Tyrena flapped her wings in mid-air, lowered her head, and remained silent.

As a Duke of Divine Blood personally appointed by Wilhelm and known as his trusted aide, Tyrena had long known about the king’s contract with Zariel, but she had no other choice.

The general named Clarence drew his sword and spoke with resolute determination, "Your Majesty, I urge you to turn back while you still can and return to the Sun God’s embrace— walk the righteous path—"

At that moment, he looked up and met Wilhelm’s gaze head-on.

Clarence suddenly realized Wilhelm’s eyes were exceptionally cold, filled with a bone-chilling frost that made him feel as if he had fallen into an icy abyss.

What kind of eyes were those!

They were clearly holy golden pupils, yet like soul-devouring whirlpools, as if they could suck in his very soul!

It seemed only now did Clarence truly understand this "Angel King."

"Within the territory of Holy Fadlan, my word is supreme decree. Do you intend to rebel? Or even oppose me?"

"No, Your Majesty, I didn’t mean that."

Clarence’s face turned pale as he collapsed to the ground, trembling uncontrollably.

Wilhelm looked down at him from above, his eyes icy and his voice as sharp as the wind: "With great enemies at the gates, internal strife must be quelled first. Holy Guard, cleanse these traitors!"

"Yes, Your Majesty! Purge the rebels!"

The so-called Holy Guard—Hell’s puppets—flapped their black wings and dove down, their chains glowing red from heat as they tightly bound Clarence.

Clarence struggled madly, the chains searing visible scars into his flesh. He howled in agony, "Your Majesty, don’t kill me! I’ve fought across the lands, shedding blood for the Kingdom for over twenty years!"

Yet the emotionless Holy Guard didn’t care. They swung their flaming longswords and cleanly hacked at Clarence’s neck.

"Shlick—"

His head rolled several times across the ground, and even in death, his face still bore an expression of disbelief.

Never in his wildest dreams did Clarence think he would be executed so easily, despite being a decorated general who had defended the south for years.

The city of August fell into utter silence. Not even a bird dared to chirp.

Wilhelm’s cold voice echoed across the city: "Do you see? This is the fate of traitors!"

Under the gazes of the Thracians, Wilhelm stood clad in golden armor, holding a spiral spear. His six wings spread wide behind him, and the halo above his head emitted countless beams of light.

This "Angel King" still appeared holy and majestic, like a child of the Sun God descended to the world, bringing infinite light and heat.

Yet the hellish puppets around him flapped their black wings, their eyes hollow, their bodies covered in cracks—light and darkness, holiness and evil interwoven, making the scene eerie.

Just then, a piercing roar came from the distance—Smaug howled to the sky as the Empire’s dragon legion returned in force. Wyverns of all kinds flapped their wings and surged toward the city walls like a tide.

Wilhelm raised his spiral spear and roared: "Holy Guard, destroy these desecrators!"

Before the words faded, the Hell puppets dove in formation at incredible speed, forming a jagged torrent in the sky that clashed with the Empire’s dragon legion.

Instantly, the power from Avernus exploded forth. Blazing hellfire shot into the sky, engulfing it. Countless wyverns were burned mid-air, wailing as they plummeted to the earth.

"Extinguish the enemy’s flame of hope! Enforce order with an iron hand! The Dragon Lord is above all!" Anthony raised his spear high and leapt into the air, piercing a Hell puppet straight through the heart.

The Dragon-Oath Paladins banged longswords against heavy shields, the sound deafening. Their unshakable conviction and willpower once again formed a massive red dragon phantom, charging at the Holy Guard.

"Roooaaar!"

The red dragon phantom unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, instantly burning several Hell puppets to ash.

But these creatures showed no fear, surrounding the red dragon phantom and using infernal power to attack, leaving countless small wounds across its form.

"For Thrace! For Holy Fadlan!" Tyrena raised her Judgement Sword high, releasing a pillar of light into the sky. She led the angel-blooded into battle, joining the Holy Guard in attacking the red dragon phantom.

Once holy warriors of the Sun God, the vanguard against evil, now fighting side-by-side with Hell’s puppets—what a bitter irony.

The battlefield became more chaotic by the minute, even the players joined the brawl. Some used Flight magic to hover in mid-air; others relied on brute strength to leap up and hunt the airborne Holy Guard.

"You damn freak, I could tell at a glance you weren’t human!"

Dawei Tianlong roared, using the wall as a springboard to leap over a hundred meters into the air.

In mid-air, the six-armed monk unleashed a furious flurry of punches. The force shattered a Hell puppet, its black feathers scattering.

Iron Frenzy grabbed onto a large bipedal wyvern, letting it carry him through the sky. With one hand, he fired his shrapnel gun, shredding a distant Hell puppet with a storm of metal.

Then he holstered his gun, grabbed the wyvern’s talon, and swung back and forth before launching himself dozens of meters away. His spinning chainsaw sword cleaved a Hell puppet in half from head to toe.

"Boom!"

A Dragon Scale cultivator slammed the broken corpse of a Hell puppet into the ground, landing in a heroic pose.

"Full assault!"

"Open fire!"

At the same time, the Empire’s armored legions returned outside the city. Massive walkers advanced, and hundreds of tanks thundered across the wasteland.

Mortars fired from afar, deadly shells raining down on August’s walls like a storm. The explosions nearly buried the walls in fire and smoke.

The city walls shook violently, countless stones crumbling.

At this critical moment, General Carlisle, commander of the third defense zone, suddenly raised his longsword and shouted with all his might.

"Everyone— We are proud citizens of the Sun God, the remnants of Holy Fadlan!

We will never side with Hell, nor allow that devil-deluded king to turn our loved ones—our comrades—into filthy puppets, selling their souls!"

"Carlisle! You’re courting death!"

Wilhelm’s expression darkened, his face contorting in rage. A wave of immense pressure swept down from the sky.

But even under that pressure, Carlisle stood firm through sheer will, refusing to kneel.

His voice was hoarse but powerful: "This isn’t about virtue—it’s the bare minimum a Fadlanian must uphold. To protect it, I would gladly die!"

General Carlisle pointed his sword at Wilhelm in the sky, his eyes weary yet unwavering.

"In the name of His Majesty Amanata, I hereby declare— That one, blinded by power and led astray by demons, who sacrifices the people for selfish desires, is no longer fit to be our monarch!"

Like a martyr, he cried out: "For Amanata! For Holy Fadlan! For true light and justice! Attack!"

At once, the gates of the third defense zone slowly opened. Over a thousand of Carlisle’s loyal soldiers raised their weapons and charged at the Holy Guard behind them.

But in the face of the sky-darkening Holy Guard and the powerful, divine Angel King, they were like moths to a flame.

Soon, the Empire’s army surged in through the third gate, joining forces with the rebelling Thracian soldiers to charge toward Wilhelm.

"General Carlisle—"

"He... he’s a traitor?"

But most Thracians stood frozen in place, unsure whether to support their sworn king or the general fighting for justice.

Even Tyrena was momentarily stunned, then let out a soft sigh for her old comrade.

Seeing his soldiers turn mid-battle, Wilhelm’s flawless face twisted, his solar pupils ablaze with rage and hatred.

"Carlisle, I valued you so greatly... but you betrayed my trust.

At last, the king moved personally. Wilhelm spread his six wings and slowly raised the Spear of Final Judgement, its golden tip gleaming as it pointed toward Carlisle in the distance.

"I’ll use your corpse to show everyone in August— I am the Kingdom! I am Thrace! I am Fadlan! Any who defy me are doomed!!"

As he spoke, golden light condensed into a massive spear over twenty meters long, like a divine weapon meant to judge all beings.

Facing the overwhelming pressure barreling toward him, Carlisle panted, legs shaking, barely managing to stay standing.

He raised his head, his pupils reflecting radiant light, yet his gaze held no fear: "False king. Your rule will be overthrown by the true Sun."

Upon hearing this, Wilhelm’s eyes blazed with fury, flames erupting from his pupils: "I am the true heir to Fadlan!"

"Boom—"

Thunder exploded in the sky. Wilhelm thrust his spiral spear, the sharp tip tearing through the air.

The golden light-formed giant spear fell from the sky, turning into a rainbow beam that pierced the heavens. Though divine, it carried a lethal force.

Just a hundred meters above the ground, it shattered into thousands of light spears that filled the sky, raining down on Carlisle and his loyal soldiers.

"I will never submit to a false king!"

Carlisle roared, swinging his longsword with all his remaining strength.

"Slash—"

The sound of flesh being torn echoed.

Carlisle’s body stiffened, his chest pierced by a massive light spear, leaving a gaping hole. Even his heart had been incinerated into ash.

Coughing blood, he rasped his final words: "Wilhelm... the true Sun... will stop you."

Then he fell, eyes still turned toward the north, as if trying to see the hidden sun through the smoke.

Around him, all thousand loyal soldiers lay dead, their chests pierced, blood pouring into a crimson river.

One blow, thousands dead—this was the power of the "Angel King." Witnessing such brutality, the previously wavering Thracian soldiers shivered and reconsidered.

"Foolish mortals."

Wilhelm stared coldly at Carlisle’s corpse, raised the Spear of Final Judgement, and growled through clenched teeth: "This is the fate of defying me!

People of Thrace, you need only submit to me, be loyal to the true Sun, and I will lead you to revive Holy Fadlan!"

Tyrena seized the moment, raised her longsword, and shouted: "Long live King Wilhelm! Revive Holy Fadlan!"

"Long live Thrace!"

"For Holy Fadlan!"

Pressured by death, the Thracian soldiers began to cheer as well, rushing toward the third defense zone to repel the Empire’s advance.

But just then, a voice echoed from the heavens.

"The true Sun?

Heh, there is no sun in Baator’s Hell—only eternal blood-red skies. And you—Wilhelm—are nothing but a pathetic pawn of Zariel."

"Who dares insult me so?!" Wilhelm’s face twisted again in fury.

He glared northward, but then his expression turned to terror and astonishment, as if witnessing something that should not exist in this world.

"No... impossible... this is impossible..." Wilhelm shook his head repeatedly, muttering.

"What is that?"

"Look!"

"Is that... the sun? But it’s clearly night! How can there be a sun? Has His Majesty Amanata descended?!"

The Thracian soldiers muttered in confusion, all turning their eyes to the north.

In the distance, the sky suddenly lit up, the heavens igniting like filthy parchment. Ten thousand rays of light bathed the land, dispelling smoke and fog.

That intense sunlight warmed every body it touched, making people feel a long-lost comfort, like the old Sun God festivals. Even the soil dried and steamed with white mist.

The Thracians were amazed. They hadn’t felt sunlight like this in years.

Could it truly be the Sun God descending? Or a divine miracle?

All raised their heads. High in the northern sky, an incomparably blazing, dazzling sun hung overhead.

And in front of that sun hovered an immense red dragon the size of a mountain, slowly flapping its wings as if it were lifting and supporting the sun itself.

The red dragon’s entire body shimmered with a sacred golden glow, exuding a majestic draconic aura that made everyone instinctively want to kneel.

"What... is that..."

"Amanata above..."

The Thracians stared, dumbfounded, at the dragon and the sun in the sky, their hearts roaring like crashing waves.