Ember Dragon
Chapter 611: The Flood of War
Chapter 611: The Flood of War
Near the town of Nemir in western Anzeta, there lies the largest desolate desert within the Empire’s borders—and here, a mysterious warehouse district is hidden.
In this area, hundreds of identical warehouses are neatly arranged, surrounded by high concrete walls and ringed with barbed wire.
Yet behind this seemingly tranquil, far-from-the-city scene lies strict secrecy measures.
Wyverns and Flame Drakes circle above, while fully armed Imperial guards stand watch and patrol day and night. Any unauthorized entry is met with harsh consequences.
"Wooo—"
With a piercing whistle, dozens of military steam trains roar up and halt at the gates of this warehouse district.
At the quartermaster’s command, well-trained half-dragon soldiers form neat lines and quickly disembark.
"All soldiers, hold position!"
"Yes, sir!"
A dragonborn officer in a deep green woolen coat steps down from the train, carefully scans the documents in his hand, then looks toward the distant warehouses.
Only officers from the Imperial military know that this is the "Dragon’s Nest"—the Empire’s largest military reserve warehouse, its scale staggering, with a total area of 45 square kilometers.
The warehouse stores an extremely wide variety of munitions, from traditional artillery shells to advanced enchanted rounds, covering nearly every type of firearm and ammunition ever used in Imperial history—an estimated hundreds of thousands of tons.
There are also steam tanks, armored vehicles, and other advanced mechanized weapons on display, as well as all kinds of guns and cannons, virtually embodying the Empire’s military might.
By the officer’s side follows a less-draconic human, clutching a thick stack of documents and wearing a fawning smile.
"Sir, I’ve finished counting the numbers required by the military department. Please have a look—"
This is Raj, once an unemployed laborer, who, after surviving the demon catastrophe, leaped into the ranks of first-class citizens and is now a proud quartermaster of the Imperial Army.
"Good."
After a final check, the officer nods and steps forward to negotiate with the tiefling guards at the gate, the whole process running smoothly.
"Boom—"
In the distance, clouds of dust billow as the towering gate in the wall slowly opens. Trucks loaded with guns and ammunition drive out, and steam tanks rumble over the ground, making the earth tremble.
Raj gazes at this grand scene, his face flushed with excitement and nervousness, his heart pounding.
Coming from a poor background, he’d never dreamed of becoming a member of the Imperial Army, let alone an easy post like quartermaster—and even getting a house assigned in Isthalia.
At this moment, Raj feels deep gratitude toward His Majesty Cassius. The Empire’s generous wartime subsidies for soldiers make him wish the war would go on forever.
As he looks at these mighty war machines, Raj can’t help but straighten his back, already picturing enemies howling in artillery fire and screaming under the treads of tanks.
Raj fantasizes: "When we win this war, maybe I’ll become a Baron of the Empire..."
With the Empire’s military strength, even the lowest-ranked soldier holds their head high, never doubting victory.
So, under the half-dragon soldiers’ efforts, countless pieces of equipment and munitions are loaded onto the steam trains from the "Dragon’s Nest" warehouse.
Meanwhile, across hundreds of miles of rail, countless other trains thunder across the land, carrying soldiers, equipment, and ammunition southward from all over the Empire.
—The Empire is fully prepared for this war. Though it seems there are only three days, behind that lies years of infrastructure and strategic planning.
In Isthalia City, the streets have already been cleared, with police lines set up and tiefling guards every few meters.
Citizens crowd both sides of the road, waving flags engraved with slit pupils and flames—the flag of the Empire—and chanting slogans feverishly.
"Conquer! Conquer!"
"Long live the Empire! Long live His Majesty Cassius!"
"Those damned southerners don’t deserve fertile land! We want our place in the sun!"
The military band—satyrs—pound on war drums and blow copper horns, playing rousing martial music to boost morale.
To the stirring melody, Imperial officers in uniform and epaulets march in neat ranks, coming into view.
Each wears a proud smile, heads high and chests out, waving to the crowds, who throw flowers and cheer them on.
"Long live the Empire! May you all return victorious!"
"You are the heroes of the Ember Empire and the saviors of Fianso!"
And in this grand parade, it’s not just officers. Land Dragons rumble, wyverns and chimeras soar above, elite soldiers fire salutes—it’s a spectacle.
Suddenly, an even louder cheer erupts from the crowd.
"Look! It’s Marshal Dolo!"
"By Cassius! What a majestic, mighty figure!"
"Worthy of being a Duke of the Empire, a true dragon-blood noble at the top!"
Dolo stands atop the high back of a Land Dragon, spreads his broad dragon wings, and suddenly takes flight.
"Soldiers! On this expedition, we will face stronger enemies than ever before, but remember—we are the kin of the mighty Red Dragon, we represent the honor of the Ember Empire!"
The earthblood hobgoblin looks down at the crowd, raises his blood-fire battle axe, and lets out a thunderous war cry.
"For the Empire—"
The cry, like a dragon’s roar, carries an invisible authority, shaking the earth and sky, igniting the people’s passion and further rousing the army.
"For the Empire!"
"For His Majesty Cassius!"
In the marching ranks, George wears his uniform and a chimera epaulet marking his colonel’s rank, turning to wave at the crowd.
"Look, it’s Earl George!"
"By Cassius! Lord George, you’re my idol!"
"I want to be a hero like Lord George too!" a youngster shouts, waving his hat excitedly.
A small commotion spreads through the crowd—George is already well-known in the Empire, far above others of similar status.
George’s rise from serf to dragon-blood noble was promoted in the "Imperial Daily" as a model "Imperial Dream," inspiring countless commoners.
His performance in the demon war was also widely reported, inspiring many.
George is used to—and even enjoys—the adoration of the masses. He spots his old comrade, Baron Grace, among the crowd, watching him depart.
George is no longer the cowardly, lowly serf he once was; his life has changed beyond recognition. Now he is a promising Imperial Army colonel, a hot new dragon-blooded earl.
As he walks out of the city gates amid flowers, music, and cheers, George looks back, his golden, dragon-like pupils gazing at the banners on the city walls and the towering buildings beyond.
He’s lived in this miraculous city for years, which has witnessed every step of his climb. Who knows when he’ll return?
"When I return...I will be covered in glory and honor."
George mutters to himself, ambition almost written across his thin face.
The parade is about to end; the cheers, the salutes, the booming cannons, the gunshots, the soldiers’ shouts all blend together, flooding Isthalia and echoing in every corner.
Meanwhile, in a rarely traveled alley, Olivia, cloaked in gray, quietly observes from the shadows.
She’s been here a long time since speaking with Cassius.
Olivia is desperate to know—what does war really mean to the Ember Empire?
She’s lived here for years but never truly integrated into Imperial society, always standing apart from Cassius’s "new order," doing what she thought would make the Empire better.
During the demon war, the people fought to defend home and avenge their loved ones—Olivia could still understand that.
But now?
"Land under the sun, land promised by the Emperor, a new world order..."
How absurd and vague those reasons sound—yet countless people go mad for them, even giving their lives.
Olivia can’t understand—what drives them to do this?
Soldiers can gain honor, status, and spoils in war—but what about the common people? Why would they participate in this brutal conflict?
Olivia gives a bitter smile, shakes her head, and says, "I was too full of myself. I always thought the world would run as I envisioned, according to a set order."
"Maybe I need to truly immerse myself in Imperial society to understand the people’s views—to really experience what Cassius was talking about."
She lowers her head, hesitates with clenched fists, then resolutely leaves the alley.
Top floor of the Imperial Council Hall, Prime Minister’s office.
Rump looks at the silver-haired girl outside the door. Despite the polite smile on his ugly face, there’s a hint of surprise.
"Miss Olivia, you—"
"Lord Rump, I want to join the Imperial Staff." Her tone is unusually firm.
Olivia looks up at the towering ogre mage, blue-gray eyes twinkling with faint starlight.
She wants to truly understand—Cassius’s new order.
Fire Elemental Plane, Brass Fortress.
Here, magma flows and fiery clouds fill the sky, everywhere stinks of sulfur, and flames grow like wild grass.
Serkan rides the high back of a multi-headed flame lizard, gazing at the giant portal not far away—he knows it’s the work of the Empire’s spellcasting corps.
"War is about to begin again..."
The half-red dragon licks his cracked lips, parched from the heat, his expression excited and eager.
For him, this is a rare opportunity.
Serkan knows—the more outstanding their performance on the material battlefield, the more likely His Majesty Cassius will notice, and the more resources the Empire will invest in the fire element plane colonies.
Behind him, countless Imperial soldiers from the Fire Elemental Plane pour out from the Brass Fortress, like a scalding river.
There are half-red dragons, fire lizards, fire giants, flame apostles, and...tens of thousands of identical fire dwarves.
These fire dwarves are all produced on assembly lines in automated breeding factories. Thanks to player mischief, some of them are even stranger-looking.
With efreeti hunting and slow natural reproduction, no city-state has ever had so many fire dwarves, but the Ember Empire achieved it with "unorthodox" methods.
These tens of thousands of fire dwarves mine ore around the clock, swinging hammers to forge the Empire’s finest gear—Imperial merchants only have to pay cheap manufactured goods.
Facing the fully armed, high-spirited fire elemental legion, Serkan raises his flaming spear and shouts in Imperial Common: "For the Empire—"
"For the Empire!"
Even if their Common is still crackling with their native accent, these newly loyal fire creatures raise their weapons and cheer in unison.
The half-red dragon soldiers who came with Serkan are even louder, thrilled to be heading home again.
Their armor, axes, swords, and flails gleam in the firelight, shining with metallic luster.
If we’re just talking about "classic" equipment, the fire elemental legion’s gear might be the finest in the whole Imperial Army.
Underdark, Dragonshadow City.
Under a pitch-black sky, cold gales howl over the barren earth, split by cracks, while the black city stands unmoved.
Hart stands atop the city wall, his pitch-black eyes surveying everything below—
Bone drakes writhe their huge bodies, skeletons and undead surge like a terrifying gray tide, shadow wyverns circle above, shrieking eerily.
Gray dwarves, swamp bearfolk, deep gnomes, and gray centaurs—all races that submitted to the Ember Empire—appear in the massive army.
"It is His Majesty Cassius’s edict. The living of the surface world, prepare yourselves...for fear and death."
Hart draws his bone-white sword, a sinister smile spreading on his face, flesh stretched thin over bone.
At this moment, the flood of war rushes forward, roaring with unstoppable force.
Its influence extends across the multiverse—not only Anzeta proper, but all of the Empire’s colonies are being summoned, ready to be sent by portal to the southern battlefield at any moment.
In just three short days, the Ember Empire has fully awakened. The southern powers have barely reacted—there’s been no time to prepare.
These arrogant Fiansoans still have no idea—the northern empire from the desolate wastes is about to bring an earth-shattering change to the continent.