Chapter 689: Defeating an Empire Single-Handedly

The spatial rift closed behind him.

The red iron dragon hovered in low orbit above Bernardo, wings spread wide, his mirror-like crimson scales reflecting the blue planet below.

This slumber had been a long one.

Although no one had disturbed him, and his body had completed the transformation to Immortal during the sleep, that did not mean Sacred Aola had encountered no problems.

He thought to himself, then lowered his head, his gaze falling toward the direction of the Atlantis Continent.

The first thing he saw was the Star Network.

Numerous Aolan satellites orbited in concentric rings, layer upon layer, one encircling another. Crimson energy beams connected satellite to satellite, crisscrossing and weaving together into a vast web.

The Star Network...

Before Garoth had gone into slumber, this network had been nothing more than a rough concept. Now, it shrouded the world like a mythical heavenly net.

Further down.

Garoth's gaze pierced through the atmosphere and clouds, revealing a sky crisscrossed with Cloud Rail tracks winding like ribbons around the entire continent. Cloud Rail trains sped along them, roaring past in endless streams.

Space had the Star Network. The high skies had the Cloud Rails.

And on the surface, towering megastructures pierced through the clouds.

Energy spires thrusting toward the heavens, steel bridges spanning across straits, colossal arcane formation clusters coiled around countless cities, emanating tremendous energy fluctuations... Any one of these awe-inspiring creations, placed two hundred years ago, would have been hailed as a wonder, recorded in the annals of history, and sung by poets and bards.

Now, they dotted the landscape everywhere, a common sight.

The wilderness between cities had also receded dramatically, replaced by endless stretches of farmland, pastures, and orderly industrial zones.

Even from the vantage point of low orbit, one could clearly feel the vibrant life thriving on the continent below.

"...Oh?"

"Even during my slumber, it seems Sacred Aola has continued to develop quite impressively over the years."

He felt gratified.

Back when it was still a kingdom, other nations had characterized the Aola Kingdom as a "deformed beast," entirely dependent on the existence of its Emperor.

And in truth, that was largely the case.

Sacred Aola had always been a nation built upon Garoth.

Whenever he slumbered, the nation's development would stall. All claws and fangs would retract and lie low, avoiding trouble as much as possible, quietly waiting for him to wake.

This hadn't seemed like a major problem, at least not at the time.

But Garoth knew in his heart that it was ultimately a weakness.

A truly great empire could not be built solely on the shoulders of a single individual.

If Sacred Aola could not function without him, then the empire's foundation was unstable, and it lacked the prerequisites for launching the Grand Expedition.

However, after Sacred Aola unified the entire Atlantis Continent, it seemed things had begun to change.

Even while he was slumbering, the empire had continued to operate smoothly and thrive.

This lifted Garoth's mood further.

But then, his gratification faded slightly, replaced by a sharp, thoughtful gleam.

Because when he re-examined the tightly packed satellite network, he caught a whiff of something unusual from the impenetrable formation.

The Star Network's arrangement was too dense, and a large number of satellites were clearly oriented toward the deep void.

Besides the satellites, he could also see Heroic Spirit sentinels patrolling endlessly along their orbits.

This was not the posture of a peaceful nation.

"During the years I slept..."

The red iron dragon's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sweeping across Atlantis. "It seems Sacred Aola has run into some trouble, though not enough to warrant waking me."

The thought circled in his mind, but he did not rush to investigate.

Whatever the problem was, now that he was awake, everything could be set aside for the moment.

For now, he needed to let his people know that he had returned.

"Sacred Aola, your Emperor has returned!"

The red iron dragon gathered his thoughts and suddenly beat his wings.

He could have simply torn through space and stepped directly atop the palace of the Red Emperor Capital. He could have also concealed his aura and silently landed upon the dragon court.

But he did neither.

Garoth chose a third way, the most ostentatious way, one that would let the entire continent witness his return.

BOOM!

Fierce Dragon Qi surged from the great dragon's body. Crimson flames engulfed his thirty-meter-long frame, igniting his mirror-like scales into a churning sea of fire. The red iron dragon beat his wings and dove, plummeting straight from low orbit toward the Atlantis Continent.

Like a sun falling from the sky.

This night of New Calendar year 1019 was destined to be etched into the memory of countless Atlantis beings for the rest of their lives.

On the night market streets of the capital, crowds flowed like rivers.

With the day's work finished, people were enjoying their evening leisure.

Cheers of clinking glasses and snatches of song drifted from taverns. Fitness grounds buzzed with activity. Couples of the same or different races strolled hand in hand along the streets...

It was an ordinary night in Sacred Aola, peaceful and lively.

But then, the first person stopped in his tracks, pointing at the night sky, mouth agape.

Then a second, a tenth, a hundredth...

Countless beings raised their heads.

They saw it, at the highest point of the night sky, a crimson point of light flickered to life, growing brighter and larger by the moment. Dragging a tail of red flame that stretched across the entire horizon, it descended slowly from the depths of the starry sky toward the earth.

The light was so dazzling it burned the night into day.

Clouds scattered and churned in the wake of the flame tail, revealing the brilliant star river beyond.

Every Aola citizen who witnessed this scene froze at first, as still as sculptures. The entire Atlantis Continent seemed to be covered by a large-scale time-freeze spell. But then, life returned to their faces. Eyes lit up, lips trembled.

No one needed to tell them what this was.

Every citizen of Sacred Aola, from the very first day of their birth, had seen this magnificent figure as radiant as the sun in paintings, statues, and the stories of their ancestors. They knew this was the signature entrance of the Master of Sacred Aola.

"It's His Majesty!!"

"Our great Emperor has returned!!"

"Sacred Aola, glory everlasting!"

Cheers spread like wildfire, starting from the first street of the capital city and spreading at an unbelievable speed, burning through the entire city, the entire continent.

People rushed out of their homes, flooded into the streets, and waved their arms at the sky.

Aolan dragons soared up from their lairs, following the falling crimson light, circling and roaring through the night sky.

Cloud Rail trains sounded their whistles in unison, long notes echoing across the continent one after another. The Star Network's radiance bloomed in full that night, crimson beams interweaving into a brilliant dome, laying out a staircase of light for the returning sovereign.

And so.

Under the gaze of countless millions, the crimson sun streaked across the night sky and descended upon the highest peak of the dragon court in the Red Emperor Capital.

Speed suddenly slowed.

The Dragon Qi flames expanded during deceleration, illuminating the night sky above the entire capital as bright as day.

The people could finally see the figure at the center of the light.

Crimson scales reflected starlight like mirrors. Two pairs of dragon horns spread across his head like a crown. His majestic, awe-inspiring, sacred dragon form stretched out within the flames, gazing down upon his capital.

The Red Emperor stood atop the dragon court, the horns of his crown gleaming brilliantly.

That night, a grand feast was held.

Kitchen fires burned without cease through the night. Jar after jar of aged wine was uncorked. Every street of the Red Emperor Capital was adorned with lanterns and decorations. Celebrating crowds packed the squares to the brim.

The iron dragon Regent King personally opened the festivities.

The Emperor was awake. The Immortal was achieved.

Once this message was formally disseminated, all of Sacred Aola erupted in celebration. The entire nation rejoiced. No matter where one was, people were celebrating.

And not just Sacred Aola.

All the nations of Atlantis joined in the celebration as well, whether out of genuine feeling or awe. Envoys were dispatched one after another, bearing congratulatory gifts.

Congratulating the Red Emperor on his awakening, congratulating the Red Emperor on his return, congratulating the true master of this continent for soaring through the skies once more in his Immortal form.

The celebration lasted a full month.

During this time, the Red Emperor, together with his blood kin and Important Ministers, enjoyed the fervent atmosphere together. His body, somewhat hollowed by the long slumber, gradually recovered to its peak condition.

And as time passed, the last traces of revelry faded away.

In the palace, the Red Emperor sat high upon his throne, his expression calm.

Across from him, the iron dragon Sorog was reporting on everything that had happened during his slumber, following the timeline.

Things like the construction of the Star Network and Cloud Rails, the attack of the ratfolk kingdom, and so on.

He had now reached the development of the underground world.

"Let me start with an old matter. When the empire was developing deep into the earth, we encountered an old acquaintance."

"A regional king who once ruled a territory during the Wilderness Era, the fungus king."

The iron dragon spoke slowly.

Garoth's gaze flickered.

The Wilderness Era.

For him, that memory was somewhat distant, but still very clear.

At that time, he had just begun to make a name for himself. The precursor of Sacred Aola was still a small tribe on the wasteland. The entire Ser Wilderness had been divided and ruled by regional kings, all vying for supremacy in endless warfare.

And the fungus king had been one of the more peculiar ones among those kings.

Back then, when the wars between nations had paused and the Sword Saint of Theo had come to cleanse the kings of the wilderness, the fungus king was said to have died beneath his blade.

But now, it seemed it had survived.

"Oh?"

The red iron dragon's voice carried a hint of interest. "You didn't just wipe it out while you were at it?"

"No."

Sorog answered truthfully. "The fungus king retreated underground back then and hid from the world. It bore no old grudges against the empire. When the development legion made contact, it expressed its willingness to submit. The empire, in turn, supported it and established the Myconid Kingdom underground, where it watches over the underworld on the empire's behalf. It has been running quite smoothly."

Sacred Aola was not a cruel empire.

Back then, after assessing the costs and benefits of cleansing the underground life, the empire had decided to accept the fungus king's submission and allow it a degree of autonomy within designated underground territories.

Sacred Aola was always happy to engage in this kind of win-win arrangement.

The red iron dragon let out a low chuckle.

"To encounter a former regional king of the wilderness after all these years..."

"The world truly is unpredictable."

Of the regional kings from those days, some had died by his claws, others had perished in the chaos of war. The only ones who had survived to this day were himself, who now stood at the apex of the Material Plane, and this fungus king who had hidden away in the underground world.

He had to admit, its choice had been wise.

Atlantis had seen no shortage of chaos over the years. By staying underground, it had dodged danger time and again, growing steadily until now.

"Should we summon this fungus king to the surface for an audience?"

The iron dragon asked.

"No."

Garoth waved a claw, his tone flat. "No need. There's no point. It guards the depths for the empire, and the empire gives it a place to call its own. Each takes what it needs."

He was somewhat surprised to have stumbled upon the fungus king's existence.

It was like, in an ever-changing era, suddenly discovering another being who had walked the same path from the old times.

But Garoth didn't pay it much mind.

Even back in the Ser Wilderness, he and this fungus king had little interaction. They had never fought directly, nor had they ever engaged in any form of negotiation or alliance.

In fact, if the wars of the Romania nations had ended a little later, he might have personally obliterated it.

And knowing Garoth's nature, he would likely have dug three feet deep to eradicate it completely, leaving no chance for survival.

Now, through a twist of fate, this fungus king had become one of his subjects.

But that didn't mean it held any special status in Garoth's eyes.

It was nothing more than a flicker of surprise that the thing was still alive. There was no need for a special audience.

The iron dragon nodded and continued his report.

The changes and vicissitudes of these years unfolded slowly through the iron dragon's words.

The consolidation of Atlantis, the completion of the Star Network and Cloud Rails, the expansion of the legions, the preparation for the Grand Expedition...

One item after another.

Garoth listened quietly, occasionally nodding.

Finally, the iron dragon's voice deepened.

"Garoth, my dear brother, you have probably already noticed."

"The empire's Star Network is currently on alert, and the target of that alert is an ancient Primordial Wastes entity lurking in the deep void."

He spoke of the current situation.

"I know."

The red iron dragon raised his eyes, unmoved. "Even before I went into slumber, this Primordial Wastes entity's aura had already been drawing closer to Bernardo. I even made preparations while asleep, ready to cut my slumber short and wake early if it arrived quickly."

"But it was slower than I expected."

The red iron dragon tapped his claw on the armrest of the throne. "That's a good thing."

"Yes."

Sorog nodded. "The Primordial Wastes entity split off some spherical lifeforms as vanguard claws and fangs, sending them to strike at Bernardo first."

"The situation was somewhat dangerous at first, but they were all intercepted and dealt with. The first wave was handled by Reinhardt alone, and subsequent attacks were blocked by Reinhardt together with Nausil's immortals. None of them made it to the ground."

Reinhardt...

Good. He hasn't disappointed my expectations. This sharp blade can at least guard the empire for me while I sleep, handling matters others find difficult to face.

Garoth nodded slightly.

How unpredictable life was. This human swordsman who once lived in his shadow had now become the empire's sharpest blade.

There was a certain drama to it.

Without him, Garoth's slumber would very likely have been interrupted.

"The Primordial Wastes entity's main body is still on its way."

"The distance is growing shorter."

The iron dragon said.

Garoth slowly raised his head.

His gaze pierced through the palace dome, as if seeing the colossal dark shadow at the end of the deep void. A few seconds later, he lowered his eyes again, his faceplate revealing no visible expression.

"I will wait for it to arrive."

The red iron dragon's gaze was sharp as he spoke slowly. "My Potency, my Immortal body, both need an enemy of sufficient caliber to test them."

"An ancient Primordial Wastes entity... there is no better whetstone than this."

Sorog's eyes grew thoughtful.

As the empire's Regent King and Iron Royal Duke, he habitually considered every possibility, including the worst-case ones.

So, he asked in a low voice, "That entity is, after all, an ancient existence as old as the multiverse itself."

"If the situation becomes dire... will the Joyous Court step in?"

Comparing the Primordial Wastes entity to the Abyss, the latter was theoretically more dangerous.

But the Abyssal crisis Atlantis had faced before was actually mainly from a single lord, not a true Abyssal threat. When comparing the Lord of the Flame Prison to an ancient Primordial Wastes entity, the latter was more dangerous.

"Perhaps they will. Perhaps they won't."

"But no matter what, I will not place my hopes on other beings."

The red iron dragon said in a deep voice. "The divine system is a backup, not a crutch. This battle is Sacred Aola's war. It is my war."

The Joyous Court had already invested heavily in him.

If Garoth kept needing the Joyous Court's help time and again without delivering any returns, then he didn't deserve the importance they placed on him.

Titania had also said so.

This was a test.

If evil gods like Tiamat stirred up trouble, she would handle them. Everything else was Garoth's own business.

The iron dragon bowed his head. "I understand."

He paused, then added, "There is one more thing. Aside from the Primordial Wastes entity's main body, the elves of Nausil have also been affected. According to Reinhardt's report, their immortals were clearly in abnormal condition during battle, suspected to have been eroded by prolonged exposure to the Primordial Wastes entity's power."

"In addition, the empire's sorceress corps, working together with the Star Network, has discovered a massive and well-hidden signal source on the Thalassian Continent."

"It's like a beacon, a coordinate, guiding the Primordial Wastes entity, drawing it closer to Bernardo."

The palace fell silent.

The corrupted Nausil, and Kantum guiding the Primordial Wastes entity.

Those empires on Thalassia were truly nothing but trouble. But how had the orcs gotten mixed up with a Primordial Wastes entity? Perhaps after their great defeat, they had grasped at straws and fallen under its corruption.

"Thalassia..."

"On today's Bernardo, besides Atlantis, the other two continents are both hidden dangers."

Garoth raised his head from the throne, his gaze heavy.

The iron dragon's pupils contracted slightly. "What do you mean?"

"To deal with external threats, one must first secure internal stability."

The red iron dragon said in a deep voice. "I don't want someone stabbing me in the back while I'm locked in a fierce battle with the Primordial Wastes entity."

Sorog understood, a glint rising in his eyes. "There is still some time before the Primordial Wastes entity's main body arrives. Perfect, we can eliminate the hidden dangers one by one before then."

Garoth had already entertained some thoughts about Thalassia before his slumber.

But the situation hadn't been stable enough at the time, so it had been shelved.

Now, the time was right.

"Start with the orcs."

The red iron dragon said. "The Kantum Empire has clung to life under the protection of its so-called gods for far longer than it deserved. But it's time to end this. Thalassia will fall under the rule of Sacred Aola."

Sorog stepped forward, his breathing growing heavy. "I will assemble the legions immediately and prepare to crusade against Kantum!"

The red iron dragon shook his head.

"No need for that."

"Just prepare one legion. Its task is not to wage war, but to handle the subsequent takeover and control. Once Thalassia is pacified, it will be responsible for receiving cities, restoring order, and integrating this continent into the empire's territory."

"As for the conquest itself..."

He rose slowly from the throne, his dragon form stretching out.

"Leave it to me."

"I've been asleep for too long. My bones have rusted."

The red iron dragon grinned, revealing gleaming white fangs. "Perfect. Let Kantum serve as my warm-up, and let me experience what it feels like to crush an empire with my own strength alone."