Chapter 667: The Ark, the Curtain Falls, the Kneeling King |
The all-out war against the Sulfur Lands ended in a catastrophic defeat. The legions that Halden had stationed on the front lines of the Abyss began to rout on a massive scale, soldiers abandoning their weapons and armor as they fled backward.
The Source-Extraction Roots.
These crucial nodes were occupied by the demons one by one, falling in succession.
The planar passageways were opened once again.
However, the last time, the Halden legions had counterattacked the Abyss shouting victory slogans, their morale soaring, war banners flapping in the wind, and a flame of conquest burning in the soldiers’ eyes.
This time, it was a ragtag bunch of defeated, broken troops.
Their eyes were hollow, their morale at rock bottom.
All the nations paid great attention to this war.
Although they were still unclear about exactly what had happened inside the Abyss, merely extrapolating from the current situation was enough to arrive at a conclusion closest to the truth.
Yet, in the end, they returned in a crushing defeat.
When this news gradually spread, it immediately stirred up a monstrous wave among the nations of Atlan.
At first, many people refused to believe it.
Halden, the empire that stood high in the clouds, the one the entire continent looked up to—its Sky Cities blotted out the sky, its Immortals looked down upon all living beings.
How could such an empire collapse overnight?
In response, Halden’s central command remained silent for a time before finally releasing a brief and heavy public announcement.
The wording was extremely restrained, but it still could not hide the paleness and despair.
The legion that had counterattacked the Abyss was almost completely annihilated.
Noxian of the Blazing Dawn, confirmed fallen; Ryan of the Dark Star, confirmed fallen; the ultimate weapon, Platinum Star, confirmed destroyed in the Abyss.
With Halden’s official confirmation, any vestige of hope was gone.
Doubt turned into certainty, and certainty turned into panic.
The atmosphere across all of Atlan became oppressive and heavy. Panic spread across the land, passing from one city to the next, from one country to another.
People began to speculate about the future based on the worst possible scenario.
If the Abyssal gates were to open completely, was the apocalypse about to descend?
And then, chaos arrived.
Food prices skyrocketed several times over in just a few days, climbing in leaps and bounds.
The price that could buy a bag of flour one day would only get you half a bag the next. The cost of weapons and armor shot up more than tenfold.
People waved their money pouches, fighting over anything that could be used for self-defense.
Chaotic incidents broke out frequently.
But.
The chaos did not last long.
Because, over the cloud-shrouded Atlan, the radiance of the Sacred Aola Empire had not been extinguished; on the contrary, it burned even brighter.
The imposing, majestic silhouettes of dragons continuously swept across the sky.
One by one, steel-hearted Aola warriors appeared on the streets and alleys of every nation, their faces cold and stern, their gazes sharp as knives.
Acting on the Emperor’s will, they declared a state of emergency and wartime readiness across Atlan, with all vassal states placed under the unified control of Sacred Aola.
Soon enough, the cancers that had surfaced amidst the chaos were plucked out one by one.
The profiteers who had hoarded and inflated prices of basic goods were dragged out of their warehouses by soldiers and loaded onto prison carts. The cult leaders who spread doomsday rumors were publicly arrested, their followers scattering in all directions.
There were also the defeatists who advocated welcoming the Abyss’s descent, and the thugs who trampled on order amidst the chaos.
They were executed on the spot, skipping even the trial.
Severe times call for severe measures.
And so, batch after batch of people were sent to the guillotine. Heads rolled down endlessly, blood converging into rivers of red.
With undeniable ruthlessness and iron-fisted means, Sacred Aola swiftly curbed the spread of chaos, firmly confining it within a controllable scope.
Perhaps peace had lasted for too long, and people had nearly forgotten what kind of nation Sacred Aola truly was.
Now, they remembered once more.
Forged from iron and fire, the Red Emperor had risen from nothing to strength, from a small border kingdom tucked away in a corner to a Dragon Empire dominating the continent—all in just a few short centuries.
This empire had never been built on mercy and tolerance.
Its foundation was the scorched earth burned by dragon flame, the battlefields crushed beneath iron, and the ashes of countless enemies ground to dust.
And now, it had become the sole hope for all of Atlan.
And so, time swiftly passed to one year later.
New Calendar Year 749, deep winter.
Snow had been falling for three whole days.
The world between heaven and earth had no other colors left, only pure white. The distant mountains were hidden within thick layers of clouds. Withered branches were wrapped in ice crystals, taking on a jade hue, and when the wind passed, they would shake off a shower of fragmented light.
The red iron dragon stood atop a high peak.
He had just returned from the white dwarf in the deep void.
At this moment, his scales still bore residual scorching heat, forming a visible ring of distorted heatwaves around his body.
Before the flying snow could even approach his body, it melted into water droplets from a distance, which then instantly evaporated into white steam, forming a constantly churning ring of vapor around him.
Huff...
The red iron dragon slowly exhaled a breath of hot air, which condensed into a straight white line in the air before being torn apart by the wind and snow.
His gaze swept across his surroundings.
Heavy snow fell, a world wrapped in silver, a vast expanse of white wind and snow nearly blotting out everything.
However, when he slightly lifted his head, his sight could still penetrate the boundless blizzard, catching a glimpse of the giant city’s silhouette, looming in and out of view through the snow curtain.
“I still can’t just leave these Sky Cities unattended.”
The red iron dragon narrowed his pupils slightly, thinking to himself.
After about a year of adaptation, the effects of the Abyss’s corruption had essentially dissipated completely.
He had only sent an avatar to the Abyss, not his main body, and he hadn’t stayed long. In essence, he hadn’t been affected all that heavily.
After confirming that his judgment hadn’t been twisted by corruption,
Garoth re-evaluated these Sky Cities hanging in the sky.
The conclusion he reached was about the same as before.
He really wanted to destroy all these Sky Cities, leaving not a single one standing.
But the difference was that now he clearly understood that while this was a good way to weaken the threat of the Abyss, actually doing it was extremely difficult.
Destroying the Sky Cities themselves wasn’t the problem.
The problem was the chain reaction that might be triggered during the process of destroying them. That was why he hadn’t yet given the final order.
“Every one of these Sky Cities is a ticking time bomb.”
“It would be best to dismantle them in advance, the sooner the better. The problem is, even though Halden’s Immortals and Platinum Star are gone, these Sky Cities themselves are weapons.”
“If I force an attack, it will only make Halden choose to shatter the jade together with the tile, causing even bigger trouble and making the situation spiral out of control.”
This was the crux of the problem.
The people of Halden were extremely stubborn, even obstinate to the bone.
This race lived above the clouds and had long regarded the Sky Cities as symbols of their status and glory.
Even after suffering an unprecedented defeat in the Abyss, even knowing full well that their Sky Cities were tightly connected to the Abyssal rifts and that each one was a potential source of danger, these bastards still stubbornly clung to their Sky Cities and refused to let them go.
If Garoth asked them to abandon the Sky Cities, they would never agree and would even resist in the most violent way.
Garoth shook his head slightly, temporarily pushing aside the tangled mess of thoughts.
Just then.
A white dot deep within the wind and snow was rapidly growing larger.
It was a dragon.
She moved through the blizzard, surrounded by fine ice crystals and frost, as if this storm that swept heaven and earth had been paved as a path just for her. Her flight posture was incredibly light and graceful, as if the wind and snow were lifting her, letting her glide.
The Wanfa Dragon, the White Scourge, Hitherfell.
In the blink of an eye, she had traveled from deep within the storm to the top of the high mountain. She folded her wings and lightly landed on a giant rock beside the red iron dragon.
Her arrival did not surprise Garoth.
A dragon of the Fate Legendary tier, venturing into another empire’s territory without prior notice, would only be seen as a potential threat, even a declaration of war.
The White Scourge always did as she pleased, but she wasn’t stupid.
Before coming this time, out of respect for Sacred Aola, she had informed him in advance through a long-distance message.
Garoth had stopped on this high peak for two reasons: first, to let his body temperature, which had soared after training, cool down, and second, to wait for her arrival.
“Hitherfell.”
Garoth turned his head to look at the white dragon and got straight to the point, “What business do you have coming to Atlan at a time like this?”
The White Scourge let out a low laugh, tinged with a hint of nonchalant laziness.
“Garoth, your words are too distant.”
“Although we haven’t met many times in total, as fellow evil dragons, I’ve been keeping an eye on you, the Red Emperor, even from ten thousand miles away. Can’t I come over just to bask in your radiance?”
Garoth snorted a plume of hot air from his nostrils, not letting her flattery lead him astray.
“The Empire is currently in a state of emergency.”
“If you don’t have anything important, I don’t have time to entertain you. Besides, I don’t believe you flew all the way from the Cold Water Ocean just to spout a few meaningless words.”
“Out with it. What do you want?”
He said this seriously.
“So serious?”
The White Scourge tilted her head, a glint of amusement flashing in her vertical pupils. “Looks like even you take this crisis very seriously. I thought the Red Emperor wasn’t afraid of anything.”
She paused, toning down her joking demeanor slightly, and spoke more seriously:
“But I really don’t have anything particularly important.”
“I came this time mainly to let you know that I plan to stay for a while on your territory, in Atlan. If the demon invasion happens while I’m still here, I’ll just kill a few demons for fun to pass the time.”
She paused again and added,
“Just a side thing. I didn’t come specially for it.”
Garoth naturally didn’t believe her.
The White Scourge had been perfectly fine in the Cold Water Ocean. And of all times, she chose to come now, just before the Abyss’s threat loomed large and the demons were about to invade Atlan?
This was definitely no coincidence.
The red iron dragon thought for a moment, then bluntly stated his judgment:
“You heard about the situation in Atlan and came specifically to support me?”
He had known for a long time that the White Scourge had a favor to ask of him.
Adding flowers to brocade is far inferior to providing charcoal in a snowstorm.
Choosing this moment to come and offer support was indeed very well-timed to serve her purpose.
Hearing the red iron dragon’s words, the white dragon abruptly turned her head, a glint of irritation flashing in her eyes at being seen through.
She snorted coldly and said, “You’re overthinking it.”
“I’m just tired of the ocean. The Cold Water Ocean has nothing but fish and ice, not even anyone to talk to. I wanted a change of scenery, to take a walk and clear my head.”
“The scenery in your Sacred Aola is pretty good. Lots of mountains, diverse terrain.”
“As for the demons, I just find those ugly things unpleasant to look at. I want to kill a few to relieve some boredom. It’s definitely not a special trip to help you.”
The red iron dragon looked at her eager, defensive manner and couldn’t be bothered to say more.
He hadn’t been in contact with this white dragon for long, but it was long enough to figure out her personality.
Her mouth was probably harder than his own dragon scales. If he pressed further, she would likely come up with even more absurd excuses. He had no interest in listening to her continue to spout nonsense.
So, he chose silence.
The White Scourge seemed to realize her own defense was a bit too hasty.
She lifted her head, looking at the faint outline of the Sky Cities, and changed the subject, asking:
“Why are you still keeping these Sky Cities around? Don’t you find them annoying hanging over your head?”
“Halden is basically finished now, just hanging on by a thread. Atlan is entirely held up by you Aola down below. Having their cities hanging overhead, seeing them every time you look up, doesn’t that get on your nerves?”
Garoth followed her gaze and shook his head slightly.
“Because there isn’t a good solution yet for the time being.”
He said slowly, and then gave a general outline of the troublesome situation with the Sky Cities.
After hearing it, the White Scourge couldn’t help but snort coldly.
“Stubborn?”
She bared her teeth, revealing a neat row of frost-white fangs, and said, “In my opinion, these stupid and stubborn Halden people just need to be taught a lesson.”
“Doesn’t your Aola have some theory about an ‘ecological niche’?”
“I think it suits them perfectly. It’s the most suitable way to deal with this kind of race that cares so much about saving face.”
“Before, they were still pretty strong. They had two Immortals, the Platinum Star, and such a huge legion. That was acceptable. The strong do have the right to demand face.”
“But given their current situation, how dare they still be so ungrateful?”
“Hmph. The weak should be thoroughly humiliated by the strong. That’s the most basic and effective principle.”
“I suggest that you Aola drag them down from the clouds, trample them in the mud, and make them recognize their place. Make them understand that they are no longer the proud, lofty sons of the clouds.”
“For example, crush them on both the spiritual and physical levels.”
“Humiliate their incompetence. Strip them of their dignity. Grind their pride into dust.”
“Once they’ve been humiliated enough, their minds will clear up, and their ideas will naturally change.”
The white dragon spoke with great enthusiasm, eventually even looking eager to try: “I’m not part of your Sacred Aola, but if you decide to thoroughly humiliate Halden, I can do the honors for you.”
The red iron dragon gave a silent laugh and shook his massive head.
“I wouldn’t mind doing that either.”
“I’ve never had any qualms about how to treat Halden. Not settling old scores with them is already being very polite. But there’s no time for that right now.”
Hitherfell spread her wings slightly in a motion that resembled a shrug.
“That’s true.”
She abandoned her suggestion decisively, saying, “I’m not good at this kind of stuff either. How to deal with Halden is your problem. You can rack your brains over it.”
She returned to her lazy, languid tone. “Anyway, I came to Sacred Aola for two things. First, to stroll around, relax, and enjoy the scenery. Second, to conveniently fight some demons and get some exercise.”
“Nothing else.”
The white dragon emphasized the word “conveniently” once more.
Garoth looked at her and nodded his huge head.
“As you wish.”
“As long as you don’t cause any trouble in my territory, you can stay in Atlan as long as you like. But if I find out you’ve done anything out of line, I’ll come and find you personally.”
Hearing this, the white dragon laughed heartily.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ve always been law-abiding, more lawful than the Metal Dragons.”
She left a joke behind, then spread her wings wide. The frost-white wings opened into a broad arc against the wind and snow.
The white dragon soared into the sky.
Her figure merged into the boundless falling snow, disappearing from sight in an instant.
The red iron dragon watched her leave, then withdrew his gaze, his mind churning with thoughts.
Not long after, the temperature on the surface of his body gradually returned to normal. The ring of steam also thinned out until it disappeared, and a thin layer of snowflakes settled on his steel-like scales.
The great dragon shook his body, the accumulated snow falling off.
He was just about to leave this place.
Suddenly, the Bloodline Connection was triggered. Sorog had something to tell him.
The red iron dragon paused his movement, sinking his mind into the Bloodline Connection, and asked, “Have the chaotic situations in the various places been brought under control?”
After the news of Halden’s great defeat spread, Atlan had descended into chaos.
This initial chaos, seemingly without a direct impact on Sacred Aola, was actually a very dangerous omen.
The difficulty of an Abyssal invasion was directly related to the world’s ‘chaos level.’ The higher the chaos, the easier the Abyssal rifts would expand, and the easier it would be for demons to descend.
Therefore.
Upon discovering the sparks of chaos, Garoth immediately issued orders, delegating their execution to Sorog. He was to use an iron fist to nip all potential sources of chaos in the bud, not giving them a chance to develop, grow, and intensify.
Sorog’s voice came through the Bloodline Connection, steady and cold:
“Yes, everything is going smoothly. We haven’t encountered any meaningful resistance.”
Sacred Aola. The name had the word “Sacred” in its prefix.
But this empire was not actually related to anything sacred.
When the need arose, it could bare claws and fangs more terrifying than those of demons.
Resistance?
Sacred Aola’s history wasn’t long, just a few short centuries. But looking back on its past path of ascension, all those who defied the Empire’s will had only one fate.
—To be turned to ashes, to be ground to dust.
After those fools trying to create chaos were swiftly sent to the guillotine, the remaining people became much more obedient.
At this point, Sorog’s tone shifted slightly: “I’m not calling about that.”
Garoth asked, “Then what is it?”
The iron dragon’s voice paused, then he said, “There’s a man who has come seeking an audience. He is currently in the Valdo Palace. I think you should go and see him yourself.”
Garoth asked again, “Who is it?”
Sorog replied with only a name.
The exchange was brief and swift.
In just a few words, the information had been transmitted.
The red iron dragon narrowed his eyes slightly, turned his head to look in the direction of the Red Emperor Capital, and then didn’t hesitate. With a beat of his wings, his colossal frame tore through the boundless, swirling snow.
Red Emperor Capital, Dragon Court.
Within the vast, empty main hall, the red iron dragon coiled on the enormous throne.
His posture was casual, wings half-folded, tail tip resting idly on the edge of the steps. His head hung slightly low, his vertical pupils looking down upon the tiny figure at the foot of the steps.
The servants and guards had long been dismissed.
Only two figures remained in the hall.
Besides the imposing, majestic dragon, a man stood below the steps.
An old man.
His hair was completely white. Wrinkles spread from the corners of his eyes and mouth across his entire face, deep like grooves chiseled out by axe and knife. His originally straight nose bridge now appeared sharp because his cheeks had completely sunken in.
Fafnir. The Emperor of Halden. The King of Halden.
Garoth almost didn’t recognize him at first.
The last time he had seen Fafnir in person was on the reviewing stand of the City in the Clouds.
Back then, the King of Halden, though showing some signs of age—slightly graying temples and faint lines at the corners of his eyes—gave no feeling of decrepitude.
He had been wearing white-gold light armor, raising his right fist, shouting “Halden will prevail!” to the full-strength army, declaring war on the Abyss.
Following that, the cheers of countless soldiers had surged like a tsunami.
That was only one year ago.
But the person standing before him now looked like an ordinary person who had aged another twenty years or more.
Although his back was still held very straight, it was no longer the spirited, high-spirited posture of the past. He seemed more like an old tree, already bent by wind and snow, yet still gritting its teeth and holding on.
Clearly, Halden’s defeat had had a tremendous impact on him.
Not just psychologically, but it had also directly manifested in his body.
At that moment, Fafnir looked up at the majestic dragon.
His gaze first fell upon its powerful body, then slowly moved upward, finally locking eyes with those vertical pupils. A look of daze flashed across his expression.
Then, he slightly bowed.
The bow was not small.
The angle at which his spine bent surpassed the bounds of etiquette for equals. It didn’t resemble a ceremonial nod from one emperor to another, but was closer to a bow made by a supplicant to the person they were beseeching.
In short, his posture was a bit humble.
“Esteemed Master of Sacred Aola.”
His voice was hoarse and dry. “I had wanted to come here long ago to officially visit you, but I never found the right time. It seems a bit late now.”
The red iron dragon looked down at him and said, “For just a meeting, it’s never too late.”
Hearing this, Fafnir lifted his head and fell into a daze once more.
He had read the name of the red iron dragon countless times in intelligence reports. He had discussed the threat of the red iron dragon in countless strategy meetings, devised countless plans to counter Aola’s expansion. Yet today, he had to stand personally before the red iron dragon in a humble posture.
But what Fafnir didn’t expect was...
He did not encounter the mockery he had anticipated.
Fafnir had mentally prepared himself for humiliation. He even felt it was something he deserved. When a loser stands before a victor, accepting humiliation is only natural.
However, the red iron dragon’s voice was very calm.
It betrayed neither joy nor anger, like a placid lake.
At the same time, under the King of Halden’s gaze, the red iron dragon slightly adjusted his coiled posture, slowly stretching his tail out across the steps of the throne.
“As the Emperor of Halden, you come without any attendants, without any guards, without any prior diplomatic communication.”
The dragon gazed down at the human, his tone unhurried:
“What reason brings you before me so suddenly like this?”
His attitude was very casual, not formal like treating a head of state. In fact, it was almost too casual.
But even though both were leaders of empires, their statuses were on completely different levels.
Fafnir wasn’t here for dignity either.
He didn’t avoid the dragon’s gaze. Lifting his head, he said directly, “I hope to give Halden a way to survive.”
The red iron dragon’s vertical pupils narrowed slightly.
“How?”
He asked, “And what does that have to do with me?”
Fafnir took a deep breath, his chest heaving slightly, then slowly said, “Our Empire’s Immortal, His Excellency the Dark Star, left a last testament.”
A last testament?
Garoth had a relatively deep impression of this Immortal.
He became interested and looked seriously at Fafnir, waiting for him to continue.
Fafnir continued:
“Before His Excellency the Dark Star went to the Abyss, he secretly built an ark using engines from an older era.”
“The ark is hidden in a shadow space, not in the docking area of any Sky City, nor in any of the Empire’s official records.”
“He was extremely secretive about this. Only a handful of people knew of its existence.”
“Even I only learned the full truth after receiving His Excellency the Dark Star’s last testament.”
Saying this, a look of guilt flashed in Fafnir’s eyes.
He had previously suspected the Dark Star of being corrupted by the Abyss.
This was largely because the Dark Star was originally a stern, taciturn person. After the Abyssal Development Plan was proposed, he remained quite active, even personally participating in some specific technical solutions.
This was completely different from his past behavior patterns, and Fafnir couldn’t help but suspect him.
But now it seemed...
He had sensed the danger in advance. Fearing serious internal corruption—if he made the ark public, someone might destroy it beforehand—he could only act in secret, silently paving an escape route for Halden.
The red iron dragon’s pupils flickered slightly.
Thinking about his previous conversation with the Dark Star, he asked, “Does this ark contain coordinates of other Material Planes?”
“Yes.”
Fafnir lowered his eyelids and replied, “His Excellency the Dark Star has already drawn up a personnel list, a group of strictly selected young people.”
“He hoped this ark could carry these most outstanding, most excellent Halden citizens he chose, to the new world he selected. Then, everything can start anew, building a different Halden.”
The dragon chuckled and said, “Start anew?”
“Once news of this ark leaks out, it won’t just be the people on the list who can board. At the critical moment of life and death, those power-brokers will use every means to force their way on.”
“A list? A list is just a useless piece of paper in the face of survival.”
“In the end, the only ones on board will be Halden’s royal family and the most powerful clans. You’ll just repeat the same mistakes.”
Hearing this, Fafnir lifted his head.
His eyes were already somewhat murky, no longer clear. But now, a very determined light shone through those muddy eyes.
“No. Absolutely not.”
Fafnir said firmly, “The existence of the ark is strictly confidential.”
“Aside from those personally chosen by His Excellency the Dark Star, people who can lead Halden’s revival in the new world, no one else will board the ark. Not even myself.”
“I just need to ensure the ark launches smoothly, carrying those who can truly rebuild the Empire to the new world.”
Fafnir didn’t have much life left.
If he were still young, he might have forced his way onto the ark out of fear of death, taking a spot meant for a young person.
But now, death was already imminent and unavoidable.
Fafnir just wanted to do his utmost to salvage Halden before he died, leaving behind the embers of revival.
For him now, the legacy after death was the most important thing.
“I think I know why you’ve come.”
The red iron dragon spoke slowly: “The ark goes to a new world, carrying your chosen seeds of revival, and leaves Bernardo forever.”
“And the old Sky Cities?”
Fafnir did not hesitate. He spoke word by word, “The old ones will be handed over entirely to Sacred Aola’s disposal.”
His voice paused, and he continued, “In this past year, I have hardly left the central command. From the day the news of our defeat came back, I knew Halden’s era was over.”
“Every day since then, I have been lobbying.”
“From the noble council to the high command of the military, from the alchemist guilds to the commercial conglomerates, I convinced them one by one, telling them that the Empire’s era was over, that clinging to the Sky Cities would only lead everyone to their graves together.”
“There were many obstacles along the way. A lot.”
“But in the end, through some means, I made them agree with my decision.”
He didn’t elaborate on what those means were, but the process was probably not gentle.
“The Empire will disarm and deactivate the defense systems of all Sky Cities and open all spaceports.”
“When that happens, Sacred Aola’s legions can take over every Sky City without any obstruction. Whether you choose to dismantle the engines, destroy the cities, or deal with them in any way you see fit.”
“I will fully cooperate, personally ensuring that Halden offers no resistance.”
Garoth knew that the Sky Cities were just the surface.
Handing over the Sky Cities almost meant that Sacred Aola could obtain everything from Halden, especially its technology and knowledge.
But nothing in this world came for free.
Since Fafnir offered such conditions, he must want something in return.
The dragon’s gaze was fixed firmly on Fafnir, and he asked, “Then, what price do you want me to pay?”
Fafnir was silent for the span of a breath.
Then, he made a move that Garoth hadn’t expected.
The Emperor of Halden, the ruler of the nation in the clouds, slowly bent his knees and knelt before the crimson throne. His white hair fell from his shoulders, covering most of his face.
“There is no price, Your Majesty.”
The voice came from behind the fallen white hair. Fafnir lowered his head and said, “I make no conditions. I will not bargain. I do not demand an equal exchange.”
“The Sky Cities, the technology, the knowledge, everything—it’s all free of charge.”
Fafnir’s hands rested on his knees. He raised his head slightly.
“I have only one request.”
“I request you. I beseech you. I implore Sacred Aola to accept the citizens of Halden who remain in Bernardo and cannot board the ark.”
“I ask not for any status to be given to them. I ask not for them to be treated like Aola citizens.”
“I only ask... for a way for them to survive.”
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