Ashen Dragon

Ingrid Garses clutched the scepter, standing nervously on the battlefield. Her voluptuous body, wrapped in a pure white robe, trembled in the cold wind. "Amanata above..." Ingrid called out softly to the deity's name, seeking a trace of solace. Surrounding her were four tall, golden-armored figures. These were the Spiritual Guards summoned by her Divine Arts, "Devoted Guard," capable of holding off thousands of troops. However, these guards could not bring her even a hint of safety, for Ingrid knew—the terrifying red dragon could return at any moment. Suddenly, as if sensing something, Ingrid's face turned to one of horror, and she instinctively looked up. The space around them began to violently distort. "Riiiip—" Two claws tore through space like parchment, creating a dreadful rift with flaming edges. Immediately, the enormous, grotesque head of the red dragon emerged, its pale golden pupils gazing down at her, with a faint and eerie smile. The almost tangible Dragon's Might filled the air, and the giant shadow blocked the sunlight that fell upon her, making Ingrid instinctively want to flee, yet the pressure kept her rooted to the spot. Cassius spread his wings, speaking: "Your companion survived by my hand, but... he and his forces have paid a heavy price." "What price will you pay?" "I, I..." Ingrid was momentarily speechless, finally responding hesitantly. "I am an honorary bishop of the Fadlan Empire Church. The empire should..." This legendary priest did not fabricate a lie about being a "Chosen One," for she had personally witnessed how Deske Flamgold met his end through lies. Red dragons despised those who deceived them. Cassius asked, feigning surprise, "Empire?" "Don't you know?" "Your old emperor is dead, and the Fadlan Empire has shattered into hundreds of pieces. I fear your beloved deity is overwhelmed—who would care about an honorary bishop?" "Wha... what?" Ingrid felt as if struck by lightning. She stood there with her mouth agape, the Scepter of the Sun God nearly slipping from her grip. She had grown up in the capital of the Fadlan Empire, chosen as a priest for the Amanata Church at the age of eight for her exceptional affinity, and became a legendary priest and honorary bishop by twenty-five. Throughout her journey, the empire had always been a strong support, shielding her from the storms. Now, faced with an enemy that seemed invincible, the empire's protection was gone, and she was trapped on the brink of death. "I, I don't want to provoke you." "Can you let me go?" Ingrid felt deeply wronged, her voice tinged with tears. She chose to speak the truth from her heart and directly plead for mercy. Cassius lowered his head, smiling lightly: "I know you're the only one in this group who has retained their sanity, but that means little." "I'll ask again—what price will you pay?" As the red dragon lowered his head, Ingrid felt the blazing air and the scent of sulfur waft over her. Perhaps in the next moment, this red dragon would open his maw and devour her. "I, I..." At that moment, Ingrid thought of surrender. But she was already a legendary priest, and if she easily changed her faith and surrendered to a specific being, she might be punished by the gods. Cassius lifted his head again, speaking calmly: "Thirty years—I want you to stay in my realm for thirty years. Your Divine Arts can serve the Fadlan Empire, just as they can serve the Ashen Kingdom." He paused, a smile of ambition spreading across his face. "Besides, my realm does not reject any faith. Even Fadlan people and Amanata's followers can become citizens of the kingdom." "Perhaps... in the near future, you could openly return to your homeland, not as a prisoner, but as a bishop of the kingdom's church." "This..." Ingrid's expression changed dramatically as she understood Cassius's implication. That was the millennia-old Fadlan Empire, its magical power far exceeding Anzeta, yet the red dragon coveted such a colossal entity! But now, her life lay in his hands, and the chance for survival was fleeting. She bit her lip, her golden eyes filled with complex emotions, but she made her decision. "Greetings... Your Majesty Cassius." Ingrid used her scepter for support, performing a standard bow for royalty. In that moment of bowing, guilt and regret flooded Ingrid's heart. She was a prodigious child of the empire's church, a lifelong priestess serving Amanata, yet she would now serve a kingdom ruled by giant dragons! But she repeatedly told herself—At least I'm alive, right? "Very well." "Ingrid, as a legendary Light Priest, you should know spells to control the weather, correct?" "Yes, Your Majesty." "Then let this sky brighten once more." Cassius said. After this long battle, even he was somewhat weary; he did not want to cast the spell himself. ... After this protracted battle, the land had become devastated, losing its former appearance. The scarred wasteland was strewn with shattered debris, towering mounds of corpses, flowing rivers of blood, scorched and re-solidified lava, and melting ice mountains. The broad Inaki River and Olvir River were stained red with blood, with dismembered limbs occasionally floating on the surface. It was already dusk, and the sky was darkening. Even the twilight was gradually dissipating, merging into the night, while the biting cold wind continued to howl. "Whooo..." The allied forces felt as bleak and hopeless as the world around them, filled with restless unease. An oppressive atmosphere pervaded the allied army, their ranks eerily silent, with none daring to look towards the distant red dragon. These Northern Nobles had witnessed the legendary "King of Ashen" defeat the much-hoped Ancient Silver Dragon and kill the highly-paid legendary adventurers one after another. Even the "hero" Duke Leo, who stepped forward, had vanished. "I wander with the north wind..." From somewhere, a melancholic and sorrowful song echoed across the battlefield. It was the "Song of the North," said to have been passed down by the Scania people when they fled to Anzeta. Later, whenever white dragons or frost giants invaded, and people were displaced, the tenacious Northerners would sing this song. "Snow covers my body, and my lover can't recognize my face..." Viscount Luton also hummed along, gazing at the ruined landscape with a sorrowful expression. He knew that the North, or rather the Northern United Kingdom, was on the brink of collapse. That enemy was insurmountable. They were not something mere humans could overcome. That red dragon was clearly the incarnation of a scourge, fate's punishment, the Gods' retribution for their decayed rule. Suddenly, Viscount Luton looked up at the sky, his mouth agape, and the Northern Nobles immersed in sorrow did the same. Because the sky had brightened.