Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

"The King of Theo has already returned to the royal court."

"Heh, there are many fools who think we only released the King of Theo because we were forced by the new Federation's condemnation."

The iron dragon's low whisper sounded in Garoth's mind through the Bloodline Connection.

"The timing was perfect, exactly as planned."

Garoth replied calmly, "Tell the King of Theo to remain composed. There's no need to show eagerness to become Aola's vassal right now. We need him to keep the posture of someone who was rescued, not the attitude of someone desperate to defect."

He shifted his tone slightly and asked, "What about Reebos? Any reaction recently?"

Sorog hesitated for a moment: "According to our investigations, Reebos has not signed the new Federation's treaty."

"However, after Lothrian issued its condemnation of us, Reebos followed suit and echoed Lothrian's statement. Still, Reebos's wording wasn't harsh; it sounded more like supportive lip service, keeping room to maneuver."

"Other than that, Reebos has shown no initiative to contact us."

Garoth reflected on this.

He suddenly asked Sorog, "What do you think Reebos really intends right now?"

Sorog thought for a few seconds, then spoke slowly: "I think they're waiting for a clear signal."

"A signal that can irrefutably prove Aola truly intends to oppose Lothrian, not just acting on a momentary impulse—something that convinces them of our genuine confidence and resolve."

Garoth's mouth curved into a faint smile. "You always keep up with my thinking."

The iron dragon's judgment matched his own.

Reebos suffered a crushing defeat in the last war. Although not as badly hit as Theo, it paid a devastating price: national strength weakened, elite forces shattered.

Their base cannot risk another all-or-nothing gamble.

So even if they inwardly resent Lothrian's domineering lead, they will not reveal their stance rashly.

What if this whole situation is a play staged by Aola and Lothrian—two former close allies—designed to lure secondary powers like Reebos into exposing themselves so they can be struck down?

Considering the long period of solid cooperation between Aola and Lothrian in the past, this possibility is not far-fetched.

Jumping into a camp without clarity would only push them into an unpredictable abyss.

Garoth suppressed his smile; his expression turned sharp and serious.

"This time, the blaze we've started might not spread across all the Romanian nations like wildfire overnight."

He analyzed, "Reebos, Cambruk—they were defeated in the last war, paid a heavy price, their wounds haven't healed. They won't rush into the fight."

"And Matna... it was a victor, it's a member of the new Federation."

"Still, goblins are ultimately regarded as outsiders among the Romanian nations; they are not popular. Like us, they struggle to gain true trust."

"Besides, Rhen has long since fractured in internal strife."

"Theo and other duchies are either already submissive or too weak to matter."

"In the end, the real powers that can decide the future of the plains are mainly us and Lothrian."

Sorog's tone hardened. "You mean..."

Garoth said slowly, "This could very well turn into a one-on-one war between Aola and Lothrian. Other kingdoms might offer limited covert support—supplies, intelligence, or materiel—but publicly they'll likely choose to stand aloof, watching the fire burn between us and Lothrian."

"Once the dust largely settles and the balance of victory becomes clear, they'll back the winner and follow them."

"If we and Lothrian fight until both are crippled, that would be a boon for the other nations. They could seize the opportunity to carve up influence and reap gains."

For now, this was Garoth's inference based on current intelligence and circumstances; it couldn't account for every future variable.

But considering the Romanian plains' current state and historical entanglements, the development was highly likely to head down that path.

"If that's the case, we'll be directly facing Lothrian, their holy spirit, the two crowned ranks, and their entire cadre of legendary-level Lothrian strongmen."

Sorog's voice grew urgent.

Garoth smiled and asked, "What, brother, are you afraid?"

"No, precisely the opposite," Sorog replied in a deep voice. "I feel an unprecedented excitement."

"There was a time when hearing Lothrian's name made us look up in awe and fear. Now, we stand opposed to them openly, duel them on equal footing, and have become an opponent they must take seriously."

"Lothrian... will witness our path to glory."

"Their era has passed. Soon, the skies and earth of the Romanian plains will fly Aola's banner!"

Garoth nodded in satisfaction.

"Excellent. Then begin the next phase of our plan. Let the nations see our resolve, let Lothrian... taste the thrill of being overturned once more!"

Sorog asked, "How do you want to proceed?"

Garoth looked south toward the deep sky.

He answered in his mind, "Simple—let them taste the flames." He paused, then continued, "Notify Samantha. She's been itching for this; let her have some fun first."

One month later.

Outside Silverglow City in the Kingdom of Theo, southern garrison.

The night breeze was cool and slightly damp as it swept across the land.

A bonfire burned fiercely in the center of the camp, wood crackling, driving off the chill and lighting the faces of the young knights gathered with drink and easy smiles.

This was the primary camp of Lothrian's knight order stationed within Theo territory.

It was sizable enough to hold nearly a thousand elite knights with their retinues, mounts, and supplies.

Tents were neatly arranged, banners snapping in the rising evening wind; the steady footfalls of night patrols and occasional horse snorts sounded in the distance.

"I'll tell you, that so-called Red Emperor only looks fierce."

Gideon, a young knight who'd been with the order for two years, tossed a thick log into the fire, sending sparks flying.

He downed a warmed goblet of ale, his Adam's apple bobbed; his tone dripped with contempt. "If he ran into Lothrian's sword and shield, he'd be sent packing in no time."

"Who ensured the King of Theo returned safely? Wasn't it our Lothrian's renown?"

He belched and continued: "How many kingdoms have truly risen again after decline? It takes backbone! Lothrian has the legacy of the Holy King era, imperial bearing! Those monsters... ha."

"Right, Gideon!"

The knight seated to his right, with a shallow scar on his cheek, raised his cup in agreement.

"I heard there was no reaction from Aola at first. The Red Emperor personally kidnapped someone—sounds ferocious—but after our stern condemnation, they couldn't stand the pressure and huffed and puffed and sent him back?"

An older knight leaned closer to the fire and lowered his voice.

"I think Aola's all bark and no bite."

"No matter how many monsters, without solid foundation and allies, they can't stand before us. Think about it—how long have they been a nation? Compared to us they're infants."

Seven or eight knights on rota for rest sat around the bonfire.

Ale, roasted meat, and warmth loosened tongues; they talked of recent events, brimming with grand visions for Lothrian's future and contempt for Aola.

Back when the two nations were still in their honeymoon phase, such talk wouldn't have happened.

Then Lothrian's propaganda and exchanges had left many with a favorable impression of Aola.

They saw Aola as straightforward, bold, strong allies—different in form but true to their word and worth befriending.

Many young knights even dreamed of traveling to Aola to see the legendary dragons and those strange intelligent races.

But times had changed; public opinion had quietly shifted.

Domestic propaganda began portraying Aola as ungrateful barbarians with expansive ambition.

In taverns, markets, and noble salons, a narrative spread:

A pack of wilderness savages who prospered under Lothrian's light, now ungrateful and stirring trouble?

Monsters are still monsters—rude and ungrateful!

This became the consensus among most Lothrian citizens.

Aola's release of the King of Theo, steered and amplified by Lothrian's intentional publicity, was read by many as Aola bowing to Lothrian's pressure.

Lothrian's morale surged.

That also inflated the pride of these knights stationed on allied soil far from home—elite troops of a superior nation.

"Once we finish taking care of that thorn called Aola and consolidate the new Federation's forces..."

An older captain's eyes burned. "Lothrian will restore the glory of the Holy King era, even surpass it, and dominate the entire Romanian plains. It's only a matter of time!"

"Then," he turned toward the younger men with a smile, "those of us who have fought on the front lines might become pioneering lords! Fertile southern lands, forests, mineral wealth—opportunities galore."

"Haha, captain's right! For Lothrian's glory!"

"For glory!"

They clinked cups; ale sloshed over rims as laughter echoed into the night.

Firelight revealed their ambitious faces as they talked about fiefs, battle honors, and how to deal with Aola's monster legions.

But the easy mood did not last long.

Just as a knight cleared his throat to tell a tavern-borne joke about Aola's monsters—

Boom!!!

The sky seemed ripped apart by giant hands.

A crimson meteor smashed through the firmament, trailing a blinding tail as it fell toward the camp center. It moved so fast that one moment it was high above, the next it consumed the entire view.

"What is that—"

"Th-the Red Emperor?!"

Time froze; the smiles on the Lothrian knights' faces locked, pupils shrinking with shock.

The bonfire's light was eclipsed by that crimson glare; laughter stopped dead, replaced by sudden silence and then frantic shouts.

"Dodge! Everyone, dodge!"

"It's Aola's Prince of Fire!!"

The seasoned captain roared, yanking a nearby young knight to safety and sprinting away.

Almost simultaneously, a figure wearing a short cloak appeared mid-air above the camp center.

This was the legendary officer commanding the knight order stationed here.

His hair and beard bristled with anger as he glared at the incoming blaze, a Domain aura flaring around him, yet he did not move to intercept.

Not because he refused, but because he could not.

A headlong, meteor-like descent as an opening strike is a hallmark of Aola's dragons, a tactic mentioned repeatedly in intelligence.

With a dragon's enormous body, diving to turn itself into a weapon is extremely difficult to stop.

Though legendary, the captain could not charge blindly—doing so risked catastrophic injury—so he could only watch the meteor fall with unstoppable force.

As for forming the battle array... that takes time and is usually used in face-to-face engagements.

In the face of such a sudden assault, the formation couldn't crystallize instantly.

Rumble!

The camp collapsed around the impact as if a giant had stomped a termite mound.

Sturdy tents were torn and flung; horses and soldiers who couldn't dodge were shredded into bloody pieces; defensive works crumpled; the ground was gouged into a massive pit, cracks spidering outward.

Young knight Gideon had stood to fetch more drink and happened to be slightly farther from the impact. A flying log struck him and kept him from being pulverized by the initial shock.

Still, he was hurled into the mud, coughing blood from his mouth and nose, ears ringing.

He struggled to lift his head; dust and blood blurred his vision.

Through a blood-tinged haze, he saw a hellish scene.

Severed limbs, burning debris, collapsed tents—and in the center of the still-burning pit, a crimson monstrosity slowly rising!

It was a red dragon, but far more muscular and savage than ordinary red dragons.

Thick, magma-red scales were covered by heavy armor etched with countless fiery runes in a snarling design, even wrapping his chin. The armor was red-hot from the high-velocity impact, glowing like a scorching branding iron.

Towering horns, protruding razor fangs, and vertical pupils that burned with raw brutality and lust for destruction.

All of it inspired nightmarish dread in onlookers.

Aola's Prince of Fire—the red dragon—Samantha Igneous.

She shook her head and emitted a satisfied low growl as she surveyed the carnage, as if admiring her own masterpiece.

"Form the battle array! Gather the formation!"

The remaining Lothrian knights displayed their elite training.

Despite heavy losses, survivors quickly organized resistance.

They gathered their formation; arrows, javelins, and glimmering spells flew at the red dragon but largely bounced off her thick scales and that heavy armor, leaving no mark.

At the same time, higher-ranked knights burst forward under the formation's light.

Clang! Crack!

The knight at the forefront was smashed, man and sword thrown aside, his steel breastplate visibly dented; his body twisted midair. Another knight's spear struck the armored wrist of a dragon claw, showering sparks as the spearhead snapped; the recoil split his palm open.

The red dragon casually clenched and crushed a third man in her grasp; the muffled sound of bones shattering rang out.

"Ants."

She snorted disdainfully.

Bored, the massive head turned toward the densest cluster of knights, inhaling deeply.

As she drew breath, the red-hot armor flared to life.

The runes embossed on it ignited in sequence, light pooling from the armor toward her throat, as if converting the kinetic energy from the dive and the armor's absorbed heat into her next breath weapon.

Kah!

In the next instant, a dark-red, terrifying dragon breath—like a river of fire—blasted from her maw, sweeping across most of the surviving camp as she swung her neck.

Human bodies, armor, wood, and stone melted and burned under the intense heat.

Screams were drowned almost immediately by the roar of flames; the air filled with the scent of char and sulfur—the smell of death.

Elsewhere, a young knight had just pulled himself up.

He tried to run bravely toward the red dragon but his legs were rooted to the ground; he couldn't step forward.

"Monster!"

A roar like thunder exploded.

The knight order's commander leapt forth with a two-handed greatsword. A Domain flared about him; he was a legendary warrior, cloaked in the formation's light, imposing and fierce.

"Captain! We're saved!"

The young knight's eyes brightened, hope surging.

Their captain was a level 23 legendary warrior and bolstered by the formation, while Aola's Prince of Fire had only recently broken through legendary herself at level 21.

The legendary captain lashed out in a rage, his greatsword tearing the air as he struck for the dragon's neck!

"Haha, are you coming to die?!"

The red dragon neither dodged nor parried; her armored tail swept out like a metal bar.

Clang!

A metallic crash deafened everyone.

The legendary captain grunted, his body rocked and skidded backward hundreds of meters, plowing a deep furrow in the ground. His sword hummed as the Domain cracked with fissures.

"Feel the power of the Red Dragon Queen, insect!"

She roared as her talons dug into the earth and wings beat; she slammed into the unsteady legendary warrior, wind pressure sending stones and dust flying.

As she charged, tangible Dragon Qi steamed from the gaps in her scales.

At her shoulder blades it boiled fiercely and congealed into two muscular crimson arms!

Star Path—Samantha's second pathway.

A four-armed red dragon encased in heavy armor charged the human legendary like a living siege engine.

Four claws: two physically armored, two formed from condensed energy, each attacking from different angles and in different ways.

Strike, grapple, rend, thrust.

Each blow struck with crushing weight.

The legendary captain fought with everything he had: block, dodge, counterattack.

His swordsmanship was peerless; each slash could rend the earth and split waves of flame. Occasionally he found an opening, his blade piercing the dragon's searing aura to strike the armor, producing blinding sparks but failing to break it.

The armor was unbelievably tough, patterned like dragon scales.

It looked as if it had been made using some dragon's scales.

Even if he found a weak point and broke the outer layer, beneath lay a second layer of hardened red dragon scales.

His attacks were essentially ineffective, and he dared not take the dragon's assaults head-on.

The human legendary captain was like a small boat in a storm, barely holding on as his Domain cracked with more and more fissures.

He realized he was no match for this weaponized, armored legendary red dragon.

If the fight continued, death was certain!

"Damn it!"

He gritted his teeth. Seizing an opening after tanking a tail sweep, he pulled a scroll radiating strong spatial fluctuations from his chest and tore it open without hesitation.

A blinding silver light exploded, instantly enveloping him.

"Try to run?!"

The red dragon roared. A giant claw shot out like lightning for the silver light's center, but was just slightly late; the dragon's claw passed through the dissolving phantom of silver and grasped nothing.

"Useless trash!"

She spat contemptuously; the spit hit the ground and sizzled.

Ignoring the escaping foe, the dragon unleashed her wrath on the Lothrian camp.

Breath and claws turned everything into ruins and a sea of flame.

The young knight who had survived by luck huddled in a corner of the wreckage, watching it all.

He watched the crimson beast playfully destroy everything, watched their once-revered legendary captain beaten into impotent flight…

Until a wave of scorching heat hit his hiding spot; dark-red tongues of flame licked over earthen walls and reached his corner.

The next day, the news of the garrison's attack reached Lothrian.

But even before Lothrian could fully respond, a statement from the Theo royal court had already spread far and wide.

"Lothrian Kingdom, without our formal consultation and permission, has unilaterally stationed troops within our territory for an extended period. Their scale and deployment have posed a potential threat and tangible impact on our sovereignty and territorial security."

"As Aola Kingdom is Theo's friendly neighbor and strategic partner, and in accordance with the principle of jointly maintaining regional stability, at our request Aola expelled Lothrian's illegal garrison. This action was carried out to safeguard regional peace and to defend Theo's legitimate rights and interests."

"All consequences shall be borne by the Lothrian Kingdom for disregarding other nations' sovereignty and stationing troops without authorization."

The betrayal came so suddenly.

New Calendar Year 417, May 23.

Aola Kingdom's Prince of Fire, the red dragon Samantha Igneous, launched a surprise attack on Lothrian's southern garrison stationed in Theo, inflicting heavy casualties on Lothrian.

The Kingdom of Theo immediately issued a statement expressing unconditional support for the action and condemning Lothrian's deployment as illegal.

Lothrian erupted in nationwide fury; all diplomatic efforts were abandoned, war horns blew across the land, and Lothrian formally declared war on Aola Kingdom.