Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Ser Wilderness, between the mountain ranges.

"The scent of blood, the dying wails, and the flames that scorch the land... what a magnificent sight."

Samantha's voice brimmed with delight, her enormous head bobbing slightly, but then she let out a sigh of regret.

"Such a pity we couldn't preserve their legends."

"It seems Lothrian is wealthier than I expected. One would think an ordinary legendary warrior—yet he carried an advanced teleportation scroll on him."

Teleportation scrolls themselves were not extremely rare.

Among the Romania nations, mages capable of crafting ordinary teleportation scrolls were uncommon, but most major kingdoms' Court Mages kept some reserves.

However, when it came to legendary beings, the situation changed completely.

Legendary creatures had such intense life force that teleporting them placed enormous strain on space. Scrolls capable of affecting a legendary required not only exquisitely advanced craftsmanship but also materials that were exceedingly scarce.

When Aola went to war with Theo years ago, the number of times a Theo legendary pulled out a teleportation scroll during the entire campaign could be counted on one hand.

"Lothrian is rich, so it isn't surprising their legendaries carry teleportation scrolls."

Garoth's voice came from beside her.

During the battle at Norton Pass, that shapeshifter from Reebos, realizing he could not turn the tide, simply used a teleportation scroll to leave the battlefield.

In that regard, Lothrian's foundations were even deeper.

Garoth, however, did not care much.

Samantha lacked a counter to spatial skills and failing to stop an escape was normal.

But Garoth's claws were different. These claws, which could grasp space itself, would never let prey slip away so easily.

Huff!

A powerful gust descended from the sky, whipping up dust and withered grass from the ground.

Sorog's massive form circled the sky several times, then folded his wings and descended to land beside his kin.

"How did Lothrian react?"

Noticing Sorog's arrival, Garoth turned his head and asked calmly.

Sorog shook his head and said, "They have officially declared war on us."

"Lothrian is currently massing troops at Karan Pyong. Judging from where their legions gather and their outward movements, they will most likely cross the Rhen Plateau, strike through Theo, and then head straight for us."

The Rhen Plateau—land once governed by Rhen and the Kingdom of Sax.

After the Second Nations War, though the Rhen Kingdom annexed Sax, it fragmented under interference from various powers. The kingdom's name vanished, leaving only the geographical name Rhen Plateau to remind people of past boundaries.

The area between Aola and Lothrian mainly consisted of the Rhen Plateau and Theo.

Now Theo, to some extent, belonged to Aola, so in effect only the Rhen Plateau separated Aola and Lothrian.

Once that plateau was crossed, Lothrian's army would step onto Aola soil.

Garoth pondered for a moment. "Lothrian's maneuvers aren't the most important thing right now. What matters more is how the other nations will respond."

At that, Sorog bared his teeth in a grin, revealing rows of white fangs.

"They don't respond. They stay silent."

Hearing this, Samantha tossed her head back and laughed heartily, a sound of pure satisfaction. "They're frightened! They fear dragons, they fear Aola, so they dare not oppose us!"

She spread her wings, casting a shadow over a huge stretch of land. "Excellent, excellent!"

"I've grown tired of those so-called allies. To ally with insects? Bah, I've had enough! Now only Lothrian stands against us. Once we win this war, the other nations will bow to us and call us sovereign!"

The real reasons for the other nations' silence differed somewhat from Samantha's boastful interpretation.

Garoth didn't correct her, only nodding faintly to acknowledge her last remark.

At that moment, Sorog's gaze abruptly paused; his vertical pupils narrowed as though he were listening to some invisible sound.

Garoth noticed the reaction. "You received some new intelligence?"

Sorog nodded, his expression shifting subtly. "Yes... A diplomatic envoy from Reebos has secretly come to the Citadel of Crimson Flame, contacting our people and requesting an audience with Aola's ruler."

He paused, then added, "The human's name is Aeron Leviborg."

The name rang a bell.

Garoth searched his memory and then remembered clearly.

On the eve of the Second Nations War, that Reebos envoy had once come to court, tasked by his kingdom to win Aola's favor.

But when Garoth requested a High Spirit Essence Crystal, Reebos feared Aola might hand it to the Holy King, and thus refused, abandoning attempts to court them further.

Back then, no one could have guessed Aola would grow so much so fast.

Nor that Aola would so quickly fall out with Lothrian.

"Send him in..." Garoth's tail-tip swished lazily. "Let him come."

Not long after, at the High Mountain Dragon Court.

The vast and solemn hall rose in stately grandeur, tall pillars supporting the dome, colored glass windows angling light inside and casting mottled, shifting patterns on the floor.

A slightly stooped figure, escorted by two dragon-blooded guards, stepped deeper into the chamber.

He wore a dark gray robe and had lowered his hood, revealing a face furrowed with deep wrinkles.

Age had carved valleys upon his skin, but his eyes were not dull; they still gleamed with intelligence.

The Reebos Kingdom's diplomatic envoy, Aeron Leviborg.

Aeron stopped and lifted his head, looking toward the throne—the black-and-red titan that reclined upon it.

Compared to their first meeting years ago, the Red Emperor's body was now even more magnificent.

Each scale seemed forged in fire, emitting a metallic sheen. Simply resting there, he radiated an aura that demanded respect without needing to rage.

Aeron drew a deep breath, bowed his aged frame, and offered the most solemn salute to the Red Emperor.

"Your Majesty Ignas, mighty Red Emperor."

His voice was slow and hoarse. "After many years, being able to see you again and behold your presence is a great honor. You... possess more bearing and majesty than before."

The Red Emperor lowered his massive head, his vertical pupils fixing on the tiny human below.

He was aged—half a foot in the grave, it seemed.

At this age he should have been enjoying his twilight in Reebos, but he risked coming to Aola. Most likely Reebos' high command considered his prior audience with the Red Emperor and thus recalled him into service.

"Aeron Leviborg... I remember you."

The Red Emperor's voice rolled like thunder, causing the air to vibrate. "Last time you sought Aola's friendship. My condition was a High Spirit Essence Crystal, and you could not provide it."

The envoy from Reebos smiled bitterly; wrinkles folded deeper.

"Your Majesty, I thank you for the mercy you showed that day, allowing me to return alive to Reebos. I once thought I would become another pile of bones before your throne, like so many who offended dragons."

"To be frank, I have regretted that ever since."

He raised his head, eyes sincere. "If I could go back, I would have tried every means to persuade my superiors to grant your wish."

Among Aeron's credentials, "having seen the Red Emperor" was his greatest honor.

But in his heart it was also the deepest wound.

If he had only convinced Aola to befriend Reebos—if nothing else, to remain neutral—perhaps Reebos would not have met disaster in the last war, would not have lost so many elite troops, and would not be in its current dire state.

The Red Emperor offered no pleasantries.

He fixed his gaze on the diplomat and asked directly, "You sneaked here. What does Reebos want? Do not say you seek alliance to join against Lothrian."

"If Reebos had such courage, you would have already declared war on Lothrian."

Aeron bowed his head and clasped his hands in front of him. "Your Majesty sees clearly."

"I am not here on behalf of the kingdom to open formal negotiations or propose an alliance."

"Reebos is not yet prepared for full-scale war with Lothrian. Our army needs time to rebuild; the treasury needs replenishing; the people need time to recover from the last war's trauma."

"I bring only some men of insight from my kingdom—our goodwill and hopes for Aola."

"Goodwill?" Garoth's voice betrayed no emotion.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The old envoy produced a fist-sized crystal from within his robes.

It was pale purple, with shifting streams of light within.

Aeron held it respectfully with both hands. "Within this is recorded some information that may be of help to you."

He paused and lowered his voice. "Also... our kingdom's Archive of Secrets recently misplaced a set of magical military diagrams during an internal inventory. Those formations were once Reebos' pride."

As he spoke, Aeron's gaze flickered with regret.

"We do not know where the lost diagrams have gone. It was purely a regrettable custodial error. If Aola discovers their whereabouts, we hope to be notified."

Almost at the same moment Aeron finished speaking, Sorog's low whisper sounded in Garoth's mind.

"The diagrams are already in our possession. They were discarded in the palace square this morning, found by a patrolling guard. Because they were so unusual, they were reported up the chain and have now been secured."

Garoth listened quietly; light flickered in his eyes.

Military formations... The formations obtained from Lothrian in past wars carried restrictions preventing external dissemination and forbidding use against Lothrian. Therefore they could not be used in the upcoming war.

Now, Aola had a new option.

The "lost" excuse was a thin pretense.

Reebos was clearly offering Aola the very wartime tools it needed while preserving surface-level neutrality and plausible ignorance.

"What does Reebos want in return?"

Garoth asked.

The diplomat hastened to shake his head. "No, we seek nothing." He paused, then added, "Reebos only hopes to win Aola's friendship—friendship that Lothrian does not treasure but we would treat earnestly."

Silence fell across the hall, broken only by the dragon's slow, weighty breaths and the distant murmur of the wind.

After a long moment, the Red Emperor spoke slowly: "Human, you handle dragons better now than last time."

"I accept Reebos' gift. That is enough. You may go."

He made no promises but did not refuse either.

The envoy inwardly exhaled. He knew his mission had essentially succeeded; accepting the gift was itself a statement of stance.

Aeron bowed deeply once more, his robe hem brushing the floor.

"May your kingdom be as unbreakable as your scales; may your enemies fall like autumn leaves, turned to ash by your wrath."

He said no more, maintaining a reverent posture as he stepped back, retreating with measured, steady steps until he reached the hall's doors and vanished down the corridor.

"That is a decent offering."

Sorog stepped out from a side chamber into the center of the throne hall.

"Hmm. The intelligence and the formation both have some utility."

Garoth watched the direction the envoy had departed and said slowly, "But the real victory will be seized by our own claws."

"Reebos' information can be a reference, but not a crutch."

"Their perspective has limits; their intelligence may have omissions or be misleading."

"Those are just embellishments."

He extended a claw. The pale purple crystal floated up and hovered before him.

The Red Iron Dragon closed his eyes slightly and probed the crystal with his spiritual energy, sensing the vast recorded data within.

Minutes ticked by. Sorog waited patiently, knowing his kin was carefully digesting the intelligence.

After about a quarter hour, the Red Iron Dragon opened his eyes again, a thoughtful light crossing them.

There's truth to the saying that enemies often know you better than friends do.

Reebos had fought Lothrian twice and understood Lothrian far better than Aola did. Their supplied information was detailed.

For example, Lothrian's Holy Spirit's weaknesses.

During the Second War, Lothrian's Holy Spirit had caused Reebos tremendous trouble.

Although they were defeated, Reebos had not given up. They collected all wartime data and analyzed it repeatedly, finally distilling a series of weaknesses for Lothrian's Holy Spirit.

They also provided detailed records on Lothrian's legendaries.

Each known legendary's fighting style, favored techniques, likely magic items carried, personality traits, and military role—the information was so thorough it seemed Reebos' intelligence operatives had penetrated Lothrian's higher echelons.

What troubled Garoth most was the intelligence on the Crowned Legendary.

Specifically, the human Crowned named Sodrian Lothrian.

"Crowned Time Warden... the power of time..."

Garoth murmured, his expression turning grave.

Time is an attribute even nobler than space.

Since his birth, Garoth had never truly faced an enemy who wielded time.

In the Norton Pass battle, that Reebos shapeshifter's "time stop" was mostly a name; its essence was extreme acceleration of self-speed, not true temporal mastery.

According to Reebos' intelligence, Sodrian's ability was entirely different.

"At an instant, he uses time as a barrier."

"When blocking, he can construct a theoretical time barrier even a Fate Legendary could not shatter, reflecting all damage back. Sounds powerful, but can my claws tear such a time wall?"

"At another instant, he uses time as medium."

"After dodging, he slips into a sort of hyper-time state, striking back within an almost frozen time stream... that is somewhat like a shapeshifter's time stop, but it is true mastery of time."

"........."

Reebos treated this Crowned Time Warden with the utmost seriousness, providing abundant intelligence. The two points above made Garoth uneasy.

This was not a mere "mechanism."

If it had no upper limit, it was almost a conceptual skill—time as shield, time as blade.

Moreover, Reebos solemnly noted that what Sodrian had shown might not be all there was.

Sodrian had lived over four hundred years. As Lothrian's guardian he had seen many wars but rarely displayed his full strength on the battlefield. He likely held hidden trump cards for dire moments.

"A Crowned Legendary is already the pinnacle among legendaries, reaching limits in certain aspects."

Garoth sifted through the Dragon Legacy's knowledge in his mind.

"The path of the legendary differs from what most sapient beings imagine. It's not simply a ladder... given good condition, ample lifespan, and no irreversible damage, theoretically any Crowned could achieve Fate."

"And likewise, given the same premises, any Fate could reach Immortal."

From Sodrian's age and condition, reaching Fate was basically out of reach. His body likely could not endure many fierce battles.

A Crowned with no future and little life left...

On the surface, that might look like a boon for Aola, lacking long-term leverage.

But in practice it meant that confronting him head-on could be extraordinarily dangerous.

A Crowned who no longer fears for his lifespan and who will burn everything without reserve—what a terrifying last-ditch counterattack he could mount when dying.

Besides, Sodrian defended Lothrian—the kingdom of his family's legacy spanning millennia. Fueled by that devotion, a death-defying stand would be devastating.

Lothrian also had a newly ascended Crowned.

Since his breakthrough came during the postwar recovery, Reebos lacked detailed intelligence on his Crowned abilities, only recordings from before his ascension.

These factors combined to trouble Garoth.

Strategically you can despise an enemy, but tactically you must respect every detail. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Underestimating a Crowned, especially one wielding time, would be utter folly.

But fear? That was far from it.

Crowned?

With my four battle states, the Eye of Truth, the Spell-Extinguishing Claws, Rage Without Fear of Death, Born from Death, Unyielding Perseverance, Undying Life, Unending Regeneration, Rapid Regeneration, Eternal War Eternal Progress... compare those traits and characteristics to such a Crowned.

Knowing Lothrian has a Crowned defending it and still choosing to ignite war was a decision made after repeated weighing and deep deliberation, not a sudden fancy.

On the legendary path, due to racial talent differences, ranks are only rough references.

Before Garoth fell into slumber, by destructive force, raw power, and life intensity he had already surpassed most human Crowned. At that time he had been labeled only a "Junior Legendary" in rank.

Now, he was a "Senior Legendary."

"Distribute Lothrian's legendary intelligence to all our legendaries and senior commanders."

Garoth handed the crystal to Sorog and asked, "How are the legions assembling?"

Sorog's eyes burned. "The warriors of Aola have been silent too long. They are eager. Their morale is high; they hunger to claim glory on the field and prove their worth with enemy blood."

Garoth nodded slowly. "Then tell me your plan. How do you intend to fight this time?"

Sorog fell into deep thought.

He paced a few steps, then began: "After the Rhen Kingdom shattered, many lords staked their claim across the plateau. Some are legendary strength—power varies—but they hold terrain advantage and know the land intimately."

"Moreover, the region is high in elevation, with rugged topography—gorges and perilous peaks everywhere. Movement is hard."

"For a large legion to pass, they must choose from a few limited routes. Otherwise they scatter and are easily picked off. If Lothrian wants to cross the Rhen Plateau, barring a long detour, they must suffer setbacks and pay a heavy price."

Garoth looked at Sorog. "You mean let Lothrian cross the plateau and then fight them within Theo?"

"Waiting for a weary enemy is indeed an option."

Sorog shook his head. "That would be ideal against other kingdoms. It would wear Lothrian down and blunt their edge."

"But Lothrian possesses a war engine called the 'Terramolding Device.'"

His tone turned serious. "By occupying key positions, Lothrian can use this machine to methodically reshape the terrain, tailoring it to the needs of their legions. If we let them cross the plateau and enter Theo, we grant them time and space to configure the battlefield."

Sorog turned to face Garoth squarely. "I recommend deploying legions to proactively seize the Rhen Plateau."

"Make the old kingdom's lands the main theater between us and Lothrian, confronting them head-on."

"Our soldiers excel at direct battle."

"Frontal charges, head-on clashes—this is Aola's strength."

In terms of war doctrine, Lothrian was indeed more refined than Aola.

They had millennia of heritage, countless war machines, and mastery of complex tactics.

Sorog prided himself on his command, but he knew this enemy was formidable.

War with Lothrian must not be overcomplicated.

The more complex the battlefield, the more room Lothrian's war system and strange engines would have to operate. Conversely, the simpler and more direct the conflict, the less their tactical advantages matter.

For instance, straightforward frontal assaults.

Force them to abandon intricate maneuvers and meet Aola on a single plane—pull them into Aola's favored mode of combat.

Use strength against strength, will against will, blood for blood.

"Likely," Sorog continued, "that's exactly the kind of war Lothrian wants."

Spiritual energy flared in his eyes as his thoughts raced faster. "They wish to found the new Federation. To do that they must fully display their might on the battlefield, making other kingdoms feel their absolute power."

"A single decisive defeat of a mighty foe on the field convinces more than ten victories won by guile."

"Flanking, tricks, attrition—those won't establish their prestige. Lothrian needs an 'army of kings,' upright formations, crushing force that silences all opposition. Their millennia-old citizens want to see their army prove its invincibility."

Just as when Aola confronted Norton Pass, other choices existed, yet Aola still chose direct assault.

That battle shattered Theo's will to resist and ended the Twin Aola conflict swiftly. Sometimes the most direct method is the most effective.

"Hmm, you've thought this through."

Garoth said, "But there is another possibility."

"There is a method that could end the war with minimal cost—perhaps without bloodshed."

Aola Kingdom was a behemoth built entirely around the Red Emperor.

This was the consensus among all Romania nations.

Thus, if the Red Emperor could be decapitated, Aola would likely splinter at once; its legendaries would scatter and flee, unable to regroup and no longer a threat to Lothrian.

If other kingdoms plotted against Aola, such an idea would be hard to pull off.

Assassinating the Red Emperor—far from easy.

Some had tried and met ugly ends.

But Lothrian was different.

They possessed Crowned legendaries, millennia of accumulated foundations, and unimaginable magical contrivances.

A decapitation tactic was not impossible for them.

"I suspect they've considered beheading me and stand ready to enact it."

Garoth slowly rose, and the quiet of his eyes exploded into sharpness, the air in the hall seeming to freeze. "I am prepared to meet them and crush them."

"Let their Crowned legendaries, with all their pride and heritage, come before me."

"I will make them understand why dragons once ruled sky and earth in antiquity; why, even after humans built kingdoms and cities, deep in their hearts they still fear dragon wings."

New Calendar 417, June.

The horns of war sounded simultaneously in both nations.

Lothrian and Aola, two enormous war machines, went into full motion.

Legions poured from their territories like torrents of steel, surging toward the stretch known as the Rhen Plateau. Cavalry raised dust that blotted the sun; the wave patterns of the mages' magic rippled visibly across the sky.

Along the route, lords occupying the Rhen Plateau made different choices.

Some resisted stubbornly, attempting to hold their castles against the unstoppable tide, only to be reduced to ruins by dragon breath or siege engines. Some wisely fled with belongings and retainers to more remote areas to wait out the war. Others tried to play both sides and were swiftly removed by both as an obstacle.

The two armies drove relentlessly inward and encamped across the Rhen Plateau.