Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Theo, Silverglow City, Royal Court

King Torfin stared at the projection before him, his face pale.

In the projection, aside from the huge red-iron dragon suspended in the heavens, there remained only endless light and heat.

That was the final scene from the Lothrian front lines.

Even through the projection, that calamity-like might made Torfin shiver to his bones. He drew a deep breath, trying to steady his heartbeat.

“One strike... just one strike destroyed the entire Lothrian position?”

The king repeated the intelligence officer’s report in a hoarse voice.

The ministers standing below the throne bowed their heads. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“No one dared to stop him throughout the entire process, not even Lothrian’s crown-level experts showed themselves.”

Torfin’s gaze returned to the projection.

The footage was replaying the final moment.

The red-iron dragon spread its wings. The sphere of light condensed between its claws swelled and fell, and the land became incandescent.

The fortifications Lothrian had painstakingly constructed, the war golems, rune turrets... everything evaporated in the light. Even through recorded time and space, that destructive force remained palpably terrifying.

When the light finally faded, the king realized he had been holding his breath for too long.

He exhaled slowly, a complex tide of emotions churning in his chest.

Fear, shock, and... relief.

Relief that Theo had chosen its stance when it did.

Relief that he had not made a wrong choice atop Dragonspine.

Who could have predicted that in less than a hundred years, the Red Emperor could grow to this extent?

During the Twin-Ao War, Garoth Ignas was strong, but not to this degree, Torfin remembered the battle reports.

At the Battle of Norton Pass, the Red Emperor faced several of Theo’s legendaries besieging him. Though he eventually broke through, he paid a price: scales shattered, dragon blood spattered across the pass; he was even killed once.

But if the Red Emperor now faced the same situation...

Torfin closed his eyes.

He didn’t need to imagine; one look at the projection made it clear.

The Red Emperor need not approach Norton Pass personally.

He simply needed to hang in the sky and drop a “sun” like that.

The entire pass, along with its garrison, fortifications, and any legendary who tried to stop him, would be erased.

What about Silverglow City? Theo’s capital, a mighty stronghold for years, could not withstand such bombardment and would be leveled.

Weren’t dragons supposed to grow extremely slowly?

Especially after entering the legendary realm, it usually takes centuries to show noticeable progress.

So what’s going on with the Red Emperor? Even allowing for growth during his slumber, this rate is absurd.

Not only does he possess a body far surpassing his species, but his growth speed rivals human legendaries—no, he surpasses many human legendaries.

This terrifying being is starting to seem less like a dragon.

He feels more like an ultimate lifeform wearing dragon hide.

Silence filled the royal court.

Ministers stood with bowed heads, no one dared speak.

Only constrained breathing broke the air.

Torfin scanned the faces.

Those nobles who usually argued loudly, ministers who advocated neutrality, generals who resented Theo’s attachment to Aola—all of them were ashen, eyes still clouded with lingering fear.

After a long while, Torfin finally spoke again, his voice calm: “Ancestor Henderson.”

On the right side of the royal court, an old man with white hair and beard lifted his head slightly.

He wore a plain gray robe, his face weathered like old bark, but his eyes remained clear and sharp.

Henderson Chapman, the oldest high-level legendary still living in the Theo royal line, and the royal family’s guardian.

His standing was comparable to Sodrian Lothrian of Lothrian.

He had not acted during the Twin-Ao War, instead using arcane methods to sleep and prolong his life. He was only awakened after the recent incident in which the Theo king was captured alive by Aola.

“I am listening, Your Majesty.”

Henderson’s voice was steady.

Torfin rose from the throne, descended the steps, and came before the ancestor to show respect.

“I wish for you to lead our legendaries to the Rhen Plateau to assist the Aola legions. What do you think?”

The king’s words stirred a faint commotion in the court.

Several nobles exchanged glances, but none dared object.

Henderson fell silent for a moment.

In his active years, Theo was never a great power, but it always maintained independence and dignity.

Now the country was to proactively send legendary experts to fight in another nation’s war—a nation that had once cast a dark shadow over Theo.

This amounted to vassalage, which had long disappointed him.

Since awakening, he had disliked Torfin’s friendliness toward Aola.

If he had been younger, he would have removed Torfin and installed a new king.

But he was near the end of his life and couldn’t withstand upheaval; another battle might exhaust him entirely, so he did not interfere, though he never treated this successor kindly.

Yet now, watching the lingering afterglow in the projection, Henderson’s thoughts shifted subtly.

“Aola did not ask us to fight.”

He said slowly, “Given the Red Emperor’s present might, our assistance would merely be gilding the lily—and might even invite ridicule.”

He paused and scanned the court.

“Still, showing allegiance is better than nothing. Demonstrating loyalty at the right moment benefits Theo’s future.”

Those words caused ministers and nobles who had criticized the king to quickly change tone.

“Lord Henderson speaks wisely!”

“This is a prudent move!”

“Theo and Aola should be united... Theo belongs with Aola.”

Praise rose in waves, a stark contrast to their earlier coldness.

Torfin watched these swift position changes without visible emotion.

He had long seen this reality clearly.

In the face of absolute power, stance and dignity are fragile.

“Then please depart as soon as possible, ancestor.” Torfin nodded, then as if remembering something added, “Also, there’s one matter I hope you can convey to His Majesty Ignas.”

Henderson raised his eyes. “What is it?”

Torfin was silent for a few seconds.

All eyes in the court focused on him, waiting.

“About Reinhardt.” The king finally spoke.

“The top genius born in our Theo fifty years ago—he did not truly die.”

Henderson’s brow tightened slightly.

Reinhardt, a genuine prodigy who achieved legendary rank before twenty, had been the hope to restore Theo’s glory.

But fifty years earlier, he was gravely wounded in a clash with Aola’s Edge and was rumored dead.

That news had plunged Theo into a long depression.

“My father poured enormous resources into him, even using a long-guarded life-saving relic from the royal vault to pull him back from death’s brink,” Torfin continued, voice laden with complex emotion. “But the injuries were too severe. Reinhardt’s body was badly damaged, his potential greatly reduced.”

“Even so, my father still treated him as Theo’s last hope.”

“He took Reinhardt as an adopted son, gave him a new identity, and then...” Torfin paused before adding, “To prevent Aola from discovering him, and to find a way to restore his body and potential, my father secretly sent him out of Theo, to the Halden Empire.”

A suppressed gasp ran through the royal court.

This secret was unknown to many high ministers.

“After that, I lost all news of Reinhardt.”

Torfin looked at Henderson. “But I believe, if he still lives, if he found chance and growth in Halden, then given the present situation on the Romanian Plains... and given his character, he might return.”

Henderson listened quietly.

He had heard after waking that Reinhardt might not be dead, but the details were unclear.

After Torfin’s account, a pang of regret rose in him.

The previous king had been steady and farsighted but indecisive.

He should not have handed the decision to Reinhardt.

A young man raised to a pedestal, ignorant of the world—what could be expected? If the old king had been firmer and kept Reinhardt, Theo’s situation might differ.

But humans are imperfect.

What’s done cannot be undone.

Henderson glanced at Torfin. This young king, though once rash, was more decisive than his father at crucial moments. He chose a path and walked it steadfastly.

“Very well.”

Henderson finally nodded. “I will convey this to the Red Emperor.”

Atlantis Continent, Halden Empire.

Uprooted City, Skysea Airport.

Winds howled high above, stirring perennial drifting clouds.

Uprooted City, one of Halden’s floating cities, did not rest on earth but on countless gargantuan hovering stones, held aloft by grand magic and alchemical achievements, suspended among the winds and clouds.

Across Halden, similar floating cities peppered the skies like abodes of gods.

Due to energy limits, such cities were rare even within Halden, but since the Abyssal Development Plan, Halden had advanced its energy breakthroughs, and one floating city rose after another.

Skysea Airport sat on a massive platform extending from the edge of Uprooted City.

This was one of Halden’s busiest hubs, where various warships and airships docked.

There were transport vessels shaped like great whales, plated in glinting rune-metal scales; sleek, swordlike high-speed cruisers built for offense; and magic airships resembling moving mage towers...

They took off and landed in a precise, busy rhythm.

Merchants, scholars, adventurers, and envoys from across the empire gathered and dispersed here, a tapestry of races, accents, and attire forming bustling scenes.

Amid the clamor, a young man stood alone on the airport’s observation promenade, leaning on the railing, gazing into the sea of clouds.

Clouds churned beneath his feet, sunlight poured over him, gilding his already sunlit golden hair with extra brilliance.

He looked barely over twenty, handsome enough to stop any painter.

But his eyes carried a depth and calm beyond his appearance, the steadiness of one who had weathered dramatic rises and falls and seen life and honor tested.

Reinhardt—or as he now preferred, “Rhein.”

Sixty in age did not make him old among legendaries.

More importantly, after Halden restored his body and he endured years of tempering and hard cultivation, he now stood close to the crown threshold; his aura deep and lasting, a breakthrough away.

Yet the sharp radiance that once made him Theo’s Light had been folded inward, becoming a solemn silence.

Aola’s Edge’s sword and arrows had toppled him from the altar, but they had also taught humility.

Whenever he felt pleased by his progress, that night would come to mind.

Ironhoof had obscured the moon, the blade shattered his glory.

From a lauded genius he fell to a dying loser—a memory that kept him humble.

“Rhein.”

A clear voice came from behind.

A graceful-faced woman joined him, standing shoulder to shoulder as they watched the cloud sea.

She wore a simple mage’s robe; her hair fluttered in the wind, her demeanor gentle and intellectual.

Elise, a friend Reinhardt met while wandering Halden’s capital, of deep background and broad knowledge, herself an exceptionally gifted legendary spellcaster.

“You heard Theo’s latest news, right?”

Elise asked softly, her eyes fixed on the clouds.

“The Aola Red Emperor, Garoth Ignas, with a single strike on the Twilight Plains, destroyed Lothrian’s front-line position. The situation on the Romanian Plains may be reshaped by him.”

Rhein was silent a moment.

Clouds rolled below like faint ripples in his heart.

Even after decades away from Theo and without much attachment to that land, news of his homeland still unsettled him.

“I heard.”

He finally spoke, emotionless.

“Aren’t you going to see? Or... do something?”

Elise turned to study his composed profile.

“You’re from Theo, once their beacon of hope. Now your homeland is subservient, embroiled with enemies and Lothrian fighting fiercely. With your present strength, perhaps you could alter things?”

She was one of the few who knew his past.

Rhein shook his head lightly.

“If it were the old me, I would immediately return to the Romanian Plains.”

He said, “But now... I don’t want to.”

“Why?” Elise asked. “Because you’re no longer Theo’s Light and have no attachment? Or because you think even returning now won’t stand against that Red Emperor?”

“Both.”

Rhein’s gaze shifted from the cloud sea to Elise.

His eyes were calm as a deep pool. “A nation’s hope should never be placed on one person.”

“Putting the rise and fall of a country on the shoulders of a single genius is folly and tragedy.”

“I may have... unconsciously indulged in that illusion, thinking I could change everything.”

He paused, voice lowering. “But now I understand: a human country’s strength lies in its system, heritage, depth, and the choices and efforts of every citizen—not one or two strong individuals.”

“Theo’s problem is not lacking a Reinhardt.”

“As for opposing the Red Emperor...”

A wry smile touched his lips.

“If I return now, what could I do? Ally with Lothrian? Even with Lothrian’s crown-levels, what are the odds? That dragon’s horror is beyond ordinary comprehension.”

“His age and rank are almost a disguise.”

“I would treat him as a crown Ancient Dragon.”

He looked back over the cloud sea. “Against such an existence, impulsiveness and youthful zeal solve nothing and only cause needless sacrifice. I am past the age of risking everything for a moment’s fervor.”

Rhein truly had little attachment to Theo now.

What gnawed at him was guilt toward the old king who had spent resources to save him and gave him a new life.

He had let the old king down.

Now his only way to repay was to become stronger, and later, when able, to try to make amends.

Elise smiled faintly. “It seems your years in Halden broadened your horizons.”

“Yes.”

Rhein admitted.

“Here I’ve seen what a truly powerful empire looks like: a perfected inheritance system, mature methods for training strong ones, deep magic and alchemical roots....”

“Compared to that, the conflicts on the Romanian Plains are merely localized turmoil on the continent’s edge.”

“My ambitions are no longer confined there.”

His gaze stretched into the distance, as if piercing the endless cloud sea toward a vaster world.

“My goal is to break the crown level, touch the Mandate of Heaven, even... glimpse Immortal.”

His voice was soft but iron firm.

“Only by reaching that level can I truly control my own fate, only then will I be qualified to consider altering a land or a people’s future. Then Theo’s revival might merely be a thought I release.”

A trace of admiration flickered in Elise’s eyes.

Most who fall to the bottom rot away; Rhein climbed from the mire, becoming more resolute and mature.

Raised to a pedestal, toppled to the depths—those trials had tempered him.

But worry returned to Elise’s gaze.

“However... Rhein, although you’ve recovered well, the near-fatal wounds left hidden flaws.”

“With your talent, if you had been born in Halden with its environment, you had a high chance to become Immortal.”

“Unfortunately you were born in Theo, wasted time, then were gravely wounded young. Your ceiling... you can probably break crown, but achieving Mandate of Heaven will be hard; Immortal is likely impossible.”

Elise spoke bluntly.

Rhein smiled. “I know. So I will leave Halden.”

“Where to?”

“The Arotala Continent, the elves’ dominion.”

Rhein answered calmly. “To seek the Elves’ Fountain of Life. Only the Fountain can possibly fully repair my old wounds and renew my path to higher realms.”

Arotala Continent, once said to flow with milk and honey under elven rule.

But that was long ago.

From what Rhein had gathered, Arotala now was far from peaceful—pervaded by crisis and shadow.

Still, he made the decision.

Elise was silent a moment. She knew once Rhein resolved something, he rarely changed his mind.

She smiled, drew a green-gemmed amulet from her bosom, and handed it to him.

“Elves aren’t always friendly to outsiders, especially those seeking the Fountain.”

“Take this. My family has ties with some high elves of the Emerald Court. This amulet may spare you trouble in Arotala.”

Rhein accepted it without refusal and nodded solemnly. “Thank you.”

“When will you depart?”

“Now.” Rhein said.

Elise was surprised. “So soon?”

Rhein was silent for two seconds, then lowered his voice. “I’m human, not an alchemical machine.”

“I’ve tried to stay rational, but emotions still stir inside—bloodline things hard to sever. If I don’t leave for Arotala promptly, I might be unable to resist returning to the Romanian Plains.”

He did not want to see that land ablaze again, Theo struggling in the squeeze, nor did he want to confront that red-iron dragon.

Before truly possessing countering strength, he must distance himself.

Having said this, Rhein said nothing more.

He leapt from the airport’s edge, his legendary Domain naturally deploying, enveloping his body in a streak of light that sliced the cloud sea and vanished at the horizon.

High-altitude winds swept Uprooted City, stirring clouds and banners.

The massive floating city rotated steadily under its magic arrays, looming over the land below like an indifferent god.

Northern Atlantis Continent, Twilight Plains, Aola legion encampment.

The red-iron dragon sprawled on a temporary high platform like a crimson mountain.

Its scales flashed metallic in the sun, every breath stirring scalding currents that slightly warped nearby space.

Theo’s legendaries stood below, led by Henderson bowing slightly as he relayed King Torfin’s words.

The old legendary’s voice was steady, but before this dragon he could feel innate oppression.

It was a gap of life intensity and species. Even if his legendary rank was higher, he felt like an ant before the mountain that was the Red Emperor.

“Reinhardt...”

The Red Emperor’s low voice rolled like thunder. “You come here at this time. I am pleased, but you think I would be worried about a human who was once grievously wounded by my followers? I do not like that.”

He lowered his enormous dragon head, vertically slit pupils fixed on Henderson.

That gaze alone pressed down on the Theo legendaries.

Henderson’s expression was unchanged, but sweat seeped down his spine.

He said in a deep voice, “Your Majesty, we only wish to provide all possible intelligence.”

“Theo is willing to fight for Aola and help you achieve victory. Command us and we will do our utmost.”

At his age, any fierce battle could mean his life’s end.

But Henderson did not fear.

If it could secure a better future for Theo, exhausting his remaining life was worth it.

After his words fell, the Red Emperor did not respond.

Instead, an Aola legendary laughed.

“Hey, you human antique.”

A mocking voice rang out.

Henderson glanced to see a bird with feathers blazing like fire cock its head at him—Ankhia, the phoenix, Aola’s legendary leader.

“You look half-in your coffin and yet aren’t afraid to die.”

“But you underestimate our Majesty. Does he need the help of such tiny things?”

Nearby the burly ogre Karu grinned.

In a bass voice he said, “The purpose of our Aola legendaries and legions is foremost to cheer and praise His Majesty, to witness his greatness. Humans, understand that.”

Henderson was silent.

He did not comprehend the thinking of these Aola legendaries.

But he did know that these legendary beings—different species, different statuses—nonetheless had near-religious faith in the Red Emperor.

To make them view him so...

At that moment, a clanking of scales sounded.

The red-iron dragon slowly rose, enormous wings unfurling to shroud the sky.

He tilted his head toward the deepening night, a hint of contemplation flickering in his slit pupils.

“Destroying Lothrian’s front-line yet failing to see their Time Crown is a pity.”

Garoth’s voice echoed through the encampment. “For that, I will make another visit. I hope they... do not disappoint me this time.”

As he finished, the crimson silhouette shot skyward!

With a few wingbeats, air surged, flags in the camp snapping fiercely.

In only a few breaths he became a crimson meteor, streaking toward Lothrian’s main camp.

Henderson watched that vanishing dragon figure for a long time before looking away.

He glanced at the Aola legendaries around him—these alien strong ones showed not worry but excitement and anticipation, as if they expected not a brutal battle but a grand spectacle.

“So this is... the Red Emperor’s prestige?”

Henderson thought silently.

He now fully understood Torfin’s choice.

Faced with such a Red Emperor and the legendaries gathered around him, what other path did Theo have but submission?

Lothrian Northern Expedition Corps Main Camp

Iron-fisted General Varesia stood before the command map, face harder than usual.

Red veins circled his eyes; since the front-line was destroyed he hadn’t slept.

Yet his mind was unusually clear.

“Everyone.”

Varesia broke the silence in the command room. “The Red Emperor’s ‘sun’ is essentially a highly compressed mass of Dragon Qi. We all saw its power; it is incredible, but that does not mean we are without options.”

Officers around the map glanced up, tired but carrying a spark of defiance.

“Based on residual energy analysis, reports from front-line mages, and what we know of draconic biology, we can deduce several key points.”

Varesia pointed to the spot on the map where the Red Emperor appeared.

“First, that powerful Dragon Qi orb needs time to brew and compress. From the Red Emperor beginning to gather energy to the moment of release is not instantaneous. That window is our early warning and reaction opportunity.”

He moved his finger to their former position.

“Second, our position was devastated because this is the first time the Red Emperor has shown such a potent long-range capability.”

“Before, we thought he was overwhelmingly strong in physical power and close combat. We lacked preparedness for this style of strike.”

A middle-aged officer chimed in.

“So the general means we need to change tactics—abandon step-by-step consolidation and solidity?”

“Yes.” Varesia nodded slowly. “We must accept a fact: the Earth Manipulator—our reliance for quickly building solid positions—was destroyed in the first strike. Though it attempted to burrow to evade, it remained within the damage radius. Its internal structure suffered severe damage and cannot be rebuilt quickly.”

Silence fell briefly.

“This means we can no longer rely on strong fortifications to oppose Aola.”

Varesia scanned everyone, his voice decisive. “We must be more flexible, more dispersed.”

“We must also develop multiple counterplans for the Red Emperor’s strikes: early warning systems, evacuation routes, countermeasures, and tactics to seize opportunities to strike back while he prepares his attacks.”

That meant Lothrian’s hopes of using this battle to build prestige and unite the Federation were dashed.

But it was unavoidable.

Against the power the Red Emperor displayed, minimizing losses and striving for victory would be hard enough.

Varesia sighed inwardly.

If the former king were alive, Lothrian and Aola might have been a solid alliance to face continental threats together.

Alas, politics never bend to ideals.

Now that the two sides clashed, turning back was too late.

“We must force Aola into more complex warfare, not let them concentrate power to coordinate the Red Emperor’s devastating strikes.”

Varesia focused and continued.

The meeting’s mood revived.

Commanders began discussing concrete adjustments.

Break massive corps into more agile tactical clusters, increase aerial reconnaissance and magical early-warning density, prepare more devices to interfere with high-energy aggregation and long-range strikes...

But halfway through the discussion, anomaly struck again!

The familiar, terrifying pressure slammed down from the sky.

The command room’s magical lamps flickered violently, water in cups rippled, and maps on the walls moved as if by wind.

“Alert! Ultra-high energy reaction!” The signal mage’s voice boomed through the amplification array. “Directly overhead! Repeat: directly overhead!”

Varesia’s pupils contracted.

He had no time to think; his body moved instinctively, flashing out beyond the command post and looking up.

Then his heart almost stopped.

Two suns.

In the azure sky, two suns appeared.

One was smaller but rapidly forming, swelling!

And the new sun was being held aloft by the very red-iron dragon they’d been discussing.

The Red Emperor, the Undying Dragon, Garoth Ignas!

He had flown directly over the opposing front and now loomed above Lothrian’s main camp.

The solar sphere between his claws seemed even larger than the one that had destroyed the front-line position. Its light and heat twisted the air below.

Varesia felt the temperature climbing.

“Activate all defensive arrays! Maximum power!”

Varesia roared orders: “Notify all legendary units to prepare to intercept! Magic satellites, request emergency support! Repeat: request highest-level support!”

Shrill alarms cut through the clouds.

Layer upon layer of defensive arrays fired at full, colored magic shields weaving into a dazzling curtain over the camp.

Multiple legendaries rose from all quarters, eyes fixed on the Red Emperor overhead.

The solar sphere between the dragon’s forelimbs grew ever brighter; at close range it seemed larger than a true sun—like a star imprisoned in dragon claws, ready at any moment to fall and turn everything to ash.

Time seemed to freeze.

Varesia clenched his fists until his nails bit his palms.

He could feel soldiers trembling, hear stifled breaths and prayers.

This was the intimidation of power.

Even without an attack yet, fear had already spread.

At that instant, a brilliant silver light descended from the sky!

The beam struck precisely between the Red Emperor and the camp.

The light faded, revealing a figure.

A young man who looked barely in his twenties stood there, wearing simple gray cloth, a battered round shield at his waist, and an ancient sword.

Plain black hair and eyes, an ordinary face like any traveler.

But when he looked up, an uncanny stillness filled the sky.

The Crowned Time Warden, Sodrian Lothrian.

Lothrian’s Time Crown, the realm’s guardian.

Sodrian’s gaze fell on the energy orb in the Red Emperor’s claws, calm as if viewing something mundane.

Then he made a simple movement: his right hand lightly rested on the battered round shield at his waist.

The impossible happened.

At his touch, the shield seemed to rewind time.

Cracks visibly mended, rust faded in an instant, revealing clean metal, and even a missing corner regrew under shifting light.

In the blink of an eye, a whole gleaming shield appeared in his hand.

Silver ripples flowed across its face like moonlight on water.

“Lothrian’s Time Crown...”

High above, the red-iron dragon laughed, saying nothing further, and pressed his claws down, launching the already-swollen Dragon Qi orb.

This time the orb did not fall to earth.

It erupted in midair before it could reach Sodrian!

The fierce sun bloomed in the sky, destructive fire and lightning like fanged beasts lunging at the nearest humans.

That abrupt change did not faze Sodrian.

He did not move. At the first lick of lightning flame nearing him, he raised the newly-restored round shield above his head, tilting it slightly into a simple block.

Then the shield contacted the lightning and flame.

No thunderous crash, no explosion.

At the instant the Dragon Qi’s destructive energy touched the shield, time seemed to stall.

The rolling flames and surging lightning halted before the shield like hitting an invisible wall.

The next second, as if time reversed, the flames and lightning retreated, converged, and reformed!

They rolled and gathered before Sodrian in a way that violated reason, re-coalescing into the solar-like orb and then—returning on its original path!

Buzz!

The Dragon Qi orb shot back along the exact opposite trajectory, faster than before, roaring toward its original owner!

The Red Emperor seemed surprised, but his reaction was equally terrifying.

Hundreds of meters of crimson wings suddenly expanded and slammed!

The dragon’s towering body surged like a red thunderbolt, shooting straight upward, trailing brilliant flames.

Boom!!!

The Dragon Qi orb exploded in the sky slightly behind the Red Emperor’s original position.

This explosion truly shredded the clouds; light and heat rained down, but because of distance, the shock reaching the ground was intercepted by layered defense arrays, only stirring ripples over the shields.

At the same time, legendaries, led by Sodrian, arrayed to protect him.

Their gazes burned, focused on the red-iron dragon, filled with battle intent.

“Time’s power... human, you surprised me.”

The Red Emperor stood in the burning sky, looking down at the human crown.

Having said that, he did not linger. With a flap of his wings he became a crimson streak and swiftly vanished into the horizon, coming and going abruptly, leaving no chance for Lothrian’s legendaries to surround him.

After a brief silence,

a thunderous cheer erupted from the Lothrian camp!

“It’s the Crowned Time Warden! Our crown!”

“The Shield of Time! He blocked it! No—he reversed the Red Emperor’s attack!”

“Long live Lothrian! Long live the Crowned Time Warden!”

Morale, previously low, surged.

Soldiers waved weapons, commanders grinned wildly. Even Varesia breathed out a long sigh of relief, looking to the young figure above with reverence and gratitude.

Yet Sodrian in the sky, after the Red Emperor had departed, showed no ease.

He lowered the round shield slowly.

The shield’s radiance dimmed instantly; the cracks and old marks reappeared, as if the earlier renewal had been a brief time illusion.

With his back to the crowd, Sodrian’s face was a touch pale, breath a bit rapid.

The dense wrinkles that had appeared along his cheek in that moment gradually faded as he took deeper breaths, but their cost had not vanished.

“Just one rebound... consumed this much.”

Sodrian glanced at the shield, now again battered, then toward where the Red Emperor had vanished, brow tight.

He was clear about his condition.

As a wielder of time’s power, every reversal exacted a price.

Rebounding an attack of Dragon Qi’s level consumed not only mana but his own time.

Those wrinkles were direct evidence.

His life was accelerating toward its end.

“If he repeats this move, how many times can I hold?”

Sodrian calculated silently.

Three days later at night, Lothrian’s forces realigned according to the new tactics. Sodrian’s arrival had indeed buoyed morale; voices and chatter returned to camp.

But calm did not last long.

The sky was rent by blinding light again; night turned as bright as day.

The Red Emperor returned.

He hovered in the night, holding a Dragon Qi orb like another massive sun. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

In the next instant he hurled the destructive sphere at the ground.

The Crowned Time Warden Sodrian had to act.

He raised the ancient round shield; silver light poured forth, and the Wall of Time unfolded again.

A ringing trembled the air. As the Dragon Qi orb touched the barrier it was reversed and rebounded into the sky.

The Red Emperor anticipated it and rose lightly, evading the counter before streaking away as a crimson shadow, vanishing into the deep night without hesitation.

Silence fell; only residual crackling energy remained in the camp.

Sodrian slowly lowered the shield, deeper and denser wrinkles again marking his face.

Though he lightly ran a hand over them and they smoothed, he knew they were not mere surface marks but traces of time accelerating on him.

“We can’t keep passively defending like this.”

Sodrian looked toward the silent mountain range far off.

“My life nears its end anyway. If this battle is to be my finale... then in my remaining time, I will fight to secure a glorious future for Lothrian.”

This time, regardless of the king’s decisions, he had already made his choice.