Fall of the Northern Lands

"O gods!"

Viscount Luton murmured to himself again, his face illuminated.

Beams of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the clouds, initially weak and soft, then gradually becoming strong and brilliant, until golden light bathed the earth.

The clouds in the sky were also dyed golden, and then gradually dissipated with the wind.

On the ground, the female Cleric held her scepter aloft.

[Sacred Sunburn Technique]

This was originally a divine spell used by the Fadlan Empire to demonstrate magnificent miracles during its priestly rites, but now it is being used to serve a Red Dragon.

As this magnificent sight appeared, the mournful songs that had echoed across the battlefield gradually subsided. The Northern Nobles, the soldiers of the Allied Forces, and even the people of the Ember Nest all raised their heads and stared intently at the sky.

"Roar--"

The long roar rang out again, and the almost tangible dragon's might spread out.

In an instant, the wasteland fell silent.

A massive Red Dragon, over thirty meters long, flapped its wings in the sky, stirring up gusts of wind. Its metallic red scales shone brightly in the sunlight.

Every time he flaps his wings, the surrounding air distorts and trembles due to the high temperature, and the sky seems to submit to him.

Luton gazed at the scene in the sky and couldn't help but shield his eyes with his hand—whether it was because the light was too dazzling or because the presence high in the sky was too unbearable to look at directly.

His lips trembled slightly, and his whole body shook.

"It's happening again."

No, they're not the same.

"He has become more powerful, far more terrifying than I remember."

Viscount Luton shook his head slightly, his brow furrowed, and murmured softly.

As a survivor of the Trill Massacre, the scene had haunted Viscount Luton's mind countless times, becoming a persistent nightmare.

And now, a new nightmare is about to be born.

"O gods!"

"Will he... will he kill us?"

"I have no idea."

"Let's just wait like this."

The remaining Northern Nobles and soldiers stood motionless, and even when spears and swords fell from their hands, no one bothered to pick them up—because there was simply no need.

Even if they still had tens of thousands of soldiers left, even if they had excellent weapons and ample supplies, it was all useless against this Red Dragon.

Resistance is pointless.

Who can use a sword to Contend Against natural disasters?

People gazed at the scene in the sky for a long time, and the same thought arose in their minds.

Keosius hovered high in the sky, looking down at the trembling people below, a faint light flickering in his pale golden eyes.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried across the wasteland, allowing everyone on the battlefield to hear it clearly.

"The North is dead."

"The embers will live on forever."

His tone was flat and monotone, more like a cold, detached declaration.

This is the obituary of the the North's demise, and also the declaration of a new order for the Embers of the Burned Kingdom.

"No"

Why did this happen?

Viscount Luton fell to his knees with a thud, his head bowed in despair, and he let out an uncontrollable wail, his tears soaking the earth beneath him.

But even now, he still can't believe all of this nightmarish experience.

Luton. Seager was born in Strasbourg and inherited a fiefdom through his father's influence. He enjoyed studying the history of the the North, often exchanged ideas with scholars from various places, and lived a life accustomed to the upper echelons of the Northern Nobles.

Ten years, just ten short years.

The Red Dragon from the north rose miraculously and established a terrible kingdom.

Under the onslaught of the Embers of the Burned Kingdom's military might, his homeland was destroyed, and the Northern Nobles system upon which he depended for survival was also on the verge of collapse.

"It's over"

"The North is dead! The North is dead!"

"Gods, is this punishment for us?"

"The end of the world! This is the end of the world!"

Many Northern Nobles in the allied forces showed the same expression; some collapsed to the ground, some turned pale, some were filled with disbelief, and some even went mad, crying and laughing at the same time.

For a moment, cries and wails echoed through the Allied forces.

They knew it was all over.

The old order must be overthrown and rebuilt.

All that is old and decaying will be utterly destroyed, including themselves— the Northern Nobles who have ruled Anzeta for nearly a thousand years.

Meanwhile, the Embers of the Burned Kingdom Ashes erupted in waves of cheers, as if they were a powder keg that had been lit, creating a surge of heat.

Goblin, Ogre, and Tiefling alike raised their weapons and cheered. The Wyvern roared with pride, and the Blue Dragon and White Dragon let out ecstatic roars.

"The embers will live on forever!"

"Roar--"

"Invincible!"

"For the Embers of the Burned Kingdom!"

"Your Majesty Keosius! Your Majesty!"

Even the players were infected by this frenzied atmosphere and started howling and screaming, but their lines sounded rather strange.

"You scoundrel, prepare to die!"

"For Faction Contribution and Gold Coin!"

"Lord Keosius handsome, I want to hug his tail!"

Amidst the excited crowd of players, Steamed Bun, leading Wyvern, wore a mournful expression and said in a bleak tone, "I haven't even earned many contribution points yet, how did it end like this?"

At Marshal Dolo's command, the army of the Embers of the Burned Kingdom began to march again, their orderly steps slowly approaching the allied forces' positions.

The river was trembling, and the earth was shaking.

But this time, they encountered no obstacles.

The allied forces had completely lost the will to fight, and were simply waiting quietly for the arrival of the Embers of the Burned Kingdom's army, a deathly silence of despair permeating their ranks.

As the kingdom's army advanced towards the allied forces, a Northern Nobles, driven mad by the pressure, finally lost his mind and charged the army of the Embers of the Burned Kingdom alone.

He shouted, "You monsters! I am of noble blood!"

But amidst the barrage of gunfire, the crazed nobleman was riddled with bullet holes, his body riddled with them.

The Red Dragon remained high in the sky, oblivious to the slight commotion on the ground. Its broad wings cast huge shadows across the wasteland, and its vertical pupils reflected the ravaged battlefield, riddled with holes.

"It's all finally over."

"The Anzeta Great Wasteland is mine."

This is what Keosius thought to himself.

The golden trophy stood tall in his mind.

[The Nation Ender]

"It was a desperate war. The legendary ' Silver Wing ' fell to the ground, all the heroes from Fadlan perished, and the brave and fearless Leo Bosk disappeared without a trace."

"Even the radiance of Mount Paradise could not quell his rage— the Northern Kingdom, which had ruled Anzeta for nearly a thousand years, was thus destroyed, and the people of the the North fell under the Dragon's Rule, becoming slaves controlled by His ambition."

—The Anzeta Secret History: The Fall of the Northern Lands, Duke Luton

"A prosperous era is about to begin, marking another significant milestone in the empire's Great Blueprint. His invincible Majesty has once again achieved a glorious victory."

—From * The Imperial Archives: The Official History of the Northern United Kingdom, by Citizen Luton. Seager