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Chapter 558: Agents
"Rise."
Under the gaze of the crowd, the overly young noblewoman slowly rose, folded her dragon wings, and took her seat.
Misha exchanged glances with Langpu, who also stood atop the altar. They smiled and nodded to each other in greeting.
"Lord Langpu."
This Imperial Prime Minister had once brought her before His Majesty and taught her much about magic—he was nothing less than a benefactor.
In Misha's mind, this grotesque ogre resembled a mentor figure.
Beside them, Duke Dolo the hobgoblin seemed to realize something. His murky little eyes glanced at Misha, and his expression turned ugly.
"Damn it."
The hobgoblin squeezed out a hoarse whisper through clenched teeth—though only he could hear it.
Another half-dragon herald stepped forward, scroll in hand, posture ramrod straight, voice thunderous.
"For strategic planning and coordination, making outstanding contributions to the Empire's logistics—Marquis Darenna is promoted to Duke of the Empire."
"Lady Darenna!"
"Isn't she the 'Flower of Northwind Fortress'?"
Amid gasps and admiration, Darenna, dressed in a long gown, was lifted onto the high platform by invisible force. She waved to the crowd below.
"Your Majesty."
Smiling, Darenna knelt before Cassius. She appeared calm, yet her trembling pale legs betrayed her.
Who wouldn't be nervous?
To become a noble Duke and stand at the peak of imperial power, fulfilling an old goal—even Darenna felt as if she were dreaming.
Yet the herald's loud voice continued to ring out, echoing across the packed crowd.
"Brave in battle, unafraid of mighty foes, embodying the might of Imperial dragonkin—Marquis Smaug is promoted to Duke of the Empire."
A hoarse roar rang out, sparks scattering through the air.
Surrounded by several wyverns, the nearly twenty-meter-long red-dragon-like wyvern lord beat his wings and rose into the sky.
Finally, Smaug landed atop the altar, bowed his neck to the Red Dragon, pressed his head to the ground, folded his wings, and let out a submissive growl.
After receiving imperial approval, the wyvern stood upright on his hind legs, using his tail for balance.
Now, all eyes turned to the final marble seat.
Of the Nine Dukes, only one seat remained. Who would be the lucky final appointee?
"Cassius above!"
"I think Marquis Brol, commander of the infantry corps, deserves to be a Duke."
"Bullshit! Do you know how many demons Lord Big Head's artillery corps annihilated?"
"Marquis Gilmore has loyally assisted Duke Langpu in managing the Empire's complex affairs for years—he deserves it."
Humans, ogres, tieflings, lizardfolk—people of many races waited with bated breath.
Though they knew they wouldn't be chosen, they still hoped for someone of their own race to be appointed.
Within the Ember Empire, a multi-ethnic nation, the government always promoted equality and merit-based advancement—but who wouldn't want someone "of their own" in the top ranks?
The imperial marquises were even more excited and anxious.
The few counts thought to have a chance held their breath, eyes locked on the herald's scrolls, filled with longing.
But the herald named the next candidate quickly, disappointing many hopeful marquises—yet none dared object.
Because this new Duke's identity was far too unique. So unique, none dared question it.
"Froze thousands of demons, faced a Balor head-on—Tinia is promoted to Duke of the Empire."
Another direct ennoblement, from commoner to Duke. But this one was a well-known imperial kin, dubbed the "Northern Wind Wing of the Empire"—the White Dragon.
"Roar—"
A chilling wind blew, followed by a resounding dragon's roar.
Amid a chaotic swarm of dragons, the twenty-five-meter-long white dragon spread her wings, casting a shadow over the crowd below.
For the typically smaller white dragons, twenty-five meters was an ancient dragon size. Yet Tinia wasn't even of age—testament to her powerful ancestral dragon bloodline.
Tinia strode proudly, head high, her spiny wings stirring cold winds as she soared toward the altar.
Her expression burned with excitement. Pale blue vertical pupils gleamed as she thought:
Her master had finally remembered her!
She had fought to the brink in the demon war, trying her best to perform well. It paid off!
"Boom."
The earth trembled slightly as the white dragon landed atop the altar.
She bent her forelegs and knees, folded her wings, and lowered her head nearly to the ground in a display of submission toward Cassius.
"Master. I saw your battle with my own eyes—you were so big, so strong, simply..."
Tinia murmured, trying to find the right words in her limited brain. Her face was filled with fanaticism, and her thick tail swayed uncontrollably.
Her massive white body crept slowly toward the Red Dragon, claws scraping along the floor.
Yes, the young adult female dragon was in peak mating season.
Under the gaze of hundreds of thousands, Tinia unabashedly squirmed across the ground, trying to rub up to the Red Dragon.
For the dignity of the Dukes and the ceremony, Cassius couldn't let this continue.
His face darkened as he raised a single clawed finger, releasing powerful force.
"Roar—"
With a panicked cry, the twenty-meter-long white dragon was enveloped in a powerful gust she couldn't escape.
She was slammed hard onto the spot before her assigned seat.
"Boom!"
Tinia lay on the ground, trembling in pain, but a dazed look of ecstasy filled her draconic face. Drool dripped from her mouth.
"Master... Hehe, still so strong... impossible to resist."
Seeing Tinia's crazed face, Cassius twitched slightly and thought: clearly, a white dragon brain can't handle ancestral blood power.
Otherwise, how else would such a perverted, obsessive white dragon like Tinia come to be?
After this little interlude, the ceremony continued. Under the crowd's eager gaze, familiar names were read aloud by the herald.
"Count Big Head is promoted to Marquis of the Empire."
"Count Juan Wilkerson is promoted to Marquis of the Empire."
"Count Selkan is promoted to... Marquis of the Empire."
"Who is that?"
"Why would he become a Marquis?"
Many murmured about the unknown name, but some seasoned Imperials recognized him.
"I saw Count Selkan in the "Empire Daily"'s colonial section. He's the Fire Element Plane overseer."
"I met him at Brass Fortress—a very ambitious man."
A heat-emitting portal opened, and out walked a half-red dragon in light armor—Count Selkan, Governor of the Fire Element Plane.
Unlike homeland half-red dragons, this Count had a distinct appearance: fire danced in his eyes, and small flames flickered from his ears and nostrils.
Years in the Fire Plane had left Selkan with many elemental traits.
Many fire drakes, fire lizards, fire dwarves, and half-red dragons followed him, cheering like firecrackers.
"Count Iron Frenzy is promoted to Marquis of the Empire."
Even after much time together, the heralds still weren't used to Starfallers' bizarre, spell-like names.
The Starfallers erupted in loud cheers, player voices surging like waves.
"Holy shit? Frenzy bro made Marquis?!"
"Flesh is weak, machines shall ascend!"
"Praise the Omnissiah! Hahaha! Our Mechanist Church just got full face credit!"
"Watch it! Don't chant slogans now. Imperial Religious Affairs already came to talk to me."
"Ring the bell thrice, sing in unison—prai... uh, praise His Majesty Cassius!"
"No matter what, Frenzy bro is awesome!"
One Mechanist Church player even pulled out a mini mechanical bell and rang it repeatedly.
"Dong! Dong! Dong!"
Amid cheers and bell chimes, Iron Frenzy strutted out, waving proudly to the crowd.
"Hahaha! What a day! How did you know I was being ennobled?"
Pressing a button on his suit, two steel tubes extended from his modified back, spraying brilliant flames and thick white smoke.
"Whoosh—"
A mushroom cloud rose. Iron Frenzy soared skyward and landed atop the hundred-meter-high altar.
New players, struggling to even kill a chicken, stared wide-eyed at the soaring arc left in the sky.
Someone muttered, "Are we... playing the same game?"
After saluting the Emperor, Iron Frenzy stood with arms akimbo at the Marquis seat, striking a pose.
But inside, he wept. That prototype single-soldier flight module was now scrap. Who knew how much it'd cost...
"Maicon Watts, for guarding vital territory with the infantry corps, is promoted to Marquis."
"Gilmore, for weapon research contributing heavily in battle, is promoted to Marquis."
"Freed, as guide of the Dragon-Oath Sanctuary... is promoted to Marquis."
"George, for leading a legion to reinforce the frontlines, holding high ground against demons, and personally slaying several Balors, securing precious time for the Empire...
Is promoted to Count."
"It's Baron George! That former northern serf!"
"Cassius above! He also rose two full ranks to become a Count!"
"So envious... from serf to Count..."
"I worked in the same factory as Lord George! We were close back then! I always knew he had ambition..."
Amidst all the discussion and envious stares, George strode up to the altar's base.
He stood tall and proud, feeling the dragon blood in his veins throb.
"Finally a Count. So close. So close to... becoming a true figure of power."
Invisible force lifted him steadily. As he rose higher, the crowd below shrank to ants.
He thought, "I was once just one of the masses..."
"But now, everything has changed."
With determination in his eyes, George ascended the altar with purpose.
Under the Red Dragon's oppressive aura, he stilled his trembling body, though his heart pounded and his blood boiled.
He managed to maintain composure and knelt before Cassius.
"Your Majesty, thank you for your grace."
George clenched his teeth as sweat dripped from his brow.
The Red Dragon slowly lowered his head and, after studying him a moment, actually said gently, "George... you're impressive, to awaken the seed of blood I left behind."
H-His Majesty... He actually values me this much!
Overwhelmed by joy, George nearly fainted. Emotion surged so intensely it threatened to sweep him away.
He barely composed himself, thanked the Emperor again, and returned to his seat—but Cassius's words kept echoing in his mind.
"George, you're impressive."
"His Majesty values me... Maybe I can reach the pinnacle of imperial power."
George looked up toward the Marquis and Duke seats above, eyes burning with ambition.
"For brave combat deep among demons, Crimson Conqueror is promoted to Viscount."
"For fighting demons in deadly melee, Born Battle Maniac is promoted to Viscount."
"Russell is promoted to Baron."
"Hurm is promoted to Baron."
As the last name was read, the half-red dragon heralds closed their scrolls and withdrew amid mixed gazes of envy and disappointment.
After this ceremony, the Empire had gained nine Dukes, twenty-six Marquises, over fifty Counts, more than a hundred Viscounts, and four hundred Barons.
Finally, before a crowd of hundreds of thousands—perhaps a million—the Red Dragon slowly rose from his throne.
"What a tedious ceremony..."
He exhaled a cloud of sulfur-laced smoke, spread his immense wings, and gazed with pale golden pupils at the expectant, excited imperial citizens below.
Cassius knew: the true gift—was about to descend.