On a starless night, Valyria, the capital city of the Freehold and the center of power and politics, was sleepless.
One by one, the magic dragons patrolling the dark sky fell from the heavens. Their ferocious heads and colossal bodies plummeted like a meteor shower, their spilled dragon blood even igniting many buildings within the city.
One by one, the magic dragons perished with mournful roars under the combined assault of the Golden Empire's Wyvern Knights and legion soldiers, startling the entire city awake.
The entire city felt as if it had stepped into the domain of demonic monsters. Those once lofty false dragons and Dragon Knights could only let out their final terrified cries of life in the darkness.
Countless commoners and slaves trembled with fear in the night, praying to their respective worshipped gods for a safe passage through this night.
But it seemed their gods could not grant them the protection they deserved, even though these slaves and commoners had even sacrificed their own families to those lofty deities.
Valyria was ruled by forty supreme nobles, known as the Forty Dragon King Families, each raising several or more great dragons.
These false dragons could grow with age, their ultimate size limit difficult to estimate. Among the existing ones, the largest could even reach over two hundred meters in length, far surpassing any True Dragon species in the Ekania World.
Even the Ancient Gold Dragons, such colossal dragon species, could hardly match the immense size of these magic dragons in the final stages of their lifespan.
This was the sole advantage these false dragons possessed over True Dragons.
And such a gigantic false dragon was now spreading its vast wings, casting a shadow large enough to cover a small town under the dim moonlight, circling above the manor.
The rider on the magic dragon was like a slightly thicker spine on the beast, bound to the dragon's saddle, communicating and commanding through blood magic.
The Wyvern Knight watched as thousands of slave warriors followed the shadow, gradually surrounding the once-grand slaver's manor. He reached out his hand, gently patting the massive magic dragon, and shouted loudly, "Hogrien, dracarys!"
"ROAR!"
The enormous false dragon Hogrien, measuring two hundred and eighty meters in length, was too massive. Upon hearing its master's command, it flapped its great wings, circling mid-air to adjust its position.
A tremendous wind was stirred by the dragon's wings as the colossal beast controlled its descent, diving downward.
The magic dragon's eyes fixed intently on the tiny humans below, those who looked up at it yet showed no reverence.
A fierce blaze flickered and gathered between the magic dragon's massive fangs, ready to spew forth a terrifying Dragonfire capable of incinerating city walls and melting stone into liquid.
But those tiny figures showed not a hint of fear. They extended their hands from their exquisite, ornate Spellcaster robes, holding high staves and casting devices embedded with huge gems, chanting incantations.
Each of these Spellcasters was an elite mage trained or recruited by the Empire, with many being high-ranking mages. Not only were they proficient in amplification techniques for bare-handed spellcasting, but their casting power reached new heights after being equipped with the Empire's luxurious gear.
Led by a high-ranking mage wielding a Tree of Life staff, these Spellcasters, equipped with amplification and stabilization gear, had no need to expend their own excess mana.
Together, they stirred the mana-rich air, constructing a spell model using the collaborative casting framework issued by the Department of Magical Integration's research center, channeling the mana of heaven and earth.
In the dark sky above, thunder suddenly rumbled. With the deep, muffled booms, the sky, once somewhat illuminated by moonlight, grew completely dark.
A massive storm cloud churned within the clouds, a huge thunderhead seemingly locking onto its target, descending upon the head of the nearly three-hundred-meter-long false dragon.
Rolling arcs of lightning darted within the cloud, like pythons and serpents.
The friction created flashing electric lights and sparks everywhere in the air, causing the hair of the rider on the dragon's back to stand on end.
The Wyvern Knight was horrified. He quickly shouted, "Hogrien, evade! Cease attack!"
But his words were not as fast as the raging thunder and lightning. Before the massive false dragon could spew its fire, the gloomy sky suddenly flashed bright.
BOOM-CRACK!
Countless twisting bolts of lightning converged, forming a massive, spiraling tornado of lightning that pierced through the layers of dark thunderclouds, striking the colossal magic dragon.
"ROAR!"
The magic dragon in the sky let out a heaven-shaking cry of agony.
The massive lightning tornado, in that instant, instantly vaporized the knight on the dragon's back into a gaseous cloud, then the lightning pierced through the dragon's coarse back scales, boring into its flesh and blood.
A tremendous amount of lightning instantly vaporized vast quantities of the magic dragon's blood, charring large areas of its massive back into cinders.
Innumerable electrical currents ran rampant within the dragon's body, cooking and necrotizing its internal organs.
Faced with such a powerful spell, the colossal false dragon had no resistance. The disappearance and necrosis of multiple areas of its flesh and tissue left it powerless to flap its wings. Like a massive hill, it plummeted from the sky.
CRASH!
The over-two-hundred-meter-long magic dragon crashed heavily into the city, directly crushing and shattering over a dozen houses and buildings. Many commoners, not even having time to flee their homes, were turned into rubble along with their houses under the dragon's bulk.
Bartoli, Captain of the Wyvern Knight Corps, riding the dragon Swift Shadow, streaked across the sky like a brilliant stream of light. Having lost this prey, she turned her gaze toward other magic dragons in the distant sky.
Bartoli paid no mind to the slave warriors surrounding the manor. Apart from the 'Burning Hoof' legion dispatched for decapitation missions, the remaining warriors in the manor were more than a match for these slave warriors and Unsullied.
The mission of her Wyvern Knight Corps was to eliminate, as much as possible, the interference from the skyborne Wyvern Knights against the legion soldiers.
Bartoli gripped her long-bladed armor-piercing steel sword in her right hand. The fierce wind tousled her short hair, highlighting her heroic and spirited demeanor. She shouted loudly, "Swift Shadow, head that way! The next prey is that one!"
The tendrils beneath Swift Shadow's jaw shimmered with iridescent colors. These Wyverns could communicate telepathically with their riders, so verbal exchange wasn't strictly necessary, but Swift Shadow understood the excitement of the rider on its back.
It swiftly changed direction, darting toward the massive magic dragon with golden scales and red eyes.
The distant Wyvern Knight had just spotted Bartoli and Swift Shadow when, in the next moment, Bartoli, sword raised, appeared before his eyes. The magic dragon beneath him didn't even have time to open its jaws before a flash of cold light erupted.
SHHHHK!
Bartoli and Swift Shadow flew horizontally past the magic dragon's chest and abdomen. Her steel sword slashed horizontally, cleaving open the dragon's chest cavity. A torrent of dragon blood gushed forth like a spring, cascading through the air.
Before the Empire's War Captain, these massive magic dragons were riddled with fatal weaknesses. Inferior dragon breeds, like pigs awaiting slaughter.
Having slain another magic dragon, Bartoli hovered in the air, looking out.
Across the city in the darkness, flames of war and smoke rose everywhere.
The Targaryen Family, though one of the Forty Dragon King Families, had always been among the lowest ranks, possessing only five dragons, their power not extensive.
Tonight, strangely quiet, not a single magic dragon rose into the sky above the Targaryen Family's manor fortress.
A Decurion of the 'Burning Hoof' legion, dragging a black iron greatsword wreathed in blood and resentment, stepped over severed limbs and pools of gore. Leading over a dozen warriors, he entered the spacious manor.
To the Decurion's surprise, the people of the Targaryen Family had already gathered in the manor's center, as if awaiting his arrival with the warriors.
Even as they slaughtered the loyal warriors belonging to the Targaryen Family, these nobles had not stepped forward to organize a defense.
The Decurion halted. The warriors behind him took their positions, forming a flexible formation for advance or retreat.
"Do you seek death, or will you submit to my lord?" The Decurion raised his blood-stained greatsword within its steel gauntlet. His left hand gently wiped the blade's spine as he glanced at the two somewhat restless magic dragons, speaking calmly.
This family's existing two magic dragons—one only twenty meters long with silver scales and green eyes, the other larger at fifty meters with black scales and fierce horns—were, in the Decurion's eyes, not a serious threat.
Every warrior of the 'Burning Hoof' possessed a lineage older and more formidable than these magic dragons. These ordinary warriors couldn't even force them to reveal their true strength.
Fortunately, the Targaryen Family, though not as powerful as other Dragon King Families, possessed Dreamwalkers that no other family had.
The Patriarch of the Targaryen Family thought with relief in his heart. After learning of the prophecy, the Targaryen Family had already planned their escape route.
Among them, the Dreamwalkers and a portion of the family members, along with three magical dragons, had already fled to Dragonstone Island beyond the Westeros continent, serving as a contingency for inheritance, ensuring that even if the Targaryen Family suffered a blow, their bloodline could still be passed down in the world.
The remaining core family members would stay in Valyria, acting according to circumstances.
However, it now seemed that Valyria lacked the ability to resist these outsiders, so the Patriarch of the Targaryen Family chose the easiest path.
He knelt before the warrior whose body dripped with blood, lowered his head, and with both hands presented the Legendary Valyrian steel sword 'Blackfyre' from his waist, proclaiming loudly: "We offer the loyalty of the Targaryens to the master of the valiant and mighty warrior,"
"We dedicate our hearths, hearts, and harvests to you, my lord,"
"Our swords, spears, and bows heed your call,"
"We beg you to pity our hardships, aid our distress, treat each person fairly and equally, and we, the Targaryen Family, will follow you forever."
The Decurion looked at the steel sword in the noble's hands and let out a faint laugh.
He looked down upon the Patriarch of the Targaryen Family, his massive iron sword resting horizontally on the noble's shoulder. The blood and cold gleam made the noble's body tremble involuntarily.
Seeing this, the Decurion smiled softly with satisfaction: "No, in accordance with the glory of the Emperor, your loyalty, your everything, shall belong to the Empire's supreme Emperor, His Majesty Kalon Kogmora."
Only then did the Patriarch of the Targaryen Family let out a heavy sigh and loudly praise: "Praise the supreme Emperor! The Targaryen Family will offer everything to the Empire's Emperor."
At that moment, two more nobles stepped forward from the crowd, knelt before the Decurion, presented their family's Legendary tokens, and proclaimed in unison: "House Orrion, House Belaerys,"
"I swear by bronze and iron,"
"I swear by ice and fire,"
"To honor the glory of the Empire's supreme Emperor and pledge loyalty to the Empire!"
...Red Priestess Nalia stood at the ship's bow, gazing into the distance at the massive Valyria Peninsula. Even in the darkness, she could occasionally see rolling thunderbolts in the nearby sky and the falling of huge magical dragons.
Beside her stood several Faceless Men clad in black robes, the leader of the sect devoted to the Many-Faced God, and several remaining Red Priests.
The group was now observing the situation on the island, while the ship beneath them was sailing out of the Smoking Sea, heading into the distance. A few hours were still enough for their well-prepared selves to escape this area.
"Perhaps what those outsiders said is true. The gods merely treat us as pawns and sacrifices," Priestess Nalia silently thought.
The priestess now appeared slightly younger than before, looking radiant, but her heart felt somewhat unsettled.
"The gods' punishment is about to descend upon the mortal world," Nalia sighed. "What mortals cannot accomplish, the gods will solve with divine means, even if..."
"Each deity has their own tools, faithful men and women in the world who execute their will," the leader of the Faceless Men sect, his face shrouded by a hood, chuckled softly. "Death is a gift from the gods, the end of suffering. The gods merely use our hands to bestow this gift upon those slaves, and generously bestowed it upon all on Valyria, including those greedy nobles and unjust slavers."
"Behold, those outsiders shall also be granted this honor!" The Faceless Man raised both hands high, welcoming the distant tremors.
As the Faceless Man's words fell, on the island of Valyria, the once-peaceful fire peaks, like giant beasts startled from slumber, began to stir.
The earth trembled slightly. From the mountain mines within the Fourteen Fire Peaks came continuous rumbling explosions, countless detonations merging into a deep, resonant roar.
"Damn it, not just this city, the entire island is shaking and changing," the Spellcaster leader steadied his mind and shouted loudly: "Speed up! We must open the passage immediately. It seems a great upheaval is about to occur."
Rosani, feeling the earth's tremors, transformed into his True Dragon form at that moment, soared into the air, raised his head and roared, urging the attacking warriors to gather quickly.
For the black dragon had seen that the distant fire peak mountain ranges were shaking uncontrollably, and the entire island's landmass was beginning to change.
As the tremors intensified, the sturdy mountain bodies around the volcanic peaks began to crack, countless massive rock formations collapsing and rolling down with deafening crashes.
Then, a blazing, dazzling firelight and magma erupted skyward from the peak crater mines, illuminating the entire night sky, even overshadowing the moon's glow.
The massive lava column shot straight up to the dome, as if to pierce through the sky. The scorching, high-temperature magma, like a roaring fire dragon, instantly melted and struck down several magical dragons flying over the mountains, sending them crashing into the valleys.
And enormous volcanic ash clouds spread across the dome like dark clouds, blotting out the sky and the moon.
Then, other fire peaks followed, erupting one after another. The magma, quiet deep within the earth, now burst forth from the craters like boiling floodwaters, cascading down the mountainsides like red avalanches, crimson rock flows, tumbling and surging down the high slopes.
The unstoppable magma torrent destroyed everything that dared to stand in its way. Countless slaves were scalded to death by the intense heat before the flow even neared, suffocated by the drawn-out, stifling air, and then turned to ashes in the rolling torrent.
Sturdy mountain bodies and solid earth were scoured and torn apart, creating deep ravines.
Immediately, all the craters of the Fourteen Fire Peaks, under this intense chain reaction, began to unleash their most powerful force in history.
The fiery veins of the mountain ranges, fully activated by the violent reaction, caused peak after peak to shake and spew massive amounts of magma and volcanic ash. The tremendous sounds, more heart-stopping than the thunder in the sky, echoed between heaven and earth.
Crack, crack. The entire massive island, its land plates, shook, shifted, tore apart, and groaned. Countless flames and magma emerged from the earth's fissures, licking the land and life.
Volcanic ash clouds spread across the entire island, blotting out the sky and plunging it into darkness. But beneath the darkness was a hell of flames and magma.
Enormous rocks, propelled by tectonic plate movements, were ejected and flew, crushing countless buildings and houses.
This was the Doom of Valyria, the punishment delivered by the gods.
Dozens, even hundreds, of huge false dragons scattered and fled, disoriented in the sky, fleeing in all directions.
But the magma and flames between the mountains and the earth merely swept lightly over these dragons' bodies, effortlessly dissolving their massive flesh and harvesting their ignorant, wild souls.
One by one, the magical dragons fell like raindrops, then dissolved in this apocalypse.
Only the encampment of the Imperial Legion, under the magic circle constructed by the Spellcasters, still struggled to resist this cataclysmic change of heaven and earth. Rosani also exerted his full power, channeling all his magic to support the faltering magical barrier.
Crack, crack.
A tremendous sound, at this moment, overwhelmed the shaking of heaven and earth. It was the sound of shattering—space was shattering, the world was shattering.
At this moment, the Spellcasters finally opened the passage to the planar world. But, disrupted by the violent fluctuations of the world's magic, the exit of the passage was high in the sky.
They looked up and saw a huge gap appear within the dark, ashy clouds, but this enormous gap was rapidly shrinking.
"No," the Spellcasters watched this scene with some despair. Their last hope of escape was also rapidly vanishing.
Even Rosani might be able to rely on his own power to soar high into the sky and survive this deadly calamity, but no one could predict whether the black dragon could withstand the might of the entire world with his own strength.
Boom.
A massive sound came from high above. Everyone saw two enormous claws, at that moment, extend from the rapidly closing gap, one on each side, propping open the spatial passage.
Then, a huge, majestic head emerged from the passage. Six massive dragon horns coiled and grew, like pillars holding up heaven and earth.
Those pair of dark golden pupils, at this moment, were like pools of burning magma, rolling flames dancing within.
That was... the Ancestral Red Dragon, the Emperor of the Empire, Kalon Kogmora, casting his gaze upon this moment.