Under the Red Dragon

Desolate and impassioned incantations echoed through the dim space, the rustling of wind stirring tattered, bloodstained banners, as if the spirits of the dead lingered there, whispering in the wind.

The resounding clamor of battle from the horizon grew distant and boundless, like eerie reverberations echoing across time and space.

The chanting gradually lowered into solemnity,

“Silver and stone, a pact forged with the cornerstone,”

“The sighing wind, a bulwark against intrusion, firmly locking the gates of the four directions,”

“Released from the sacred halls, descending upon the path to the empire,”

“Here I summon,”

“Your bodies belong to the Emperor, our fates are entrusted to the spirit blade,”

“If you are willing to answer the call of the heroic spirits, to heed this will and comply with this reason, then answer the summons!”

Pale-faced mages, their tattered robes fluttering, their worn staves steadily channeling a gurgling spring of magic, using the power of incantations to drive the sighing wind into the distance.

Before these casters stood towering golems, crudely shaped and cast from rock and iron, their faces featureless save for eyes and mouths.

Their structure was simple, possessing only agile limbs and nothing more.

The towering figure of Gilienas, former Guardsman, stood in the shadows, his back against a wall of piled stones, the rough surface stained a deep crimson, like dried blood.

If he raised his head, he could see the silent, immense earth-body of the Black Dragon King Rosani, hundreds of meters long, in the sky.

The statue, sculpted as if from mud, bared its fangs and claws, spread its wings wide, hovering over the entire city, its dragon head raised, gazing into the distant horizon.

Gilienas remained as silent as the dragon statue, watching the sighing wind sweep over the dismembered limbs of fallen comrades lying on the ground, over the shattered armor and cracked, chipped greatswords of the legionnaires, over the blood-soaked cloaks, now blackish-red.

The salvaged limbs, broken armor, and damaged greatswords, embodied the beliefs of those mighty warriors, the last echoes of their existence in the world.

In the sighing wind, the last shouts and roars of the warriors before their deaths were carried afar, floating over the ruined city with its scattered points of light shrouded in shadow, over the sacred and solemn cathedral, over countless homes.

It crossed the war-torn front lines, reaching the dark earth beyond.

Here, corpses littered the landscape. As far as the eye could see, countless demon corpses were piled like carpets, gathered into mountain towers, each grotesque head severed and left to soak in the still-uncoagulated, foul-smelling blood.

The once lush and fertile Long Summer Lands had long been tainted by the putrid blood of demons, becoming a barren wasteland where nothing grew.

Even the earth, adept at absorbing the blood of livestock, could not bear this boundless sea of corpses and blood. Beneath the ubiquitous corpses, dense blood had congealed into clots covering the soil, allowing the upper layers of blood to accumulate day after day, spreading to the surrounding land.

There were also colossal demon dragons, tens to hundreds of meters in length, fallen on this battlefield. Though the fragmented bodies of the dead demon dragons were still immense, they were insignificant in this boundless mountain of corpses and sea of blood, like a drop in the ocean.

Amidst the countless corpses of low-ranking demons, almost submerged beneath the tattered, bloodstained banner of the Dragon King, lay the fallen warriors of the 'Burning Hooves' legion and warriors from this world.

Each of these Burning Hooves warriors had fallen on the path of their charge. They had not fallen to the claws and weapons of demons, but to their own broken blades, damaged armor, and exhausted strength.

Before the body of each fallen Burning Hooves warrior lay hundreds of low-ranking demons, as well as many mid-ranking demons, and even the corpses of high-ranking demons mixed among them.

The resentful spirits of these dead demons howled in the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, but dared not approach the heroic spirits of the legionnaires lingering before their broken bodies.

These heroic spirits retained the appearance of their battle-intent-filled lives, bloodstained and shattered armor covering their bodies, broken greatswords still held by their ghostly hands, enormous wings like those of demons, devils, and dragons spread wide, countless threads of blood and phantom fragments of flesh hanging from their damaged wings.

And Heart Energy, the power derived from the soul and spirituality, sustained the last vestige of unwavering intent in these dragon heroic warriors, causing them to linger on this battlefield where wails and resentment transformed into clouds rising into the sky, reluctant to leave, as if waiting, as if guarding.

They knew not where to go, but stubbornly guarded before this broken royal banner, repelling all vengeful spirits and shattering any approaching ghosts.

Until the sighing wind from afar swept across this land, raising the dragon's swaying royal banner.

The royal banner fluttered loudly, like a horn sounding. The roars and echoes brought by the sighing wind brushed over the fallen bodies of the warriors, gently coiling around the souls of these warriors, guiding them to their destined direction.

One by one, the souls still wandering in confusion raised their heads, their memories of life restored, the shadow of death dispelled, bringing back their past intentions.

So the souls followed the guidance of the sighing wind, drifting towards that predetermined direction.

Thus, in the dim space, the whispering voices of countless ghosts disappeared, as if in fear.

The stone and iron golems with their dull faces suddenly became animated, one by one, souls from the distant battlefield entered them, the eyes of the golems opening in succession, radiating dazzling light and indomitable battle intent.

Then the golems struck their chests with arms forged of rock and steel, emitting deafening sounds,

“Warriors of the Empire, blades of our Lord, we answer the call!”

The mages, dragging their exhausted bodies, abandoned their caster's pride, offering a heartfelt military salute of the Golden Empire to these warriors.

“Loyal warriors, welcome, welcome back!”

Hidden in the darkness, even the resolute face of Gilienas could not help but show emotion. He stepped out of the darkness and came before these golems.

The Powered Heavy Armor of this former Imperial Guard, now a legion commander, forged from sturdy mountain steel mixed with magical alloys from the world of Akaniia, was covered in claw marks and the imprints of blades, swords, spears, and halberds.

The heavy armor around the chest, where the dragon emblem was worn close to the heart, was even dented inward. The self-healing magical alloy's slow healing ability had failed to completely restore the appearance of this heavy armor.

And the dragon-faced helmet, the symbol of legion commanders and Imperial Guards, had long been cleaved apart, held in the hands of this towering warrior.

His meticulously groomed thick black hair and neatly trimmed short beard revealed the warrior's character. Although time had left a few imperceptible traces on his face, the fine lines at the corners of his clear, deep-red eyes gave the warrior a unique charm.

“Lord Gilienas, still alive, that's great!”

When Gilienas stepped forward, the heroic spirits in the golem legion also responded enthusiastically, stepping forward one after another, hammering the chest of this warrior, who was even taller than the three-meter-high golems, causing Gilienas to stagger back two steps.

For no other reason than that all the warriors knew Gilienas, and respected Gilienas as much as they respected the legion commander, the Dragonborn Wargen Saha.

This was not because of Gilienas's status as a legion commander and Imperial Guardsman, but because of his strength and bravery.

In the first few years of the Golden Empire's arrival, the Black Dragon Rosani led the Golden Empire's legions, sweeping away the gloom brought by the plane's gods, conquering the entire continent of Essos in campaigns both south and north, establishing a powerful vassal kingdom.

Although the followers of the Lord of Light, R'hllor, upheld the will of the gods they served, causing trouble everywhere.

But under the covert purges of Sakharo, a Red Priest who had defected from the Lord of Light R'hllor, and Nalia, a former Red Priestess, the Red God faith that worshipped the Lord of Light was also swept away from the entire continent by the forces of the Golden Empire.

Since then, the Golden Empire had taken deep root in this world, and all the Free Trade Cities had obediently submitted under the power of dragons and demon dragons. The Empire's legions commanded respect in all directions, preparing to expand into other continents.

But from the distant North of Westeros, the Ice God, who had been secretly opposing R'hllor, the Lord of Light, rose up, his power rising to unprecedented heights. The Ice God's believers blew the lost horn of magic, causing the Wall of the North to collapse.

The Night King, the claw of the Ice God's power, led his dormant army of White Walkers, beginning their southward march from the North.

With the Ice God's power surging to unprecedented heights, the entire power of the continent of Westeros was not enough to resist this claw of the Ice God—the Night King.

The civilizations and cities established by the First Men and the Andals were all destroyed by the army of the dead led by the Night King. Countless people perished in this disaster, and even their dead bodies and souls were not allowed to rest in peace, being transformed into the Night King's army of the dead.

The entire continent of Westeros fell into the hands of the White Walkers. Except for some living beings in remote corners, and many who fled to the Golden Empire, all other life was transformed by the Night King into servants of the Ice God.

The Night King, leading the death army transformed from the living beings of the entire continent, walked on the sea, turning it into ice, crossed the strait, preparing to sweep away these invaders who had occupied the world for his god.

Although the continent of Essos had its source nodes of magic and magical power destroyed by the Lord of Light R'hllor, gradually becoming a desert of magic, the strength of the Golden Empire's legionnaires and casters exceeded the imagination of these native beings.

When hundreds of demon dragons were simultaneously mounted and took to the skies, striking out together with the Golden Empire's legionnaires, the Night King, who could not be destroyed or damaged by the weapons of mortals and the mortal world, was also crushed to ashes by the poison fire and claws of the Black Dragon Rosani.

The entire army of the dead was completely destroyed in one battle by the Golden Empire's legions. No one in the world could resist the Empire's military might.

But the gods of the planes opened Pandora's Box, releasing the barriers of the world.

The passage from the Shadow Lands of Asshai, leading to a certain demon plane, was actually opened personally by these plane gods, and so destruction and war descended on this world once again.

The other continents, which still belonged to regions rich in magical power, were originally within the target range of Black Dragon Lord Rosani's conquest plan.

But when the Empire's warriors discovered that boundless demons were beginning to step into this world, the clever Rosani decisively abandoned his goal, shrinking the entire Empire's power to the vicinity of the fire-quenched Valyrian peninsula.

In other places, where magical power was abundant, although the Empire's legions did not fear these demons, the native warriors of this world could not resist the overwhelming demons.

Only in this magic-barren region, the people of this world had the opportunity to face the demons face to face, and only in this way could the strength of the Golden Empire be preserved to the greatest extent.

However, Black Dragon Lord Rosani's idea was very clever, but the Black Dragon and the Golden Empire both underestimated the number of demons.

No one could count how many demons poured into this world through the plane passage. Like locusts, no matter how many demons died, more demons would emerge from the other side of the passage.

So, after research, the Empire's caster legions proposed an idea that could be described as whimsical.

From the knowledge fortresses left by the ancient magical empire, there was an analysis and damaged product of a spell left by a mysterious and powerful mage of ancient times.

It was said that the mage once challenged the gods with this forbidden spell, to strip the gods of their authority and divine positions, but the specifics were unknown.

But the Empire's mage legions used this spell model as a reference and changed it, allowing Black Dragon Lord Rosani, who had obtained the secondary authority of the ancestral red dragon's spirituality,

To use the carrying capacity of the dragon, a perfect creature, and use this modified 'God-Stripping Spell' to compete with the plane god, the Lord of Light R'hllor, for the world's original authority and plane control rights by re-excavating the source node of magic, the Fourteen Fire Peaks.

So Black Dragon Lord Rosani once again transformed into the elemental earth body that enveloped the city of Valyria, and with the help of the Empire's high-level caster legions, began day after day, in silent silence, to begin the confrontation with the Lord of Light R'hllor.

Under the protection of Black Dragon Lord Rosani, in the city of Valyria, wherever Black Dragon Rosani existed, they could use the world's original overflowing magic to replenish themselves.

It was also because of this advantage that the Golden Empire was able to persevere for countless years in this world, facing countless demons.

But the Empire's lords and high-level casters were trapped in the struggle with the gods, so the Empire's safety completely hung in the hands of the legionnaires.

And Gilienas was the best of the best among the Empire's legionnaires.

This powerful warrior and wise legion commander usually spread the Emperor's thoughts, gentle and calm, but on the battlefield, he was like a bloodthirsty dragon.

In every battle, he charged to the front like the Dragonborn Wargen Saha. Countless low-ranking demons died under his heavy hammer, and as many as a thousand mid-ranking demons were beheaded by this warrior, then piled up to build Jingguan, deterring the demons.

And the number of high-ranking demons who had died at Gilienas's hands had long exceeded the number of his fingers and toes.

So the respect these heroic spirits had for Gilienas was brought about by his formidable strength and courage.

But Gilienas was not arrogant because of these honors and his own strength. He knew that although the heroic spirits of these Empire warriors could reside in the golems, if the golems were shattered again, it would also consume the origin of their souls.

Without the protection and nurturing of the dragon's temple for their souls, these loyal warriors would be completely worn away after several repetitions, leaving no trace of their existence in this world.

Therefore, Gilneas' respect for these warriors is equal to the warriors' respect for him.

A faint smile appeared on his stern face, and he chuckled softly, "Yes, I am still alive because of the sacrifice of you brave warriors!"

"Why bother telling us such nonsense?"

A golem said in a muffled voice, but a heroic and forthright aura emanated from this stone-like body.

"We have never feared this outcome, but we are somewhat regretful that we still cannot sense the will of our Lord. Perhaps we will never see the Empire again. I just want to see what the Empire looks like now."

"I also wish to return to the Dragon Temple that stands tall on the peaks of the mountains and drink heartily with my former comrades, sharing peace and tranquility!"

Gilneas was slightly silent upon hearing this.

The continuous wars had long faded the impression of the Empire in these warriors' minds, but deep in their minds, the memories of the Empire were condensed into the word 'beautiful'.

However, the situation in this world is not optimistic. After losing countless low- and mid-level demons and a large number of high-level demons,

the war in this world has attracted the attention of a Great Demon, who has now crossed over into this world.

Even Gilneas himself is not confident that he can survive the upcoming war.

The words of these warrior spirits made Gilneas feel a burning sensation in his eyes. He quickly raised his head, looked at the huge black dragon body, and said softly, "There will be a day when we see the Empire again, as long as we persevere. Gogmora's promise never changes!"