Chapter 627: Rising Winds, Surging Clouds
On the planet Bernardo, spellcasters above the crown-level were extremely rare, but they weren’t completely nonexistent. Among the three great empires, each had a handful of such beings.
Prophecy, stargazing, divination, prayer…
Aside from combat, their magic encompassed types that were either miraculous or treacherous, making them exceedingly difficult to guard against.
Thus, even though the Red Emperor, whose fame was at its zenith, rarely involved himself in the affairs of the kingdom during peacetime, and kept a low profile by seldom appearing in public,
But—
After he closed his eyes and officially entered his slumber in the underground Dragon Nest beneath the Rhen Plateau, as two or three years passed, some sharp-eyed individuals clearly realized.
That Scarlet Emperor Cangxing, who had risen like a comet over the past few centuries, had begun his hibernation.
If it were any other dragon, this wouldn’t have caused excessive concern.
On one hand, relying on a single sleep to break through from crown-level to the Mandate of Heaven seemed utterly preposterous, completely exceeding people’s understanding of the dragon race.
Ordinary dragon hibernation was a slow accumulation of power; it was impossible to complete such a massive leap with just one sleep.
But the Red Emperor was different.
From the very day he first appeared in the world’s view, he had never played by the rules.
On the other hand, the Red Emperor, while still at crown-level, could suppress Mandate-level beings, survive attacks from two Saints, and even slay a divine incarnation.
Such feats, in any world, would be worthy of being recorded in epic poetry.
If he advanced further and achieved the Mandate of Heaven, wouldn’t he be comparable to an Immortal?
By then, the Aola Kingdom, which already ruled the entire surface of Atlan, would become the first Dragon Empire in Bernardo’s history.
There was no doubt this would impact the current world order.
For the small and medium sovereign states, this was good news.
A change of hegemony often brought opportunities. The cracks in the old order meant the possibility of a new one, and room for the redistribution of interests.
Those city-states and small nations struggling to survive in the cracks between empires might find a new way to live through this upheaval.
But in the eyes of the empires, the rise of a new hegemon was an unmitigated, massive hidden danger.
No one wanted to see that.
Beyond themselves, another force capable of standing on equal footing with them.
New Calendar Year 651.
Halden, Imperial Central Command, Sky City.
Looking down from this magnificent city, one could see thick clouds churning beneath their feet, like a white ocean gently undulating.
In the eyes of those who lived above the sky, the creatures living on the earth below were like insects and ants, so tiny they were almost beneath notice.
Such a perspective inevitably gave one the illusion of being above all things.
Now, Halden was plagued by constant trouble due to the expanding Abyssal Rifts.
But even so, every Halden citizen was still proud of their empire.
They walked on boulevards suspended in the clouds, looking up to see an even higher sky, and looking down to see a sea of clouds submitting at their feet.
This position, situated between heaven and earth, perfectly matched their understanding of their own place in the world’s order.
Above the earth, pressing towards the heavens.
Danger and calamity had nurtured the empire.
Halden citizens generally believed that the empire would eventually overcome this crisis and then walk an even more glorious path, forever solid and immortal.
Meanwhile, in the center of Sky City, the royal court.
Within this magnificent building, shaped like a three-dimensional white-gold giant sword, a small but important imperial meeting was taking place.
The leader was a middle-aged human with slightly graying temples.
His appearance was ordinary, but he carried an aura of authority without needing to be angry. His eyes were exceptionally bright.
His sitting posture was neither too stiff nor too casual; he naturally occupied the main seat, as if he was born to sit there.
At this moment, he wore an ornate and luxurious white imperial robe, embroidered with Halden’s national emblem: a city suspended in the clouds, with two stars above it, one bright and one dim.
Fafnir.
The King of Halden, the Emperor of the Halden Empire.
Besides Fafnir, there were some other figures present on both sides of the long table.
There were not many, only a handful, but without exception, each one was a Mandate existence. Their auras were calm and restrained.
Fafnir looked around, his gaze sweeping over everyone’s faces, confirming that all were present.
“Let’s begin.”
He said.
Hearing this, a voice sounded.
“Your Majesty, it can now be confirmed.”
“The Red Emperor, Garoth Ignas, has entered hibernation underground on the Rhen Plateau.”
The speaker was a spellcaster wearing a blue magic robe. His face was as youthful as a young man’s, his skin smooth, making him look no more than twenty. However, his voice was hoarse and aged. His real age was clearly not what his appearance suggested.
This spellcaster was a Fate Weaver.
He belonged to a niche branch of the divination magic path.
Under normal circumstances, reaching ordinary Legendary was basically the limit for this path. Breaking through further was extremely difficult because each step forward in Fate magic was like struggling against the entire world’s causal web. The slightest misstep could lead to backlash and annihilation.
However, there were exceptions to everything.
This Fate Weaver was a member of the Halden royal family. By using a special secret technique, he had linked his own fate to that of the empire, thus breaking through the almost insurmountable barrier and reaching the Mandate of Heaven.
His very existence was an extension of the empire’s power.
As long as the empire was strong, he would be safe; if the empire declined, his fate would also crumble. This symbiotic relationship made him especially sensitive to any factor that might threaten the empire’s destiny.
The Fate Weaver looked at Fafnir.
His expression was serious as he continued, “After waking from this sleep, barring any accidents, the Red Emperor will one hundred percent be able to break through to the Mandate of Heaven.”
One hundred percent?
Several people present turned their heads slightly.
A cautious Fate Weaver rarely used this word. Their observations of the future were usually wrapped in various probabilities and limiting conditions, leaving plenty of room for error.
But when he said it like this, it was something that would inevitably happen.
It was as certain as the sun rising in the east.
Fafnir sat upright at the head of the table, his hands resting flat on the surface, fingers interlaced.
Hearing the Fate Weaver’s words, his expression did not change. The muscles in his face remained still, only his bright eyes narrowed slightly.
“The Mandate of Heaven…”
“In our Halden, the Mandate existences are the pillars of the empire, supporting its operation in every aspect. But only Immortals are the pillars suspended high above the sky.”
The King of Halden turned to look at the Fate Weaver.
His gaze was calm and sharp. He asked slowly, “After the Red Emperor breaks through to the Mandate of Heaven, can he rival an Immortal?”
This was a question on everyone’s mind.
The Mandate existences present unanimously looked at the Fate Weaver, waiting for his answer.
The Fate Weaver was silent for a few seconds, organizing his words before replying:
“Your Majesty, this question needs to be answered on two levels.”
“From the perspective of Fate Weight, when the Red Emperor was at crown-level, he already surpassed the Mandate of Heaven, possessing a higher influence. When he becomes a Mandate, his Fate Weight will inevitably reach the same level as an Immortal.”
Fate Weight.
Everyone present was familiar with this concept, but the Fate Weaver still gave a more detailed explanation.
Fate Weight refers to how difficult an existence is to erase or replace, and to what extent their every move can change the course of the world.
More precisely,
It measures how much an existence can control their own destiny and rewrite the fates of others.
Some people live, and the world doesn’t change because of them; some people die, and the entire world trembles.
That is the difference in Fate Weight.
If the world were compared to a huge tapestry woven from countless threads, then those threads are Fate Weight.
The threads of ordinary people are very thin and very short. One more or one less has almost no impact on the overall pattern of the tapestry.
Whether a farmer goes to the fields today, or a merchant opens his shop today, the scope of these things is extremely small, leaving almost no mark on the tapestry.
The threads of heroes and kings are thicker and longer, leaving clear patterns on the tapestry. Every one of their decisions can potentially affect the fates of many people.
But for an existence with extremely high Fate Weight, like the Red Emperor, his Fate Weight is no longer a thread. It’s more like a thick cable, or even the very warp and weft threads that weave the tapestry.
Every move of such an existence tugs at the entire tapestry, causing the paths of other threads to change around him.
The Mandate existences present each had their own understanding of the Fate Weight the Fate Weaver spoke of. At their level, they had all done their own thinking and experienced their own insights.
Hearing the Fate Weaver’s answer, none of them refuted it.
The current Red Emperor might be weaker than the several great Metal Dragon Kings, but his Fate Weight was actually higher, even higher than the Gold Dragon King’s.
Because he was more active, did more things, and had a stronger impact on the world.
The Metal Dragon Kings mostly secluded themselves in their own domains, while the Red Emperor unified the surface of Atlan in just a few hundred years, established the massive Aola Kingdom, and had deep interactions with all three great empires.
These actions accumulated over time.
His Fate Weight was already far beyond what his current realm should have allowed.
It could even be said that his current Fate Weight was already just below that of an Immortal. Once he achieved the Mandate of Heaven, he would fully rival an Immortal.
At this point, the Fate Weaver’s tone shifted slightly.
“However, Fate Weight is not the same as actual power.”
“For example, an ordinary king can command Legendary warriors, and his Fate Weight is higher than that of an ordinary Legendary, but he himself doesn’t possess Legendary-level power. These are two different things.”
“The Red Emperor’s Fate Weight can rival an Immortal.”
“But whether he can fight head-on against an Immortal in combat after becoming a Mandate… I think, at least right after he becomes a Mandate, he won’t be able to do it.”
Whether it was crown-level or the Mandate of Heaven.
In the end, they were still within the realm of Legendary lifeforms.
For a crown-level to defeat a Mandate, aside from the Red Emperor, there had been a few rare examples in history.
Those battles that crossed boundaries, while earth-shattering, were at least within the realm of people’s understanding, because the gap between crown-level and the Mandate of Heaven was a difference in quantity, not a chasm in quality.
However, the higher-level Immortals were a completely different story.
The gap between Legendary and Immortal was similar to the gap between a mundane creature and a Legendary. In principle, it was impossible to cross.
But they also hadn’t forgotten.
The Red Emperor had once defeated a Legendary while still a mundane creature. That was the true beginning of his rise.
Fafnir listened, then didn’t press the issue further.
He raised a hand, making a decisive gesture, and said, “Regardless of Fate Weight or actual power, we will first treat it as: the Red Emperor, after becoming a Mandate, can be considered equivalent to an Immortal.”
No one present raised any objections.
They all understood that in empire-level decision-making, the cost of underestimating an opponent was far more lethal than overestimating them.
Thinking of an opponent as stronger would only lead to more cautious plans. But if they underestimated the opponent, and things didn’t go as expected, the price they paid would be unbearable.
Suddenly, a war knight in silver armor stood up.
He was powerfully built, with a scar running from the corner of his forehead down to his jaw. The sound of metal clashing came from his armor as he rose.
“Your Majesty.”
The war knight’s voice was booming. “In that case, I request permission to personally lead an army to subjugate the Aola Kingdom, strike straight for the Rhen Plateau, and nip this threat in the bud.”
As soon as he finished speaking, another person sitting across from him immediately shook his head.
“General Heg, have you forgotten what kind of person the Red Emperor is?”
“He bled to defend the Atlantis Continent, he is an ally of our Halden, a hero in the defense of Atlan. Even our imperial citizens living in Sky City do not hesitate to sing his praises when his name is mentioned.”
He turned to Fafnir, his tone becoming more serious.
“Your Majesty, if we launch an unprovoked campaign against such an existence, the empire’s reputation will be destroyed in an instant.”
The war knight frowned.
He was a pure imperial soldier, and his way of thinking was always straightforward.
Identify a threat, eliminate the threat.
Considerations of reputation, prestige, and diplomacy were, in his view, secondary, even a sign of weakness.
Fafnir raised his hand, signaling for both men to sit down.
Then, the King of Halden swept his gaze between the two and said, “The empire’s prestige ultimately comes from power, not from others’ opinions of us. Heg is right.”
He paused for a moment, then shifted his tone slightly. “However, what Knox just said also has merit.”
“The Red Emperor is our nominal ally. To attack an imperial ally requires a sufficiently strong reason. It shouldn’t be done rashly.”
Halden hadn’t been separated from the earth for very long.
Although they were used to the life in the clouds and had a mentality of superiority, culturally and psychologically, they still considered themselves not fundamentally different from other humans. They were just a group of people who had chosen a different lifestyle.
They thought they were different from other humans, but they hadn’t reached the point of being above the human race.
Therefore, while the empire didn’t place extreme importance on others’ opinions, it did care somewhat.
This wasn’t contradictory.
For instance, when other kingdoms or races mentioned Halden, Fafnir wanted to see a positive reaction, to think of them as a legendary country high above the clouds—sacred, noble, a place everyone yearned for.
Treachery would never earn such a reputation.
Once Halden was branded with the label of betrayal, those beautiful images would vanish like smoke, replaced by fear and wariness.
Fafnir’s gaze passed over the crowd and landed on a tall, robust Mandate with short, dark brown hair.
“Marcus.”
Fafnir called out his name.
He was the Halden Mandate who had previously been sent to commission the Red Emperor but was refused, and then immediately found the Bronze Dragon King as an ally for the empire.
Marcus sat up straighter.
Fafnir looked at him. “You are the empire’s main contact for communication with the Bronze Dragon King.”
“The Bronze Dragon King hates evil with a burning passion and sees it as his duty to eradicate it.”
“Over the years, his campaign to cleanse demons has never stopped. He has fought countless bloody battles. Based on your understanding of him, if we leak the news of the Red Emperor’s hibernation to him, can we get him to do this job for us?”
Marcus frowned, thought carefully for a moment, then slowly shook his head.
“Your Majesty, I’m afraid this plan won’t work.”
He said seriously, “The Bronze Dragon King does indeed hate evil. The number of demons that have died under his claws over the years is countless. He also has a tendency to act against evil dragons. But that doesn’t mean we can guide his actions.”
Marcus leaned forward slightly, placing both hands on the table.
“The Bronze Dragon King is extremely headstrong. He never listens to anyone’s commands.”
“Most importantly, although he is paranoid, he is certainly not foolish.”
“He has immense confidence in his own judgment and is never swayed by others.”
“The Bronze Dragon King has his own set of logic and standards for the targets he wants to eliminate. It’s strict and self-consistent.”
“In his logic, the Red Emperor is probably ranked as the lowest ‘evil’. Compared to him, there are too many targets that need to be prioritized for elimination first.”
He paused for a moment, then finally said, “If we rashly go to incite the Bronze Dragon King, we won’t achieve our goal. On the contrary, it will backfire.”
Fafnir listened, lowering his head slightly.
His fingers tapped lightly on the table as he fell into deep thought.
After more than ten seconds, the King of Halden lifted his head again, and the tapping of his fingers ceased.
“Then let’s change our approach.”
He said.
Under everyone’s gaze, Fafnir spoke. “From our Siphoning Roots, select one located on the front lines that isn’t too important, and abandon it.”
“Then, the Sky City corresponding to it will fall to the earth.”
Sky City.
In the eyes of ordinary people, it was a miracle of creation, a symbol of the empire’s conquest of the sky.
But in the eyes of the King of Halden, it was a sacrificial object.
Of course, the citizens inside would be evacuated beforehand. The only sacrifice would be the Sky City itself.
And when the Sky City fell, and the Skysoar Engine connected to the Siphoning Root shattered, an Abyssal Rift would appear on the earth once more.
More precisely, it would appear within the territory of the Aola Kingdom.
Halden had been at war with demons for many years.
They had a thorough understanding of demon behavior patterns and attack methods. They knew how to stimulate an Abyssal Rift, how to attract demon attention, and how to direct a demon offensive towards a specific direction.
When the time came, they just needed to nudge things along a little.
Countless demons would surge forth from this rift, and it could even lead to the descent of a Mandate-level Great Demon.
This way, the Aola Kingdom would bear the brunt of it.
The meeting hall fell silent for a moment.
Everyone present was thinking about the feasibility of this plan.
Soon, the blue-robed Fate Weaver was the first to break the silence.
A faint light flickered in his eyes. After a quick round of deduction and weighing the pros and cons, he said, “This plan has a very high feasibility.”
“On one hand, the Red Emperor’s hibernation will be affected.”
“We don’t need to aim for his death. As long as we interrupt his sleep and prevent him from breaking through to the Mandate of Heaven, his Fate Weight will never be able to influence things at the empire level.”
“On the other hand, it can also force the Aola Kingdom to share the burden of the demon threat.”
“Aola will deal with the demons for us, reducing the pressure we face on the front lines.”
“And the price we have to pay is just an empty city.”
Fafnir listened, then gave a slight smile and nodded.
After that, he didn’t say much more, just swept his gaze over everyone present, asking if anyone had any objections.
No one refuted.
Use the demons as a blade to stab at the sleeping Red Emperor.
The plan was unanimously approved.
As for the risks involved?
Halden had never lacked a spirit of adventure.
The empire had reached its current position from its very founding through a series of bold gambles.
Leaving the earth to build the Sky City was itself a huge gamble.
Besides, high above in the clouds, they could manipulate two great threats to cancel each other out, solidifying the empire’s hegemony…
Looking down from on high, observing coldly from the sidelines.
Let the world ebb and flow; only the empire shall endure forever.
This was the imperial stance that the high-level officials in the Halden Central Command had always pursued and craved.
Next, the meeting continued.
Which Sky City to choose, how to ensure that the news of the citizen evacuation wouldn’t leak prematurely, how to guide the demons’ direction of attack after they surged out…
After finalizing these details, the meeting concluded.
Aside from the emperor, the bodies of the Mandate existences gradually became ethereal, vanishing from the conference room.
As Halden’s Mandate existences, under the current dire situation, each of them had tasks to attend to. They didn’t have time to come in person; they had only communicated through light and shadow projections.
Finally, only Fafnir remained.
He stood up from his seat, clasped his hands behind his back, and slowly walked to the window.
Fafnir looked down into the distance, seeing the thick white clouds churning slowly like a living creature. Occasionally, a gap would open, allowing a glimpse of the distant, tiny earth far below.
“Eternal glory to Halden.”
“Any storm will only become dust in the empire’s history.”
Fafnir muttered to himself.
Having said this, he withdrew his gaze, turned around, and walked out of the meeting hall.
Time flowed by unhurriedly.
At the Abyssal front line where Halden was fighting the demons, the military strength at one Siphoning Root gradually decreased.
At first, it was just a one-tenth reduction in the garrison, then two-tenths, then three-tenths… The remaining defensive line grew increasingly thin.
The demons keenly noticed this and began to gather more forces towards this location.
At first, it was just small-scale probing. After a few skirmishes, the demons found that the defenses here were indeed much weaker than before, so they grew bolder and began to assemble their main forces.
At the same time, high in the sky over Atlan.
A Sky City was slowly moving along a predetermined trajectory amidst the drifting winds and clouds, approaching the airspace above the Rhen Plateau.
Its speed was not fast, like a cloud drifting slowly across the sky. Its direction was clear, without the slightest deviation.
If anyone were looking up from below, they would only see a magnificent floating city slowly passing overhead, casting a huge shadow, then slowly moving away into the distance.
But no one would think that the fate of this city had already been sealed.
On the other side.
On the Arotala Continent, the Kantum Empire’s camp.
The Chosen One of the Red Tide and the Bone-Gnawing Saint stood side-by-side, both gazing into the distance towards Atlan. Their expressions were solemn, their gazes cold.
Their eyes seemed to pierce through the endless seas and vast lands, directly seeing the dragon that had brought them such humiliation.
Word had come from the tribal sacrifices.
The dragon that had destroyed their god’s avatar had entered hibernation in Atlan.
Barring any accidents, it would awaken as a Mandate of Heaven.
When they heard the news, rage surged within both Saints’ hearts.
Because their god’s avatar was destroyed, the empire’s faith foundation was shaken, and their Kantum campaign on Arotala had suffered repeated defeats. Now, they could barely hold on in Arotala, only because the Elves didn’t want to pay too heavy a price.
But the culprit was on another continent, making great strides, charging towards the Mandate of Heaven.
He had not suffered any punishment for his desecration of the gods.
Furthermore, both Saints had felt the power of the Red Iron Dragon up close.
They were certain that after he reached the Mandate, he might not be comparable to an Immortal right away, but as soon as he became familiar with his new realm, he would possess power that rivaled an Immortal.
By then, dealing with him would be exponentially more difficult.
Therefore, they both wanted to go to Atlan immediately and kill him in his sleep.
However, Atlan was under the rule of Halden’s Sky Cities.
If the Kantum Saints recklessly went there, they might come under attack from Halden.
Although there was no open war between Halden and Kantum, their relationship was far from friendly. Moreover, Nausil would not sit idly by.
The Elves had been looking for a weakness in Kantum.
Once they found out the Saints had left, they would inevitably launch a large-scale attack, uprooting their last foothold on Arotala.
Caught between a rock and a hard place.
The two Saints knelt on the floor of the temple.
“Great Beast of Might, undefeated in a hundred battles, the Supreme One.”
“Your faithful believers are willing to offer their flesh as sacrifice, their souls as kindling, only to wipe the dust from Your body, to let the blasphemer who sullied Your glory be turned to ashes in Your divine wrath.”
“Great Beast of Might, we beseech Your response.”
“Please grant an oracle, permit us to take blood for blood, to fight fire with fire.”
“Grant us the Authority of vengeance!”
Both Saints wanted an eye for an eye, to make the evil dragon that had defiled the gods’ glory pay a terrible price.
But, hampered by numerous concerns, they couldn’t make a final decision.
Thus, they chose to seek divine guidance.
This was an ancient Kantum tradition. When even the Saints were lost in confusion, unable to make a choice based on their own judgment, they would seek guidance from the gods.
As long as Bagh granted the oracle of revenge.
Then the Kantum Saints would definitely reach Atlan, no matter the cost.
No one knew if the Saints’ prayers were answered, or if the gods truly issued an oracle.
The night deepened.
The light of the bright moon spilled over the land of Nausil. The Elven forest appeared exceptionally serene under the moonlight, its silver-white radiance piercing through the gaps in the leaves, casting mottled patterns of light and shadow on the ground.
This moonlight also bathed a beautiful, slender silhouette in a pale glow.
Issezeia.
The Voice of the Moonlit Night, the Avatar of the Elves’ Moon, the Queen of Nausil.
She tilted her head back slightly, revealing the delicate line of her neck, and looked up at the night sky.
The sky over the Elven forest was clear and transparent, filled with twinkling stars. But she could only see one moon—one that did not belong to their Nausil.
Suddenly, a figure clad in golden armor descended from the sky.
The Solar Grand Knight, Thalamond.
He bowed slightly in salute, then spoke directly. “Your Majesty, the Red Emperor of Aola has entered hibernation.”
“I have foreseen it. The claws and fangs hiding in the shadows are stirring. They will take advantage of the Red Emperor’s sleep to reach out for him and his kingdom.”
Thalamond’s voice was a little urgent.
He was not an Elf skilled at hiding his emotions.
Issezeia turned around.
The moonlight fell on her profile, reflecting eyes as calm as a deep lake. She quietly watched the Solar Grand Knight for a few seconds before asking softly.
“Thalamond, what do you intend to do?”
Thalamond raised his head, his gaze meeting the queen’s.
He said in a deep voice, “The Red Emperor was awarded the Full Moon Medal, jointly conferred by the empire’s high council.”
“This is our Nausil’s highest recognition of his contributions.”
“The Red Emperor bled for our Nausil in the past, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with our warriors on the battlefield, and saved the lives of countless soldiers.”
He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “Your Majesty, I hope to receive your permission to uphold the knight’s code. When the time comes, I ask to be allowed to go to Atlan to provide support for the Red Emperor.”
Issezeia listened, and a faint smile appeared on her face.
Thalamond’s character was impeccable. He was Nausil’s finest knight and one of the empire’s most trusted generals.
His integrity, bravery, and loyalty were known to all in Nausil.
In fact, many supporters saw him as the embodiment of Nausil’s golden spirit.
But precisely because of this, Thalamond was sometimes a bit too naive.
“I will keep an eye on this matter.”
Issezeia’s voice was soft. “I promise you, as long as conditions allow, I will send you to Atlan.”
Hearing this, the joy on Thalamond’s face was visible to the naked eye.
He performed a solemn knight’s salute, lightly thumping his fist against his chest plate. “Your Majesty, I will be ready at all times. The people of Atlan will see just how glorious the honor borne by our Nausil knights is.”
Having said this, Thalamond turned around. His golden figure leaped into the night sky and vanished into the moonlight.
Issezeia watched him leave, the smile on her face slowly fading.
This queen let out a sigh and shook her head slightly.
Thalamond wanted to uphold the knight’s code.
There was nothing wrong with that.
A knight’s instinct drove him to draw his sword whenever he saw an unjust act. That was precisely what made him the Solar Knight.
The Red Emperor had achieved a major, undeniable victory for Nausil, so he was indeed worthy of aid.
There was nothing wrong with that either.
Without the Red Emperor killing the god’s avatar on the Arotala battlefield, Nausil could not have achieved its current victories.
However, Nausil had its own circumstances.
As queen, she had to consider not just morality and personal feelings, but also the safety and interests of the entire empire.
The Elven Queen once again gazed into the distant night sky.
Under the same sky, a great dragon was slumbering.
Around his sleep, countless undercurrents were surging. And Nausil, too, needed to find its own place within this storm.