Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

The lingering chill of winter still hung over the Rhen Plateau, refusing to dissipate.

The hall of the Dragon Court could have accommodated countless guards and retainers, yet at this moment, it held only a single dragon and a single man.

The former coiled upon the massive throne, his foreclaws resting on its edge, majestic and imposing; the latter knelt on the cold steps below, white hair falling before his face, his back hunched.

The Red Iron Dragon gazed down at the kneeling figure.

This once-aspiring ruler of an empire now knelt here so humbly, beneath his own crimson throne, groveling for mercy for the people of his empire.

Was he a qualified monarch?

From the current perspective, judging by the decisions Fafnir had once made, it was clear that he had committed many mistakes.

The current state of Halden was inseparable from his actions.

But now, with the empire on the brink of collapse, the ruler of a great empire was willing to set aside all dignity for his people, assuming the most humble posture to beg for mercy from the emperor who had once stood against him.

"Stand up."

The low voice resonated from the dragon's mouth, echoing between the walls.

Upon hearing this, Fafnir's murky eyes flickered with uncertainty. He still did not move, as if afraid this was merely a test; once he actually stood, all his pleas would come to nothing.

The Red Iron Dragon's gaze was calm as a deep pool. He spoke again, his tone unhurried:

"After all, you are the sovereign of a nation."

"Here in the Dragon Court, before my throne, even if Halden has reached its end, even if you come to me with a request, I will still grant you the basic respect you deserve."

"It will not increase because of your posture, nor will it decrease because of it."

He paused slightly, his claws lightly tapping the edge of the throne, producing a dull echo.

"Besides, whether you kneel or not will not sway my decision in the slightest."

"If your request benefits Aola, I would agree even if you did not kneel; if it is disadvantageous, you could shatter your knees here to no avail."

"So, stand up and speak."

As his voice faded, silence lingered in the hall for a few breaths.

Fafnir slowly raised his head, meeting the eyes of the Red Iron Dragon.

He tried to read something from them.

Mockery?

Contempt?

Or the habitual arrogance of a victor facing the defeated?

But he could read nothing.

The crimson dragon's vertical pupils held neither scorn nor pity.

Fafnir fell silent. In the end, he said nothing more.

He supported himself with his hands on his knees, slowly standing up, his movements slow, as sluggish and stiff as any ordinary old man. Once steady, he tidied his robes a little, making himself at least appear less wretched than before.

"What I just did was not to win sympathy, nor was it self-abasement."

His voice was still hoarse as he spoke. "I did it solely to express my sincerity to the fullest extent, so that Your Majesty could see it clearly. Because I know no other way to convey my earnestness to you."

"I have never knelt to anyone in my life."

"But now, I am willing to use this method to tell you that every word I say is true."

Then, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"The Halden Empire has opposed Sacred Aola more than once."

"From the time Your Majesty began to rise, when Aola first showed its fangs, Halden has been hostile toward you, obstructing you, and trying to suppress you."

"This was a wrong decision by the upper echelons, our stupidity, our arrogance."

"Including myself, we who sat in the highest positions were blinded by past glory, refusing to acknowledge the arrival of a new era. We thought Halden's hegemony would never waver, that a dragon could not truly establish an empire that could contend with us."

"We were horribly wrong."

He lifted his head, his gaze meeting the Red Iron Dragon, his words growing increasingly earnest: "But the people of Halden are different."

"They have never hated Sacred Aola, never harbored hostility toward the Red Emperor. On the contrary, they respect the strong, viewing you as a symbol of power, an embodiment of strength."

"You have been to the City in the Clouds, seen their attitude with your own eyes. You should know that what I say is true."

The Red Iron Dragon did not respond. He simply watched him quietly.

Fafnir lowered his head again, white hair sliding over his forehead, concealing his deeply lined face. He said, "Your Majesty, I ask once more: may your mercy outweigh your wrath, and may you grant the people of Halden a chance."

The hall fell silent once more.

The Red Iron Dragon remained silent, not responding immediately. He calmly scrutinized the small human below the steps, his eyes betraying no emotional fluctuation.

After a few breaths, he slowly spoke.

"Fafnir."

The dragon addressed him directly by name. "Have you considered one thing?"

Fafnir raised his eyes, a question forming in his gaze.

The Red Iron Dragon slightly adjusted his coiled posture, shifting his foreclaws to a more comfortable position. "You kneeling here to beg me, this very act itself already reveals a problem."

"Even though I suppressed the Abyssal Rift, stabilized the nations, cleaned up your mess after your defeat, curbed the spread of chaos, and spent much effort and time on the order of Atlan..."

He shifted his tone.

"You, and the Halden behind you, still subconsciously view me as a cold-blooded evil dragon."

Fafnir's expression changed drastically.

He shook his head violently, white hair scattering in the air, the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth deepening. "No, it's not like that, you misunderstand—"

"Let me finish first."

The Red Iron Dragon raised his right claw, directly interrupting him.

Fafnir's mouth opened, but after a few seconds, he slowly closed it again.

The Red Iron Dragon looked at him, his tone steady. "You kneel here, lowering yourself to the utmost, assuming the most humble posture, only to plead for my mercy."

𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"Because in your heart, I am a cold, cruel dragon that needs to be appeased, softened by tears and pleas."

"You believe that without this step, I might reject you at any moment based on my whims, or even turn around and destroy everything you hold dear."

"In your imagination, rational negotiation would only anger me, while a groveling supplicant might bring me pleasure."

Fafnir's face grew slightly pale, but he did not speak.

He did not know how to deny it.

Finally, the Red Iron Dragon said indifferently, "No need to be nervous. I am not blaming you."

"In fact, I do not care what you think."

"How you perceive me will not change the fate the people of Halden deserve, nor will it alter the judgment I am about to make. My decision will not be swayed in the slightest."

He tilted his head slightly, continuing unhurriedly, "As for your request, I need some time to think."

"During this time, remain quiet."

Fafnir nodded silently, saying nothing more.

In the hall, one dragon and one man, one high and one low, were enveloped by silence.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Time flowed by in the silence.

Not long, yet it felt like years, enough for Fafnir to relive the clearest memories of his life.

He remembered standing at the spaceport of the City in the Clouds for the first time in his youth, the wind blowing against his robes.

In that moment, he felt the entire world was at his feet, that he could accomplish anything.

He remembered the moment he raised his right fist on the reviewing stand, the cheers of countless soldiers roaring like a tsunami.

Banners fluttered, war drums shook the heavens, a steel torrent rolled past the reviewing stand.

In that moment, he felt Halden could defeat the Abyss, defeat all enemies, and march toward an even more glorious world.

He remembered the late night he received news of the defeat, the lights of the City in the Clouds going out one by one outside his window, as if the entire empire was being devoured by darkness.

In that moment, he felt utterly worthless, having betrayed all trust.

But then, he realized he might still be of some use.

That was, on the eve of the empire's fall, at any cost to his dignity, to find a way out for the people of Halden.

This was the only thing he could still do, and the only thing he had to do.

If he could not accomplish this, then his existence would truly have no meaning.

Fafnir stood in silence, his surging thoughts gradually reining in. He stood quietly, his back slightly hunched, hands hanging at his sides, like a prisoner awaiting judgment.

Another three minutes passed.

The dragon's vertical pupils narrowed slightly, locking back onto the man below the steps.

Fafnir sensed this gaze almost at the same instant. He raised his head, his lips pressed into a thin line, looking at the crimson dragon upon the throne. He felt his heart thump heavily in his chest.

"As you wish, I will grant the people of Halden a path to survival."

The dragon's low voice sounded.

Fafnir was stunned for a moment, then the lines on his face seemed to ease slightly.

He bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, thank you for your mercy."

"The people of Halden have generally received excellent education. They understand engineering, alchemy, magic, and management. They will not become a burden to Aola."

"They will contribute to the development of Sacred Aola, I assure you."

The dragon half-closed his eyelids, speaking casually: "Excellent education? That point is not important."

"In my eyes, the people of Halden are stubborn—stubborn to the bone, you might even say. And this is not a problem of one or two individuals; it is the character of your entire race."

Fafnir did not deny it, letting out a bitter smile.

"You are right. And you may find this amusing—there are many times when even I myself feel a headache over the stubbornness of the empire's people, left speechless with frustration."

Fafnir deeply loved Halden's stubbornness and pride.

This national character had allowed Halden to carve a path through thorns step by step, allowed their ancestors to build a civilization on the barren plateau, to stand firm in the harshest environment, and ultimately ascend to the position of imperial hegemon.

However, many things were double-edged swords, not without their drawbacks.

It was precisely this stubbornness and pride that made them refuse to turn back from the wrong path, bringing them to today's dead end.

"Fafnir, given the nature of your people, to be accepted by Sacred Aola, to continue surviving on the land of Atlan under the rule of a Dragon Empire, it is not as simple as changing a banner."

"They will inevitably need to undergo a rigorous education."

A sharp glint flashed through the Red Iron Dragon's vertical pupils. "They need to be reshaped—their cognition reshaped, their loyalty reshaped, their way of viewing the world reshaped. This process will not be gentle, nor will it be dignified. There will be discontent, and there will be resistance."

Fafnir did not hesitate for a moment.

He immediately said, "That is inevitable, Your Majesty. Please do not show them any leniency."

His voice paused slightly, then he added, "I will cooperate fully."

"All matters of handing over the Sky Cities, all personnel management and pacification, all possible resistance and backlash—I will handle them personally, suppress them personally, resolve them personally. I will do my best to ensure Sacred Aola does not waste a single moment of time or expend a single soldier."

Garoth looked at him.

Before him stood this human, one of the most powerful sovereigns of Bernardo.

Now he stood here, actively requesting that his own people be subjected to a harsh reformation, his tone without any hesitation or reservation.

But he was not betraying his people.

Fafnir was fighting for a chance for them to survive, even if that chance came with iron and blood.

Then, the massive dragon head slowly lowered, giving an almost imperceptible nod.

"Go back and prepare. The legions of Sacred Aola will take over all the Sky Cities."

"Before that, you still have time to handle what you need to handle. I mean everything that needs to be handled."

He said.

Fafnir bowed deeply once more, offering a more solemn salute. "I will complete all preparations as quickly as possible. May Sacred Aola endure forever, and may your glory last eternally."

He straightened up, turned, and walked toward the exit of the hall.

Upon returning to the City in the Clouds, Fafnir no longer had any reservations.

He had found a path to survival for the remaining people of Halden. This matter was settled. Now, he could pour all his energy into another task.

The Ark Plan.

Under normal circumstances, when an empire was on the verge of collapse, the appearance of an ark that could travel to a new world and start anew would inevitably drive the major powers mad. They would stop at nothing, crushing all obstacles, trying to board it.

Lies, schemes, assassinations—every available means would be brought to the table.

Even the King of Halden could not stop this instinct for survival.

But this was also easy to resolve.

The existence of the ark was already extremely secretive, unknown to anyone.

Moreover, Fafnir had already spent a year lobbying. The empire's nobility had gradually accepted the decision to submit to Sacred Aola, no longer harboring any other illusions.

Their attention was focused on how to protect their own interests under the new order.

For example, how to preserve their family assets, how to secure a position within Aola's ruling system, how to ensure their families were not crushed in the transition between the old and the new.

None of them had the spare capacity to imagine that an ark still existed.

Thus.

Under his operations, one young person after another mysteriously disappeared from the major Sky Cities, boarding the Dark Star Ark located in a hidden dimension.

They were secretly conscripted, taken away at night, their names quietly erased from the household registries.

Given Halden's current state, no one paid attention to the disappearance of these few individuals. Amid the thunderous collapse of the empire, the whereabouts of these young people vanished like a few drops of water into the sea, soundless and traceless.

Soon, within the shadowy space, everything was nearly ready.

This was a dimensional pocket personally opened by the Dark Star, not vast, but sufficiently hidden. Even the Blazing Dawn, who was also an Immortal, had failed to discover its existence.

This place was not magnificent.

There were no shimmering rune rings of the Sky Cities, only deep shadows and a single ship suspended in the center of the darkness—an ark.

Fafnir stood beneath the ark, looking up at it.

The ark was not as majestic and imposing as Halden's war fortresses, nor as sleek, elegant, and silver-gleaming as its shuttlecraft.

Its silhouette was closer to a long-forgotten, ancient shipbuilding craft.

The bow curved slightly upward, the hull was broad and solid, the portholes on both sides were neatly arranged, the shell was dark gray, devoid of any ornamentation, no emblems, no markings to indicate it came from Halden.

At first glance, it did not resemble an ark carrying the last spark of an empire at all.

It was too plain, as unremarkable as the Dark Star itself, ordinary to the extreme.

But Fafnir knew what was inside.

Hope.

The hope of a new Halden, something new that could start from scratch.

At this moment, a young man descended the boarding gangway and came before Fafnir.

He was tall and straight, with broad shoulders, and a sharply defined face set with a pair of keen gray eyes. He was one of the selected seeds for revival.

Fafnir remembered him.

Edison, twenty-seven years old, had shown extraordinary talent in the field of alchemical engineering. The energy transmission schemes he had designed had once caused quite a stir at the Imperial College of Engineering.

The Dark Star had personally guided him during his lifetime, holding high hopes for him.

More importantly, he came from the commoner class but did not fear authority, maintaining an open mind toward new things.

"Edison, is the boarding preparation complete?"

Fafnir asked.

"All is in order. Supplies loaded, engine checks normal, spatial coordinates locked... We can depart at any time."

The young man answered, his tone crisp and clear, every piece of information reported precisely.

Then, his gaze passed over Fafnir to the ark behind him, then returned, landing on the old emperor's deeply lined face. He hesitated, seeming to want to say something but holding back.

Fafnir saw his hesitation and said, "If you have something to say, say it directly. Time is short. This is not the time for formalities."

Edison took a deep breath and stepped half a pace forward.

"Your Majesty, there is still a little time. Once the spatial gate is fully opened, there will be no turning back."

"Why won't you come with us?"

"The new world is not Atlan. We can start over, rebuild Halden on entirely new land."

"But no matter what kind of land, no matter what kind of people, a new world needs a leader."

"You know very well that most of the people on the ark are between twenty and thirty years old. None of us have ever truly ruled a nation. In a strange world, without experience, without guidance, we might make even more mistakes than old Halden did."

Fafnir listened quietly, a faint trace of a smile surfacing in his murky eyes.

"Edison."

"The new world does not need an old man. You say you might make mistakes, and that is correct. You will make them. But that is not a big problem."

"The future is yours. It belongs to you and all the young people on the list."

"I know many things, but most of them belong to the old era. How to balance the interests of the great families, how to gauge the intentions of neighboring nations, how to maneuver between the nobility and the royal family... These methods were necessary in the past."

"But the new world does not need them."

"The new Halden only needs you. It needs your minds, your imagination for the future, your courage not bound by old rules."

"If I board the ark, I will only bring the decay of the old world with me, and I might not even be aware I am doing so."

"If trouble arises, I would probably rely on old habits, unable to resist using old methods to solve problems, shaping the new Halden according to the old Halden's mold."

He paused, his voice lowering: "I have already destroyed one Halden. I cannot destroy a second."

Edison opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found he had no words to refute him.

Finally, he said softly, "You are too hard on yourself, Your Majesty."

"Some failures are the tide of an entire era. No one person can reverse them. The emperors in history who are called great might not have done better when faced with the situation you faced."

Fafnir gently shook his head.

"As a sovereign, failure is failure."

"The policies were approved by me, the wars were encouraged by me. I cannot enjoy the power of a monarch and then shift the blame for failure onto fortune. Excuses are meaningless."

He reached out and patted Edison on the shoulder.

"I see your confusion. It is only natural. Facing an unknown future, I too would be confused."

"When I took over Halden in my youth, I also lay awake all night, tossing and turning, thinking about the problems I would face the next day, feeling that I would mess everything up at any moment."

"But do not be afraid."

"Whether the path is smooth or muddy, you will eventually find your own way out. I believe that."

Edison nodded silently. He took a step back, bowed deeply to Fafnir, then straightened up, turned, and walked toward the ark. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back.

Fafnir waved at him, like sending off a junior family member on a long journey, even forcing a faint smile.

The young man finally did not look back again.

He strode toward the boarding gangway until he disappeared into the ark's hatch.

Fafnir withdrew his gaze and looked at the ark again.

As time passed, all personnel were in position.

Soon, the glow of energy conduits shifted from dim to brilliant, accompanied by a series of low hums, like a giant beast awakening from slumber, stretching its coiled sinews.

The engine preheating was complete, and the ark began to move.

Its speed was not fast. As it glided through the void, it carried a solemn sense of slowness. Before it, the veil of the shadowy space began to warp, and a spatial gate leading to a new world gradually opened.

The ark sailed toward this gate.

Fafnir stood in place, his head raised, his eyes tracking every inch of the ark's movement.

He watched its bow enter the rift, then its body, and finally its tail.

The ark sailed into the spatial gate inch by inch, fully entering it. Then, the gate closed, the light extinguished, and the shadowy space returned to darkness.

There were no accidents, no dramatic twists.

The ark sailed calmly toward the new world. Everything ended peacefully.

Darkness covered Fafnir's vision.

He still did not look away. After a long time, he slowly closed his eyes and murmured softly:

"He... truly does not care at all."

Throughout the entire process of the Ark Plan, from initiation to execution, Fafnir's greatest fear was not engine failure, nor an error in the world coordinates, nor the unknown dangers the new world might hold.

He was afraid of the Red Emperor.

He feared that the dragon's mercy was only a facade.

What if the calm of those vertical pupils was merely the cat's playful taunting of the mouse?

Giving hope, only to crush it with a claw at the very moment it seemed most certain of escape.

For instance, at the last moment before the ark was about to enter the rift, the shadowy space would be torn open from the outside by an irresistible force.

A crimson dragon claw would reach in, hook onto the hull, and in the final second, yank the ark back from the rift.

The hull would groan with the sound of metal breaking under the dragon's claw, the engine would overload and explode, and the faces of those young people would freeze in terror.

Then, the dragon's low voice would sound in the darkness, saying:

Stupid insects. Did you truly think I would let you go?

Fafnir had imagined this scene more than once.

But nothing happened.

His fear was completely unnecessary.

Fafnir opened his eyes, raised a dry, thin hand, and lightly slapped his sunken cheeks twice, trying to keep himself alert.

"I have been petty-minded."

He muttered to himself. "He saw through my heart completely. Without even realizing it myself, I was still involuntarily viewing him as a cold-blooded evil dragon."

"But he did not show any anger over it."

Putting himself in the other's shoes, Fafnir did not think he would be so calm.

If it were him, facing a supplicant who always saw him as an evil dragon at heart, he would at least make that person feel some discomfort.

In that moment, he began to understand how this dragon had managed to establish a Dragon Empire in just a few hundred years.

Strength, wisdom, magnanimity...

The Red Emperor possessed them all.

Even an enemy, except for a few extremely stubborn madmen, any normal, intelligent being who had truly experienced his majesty could not help but be impressed by his bearing.

Compared to this dragon emperor, his own level was too low.

He had once thought he was a decent monarch, but it was not until he faced the Red Iron Dragon that he realized the broad-mindedness and foresight he prided himself on were merely mediocre.

Unfortunately, in the past, relying on his high position and power, he had never clearly recognized this.

Position was a high wall. Those standing within it could not see the world beyond.

Realizing it now was somewhat too late.

Fafnir shook his head, let out a sigh, and gathered his scattered thoughts.

"The spark has been sent away. Next, it is time to let the people of the Sky Cities land safely. This is the last thing I can do for them as a failed sovereign."

His gaze gradually grew resolute.

Fafnir returned to the Central Command and issued Halden's final imperial proclamation.

—From this day forward, Halden will unconditionally submit to Sacred Aola. All Sky Cities will be fully handed over to the Aola legions for takeover. All people of Halden must completely obey the arrangements and orders of Sacred Aola.

The moment the news spread, a huge uproar erupted in the Sky Cities.

Furious voices of protest surged like angry waves. People denounced it as an act of national ruin, shouting that they would rather die standing than live on their knees. They attempted to organize armed resistance, and some radicals even secretly plotted to blow up the engines of the Sky Cities, preferring to let the cities crash...

However, the Imperial Central Command made no compromises.

Fafnir implemented the decided policy with an iron fist, ordering the remaining Praetorian Guard to cooperate with the vanguard forces dispatched by Aola, suppressing all resistance without mercy.

The conspirators who plotted to blow up the engines were all arrested the night before the action.

The officers attempting to organize armed resistance were relieved of their command on the spot and taken into custody.

There was more than one incident of bloodshed, but each wave of resistance was crushed in the shortest possible time.

Then, the dragons came.

The dragon wings of Sacred Aola cut through the clouds.

Figures of dragons swept across the sky above the Sky Cities, their wing shadows darkening Halden's sky.

The transport airships of the Aola legions followed closely behind, docking one by one at the spaceports. Fully armed Aola warriors stepped onto the Sky Cities' bridges and spaceports—strong and burly, as if cast from steel and iron.

In the shortest possible time, the Sky Cities were taken over one by one.

The platinum banners were lowered, replaced by the crimson dragon banners of Sacred Aola, raised one after another, flapping loudly in the strong winds of the high altitude.

Then, the people of Halden began to fall from the clouds.

Willing or not, group after group of Halden's people were organized for evacuation. Under the supervision of Aola soldiers, they boarded transport airships, queued in long lines across the spaceport bridges, and looked back at their homes growing ever more distant.

Finally, they left the sky cities where their families had lived for generations and were brought to the ground.

In the central lands of Atlan, a territory awaited them.

This was a vast but somewhat barren plain, once a no-man's land, now designated as the Halden Resettlement Zone.

Through the combined construction of alchemical technology, magical techniques, and some burrowing giant beasts, this enormous settlement rose from the ground in an extremely short time.

But because it was built so quickly, the settlement was quite rough and crude.

The houses were packed tightly together, and the streets still bore traces of dirt. It could only meet the most basic needs of life, utterly unable to provide the people of Halden with the life they had before.

The days of leisurely sipping tea and overlooking the earth?

Gone forever.

Here, they would learn how to survive on the ground, how to live under the rules of the Dragon Empire.

And above their heads, the Sky Cities that had once belonged to them now hung silently in the high altitude, a reminder to everyone that the era of Halden was completely over, and another era was rising from iron and fire.

Throughout the entire process, Fafnir stood at the front line.

He worked day and night, mediating between the Aolan dragons, the Halden nobility, and the commoner representatives. He personally attended every disturbance, personally reviewed every personnel deployment.

He was no longer an emperor.

The current Fafnir was more like an old steward, handling the final affairs for an empire about to be buried.

And this high-intensity work proved too much for his already aged and frail body.

Until two years later.

In the year 751 of the New Calendar, on an otherwise ordinary summer night.

Fafnir fell asleep at his desk, never to wake again.