Chapter 652: Wrath of the Gods
The wind across the Serene Spirit Wilderness carried the scent of honey and wild berries as it swept over the meadows.
The night here was never truly dark.
Countless tiny specks of light floated among the branches and leaves, some clustering together, others strung out in lines, slowly shifting direction with the night breeze.
Garoth leaned against a raised tree root.
His massive draconic body lay half-reclined on the earthen slope, foreclaws crossed and resting before him, tail dangling lazily into a nearby stream. The water wasn’t deep, barely reaching the scales at his tail’s tip as it flowed slowly through the gaps between them, bringing a faint coolness.
The exhaustion and hidden wounds from his earlier battle with the Bronze Dragon King were gradually fading away.
At the same time, countless fey creatures crowded around him.
A few small tree spirits sat atop his dragon horns, their tiny fingers deftly manipulating petals and grass stems as they wove little flower crowns, trying to hang them on the tips of his horns.
They chattered and argued over color combinations, now pairing white petals with red stamens, now swapping to blue petals with gold stamens.
Neither side could agree, their voices crisp like colliding bells.
A group of Pique spirits had organized an impromptu race across the scales of his back.
The starting line was drawn at his shoulder blades with a strand of silver spider silk pulled straight, and the finish line was set at his tail tip, marked by a small blade of grass as a flag.
They chased each other, wings fluttering noisily, laughter scattering in the night breeze.
And that wasn’t all.
Even more fey surrounded him, constantly cheering and exclaiming in wonder.
“Great Scarlet Emperor Cangxing! Your scales are more dazzling than the stars!”
“Your return has made every flower in the Serene Spirit Wilderness bloom ahead of season!”
“Tell us! How did you defeat that bad-tempered Bronze Dragon King? Even though Lady Vira has told the story many times, we all want to hear it again!”
............
The voices rose and fell like countless leaves colliding in the wind.
If a group of humans, or even fellow dragons, had surrounded him shouting like this, Garoth would have found it nothing but noisy and irritating, probably flicking his tail to drive them away in annoyance long ago.
But the voices of fey creatures were very light.
They sounded like the background noise of raindrops falling, gentle and dense.
Their overlapping cries, far from annoying the great dragon, actually brought him waves of tranquility, calming his mood.
But their questions were truly too many.
Garoth didn’t answer, simply letting the little creatures leap and flutter around him.
However, as time passed, more and more fey surged from the grass and between the petals, crawling densely over his body.
The great dragon finally moved.
He shook his head, stirring a gust of air that sent several large tree spirits hanging from his horns tumbling and staggering.
“Alright, I’ve heard your praises.”
His voice was deep, like rolling thunder across the ground. “But if you gather too thickly, I might accidentally crush you all flat.”
The fey creatures burst into cheerful laughter.
They scattered a bit, retreating to safer distances, but still clustered around Garoth without any real intention of leaving.
Amidst this lively scene, a sharp, slightly haughty voice came from above.
“Move aside! Out of the way, out of the way!”
The fey all looked up, then rustled apart to either side, clearing a path for the owner of the voice.
Faerie Dragon Vira glided down from the branches of the old oak tree overhead.
She was barely larger than a pigeon, her tail curled with the tip gently swaying.
In the blink of an eye, Vira landed on the red-iron dragon’s nose bridge, steadied herself, then turned around and rose up on her hind legs.
Then, she mimicked the posture of humanoid creatures.
Her foreclaws rested on her hips, her wings spread impressively behind her, as she scanned the few lingering fey around her from on high.
“Move aside, move aside—this is my Emperor!”
“You little scale-scrounging runts, all of you, clear off!”
Her voice was sharp, righteous, carrying an unquestionable finality.
The fey obediently retreated a distance, chattering as they withdrew further away.
They all knew that when Vira appeared, any attempt to compete with her for the Red Emperor’s attention was futile.
The red-iron dragon half-closed his eyes, watching the imposing faerie dragon on his nose bridge.
Vira hopped twice on his nose bridge to confirm the territory was cleared, then looked up, staring at him without blinking.
“Hey, hey, hey.”
She raised one foreclaw and tapped his nose tip. “Don’t you know these fey here are the biggest tricksters?”
“When I’m not around, don’t let them get too close.”
She warned him with all seriousness. “They’ll steal your scale dust to brew flower tea, and they’ll stuff dandelion seeds up your nostrils while you sleep.”
Garoth lifted his lower jaw and blew out a gentle breath.
To him, it was the slightest exhalation, but to the palm-sized faerie dragon, it was a gale.
Vira tumbled through the air, flapping her wings desperately to stabilize herself, spinning twice before finally hovering in midair again.
“Garoth! What are you doing?!”
She shouted indignantly, wings fluttering rapidly. “I’m just trying to protect you out of kindness!”
The red-iron dragon spoke slowly: “The fey revere me. Aside from you, no one here would play tricks on me.”
The faerie dragon blinked guiltily, quickly changing the subject.
She flew back and landed on the red-iron dragon’s nose bridge, tail swishing happily behind her, a look of eager anticipation on her face.
“Alright, alright.”
“So let me ask you—are you the most powerful dragon on Bernardo now?”
The fey around, who had been secretly eavesdropping, also held their breath, listening even more intently.
Garoth opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly, thinking it over.
The Bronze Dragon King Sheffield was an Immortal—there was no doubt about that.
He had personally experienced the power of the Potency of Judgment. If he had faced a different opponent, under different circumstances, the outcome might have been completely different.
But the result was the result. He had won.
He stood here, while the Bronze Dragon King’s body had scattered into the ring of dust. And aside from the Bronze Dragon King, there was no second Immortal among the remaining dragons of Bernardo.
As for Mandate of Heaven?
He didn’t consider opponents at the Mandate of Heaven level, even though he himself was currently only at that stage.
“Probably.”
He answered, his voice steady and firm.
A burst of suppressed cheers erupted around him.
Vira’s eyes lit up instantly, like two stars being ignited at once. She turned three somersaults in the air, then landed back on Garoth’s nose tip, bouncing several times before steadying herself.
A few seconds later, she looked up again: “So when will you become the Lord of Bernardo?”
Garoth gazed at the faerie dragon and asked in return:
“Why do you ask that? The Serene Spirit Wilderness isn’t under Bernardo’s jurisdiction.”
The faerie dragon looked at him with pleading eyes: “Oh, I just want to know.”
The red-iron dragon showed a contemplative expression, his tail stirring slightly in the stream.
He was already honored as the Master of Atlantis. The entire Continent of Atlan lay within the borders of Sacred Aola, everything running in perfect order.
But to dominate all of Bernardo—that was another matter entirely.
Halden, Kantum, Nausil—each empire had its own rules and balances.
If he forcibly sat on the highest throne, some would kneel and praise him, but others would surely rise up to resist.
Now was not the time.
“That... is hard to say.”
He replied.
Vira tilted her head, her tail curling in confusion: “Why is it hard to say?”
Garoth explained patiently: “Becoming the master of a world and winning a single battle are two very different things, with entirely different levels of difficulty.”
Vira puffed out her cheeks, clearly dissatisfied with this answer.
She paced two steps on his nose bridge, then back again, before urging: “Well, hurry up then.”
The red-iron dragon let out a low chuckle: “Why are you so eager for me to become Lord of Bernardo?”
Vira sat back on her haunches, wings folded behind her, eyes sparkling: “Because, if the name of Sacred Aola and the Red Emperor spreads to other worlds, more intelligent beings will hear my story.”
The Red Emperor’s story had been circulating in the Serene Spirit Wilderness for a long time.
From Garoth’s initial rise and the establishment of Aola Kingdom, Vira had been telling, embellishing, and dramatizing it continuously.
The story was constantly updated, each new chapter drawing more awe and adoration from the fey, spreading to countless fey settlements far and wide. Its reach was vast.
And Vira herself was utterly obsessed with spreading this story.
She could pull it out and narrate it for three days and three nights straight.
What’s more, she had completely inserted herself into the role of the protagonist.
“I’m very ambitious, you know.”
The faerie dragon stood up, tracing an arc with her foreclaws. “I’m not satisfied with being known only on Bernardo. I want every intelligent being in all the Material Planes to hear my story—ah, no, your story.”
“Bernardo is just the starting point.”
“From here, one world after another, all intelligent beings in the Material Planes will know that there is a grand Dragon Empire, and a great Red Emperor.”
She seemed to already see that vision, her eyes glowing, her wings unconsciously spreading slightly.
The red-iron dragon chuckled in disbelief: “The Material World is endless. The territories beyond Bernardo are vast and infinite.”
He looked at the tiny faerie dragon: “Your ambition... is a bit too grand.”
“I don’t care, I don’t care.”
Vira flew up, hovering in midair, then landed on one of Garoth’s horns, gripping the tip with both foreclaws like hugging a pillar.
“I want more intelligent beings to know the might of the Red Emperor, to gasp in awe and sing praises from their hearts!”
With that, she suddenly let go of the horn, flew up, and spun in a circle in the air.
“And besides!”
Her wings flapped indignantly, her tail thrashing back and forth.
“Some stupid, ignorant fools don’t believe my story at all!”
“They think it’s impossible for a Dragon Empire to exist, and that the Red Emperor is completely fabricated by me.”
“Hmph, once Sacred Aola’s dragon banners are planted in their world, they’ll know whether my story is true or false.”
So, she had been doubted.
But then again, fey were always easy to fool, and the intelligent beings of Bernardo would never doubt Sacred Aola’s existence. No one would treat the Red Emperor as a made-up story.
So the question was—
Who were these “stupid, ignorant fools” Vira mentioned? Beings from where?
The red-iron dragon was very sharp.
He spotted the blind spot in an instant, and his vertical pupils narrowed slightly.
“Vira, have you been to another Material Plane?”
He asked.
Before the faerie dragon could answer, a helpless voice sounded from the shadows of the trees nearby.
“She sneaked along to my Material Plane when I wasn’t paying attention.”
Garoth shifted his gaze.
A human figure reflected in his field of vision.
Holis emerged from the shadow of the old oak tree, his robes stained with moss fragments.
He was also a guardian of the fey gathering place, frequently traveling to the Verdant Homeland, and also a legendary spellcaster from the continent of Faerûn. Garoth had exchanged words with him more than once.
Under the red-iron dragon’s gaze, Holis felt the surrounding air freeze solid.
He looked at the great dragon’s towering, powerful form, his mind slightly dazed.
The faerie dragon’s story chronicled this great dragon’s growth in the Material World.
But what he found somewhat unbelievable was that in such a short time, this Red Emperor had grown to the point of fighting an Immortal dragon—and emerging victorious?
And under him, Aola had also risen from a kingdom to a Dragon Empire.
This growth rate, even for a human, was abnormally fast.
Garoth’s words interrupted his train of thought: “Faerûn?”
Holis nodded: “Yes. I hadn’t been back in a long time, but I heard some major events had occurred in Faerûn, so I made a special trip. But I didn’t expect Vira to sneak along with me.”
Garoth shifted his gaze to the faerie dragon.
Vira was stealthily trying to hide behind the crown of an old tree, but upon hearing her name, she gave a sheepish smile, looked down guiltily, then suddenly snapped her head back up and pouted: “Curiosity always kills the faerie dragon, you know that. It’s not my fault—it’s in my nature.”
“Besides, I didn’t do anything bad.”
With that, she zipped away in a flash, disappearing into the layered branches deep within the Verdant Homeland in just a few breaths, evading any potential scolding.
Holis watched the direction she had vanished, shaking his head helplessly.
He turned back to Garoth and said: “Vira transformed into a human and preached your story in a few towns in Faerûn.”
“She spoke with great enthusiasm, recounting the glorious deeds of the Red Emperor. But since I discovered it in time and those towns were small in scale, it didn’t cause widespread impact.”
“The people didn’t take her story seriously either.”
Garoth stared at him, lost in thought.
The Material Plane had many different types, with two most common major categories.
The first was the Universe type.
This kind of Material World used planets and star systems as basic units. The stars in the sky were real, reachable celestial bodies, with complete physical laws and vast territories.
The scale of Universe-type Material Worlds ranged from a single star system to an entire universe.
Large and small, all sorts existed.
The second was the Continent type.
This kind of Material World had no concept of planets. The sky was a dome-like boundary, and stars were merely projections from the Astral Plane, not real celestial bodies.
The scale of Continent-type worlds was usually smaller than Universe-type, though some were still extremely vast and expansive.
Bernardo belonged to a Universe-type Material World.
As for exactly how vast Bernardo’s scope was, Garoth had never explored it, and the inheritance didn’t record it clearly, but it was at least on the scale of a star cluster.
The Faerûn where Holis belonged was a Continent-type Material World.
It was ancient and complex, with a history of civilization and a pantheon of deities so long it was hard to trace. The faith of many gods stood side by side, and the empires within it were older and stronger than those on Bernardo.
Garoth had pieced together the outline of this world from Holis’s previous accounts.
But since he had never been there himself, many details were left to imagination.
The red-iron dragon collected his thoughts.
He stared at the human before him and asked: “What was it that made you specifically return to the Material World from the Serene Spirit Wilderness?”
Holis fell silent.
A few seconds later, his face turned grim, and he spoke slowly: “Something happened in Faerûn.”
“I returned to the Material World because the order of that continent was being shaken. There is an empire—they have offended the gods, and are waging war against them.”
The red-iron dragon’s pupils instantly contracted.
An empire of the Material World, at war with the gods?
Hearing this, even with Garoth’s temperament, he couldn’t remain completely calm.
“At war with the gods?” He asked again.
“Yes,” Holis nodded, his tone carrying no hesitation. “At war with the gods.”
The red-iron dragon re-examined the human before him.
“What is the name of this empire?”
“Imathia.”
Holis said: “It is more ancient than the Netheril Magocracy to which I belong, and also more... arrogant.”
“It is a predominantly mechanical empire, with an extremely high level of civilization, vast territories, and a legacy that has continued for countless years. Now, the Wrath of the Gods has descended upon it.”
The red-iron dragon pressed further with curiosity: “To what extent has this war between the Material Plane empire and the gods reached?”
Holis took a deep breath.
“One Saint and god avatar after another have descended, walking within their realm.”
“This war has been going on for quite some time. The beings that have descended have brought endless destruction—mountains have been leveled, rivers have been boiled dry, cities have turned to scorched earth within a single day.”
“Imathia’s mechanical artificers are still putting up a stubborn resistance.”
“They have erected massive constructs, using mechanical arrays to fight against the gods’ Saints, even shouting slogans like ‘Drench Imathia with the blood of Saints.’”
“And their resistance has indeed killed more than one Saint, each time causing massive tremors in Faerûn.”
“But faced with the fury of so many gods...”
Holis paused, his voice sinking. “Resistance is futile. Failure is only a matter of time.”
A flicker passed through the red-iron dragon’s gaze.
Standing against the gods...
Such things had been recorded in his inherited memories, but all records were from ancient times—the chaotic epoch when the Primordial Wastes fought the gods for supremacy over the multiverse.
Back then, warring with the gods was the norm, and every star might have been a god’s burning divine realm.
But that was countless ages ago.
In the multiverse of today, the gods had long established their unshakable dominion. No one dared to openly challenge their authority anymore.
“What did this empire do, to provoke such fury from the gods?”
The red-iron dragon gazed at the human.
Holis shook his head: “I’m not entirely sure what they did.”
“Imathia is too far from Netheril, separated by countless kingdoms and wilderness. And no one dares to venture close to the war between an empire and the gods. By the time news reached us, it was already fragmented—many details twisted, some lost.”
“But I do know one thing.”
“About this Imathia empire, there is a tradition, or rather a belief, that has persisted from their first emperor to this very day, never wavering.”
The red-iron dragon asked: “What tradition?”
The human mulled over his words, his gaze dropping slightly.
“Imathia has always been irreverent toward the gods.”
“And their irreverence is completely different from that of ordinary empires.”
“For example, my homeland Netheril—the arcanists revere magic and knowledge, believing in grasping the mysteries of the world with mortal hands, proud enough to look down on most mortals. But at least they always maintain respect for the Goddess of Magic.”
“We understand where magic originates, and what losing the goddess’s favor means.”
He furrowed his brow slightly, lowering his voice a notch.
“But Imathia is different.”
“Their empire’s mechanical scholars firmly believe that gods are nothing more than slightly more powerful mortals.”
“They believe that gods, dragons, giants, and ancient elemental beings have no essential difference—only that their level of power is higher, and their way of existence is different.”
“And these things, in their view, can be studied and replicated.”
“Power is power. No matter the source, as long as they grasp its laws, they can reproduce it.”
Hearing this, the red-iron dragon’s vertical pupils narrowed slightly.
“They firmly believe that mortal hands can create things that rival, or even surpass, the gods.”
Holis lowered his voice further, continuing: “This belief has run through their entire history, through the blood of every generation. They have walked this path for a very long time.”
“Probably based on this ideology, they did something that thoroughly enraged the gods.”
Garoth said in a low voice: “For so many Saints and god avatars to descend personally, it couldn’t be a small matter.”
“For gods to walk in the Material World already imposes great constraints and risks. For so many gods to make this decision simultaneously...”
“Imathia must have done something the gods cannot tolerate.”
“They crossed the gods’ bottom line.”
Holis fell silent, nodding slightly: “Exactly.”
“Some arcanist friends of mine in Faerûn privately speculate that Imathia might be attempting to create something that can strip divinity, or even replace the system of faith.”
“If one of the foundations of the gods’ existence is mortal faith, then a creation that can replace faith...”
“That would be digging at the very roots of the deities.”
The wind blew from the edge of the meadow, carrying the damp coolness of night.
A few fireflies were swept off course by the breeze, circling once in front of Garoth’s eyes as he asked:
“Has Imathia been defeated?”
Holis shook his head: “It’s still too early to tell.”
“The war continues. The gods’ avatars roam Imathia’s lands, burning their cities and fields, but Imathia’s resistance hasn’t collapsed yet.”
“This is an ancient and powerful super-empire. Its accumulated depth is unimaginable.”
“Those mechanical artificers have spent countless years building construct legions, steel fortresses, and defensive barriers. Now, all of them have been activated to fight against the divine Saints.”
“However, it still comes down to just how angry the gods truly are, and how much they are willing to pay.”
“This war could drag on for many more years, or it could end tomorrow.”
Saints and avatars were not the true bodies of the gods.
In the Material World, an ancient empire facing divine wrath wasn’t completely without means of resistance.
At the very least, holding out for a while was possible. The gods rarely descended into the Material World at any cost—each avatar descent meant enormous consumption and risk.
That was precisely why Imathia had managed to hold on until now.
The red-iron dragon nodded slightly, his mind churning.
Something capable of stripping divinity...
If he could obtain it, could he bypass the flaws of ascending to godhood?
Imathia was at war with the gods. This empire was bound to be in extreme chaos, and chaos meant opportunity.
Should he get involved?
Fish in troubled waters?
Garoth couldn’t help but think this way.
But he quickly suppressed the thought.
“Better not,” he thought silently to himself. “This empire is currently facing the gods’ wrath—it’s too dangerous. Rushing in rashly would carry too much risk.”
“If I get drawn into that level of war, I might bring disaster upon myself.”
Besides, Holis’s words were just speculation. He didn’t know exactly what Imathia had created—it might be worthless to him.
Soon after, the conversation came to an end.
Holis bid farewell, his figure gradually disappearing into the shadows of the trees.
The red-iron dragon lay quietly on the moss-covered earthen slope, once again dipping his tail into the stream.
The night wind of the Verdant Homeland still carried the sweet scent of honey and wild berries. The fey had gradually gathered back, but they were much quieter than before.
Garoth half-closed his eyes, but his mind didn’t rest.
Sacred Aola was growing stronger by the day, and as long as I exist, it will continue to grow with me. Moreover, its will aligns with mine—it too lacks respect and reverence for the gods.
“One day, might Sacred Aola also anger the gods because of something?”
“Or rather, will the gods allow a Dragon Empire to exist and gradually expand?”
The malice of the gods made it extraordinarily difficult for dragons to break through to Immortal. They had always been wary and vigilant toward dragons.
If Sacred Aola could step out of Bernardo, tread upon more Material Worlds, and remind more dragons of the glorious era of the past, then it would inevitably draw the attention and targeting of the gods.
No race’s gods would willingly see the dragons rise again.
“When that time comes, can I face the Wrath of the Gods?”
He wondered.
In less than a few seconds, the answer surfaced clearly in his mind.
As he was now, he certainly couldn’t. If any deity wanted to go all out to kill him, he would have little ability to resist.
Defeating an Immortal in the Material World didn’t mean he could overcome a true god.
But, as Garoth had thought before,
Intelligent beings were always limited by their own cognition.
He was no exception, and intelligent deities were no exception either.
Gods with eternal lives always thought on a grand scale, and rarely cared about the gains and losses of any single world.
In their eyes, a thousand years or ten thousand years was hardly long. A single feigned sleep might pass countless ages, so they naturally wouldn’t place much importance on a newly born Material World empire.
What Garoth needed to do was develop rapidly while they were dozing off.
By the time they took notice and wanted to suppress this Dragon Empire, it might already be too late.