Chapter 646: The Advance and the Mobilization
After dealing with the Chaos Evil Eye, Cassius finally used magic to contact Langpu, who was thousands of miles away—but to his surprise, no fewer than nine different coordinates popped up when he tried to locate him.
Langpu had created even more "working clones"?
The corner of Cassius's mouth twitched, but he wasn't all that surprised. After all, aside from managing the vast occupied territories of Northern Aether, Langpu now had to oversee military mobilization as well.
Soon, an ugly face brimming with overworked desperation appeared before the Red Dragon, surrounded by a half-man-high stack of thick documents.
As always, Langpu lowered his head respectfully and weakly greeted, "Good day, my noble and great master."
Seeing the Draconic-blooded ogre looking utterly drained, Cassius began to worry the guy might just drop dead one day. So, in a rare gentle tone, he offered a word of concern: "Langpu, you've worked hard these past few months.
The empire just entered Feiansuo. There's too much to handle—economy, policy, public security, intelligence, diplomacy... Once things stabilize, it should get easier for you."
This concern came from a dragon's worry over his property. If Langpu suddenly dropped dead, who else could work this hard and stay this loyal?
Moved by Cassius's "warmth and care," Langpu's face twisted with emotion, eyes moistening—which only made his ugly mug look even weirder.
Truly, no matter what an ugly creature did, it only became uniquely more grotesque—but after encountering beings like the Fungus Matron and the Chaos Evil Eye, Cassius had built up some resistance.
Langpu's gaze regained determination. He slowly shook his head and said, "Master, this is my duty. As Prime Minister of the Empire, it's my responsibility. I should be thanking you for this opportunity."
His tone grew impassioned, his throat trembling: "For the great blueprint of conquering the world—no, the multiverse—I would gladly give everything, even my life!"
Watching his subordinate mentally revive himself with just a few words, Cassius nodded in satisfaction, sighing inwardly—what a born workhorse this ogre was.
Cassius then asked, "What's the status of the imperial army? When can they reach Avenderdan?"
Langpu answered confidently: "Three days. That's all we need. The war ended not long ago, and our main forces are still stationed in Northern Aether. Mobilizing them is easy.
According to intel gathered by the Imperial Intelligence Department, the Mountain Dwarf Kingdom is exhausted from recent warfare and internally weakened. And since we have the defense schematics of Avenderdan, those dwarves are nothing to worry about.
After brief deliberation, the Imperial Senate decided to send only 30% of our troops to Avenderdan. The rest will remain stationed across Northern Aether to prevent chaos in the occupied regions."
Cassius asked casually, "Who's leading the army?"
"General Drol. Marshal Dolo still oversees Northern Aether's military affairs. Though he volunteered, the Senate rejected his proposal," Langpu replied calmly.
"Not bad."
The Red Dragon nodded slightly, exhaling a puff of sulfuric white smoke and stretching his wings.
Drol, an Imperial Marquis, Hobgoblin, trusted aide of Dolo, and a key military figure in the empire—Cassius was reasonably familiar with the name.
Langpu deftly pulled a file from the towering stack, dispelled its magical seal, opened it, and began reporting: "For this special military operation, the Empire will dispatch 60,000 infantry, 154 tanks, 464 wyverns, and 8,500 engineers and logistics personnel.
We've also issued war orders summoning the Starmourners Legion from Northern Aether. It's expected that over 50,000 Starmourners will arrive as reinforcements."
Cassius was deeply impressed. Though the Ember Empire wasn't going all-in, it already dwarfed the Mountain Dwarf Kingdom in sheer might.
As the "loyal ally" and "eternal friend" of the Shield Dwarves, Cassius was intimately familiar with the state of the Highland Kingdom.
After Zain led the elderly, women, and children away, fewer than 30,000 dwarves remained in Avenderdan—and even in its prime, the population never surpassed the size of the Imperial force.
The dwarves' prized weapons were nothing in the face of the empire's steel tide.
In terms of numbers, quality, and equipment, the empire had a crushing advantage.
The only point of concern was the kingdom's high-level combatant—the famed "Lord of the Mountains," legendary dwarf warrior Edd.
Langpu brought this up as well: "Based on your intel and the findings of our intelligence department, Gruumsh has recently launched an assault on the Dwarven Pantheon, so their gods are unlikely to intervene in the material plane.
However, Edd Klein, a near-demigod legendary warrior, is still not to be underestimated. Misha will accompany the army, ready to act and suppress the dwarves' high-level forces at any time.
And if a dwarven god does appear, as your Pact Sorcerer, Misha can summon your presence in Avenderdan to guarantee the Empire's victory."
"Thorough planning. Proceed. I want you to take Avenderdan quickly—then press on to the Ugo Prairie and wipe out the Crimson Blood Tribe."
Cassius nodded again, using his thick forelimbs to slowly rise. Smiling, he added, "Though right now... I actually hope the dwarven gods show up."
To travel from Northern Aether to the northeast, one had to go upstream along the Courtney River, passing through a long, wide valley known as the "Metal Road."
Merchants once bought ores, precious metals, and finely crafted weapons from dwarves and floated them downstream to the former Fadlan Empire.
Now, this "Metal Road" had become the Ember Empire's temporary military corridor.
The earth rumbled, mountains roared, rivers trembled, and thick smoke filled the valley. Birds scattered in panic from the cliffs.
The Empire's steam tanks, like migrating beasts, rolled forward in packs. Their engines growled like predators, crushing everything in their path.
Bipedal wyverns flapped chaotically in the skies, releasing hoarse roars. They clustered like dark clouds, casting broken shadows below.
Among the wyverns, their chieftain Smaug flared his massive wings and roared ferociously, rallying the dragons.
"ROAAAR—"
The powerful draconic might radiated outward, sending mountain animals fleeing in terror.
Smaug, after several rounds of dragonblood infusions, had grown to 25 meters in length—rivaling even an adult Red Dragon.
With his body transformed by ancestral dragonblood, Smaug was now covered in tough crimson scales. He resembled a true Red Dragon so closely that even dragon scholars would struggle to spot the difference, save for his bipedal trait.
Out of some personal amusement, Cassius had insisted Smaug lead the wyverns into this war.
Dwarves, Lonely Mountain, golden hoards—this was a setup Cassius found satisfyingly familiar.
Behind the tank and wyvern legions marched the imperial infantry in quick formation—battle-hardened veterans fresh from the front lines, armed to the teeth and brimming with fighting spirit.
Among them, a full 20% bore dragonblood. Scattered scales appeared on their skin, and their vitality and combat drive surpassed ordinary soldiers.
At the rear came the empire's logistics and engineering divisions. But even the massive steam engines hauling munitions and rations, or bridge-laying machines, radiated intimidating force.
The Empire's army moved like a tidal wave—noisy, imposing, making no effort to conceal their advance. Their sheer momentum shook the nearby factions.
None dared to stand in their path—not even the brave and self-sacrificing Harpists' Alliance, who only watched and gathered intelligence from the surrounding forests.
The Imperial General Staff had planned this to perfection. Three days—no more, no less—and this terrifying army reached the southern edge of Blackstone Mountain, entering the Gavin Basin.
Now, the imperial soldiers could already see the towering fortress nestled in the hills ahead—Avenderdan.
Ember Empire banners flapped in the wind. Soldiers gathered in formation, and the anthems "Song of Cassius" and "Victory March" echoed across the plains, resounding through the skies.
In the sky, hundreds of wyverns circled, raising their heads and roaring in unison, their momentum overwhelming.
Hobgoblin Marshal Drol stood atop the "Emperor's Wrath" tank, high-spirited as he inspected the army he brought.
In truth, even he hadn't expected to get such a chance—to lead a campaign of this magnitude. It should've been Marshal Dolo's role.
Drol had once been a common Hobgoblin warlord under Dolo. He joined the Ember Nest early on and rose steadily with every campaign.
Now, Drol was a Marquis, an Imperial Army General, and the second most powerful military figure in the empire. Beyond the Emperor and the Three Dukes, he had climbed to the summit.
But now, a new opportunity had arrived.
When the Senate officially assigned him to the Avenderdan campaign, Drol's heart pounded with excitement. He trembled—not even near-death in battle had made him this nervous.
The reason was simple—this was his final step: from general to marshal, from marquis to duke.
Though Dolo wore a sour face, Drol still accepted the imperial command staff from Langpu's hands with determination.
Now, the goblin general raised his head and gazed at the sky, almost seeing the magnificent figure of the Red Dragon again.
He wouldn't just win—he would win gloriously. He would prove his worth to the Emperor and earn the great Red Dragon's blessing!
At that thought, Drol clenched his fist tightly, crimson scales gleaming on the back of his hand.
Then he lowered his head, looked around at the fired-up soldiers, and slowly opened his mouth—his speech would be magically amplified to reach tens of thousands.
"Soldiers, people of the Ember Emperor! Today, under our Emperor's supreme will, we gather here for one purpose—to fight for the Empire's grand design!"
At once, all eyes turned to the Draconic-blooded goblin. Drol basked in their admiration and respect.
Drawing his golden saber, he pointed it toward the distant dwarf fortress and bellowed: "That fortress—Avenderdan—is the Empire's next conquest!
Known as the 'City That Never Falls,' it has repelled countless assaults for millennia. Neither savage orcs nor the glorious Fadlan Empire ever made these dwarves yield."
Drol paused, his tone growing fervent: "But—we are different!
Look at your scaled bodies! Look at your gear! We are the army of the Ember Empire—children of the great Red Dragon!
Let the dwarves taste the Emperor's supreme will through our steel and fire! Make them kneel!"
Finally, Drol raised his saber and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Long live the Ember Empire! Long live the Great Red Dragon!"
"Long live the Ember Empire!"
"Long live the Emperor!"
Cannons roared. Wyverns shrieked. The earth shook violently.
The faces of every Imperial soldier glowed with pride and passion. They swung their weapons wildly, roaring in fanatic unison like a tidal wave.
The roar echoed through the Gavin Basin, across the Blackstone Mountains, making even the dwarves in Avenderdan tremble.
At the peak of the Dwarf Palace, hearing the distant cries, Edd spun around, face heavy with solemnity—but also with a flash of excitement.
He reached for his massive metal warhammer, gripping it tightly, and murmured: "They're finally here... Ember Empire. Let's see what kind of force it takes to blitz through Northern Aether like lightning!"