Chapter 246: Luonan Imperial Capital

The Luonan Imperial Capital, the heart of the most powerful empire in the Madilan World, had lost its former bustling prosperity.

Not a single soul could be seen in the commoners' district. Unswept garbage scattered across the stone-paved streets in the wind. The only living things left on the avenues were stray dogs scavenging for food.

Behind locked doors and sealed windows, the commoners had no patience to care about the dogs sniffing and rummaging outside. They simply huddled in their homes, waiting for fate's judgment.

On the broad imperial avenue, a squad of armored soldiers jogged toward the city walls.

Within the ranks, a soldier named Seir kept pace with the formation while observing the shops lining the road. Situated on the imperial avenue's prime real estate, these storefronts belonged almost exclusively to the Luonan Empire's high officials and nobility. A single random item from inside could feed a commoner for years.

Yet these shops, which once generated endless wealth for their owners, had long since locked their doors. The precious goods inside were already gone.

A mocking smile crept onto Seir's face. These big shots, who normally acted so high and mighty, had run faster than anyone else when the crisis arrived.

The soldier despised those fleeing nobles. He shifted his gaze toward the middle-aged man leading the squad at the very front, his eyes filled with deep reverence.

Only a man with the courage to take responsibility, like Commander Saroyan, was a true noble.

Commander Saroyan was the head of the Imperial Guard, a high-ranking noble holding a Count rank, and a renowned military strategist across the Madilan World. Despite his many honors, he was completely free of arrogance and remained extremely approachable.

It was precisely because of this charismatic leadership that Seir and the rest of the soldiers were willing to follow him into a battle with absolutely no chance of victory.

Seir recalled a gathering a few days ago, before the Orcs had reached the imperial capital, when Commander Saroyan had assembled the brothers of the Imperial Guard.

First, he asked the only sons and those with families to step forward. He brought out his entire personal fortune, distributed it among them, and ordered them to either flee the capital or stay hidden in their homes.

Afterward, Commander Saroyan looked at the remaining soldiers and said only one sentence.

"Those willing to die with me, stay. The rest of you may leave."

The entire assembly fell silent. Astonishingly, not a single person left.

Following that, Saroyan brought out all the fine food from the Imperial Guard's storehouses and led the soldiers to empty the cellars of every major tavern in the deserted city. After several days of drunken, dreamlike revelry, the Orcs arrived.

That led to the scene unfolding right before their eyes.

Imperial Guard Commander Saroyan sprinted up the capital's city wall. He wore thick, dark-gray armor and carried a broad-bladed greatsword on his back that was almost as tall as he was. The wind whipped up his flaxen hair, exposing the horrifying scar on his resolute face. It looked like a giant centipede embedded in his flesh.

On a normal person, this scar would be an absolute disfigurement. But on the face of this strong, charismatic commander, it added a distinct charm, filling anyone who looked at him with profound respect for a man who had braved life and death for the empire.

"Hurry! Get on the wall! Brave warriors of the empire, return to your posts! Dragon-Shooting Cannon gunners! Ready your bolts!"

As Saroyan directed the soldiers in their pre-battle preparations, he observed the approaching Orc army. When he spotted five giant dragons soaring in the distant sky, frenzied hatred flooded his eyes. He thought of his three sons.

His full name was Saroyan Davidson. The Davidson Family was a renowned military-merit nobility in the Madilan World, and enlisting to serve the empire was their family tradition.

As always, the three adult heirs of this generation's Davidson family were all serving in the military. Adhering to the principle of risk mitigation, Saroyan had deployed his three children to different regions.

But he never expected that a single transfer decree from the Imperial Emperor would send the majority of the empire's elite troops to Blade Fortress—and by sheer coincidence, all three of his heirs were among them.

The result naturally went without saying. The Davidson Family was left without an heir. When he received the news, Saroyan felt as though the sky had collapsed.

Standing on the towering city wall, Saroyan stared at the five flying dragons in the distant sky. He harbored a resolute death wish. Even if I die, I will drag one of those vile dragons down with me.

The densely packed Dragon-Shooting Cannons and Giant Slayers along the capital's wall gave him ample confidence in that goal.

Embracing his impending end, Saroyan looked back toward the self-contained castle at the end of the imperial avenue—the residence of His Majesty, the Imperial Emperor of the Luonan Empire.

Thinking of the nation he had devoted his entire life to, sorrow filled Saroyan's heart. He knew the Luonan Empire was about to be destroyed.

This was glaringly obvious. From the lowest commoners all the way up to the Imperial Emperor, everyone believed it.

When Saroyan thought of the Imperial Emperor—the monarch he served—he felt furious. Ever since the Orcs had breached the provincial capital where the empire's defensive forces were concentrated, the Imperial Emperor had not issued a single military order.

It reached the point where the public briefly believed their emperor had fled.

That was until the Imperial Emperor issued a proclamation directed at all commoners within the capital. It contained only one sentence: According to reports from previously occupied cities, the Orcs do not slaughter the innocent; hide in your homes when the battle begins.

The commoners who lacked the means to flee found a sliver of comfort in this, realizing that the Imperial Emperor had not abandoned the city.

As the commander of the Imperial Guard, Saroyan had known from start to finish that the Imperial Emperor was still inside the palace.

But to him, this was no different from running away.

The Imperial Emperor had fallen into such deep despair that he had given up on resisting entirely.

Days earlier, the Imperial Emperor had dismissed his servants and ordered the princes and imperial grandchildren to disguise themselves as commoners and flee the capital.

The Imperial Emperor's actions caused the already sparse hardliner faction to dwindle even further, leaving only Saroyan and a few others to hold the line.

Saroyan could understand the emperor's decision, but he couldn't accept it, leading resentment to brew in his heart.

Yet the fact that His Majesty himself hadn't fled still provided Saroyan and the others with a small measure of comfort.

At the very least, their emperor was not a coward who feared death.

The ever-approaching Orc army left Saroyan with no energy to dwell on other matters. He touched the scar on his face. It throbbed with a dull ache, forcing him to remember that detestable Orc.

This scar was a gift left by an Orc chieftain just before his death, back when a young Saroyan was serving at Blade Fortress.

National hatred, a destroyed family, and a personal grudge—this was why Saroyan stayed behind to fight the Orcs and dragons to the bitter end.

Past the deserted imperial avenue, beyond the thick, towering city walls, and through the blooming garden paths lay the grand hall of the Luonan Empire's palace.

The Imperial Emperor, wearing his formal court robes, sat upright upon the Golden Throne. The throne was inlaid with vibrant gemstones that fanned out like a peacock's tail around a massive golden jewel at its center, displaying the utmost luxury of the royal house.

This Golden Throne had been commissioned by the founding emperor of the Luonan Empire, who had gathered treasures from across the world and ordered craftsmen to spend half a year forging it. Every Luonan emperor since had sat upon this throne to receive the worship of ministers and foreign envoys.

For thousands of years, the throne remained as bright as new. Yet in just a few short days, the man sitting upon it seemed to have aged decades.

The Imperial Emperor leaned back against the throne. His once-full head of black hair had faded to snow-white silver strands, and his lavish robes could not hide the powerlessness of the body beneath them.

"Why haven't you left yet?"

The Imperial Emperor's exhausted voice reached the ears of the three people standing quietly below him. They raised their heads.

One was a middle-aged man in civil official's robes, his hair mixed with a few strands of silver. Wrinkles had begun to form at the corners of his eyes, but his handsome face still bore the faint traces of the dashing young man he once was. Hearing the emperor's question, he answered.

"Your Majesty, when I first stepped into the royal court, I swore an oath before you to live and die with the empire. The time has come to fulfill that oath."

A rare hint of a smile appeared on the Imperial Emperor's face, quickly followed by a look of bitterness.

"In the grand court of my Luonan Empire, out of nearly a hundred officials, to think you are the only one who remembers that oath. Langmahan, why have you stayed behind?"

The imperial general wearing thick armor, standing two heads taller than an ordinary man—Langmahan—answered in a booming voice.

"Over a decade ago, during the war of succession, Your Majesty spared my life and treated my family and my soldiers with kindness. This life of mine, Langmahan's life, belongs to you."

The voice of this infamous imperial butcher sounded like rolling thunder, tickling the Imperial Emperor's ears. But at this moment, the emperor didn't feel the slightest intent to reprimand him.

"It is rare that you still remember. Good. Very good."

Without the Imperial Emperor asking, the remaining man, an elderly figure in attendant's robes, spoke up on his own.

"Your Majesty, my legs are too old to walk anymore, so I have chosen to die with you, hahaha."

The Imperial Emperor burst out laughing, but as he laughed, tears fell from his eyes. He certainly knew the real reason this old man had stayed. In truth, his question had only been directed at the other two.

This elderly man was the Imperial Emperor's lifelong teacher, a guard brought over from his mother's maiden family.

There was no true family within the royal house. Ever since the Imperial Emperor's mother passed away, this old man had stayed by his side.

Compared to his royal father, whom he had barely seen a few times in his life, this old man was more like a true father to him. He had taught him swordsmanship and literature from a young age, served as his vanguard during the war of succession, and later become a court minister to help him govern the realm. This old man had accompanied him his entire life, and now, he would accompany him in death.

"Good! Good! Good!"

The Imperial Emperor called out three times in a row.

"To have the three of you willing to stand by me right before death, my life hasn't been a complete failure after all."

The Imperial Emperor had dismissed the army and the servants several days ago. At this moment, only these four people remained in the massive palace.

At this point, the civil official asked curiously.

"Your Majesty, knowing full well that we cannot resist those monsters, why didn't you leave with the princes and imperial grandchildren?"

"Leave?"

The Imperial Emperor wasn't angered by the question. He sighed and asked in return.

"Where could I possibly go?"

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Earth-shattering sounds of battle echoed into the palace. The Imperial Emperor wasn't frightened in the slightest, only a little surprised.

"Oh? Didn't I order the army to disband and the city gates to be opened? Why are the Orcs still attacking the wall?"

After issuing the proclamation to soothe the masses and dismissing his servants and soldiers, the Imperial Emperor had lost all contact with the outside world. Thus, he was completely oblivious to the actions of Saroyan and the others.

The empire's butcher, Langmahan, answered.

"Your Majesty, Commander Saroyan and several other lords are also willing to live and die with the empire. They are currently on the city walls, engaging the Orcs in battle."

The Imperial Emperor was aware of Saroyan's nature. His expression shifted unpredictably before he finally let out a helpless sigh.

"Forget it. Let them be."

The four men ignored the apocalyptic storm raging outside their doors and simply began to chat about anything and everything.

...

"Loose arrows!"

Atop the city wall, Saroyan watched the enemies charging from a distance, braving the rain of arrows with shields held over their heads. He felt exceptionally furious.

His enemies weren't Orcs. They were humans.

"These damn traitors!"

It wasn't just Saroyan; the soldiers were also enraged. Turncoats were far more detestable than true enemies.

Arrows continuously rained down, but they all struck the shields, yielding minimal results.

Boom!

Round after round of stone projectiles launched from the distant cluster of catapults arced through the sky and smashed into the wall. The Luonan Empire's sturdy defenses instantly cracked, shallow craters appearing across the stonework.

Crouching behind the battlements, Saroyan felt the entire city wall tremble.

Some stone projectiles struck the crenellations, instantly obliterating the raised stonework and leaving behind a gruesome smear of blood and gore.

Even just getting grazed by a stone projectile would leave a man crippled, if not dead.

Just as Saroyan tried to peek out, a heavy crossbow bolt sliced through the wind and flew past, grazing his helmet.

Immediately after, the agonizing screams of soldiers struck by the bolts reached the commander's ears.

Saroyan clenched his teeth, his heart bordering on despair. The moment the Orc army's crossbow cannons opened fire, he finally understood why some cities had surrendered without a fight.

The range of these Orc crossbow cannons was far too immense, and their power was devastating. When they struck the wall, they sank in almost completely. The Orc army could stand well beyond the range of the Dragon-Shooting Cannons and still bombard the city walls with their crossbow cannons.

This was absolutely not a technology the Orcs could possess!

Saroyan didn't know where the Orcs had acquired this technology, but he knew his goal of slaying a dragon was going to fall short.

Let alone slaying a dragon, he probably wouldn't even be able to kill a few Orcs. These damn Orcs were actually using surrendered traitors as their vanguard!

Grief and indignation filled Saroyan's heart.

Once the volley ended, Saroyan stood up and shouted.

"Dragon-Shooting Cannons! Return fire!"

Although the Orcs stood outside the range of the Dragon-Shooting Cannons, the traitors operating the catapults were well within it.

The surviving soldiers hurriedly scrambled to the operating platforms of the Dragon-Shooting Cannons. A moment later, bolt after bolt tore through the air toward the distant catapults.

Watching the distant catapults shatter, Saroyan felt a moment of vindication, but it was quickly overshadowed by deepening grief and indignation. Both the catapults and the Dragon-Shooting Cannons were war machines produced by the empire, yet now they were being wasted on internal slaughter.

Far away, hovering in the sky with the five dragons aiding the Orcs, the White Dragon Lord observed the battle on the ground. Seeing the Orcs' strategy, he couldn't help but praise them.

"Pretty smart!"