Golden Dragon: Six Thousand Years of Empire

In the Flame Sun Sect Country, famed for being blessed by the sun where no night ever falls, the Holy City is now shrouded in innumerable shadows, the cross-shaped shadows cast upon the earth by the Giant Dragons soaring in the sky.

"Great Lord of Flame Sun, Sovereign of the Red Fire Day, your humble servant begs for your protection, the claws of the Dragon Clan are closing in, they are about to step into your sacred city..."

The Pope, donning the Red Fire Crown, appeared dignified yet trembled incessantly, his breath weak like a flickering candle in the wind, continuously implored the Divine beneath the golden idol,

"Please let the wrath of the sun descend upon the world and cleanse the sins!"

On the battlefield, even the army composed of the most devout believers fell consistently against the legion formed by the Dragon-men.

Even though the teach country's armies could endure high casualty rates without breaking, the disparity in power rendered their will useless, merely resulting in greater casualties.

Even with the Pope personally leading the Temple Knights into battle, armed with divinely granted weapons imbued with Divine Power, they still couldn't turn the tide of defeat; he managed to escape, thanks to a Divine Favored sacrificing their life to block a strike for him, owing to his own status as a chosen people; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to flee the battlefield.

But even so, nothing could be salvaged; that Golden Dragon, which had blasphemed time and again, was too mighty, reaching beyond the comprehension of the mundane world.

The weapons granted by the Divine not only had no lethal effect on it but were instead consumed as food; when this scene occurred, many believers on the battlefield saw their faith shattered, succumbing to madness on the spot.

Still, the old Pope, being one of the chosen ones with a steadfast will and devout faith, was not overthrown by this vision, firmly believing in the sanctity and immortality of the Divine even as he witnessed the successive defeats of the Divine incarnations.

Short-sighted believers might think the Divine was invincible, unable to accept even the slightest failure of the Divine, as any sign of decline was intolerable.

But for an elder like the Pope, he could understand and accept the Divine's loss of dominance in the Material Realm, as the constraints on the Divine in this realm were overwhelmingly strong.

However, for the Eternal and Immortal Divine, all this is temporary; ignorant mortals might achieve temporary victories in clashes with the Divine, but they will be defeated by the sands of time, their past triumphs eroded away, and the ultimate victor shall be the Divine.

The Pope thought so, yet he never imagined he would one day become one of the Divine's brief failures, he being one of the chosen people!

When such events happen to others, it's one thing; it's quite another when they happen to oneself. He could accept tens of thousands of believers becoming the price of a Divine failure, but he couldn't accept himself being that price.

"Stop your chanting; if your God still had the courage to respond to you, would you be kneeling here for such a long time?"

At this moment, a voice, light and frivolous with a hint of laziness, echoed.

"Who? Come out!"

"Outrageous!"

"How dare you!"

The bishops following the old Pope immediately displayed fury and alarm, their eyes fixed on the continuously spreading shadow below the idol.

None of them expected anyone to dare hide beneath the idol while a chosen of the Divine prayed, what a sacrilege this was, utterly disregarding the majesty of the Divine.

"I am not being audacious, merely seeing through your Divine's intentions."

The shadow spreading from the idol's base swelled upwards, with a group of small, intricate Golden Pattern Bats emerging, emitting a resounding roar like a dragon, reminiscent of a Giant Beast's bellow, instead of cold and evil, there was an air of magnificence and nobility.

Among the resounding echoes in the temple, a tall and elegant figure appeared, standing on the altar, before the idol, looking down upon the clergy whose power was beyond Legend, his flawless face carrying a slight smile as if attending a grand banquet, with him as the spotlight.

Certainly, he was now the focal point of the scene, with everyone's gaze fixed upon him, though they wanted to tear him apart, yet, considering the idol behind him, no one, including the Pope, dared to act rashly.

Praying for the descent of Divine will, they hadn't succeeded in summoning the Divine's intent, let alone breaking the idol in the process, would be a massive joke.

"A mere vampire dares to desecrate my Lord!"

"Get down!"

Just moments ago, these bishops were merely shocked and angry, but now, seeing the black mist bats circling this man who seemed an incarnation of the night, fury filled the minds of the clergy.

With such distinct features, this man daring to appear before them in such a dire moment, his racial identity couldn't be clearer; he was merely a lowly vampire.

For such a member of the Dark Race to appear before them, mocking them, what did he take them for? They were priests of the Lord of Flame Sun, the ultimate bane of all evil and undead beings.

Even the youngest bishop present had forgotten when they last confronted dark creatures; those grotesque abominations would hide at their arrival, avoiding them at all costs, let alone approaching them.