My Celestial Ascension - Chapter 803: Crimsonfang Peak

Chapter 803: Crimsonfang Peak

A murder of crows darkened the sky above the City Square, their raucous cries echoing across the streets and pulling every passerby’s gaze toward the commotion. The sound was unsettling—urgent, as if nature itself was crying out that something grim had taken place.

At the very center of the square, two corpses hung high upon wooden poles for all to see, their lifeless faces swaying in the breeze. Beneath them, more poles bore the bodies of numerous Royal Guards, their ornate armor now dented and stained with dried blood.

The crows descended greedily, pecking at ears, eyes, and noses, tearing flesh with wet, audible snaps. Some even fought each other for the choicest morsels. For the birds, it was a feast—effortless and bountiful.

The crowd gathered beneath the grisly display, forming a dense ring of hushed figures. Many stood frozen in disbelief, for the dead were faces they knew well—faces of men who once held power and influence. But what truly stole their breath was not the corpses themselves, but the large wooden sign planted firmly in front of them.

The words, written in bold, unflinching strokes, carried the Queen’s own decree:

“Elder Sylvester and Elder Tharion have betrayed the kingdom and all of us. They were the ones responsible for allowing the Holy Church to enter our territory and take our people as slaves.

They took commissions from the Holy Church in exchange for their cooperation. Not only that, they were responsible for the death of our previous Queen—Valeryan Sylara Moonshade.

She did not die in battle against the malevolent dragon. Instead, when she was weakened from the fight, she was backstabbed by those she trusted most.

Elder Sylvester has also been plotting to take over the throne. For these crimes, both Elder Sylvester and Elder Tharion have been punished by death—along with those who directly served them.

All who share their guilt will meet the same fate. There is no place for traitors in this nation.

—From your Queen, Mireya Sylthariel Moonshade.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as the truth settled like a heavy stone in their hearts. The betrayal was deeper than they had imagined, the corruption running far beneath the surface of the kingdom.

“How could they…?” a trembling voice muttered.

“I can’t believe that someone like Elder Sylvester—so respected—could commit something so vile,” another said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Indeed… so much happened right under our noses, and we didn’t even realize it. Thank the spirits our Queen has returned to cleanse this rot from our kingdom.”

“I never thought I’d hear such filth tied to Elder Tharion and Sylvester,” an elderly elf spat, his hands clenched. “They’ve shamed all of us. Their greed killed Queen Valeryan—someone irreplaceable!”

The air in the square was heavy with grief, rage, and a newfound respect for the Queen who had dared to bring the truth to light.

The disappointed murmurs of the elves rippled through the City Square, growing louder until they became a wave of resentment that seemed to smother the air. The sight of the corpses swaying on their poles was impossible to ignore, and the damning words on the signboard burned into everyone’s minds.

Mothers shielded their children’s eyes as they hurried past, their expressions twisted in disgust. Every whispered conversation carried the same disbelief and fury: Elder Sylvester and Elder Tharion had not only betrayed the kingdom—they had plotted to seize it for themselves.

By sundown, the news had reached every corner of the kingdom. In the streets, the names “Sylvester” and “Tharion” were spat out like poison. In front of their once-grand mansions, angry crowds gathered, chanting curses and hurling stones at ornate gates that only a day before had symbolized prestige.

The Royal Guard stationed at both estates quietly withdrew. Word had come down from the palace—there was no longer any need to protect traitors’ homes. Their noble status was stripped away, their privileges revoked, and their families abandoned to the wrath of the public.

When the royal decree arrived, the blow was final:

Their noble titles revoked permanently.

Forbidden to interfere with the investigation.

Forbidden to leave the kingdom.

The news struck their households like a thunderclap. Shock turned to rage, and rage soured into fear. No one among them dared to confront the Queen—not after what she had done to Sylvester and Tharion.

In a single day, they had fallen from luxury to ruin. Where once they dined under crystal chandeliers, they now barred their own doors against the commoners they had once looked down upon. The return of Queen Mireya had shattered everything.

—

Far away, at the very peak of the Beast Continent, the Crimsonfang Peak rose like a jagged spear piercing the heavens. At its summit sprawled the territory of the Dragon Blood Tribe—a stronghold that had stood for thousands of years, untouchable and self-sufficient.

Here, the air was thin, the clouds close enough to touch, and the land rich with everything the tribe needed.

The Dragon Blood people were unmistakable. Each bore a pair of imposing horns and patches of gleaming, scale-like armor covering their chests, arms, and legs. Their bodies were tall and powerful, honed by a lineage they claimed descended from a legendary god-dragon. This belief fueled a pride so vast it often tipped into arrogance.

Among the Beastmen tribes, none matched their sheer physical might—save for the Ogres.

The Dragon Blood Tribe looked down on almost every race, believing themselves the apex of the continent. Other tribes knew well to avoid their wrath, for provoking them meant disaster.

But the Ogres were a different matter. A warrior race to their core, they respected only strength and never bowed to anyone they deemed unworthy—dragon blood or not. Their own physiques rivaled the Dragon Blood Tribe’s, and their defiance had birthed a bitter war.

For over five years, the two great powers had clashed. Neither side yielded. Neither side tired. And so the continent’s most brutal conflict dragged on, with no end in sight.

A young messenger of the Dragon Blood Tribe sprinted up the crimson stone steps of the Dragon Temple, his breath ragged, his chest heaving from the climb. Sweat poured down his face as he stopped before the towering, blackened metal doors carved with the images of dragons in flight.

“Tribe Lord! I bring an urgent message—your permission to enter!” the soldier called out, voice echoing against the ancient walls.

He had run directly from the communication hall, clutching the sealed letter from the tribe’s diplomats stationed beyond their borders.

From the other side of the door came a deep, commanding voice. “You may enter.”

It was the unmistakable voice of Kaelrath, the Tribe Lord of the Dragon Blood Tribe—feared by enemies, revered by his people, and the undisputed strongest warrior of their kind.

The door groaned open. The messenger strode in, dropped to one knee, and offered the letter with both hands. Kaelrath took it without a word, his golden eyes glinting in the dim torchlight. The messenger bowed once more before backing out of the chamber.

Breaking the wax seal, Kaelrath unfolded the parchment and read swiftly. With each line, his lips curled into a grin, and when he finished, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest—growing into a booming, savage laugh.

“So… Queen Mireya has returned to her precious kingdom.” His voice dripped with satisfaction. “This time… she will be mine.”

He licked his lips slowly, his sharp canines glinting, and the parchment in his hands burst into flame as he willed his mana into it, scattering it as ash.

“You’ve turned me down again and again, little queen. That ends now.” His voice dropped into a growl. “We need fresh strength to crush those stubborn ogre dogs—and with the Elven Kingdom at our side, the war will be over in weeks.”

His grin widened into something darker. “And all I have to do… is put their queen in my bed. Simple.”

His laughter echoed down the temple halls as he strode out into the open air.

—

The training grounds spread out before him, a sea of warriors moving in brutal, disciplined formations. The sound of clashing weapons, heavy footfalls, and roaring battle cries filled the air. But the moment Kaelrath stepped onto the stone platform overlooking the field, the warriors halted.

Every man and woman dropped to one knee, their fists pressed to the ground in salute.

From the front of the ranks, a tall warrior with long silver hair and rare, gleaming silver scales stepped forward. His sharp eyes locked on Kaelrath with unwavering respect.

“Leader,” he said firmly, “what do you require of us?”

This was Zerath, Fifth Division Commander of the Dragon Army, known across the continent not only for his rare appearance but for his unmatched combat record.

Kaelrath’s voice carried over the silent ranks. “Zerath. Select twenty of your finest. We march to the Elven Kingdom. We will bring their queen back with us.”

His grin returned—this time cold, assured, and dripping with arrogance. “She will not refuse me again.”

Zerath’s silver brows rose slightly. “Did they finally agree to our alliance?”

Kaelrath’s grin deepened. “No. But we will make them agree.”

Zerath frowned. “How? The Elf Queen has a bodyguard who has mastered Darkness Magic to its peak. Forcing them into submission will not be easy.”

“You will deal with the bodyguard,” Kaelrath said, his tone dripping with certainty. “I will handle the queen myself.”

“And how will you do that?” Zerath asked, suspicion edging into his voice.

Kaelrath chuckled darkly. “By making her scream beneath me until her sweet moans echo through the Evergreen Palace for all her people to hear.”

“I see…” Zerath replied after a pause, his expression unreadable. Crude as the plan was, it was undeniably effective—a single act that would shatter the queen’s dignity and force the Elven race to submit without a prolonged war.

“Prepare to move out,” Kaelrath ordered. “We have a task that will change the course of this war.”

With that, the tribe lord turned and strode away, the heavy thud of his boots echoing against the stone.

—

In the royal office, Queen Mireya and Sylvia were buried in work, their desks covered in parchment stacks and inked quills. The sheer volume of neglected affairs was staggering—petitions, proposals, construction requests, and trade agreements, all left to gather dust under the corrupted council’s watch.

Now, Mireya and Sylvia moved briskly through each document, verifying, approving, and discarding as needed.

Yuan and the others stood nearby, assisting in sorting the endless piles into neat, organized stacks. Even with their help, the workload was exhausting.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors burst open without warning.

A cheerful young elf with a long ponytail skipped into the room, her voice bright and teasing.

“Big Sister Mireya! Big Sister Sylvia! I heard you two stirred up quite the ruckus when you came back from the human continent!”

—————————

Hey everyone,

I’m excited to share that I’m currently working on a brand-new book, which I plan to release in a few months. Right now, I’m stacking up Chapters, so it won’t be uploaded immediately. But I can promise you with full confidence that it will be on a whole new level compared to this one.

This Chapter you’re reading now is written in the same style and quality as the regular Chapters of my upcoming book — each Chapter there will be premium quality, with a faster pace, powerful storytelling, and stronger words.

Please continue supporting me as much as you can. Your encouragement motivates me to write faster, push my limits, and deliver the very best to all of you. The more support I get, the sooner I can bring this new story to your hands.

Thank you for being with me on this journey.