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The noble ranks of the Ember Kingdom do not follow the traditional five-tier system of the Northlands. Instead, they use a more elaborate system consisting of eighteen tiers, though they borrow the old titles.

Each major rank is divided into three sub-levels. Even the lowest citizens are classified into first, second, and third-level citizens.

For example, Langpu was granted the highest distinction: a first-tier duke. His Ember crest bore an additional dragon wing carving—a sign of the red dragon's special favor.

These titles are not linked to any land; they merely determine one's status, privileges, and draconic blessings within the kingdom. Almost none of them are inherited by blood but are awarded and advanced based solely on merit.

This time, Cassius chose the criteria for nobility to serve his political needs of reducing tensions between humans and monsters and for publicity purposes. Standards were relaxed, and several humans were deliberately included.

However, as the kingdom continues to expand, future ennoblements are bound to become stricter, and the evaluation of merit more standardized. The value of these titles will continue to rise.

Under such standards, an ordinary human soldier reaching the status of a first-level citizen would already be a notable achievement. To climb any higher would likely require the power of a professional.

This system is designed to transform the kingdom into a more formidable war machine, meant to be put to use in the future conquest of Anzeta or even wars against southern nations.

When the fifty thousand new players eventually enter, they too will integrate into this structure, becoming a cog in the Ember Kingdom's war machine, crushing any force that stands in its way.

"Master, the blessing ceremony can begin," Langpu cautiously reminded.

Cassius nodded slightly, without uttering a word.

With the accumulated prestige of his draconic aura and the authority of his years of rule, Cassius no longer needed to speak to make tens of thousands bow in reverence.

A red dragon did not need explanations; a mere gesture could drive countless people forward. Even his smallest movements were scrutinized and interpreted.

This conferment ceremony alone made it apparent to many shrewd observers that Cassius intended to elevate humans to positions of power.

And they all understood well enough that opposing it was pointless.

"Roar—"

Cassius raised his head slightly and let out a dignified roar, spreading his wide wings.

White-hot smoke billowed from his gaping maw, and brilliant flames burst from the vents along his neck and tail. His chest's dragon crystal blazed with blinding radiance—he looked like a miniature sun, forcing almost everyone to avert their gaze.

[Bloodline Blessing]

Streams of fiery energy erupted from the top of the platform, appearing like shimmering threads as they connected to the three dukes.

Each seed of ancestral dragon power flowed into the dukes' veins, gradually merging with their bloodlines. Since they had already been granted draconic power before, this blessing didn't cause significant physical changes, but it did elevate them to a higher state of existence.

The blessing lasted for nearly ten minutes.

This transformation was profound, magical in nature, and would eventually manifest physically as well.

"The effects are quite good," Cassius nodded slightly.

In his vision, the challenge level of [Hobgoblin Warlord-Dolo] had risen to Level 12 and was still climbing. [Oathbreaker Sword-Medrolash] had reached Level 13, and [The Great Sage-Langpu] had ascended to an astonishing Level 15.

Once they fully absorbed this power, it would be challenging for them to find a worthy opponent anywhere in the Anzeta Wasteland.

Then, at a mere thought from Cassius, something even more surprising happened—

The streams of fire, which had flowed into the three dukes, suddenly split into multiple strands, branching out to connect with the seven marquises. Then, they split again, extending to the twelve counts.

Those already blessed with a draconic bloodline received seeds of further power, setting them on the path to greater evolution.

Those receiving a draconic bloodline for the first time underwent a painful transformation, evolving into a higher form of life amidst their howls of agony.

The "Flower of Northwind," Darenna, sprouted small spiral horns from her head, her cheeks faintly covered in scales, and she let out involuntary moans.

The human mage Guillermo, Langpu's assistant, curled into a ball, wrapping himself tightly in his robes, but even so, dragon horns pierced through the fabric.

Most of them retained a basic human appearance, only displaying partial draconic features and gaining an innate magical essence.

Compared to the wild, uncontrollable fury of previous red dragon blessings, Cassius had now mastered his power, carefully calibrating the bloodline infusion based on each recipient's physical resilience—ensuring they wouldn't be burnt alive.

Hundreds of glowing fiery threads formed a grand, cascading network, like a spectacular waterfall or a massive web of blazing spider silk, binding all the blessed recipients together, continuously pouring the dragon's might into them.

People gazed up at the glowing threads, marveling at the radiant red dragon like they were witnessing a miracle.

In their hearts, the same word emerged.

—Divine.

Yes, divine.

Compared to a king's ceremonial conferment, this was more akin to a deity bestowing grace upon their followers.

Many had witnessed the lengthy, complicated ceremonies held by dukes across the Northlands. But none of those could compare to the grandeur of this moment, not even one-tenth as imposing. In the eyes of the kingdom's subjects, Cassius was more akin to a divine being than any mundane ruler.

He was not merely a ruler—he was a symbol.

Cassius did not need to micromanage the kingdom. Simply by existing, his mere presence deterred anyone from daring to attack the nation.

Among the crowd, Fallow Trischde hid his face from the glaring light.

He fell to the ground, shaking violently, tears welling in his eyes.

"How can such a thing—"

"Such a power—how could it ever be defeated?"

But the Harper infiltrator failed to notice that his panicked state had caught the attention of a few people nearby, whose eyes were filled with greed.

They all aspired to become the next "George."

"Seize him!"

"He's a spy!"

Several people shouted, scrambling to catch him, each fearing that they might miss this chance to become a "first-class citizen."

The crowd surged into an uproar once again.