Chapter 30: The Black Dragon's Verdict!
At this point, Lola, who had been moderating, turned instinctively toward Josh Aratat, silently seeking his judgment. Josh gave a single nod to his general and rose from his seat.
The instant he stood, silence gripped the hall. It was as if a god had risen — a thousand breaths held in awe, eleven thousand souls waiting on a single word.
Josh's voice, calm yet absolute, filled the vast chamber:
"After this meeting, I and my thirteen generals shall journey to El'dan City and liberate the mages, elves and enchanters held captive."
Before he could even finish, a thunderous roar of joy erupted. From the lowest farmer to the highest noble, even his own soldiers could not contain their cries. Cheers shook the walls. Some beat their chests; others wept openly.
For too long, El'dan's plight had festered like a wound — ignored by the emperor, scoffed at by outsiders. The region had been left to rot, dismissed as a wasteland. But here, today, something shifted. Hope — true hope — surged like a river after a long drought.
Josh sat down again, his presence radiating calm in the middle of the storm of celebration.
A woman in a simple but neat dress stood up next, wiping her eyes. She bowed low, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke.
"My Lord, the Black Dragon," she began, her tone reverent, "I am deeply grateful to you — for your love, your care, and your devotion to our region. Without you..."
Emotion choked her voice, and she neatly broke into tears. A murmur of sympathy swept the room. A kind-hearted farmer rose and patted her back gently, helping her steady herself.
When she regained her composure, she continued:
"My name is Shota. I am a Level 6 witch and enchantress from Cumba City, and I serve as the head of a district there. Once, I was nothing but a slave under Lord Balek... treated worse than a worn rag, discarded when no longer useful. Many of us had lost hope..."
At the mention of her being a witch, a few in the crowd instinctively shifted uneasily. But when their eyes fell on Josh Aratat, sitting serene and unbothered, they quickly straightened in shame. If the Black Dragon did not judge her, who were they to?
Shota pressed on, her voice growing stronger:
"But when we came with Amiel Racta to conquer the city and you instead conquered us, you did not enslave us for long. You saw us — not as tools, but as people. You offered us dignity when no one else would. For that, I am forever in your debt."
A soft, respectful murmur rippled through the crowd.
"I wish to offer my strength to the farming project — to enchant the seeds, the soil, the crops themselves. But to do so, we require a rare object: the Toadstool of Xerm."
At the mention of Xerm, a visible shiver passed through the room. Even the bolder warriors blanched.
Everyone — except Josh Aratat and a handful of newcomers — knew the legend:
Xerm, the golden toad, self-styled toad god, who ruled the swampy region of Ruma with iron claws and venomous cunning. His domain was a place most feared to even speak of, let alone approach.
Shota bowed her head respectfully and finished:
"If the Toadstool can be seized, it will amplify not only my magic but that of every enchanter and mage under your banner."
Josh leaned back slightly, breathing deeply.
First a man-eating manticore in El'dan...
Now a golden toad god in Cumba.
These people must truly think him a god himself, to bring such monstrous tasks so casually to his feet.
Yet, a small smile tugged at his lips. Was this not what he had wanted?
Not just followers who could wield swords, but citizens who could build a nation — a righteous system, with roots stronger than any empire's gold?
He rose once more.
His voice, though soft, rumbled through every heart present like distant thunder:
"Shota... I will pay a visit to the toad god."
The hall fell into stunned silence — a silence so thick it felt sacred.
A new verdict had been given.
A new chapter had begun.
---
After that, there were no more pressing proposals from the council.
Josh Aratat, ever composed, smoothly continued to his second point.
In truth, meetings like this — filled with nobles, merchants, warriors, and farmers — were often dry, dragging on with heavy talk and little soul.
But somehow, under the gaze of the Black Dragon, everything was different.
Despite the black mask he wore, there was nothing distant or cold about him.
He was neither haughty nor overbearing, never speaking down to them as lesser beings — unlike so many other so-called leaders.
Instead, Josh carried himself with a steady, quiet strength, always relaxed, composed, and treating everyone with dignity.
Because of him, the gathering was not only lively — it was alive.
Even those gathered outside the grand hall, unable to fit within its walls, lingered with eager hearts, simply to hear the words and decisions flowing within.
A deep camaraderie filled the air, weaving together the highborn and the low, the mage and the farmer, the soldier and the merchant.
For once, they were not scattered pieces — they were one people.
Josh's voice cut through the warmth of their spirit, low but clear:
"The second matter I wish to address is this:
The development of our region.
Not merely the restoration of our cities — but the creation of a land so great, so enduring, that the world will know Region 32 as a jewel beyond compare."
A pulse of energy went through the room.
Heads lifted higher. Backs straightened.
Josh pressed on, firm as iron and yet burning with vision:
"Once we have dealt with the enemies before us, we will embark on building projects across the land — creating jobs, equipping our citizens, and raising centres for relaxation and healing.
Our mages and enchanters will no longer live in hiding. They will be equipped, trained, honoured.
They will work alongside the craftsmen, the farmers, the soldiers — forging a new era for us all."
The moment he finished, it was as though lightning had struck the hall.
Applause exploded — loud, thundering, unstoppable.
It rolled across the chamber in great waves, pouring out even to those outside who had only been listening from afar.
It was more than approval — it was devotion.
It was the sound of a people hearing their very hearts spoken aloud by a man who needed no flattery, no bribery to command their loyalty.
Josh Aratat, the Black Dragon — masked, composed, quietly burning with greatness — had not only won their respect.
He had won their faith.
In their hearts, without needing ceremony or crown, they knew:
Their true emperor had already risen.