Martial Emperor Novels & Stories

Debris and freezing wind, as well as an overwhelming, draconic pressure, crashed down from above. A tall figure descended. Golden hair, golden-slitted pupils, and scales faintly emerged across the figure’s body. His features were sharp, cold, and utterly inhuman. He was the Dragon Emperor. He stood amid the ruins, his gaze like a blade, locking directly onto the golden tail around my ankle. My brain was completely short-circuited. The next second, a small, golden figure shot up from the bed. The little guy transformed mid-air into his dragon form—a small, golden-scaled dragon—and blocked the opening.

A few moments after the Chiefs entered, his father's arrival was announced by the royal herald. "His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of the continent, Emperor Vulcan of the Estor tribe is coming in now! Please stand to greet and honor him!" The Herald declared, stamping his heavy staff on the hardwood floor. The emperor entered the chambers looking as regal and tall as ever despite being well into his fifties. He sat down at the head of the table and nodded his head; a signal that meant he had accepted their greeting and they could all sit down. Before the emperor could speak, Daegal immediately got a word in. "Chief Davit, what is the situation of the riots in Alsayf? Are they getting better

The Emporer folds his hands across his broad chest and glares at Tendmond. "Do you understand me boy? How do you respectfully address your Emperor? Do you think?" There is total anticipatory silence as the crowd awaits to see if Tendmond will disobey the Emporer. "No. I understand, your majesty." Tendmond spits. "That's a good boy." He looks around, relishing the eyes of the nobles, making sure they hear him. “Next time any of you dares speak against my mate, I’ll see them rotting in the darkest cell I can find," He turns back to us.