Chapter 166 - 166: Red's Decision, Divine Presence
Red stared at the glowing system prompt.
'They are apex predators, but they act like bickering toddlers,' Red thought with a heavy sigh.
He pulled up the tactical profiles of both commanders on his interface. Elian's presence on the Second Continent would undeniably boost the morale of the human troops, and as a Prophet, he served as a direct conduit for his faith.
His duty was far beyond anyone could comprehend. And his existence was the most important.
'But I cannot risk him on a foreign frontline,' Red reasoned, swiping Elian's profile aside. 'If the expeditionary force faces a catastrophic threat, I would be forced to descend. Elian is just a Prophet, not an Apostle. And even if he were... my hundred-fold multiplier trait makes my descent exponentially too destructive. Their mortal bodies simply cannot endure the sheer density of my energy.'
Red glanced at a secondary monitor displaying Apostle Krug's vitals in the infirmary vat. He had been in a regenerative coma ever since Red's first descent had completely ravaged his physical form. If Red tried to forcefully channel his amplified power through Elian across the ocean, the human would instantly explode.
Red shifted his gaze to Gorak's profile.
'Gorak is absolutely necessary to maximize the expedition's win rate. His sheer physical mass and the Troglodyte legions are the perfect counter to the Fourth Continent's heavy cavalry,' Red admitted to himself.
He tapped his finger rhythmically against the console, his eyes narrowing at the transcript of the Warlord's violent outburst in the war room.
'But if I give Gorak exactly what he wants after he throws a temper tantrum and threatens his fellow commanders, I set a catastrophic precedent. The other tribal elders will think they can bypass the chain of command simply by acting like him. I cannot allow the foundation of my empire to rot from insubordination. I have given them far too much freedom.'
Red closed the interface. His decision was absolute.
'Had he simply bowed his head and prayed for the honor of the vanguard, I would have sent him without hesitation. Now, they both need to be humbled.'
Red raised his hand and accessed the Sovereign's administrative grid. He bypassed the private communication channel to the war room entirely. Instead, he tethered his consciousness directly to the fifty-foot obsidian statue dominating the central courtyard of the City of Spiral.
Down in the strategy chamber, Gorak and Elian were still locked in their furious standoff, the air crackling with deadly tension.
Suddenly, the ambient mana in the room spiked to an unimaginable density. The bioluminescent torches violently extinguished. A terrifying, suffocating pressure slammed down on the capital, radiating from the city center.
"The Sovereign..." Old-Shell wheezed, immediately dropping his massive bulk flat against the stone floor.
Gorak and Elian froze. The sheer weight of the aura crushed their pride in an instant.
Gorak and Elian were forced to their knees, bowing their heads toward the courtyard as the physical manifestation of their god's wrath washed over the Empire.
Outside, the fifty-foot obsidian statue of the Sovereign erupted in a blinding display of ethereal violet-crimson fire.
The flames wreathed the stone monument, casting long, terrifying shadows across the terrified faces of the fifty thousand troops gathered in the square. Every single citizen, laborer, and soldier in the City of Spiral dropped to their knees in absolute submission.
When Red spoke, his voice vibrated directly inside their bones.
"YOUR ARROGANCE CLOUDS THE PATH OF THE SPIRAL."
The booming voice shattered the glass slate on the strategy table. Gorak flinched, pressing his armored forehead against the cold stone floor, suddenly terrified by the true scale of the entity he served.
"THE MORTAL EGO HAS NO PLACE IN MY WAR MACHINE," Red declared, his voice echoing across the entire capital so that every citizen knew exactly why their commanders were being punished. "PROPHET ELIAN. WARLORD GORAK. YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT YOU ARE SHIELDS, NOT MASTERS. FOR YOUR INSUBORDINATION, YOU ARE BOTH STRIPPED OF THIS GLORY. YOU WILL REMAIN IN THE CAPITAL. YOU WILL GUARD THE THRONE IN SILENCE UNTIL YOU REMEMBER YOUR PLACE."
Elian squeezed his eyes shut. "Your will is absolute, Sovereign," he whispered into the dirt.
Gorak remained completely silent, thoroughly humiliated and powerless beneath the crushing weight of the fiery aura.
"THE EXPEDITIONARY FORCE REQUIRES DISCIPLINE, NOT PRIDE," the burning statue continued, the crimson flames flaring higher into the night sky. "ELDER SYRA WILL COMMAND THE FLEET'S LOGISTICS. SUPREME COMMANDER IRON-SCALE WILL DICTATE THE SLAUGHTER. AND ELDER OLD-SHELL WILL SERVE AS THE UNBREAKABLE ANCHOR OF THE VANGUARD. YOU THREE WILL SINK THE FOURTH CONTINENT INTO THE ABYSS."
Iron-Scale knelt beside the ruined table, a cold, vicious smile spreading across his sloped face. Syra bowed her head deeply, accepting the massive promotion.
"SAIL AT DAWN. CRUSH ALL WHO RESIST THE WEB."
Despite the crushing weight of his god's presence, Gorak gritted his teeth and forced his heavy head upward.
"Sovereign... I beg your forgiveness," Gorak strained, his deep voice grinding against the oppressive silence of the chamber. "My fury was unchained. But I ask for justice. I arrived in the City of Spiral two weeks before the envoys even crossed our moat. I oversaw the shipyards. I drilled the heavy infantry. I was completely prepared to sail for this war."
Gorak shot a venomous glare at Iron-Scale and Elian, who were both kneeling beside him.
"I would not have drawn my fury if it were not for their deceit," Gorak rumbled. "They convened behind my back. They made a massive strategic decision to sideline your greatest warlord without consulting me. If I am to be punished and grounded for my anger, then they must face equal punishment for their subversion."
A cold sweat broke out across Elder Syra's silver scales. Old-Shell slowly pulled his head further into his calcified dome, while Iron-Scale remained rigidly still, a bead of moisture forming near his slitted eyes.
They could feel the ambient mana growing heavier. And all they could do was curse Gorak in heir minds, and curse themselves more to think the matter would end without consequences.