Chapter 185 - 185: Opposite Ideals, The Third Continent
Syra tucked her leather diary away into her robes and gave Iron-Scale a silent nod to indicate the interrogation was officially over. The Kobold commander drew his star-iron dagger with a hiss and stepped directly toward the chained general.
Apostle Lucian stepped forward to block the path while gripping the hilt of his broadsword. His heavy deep-earth steel armor clanked loudly across the wooden floorboards.
"The interrogation is finished," Lucian stated firmly. "General Boros is a prisoner of war entitled to basic military amnesty under the laws of this land."
Iron-Scale sneered at the human diplomat and tightened his grip on his dagger. "He has served his entire purpose by confirming the enemy's silence. Keeping useless prisoners alive only drains our valuable rations and creates massive security risks."
General Gulag let out a deep, rumbling laugh from the shadows of the warehouse. "Your enemies would slaughter your troops immediately upon capture," the massive Troglodyte added. "Your constant desire to show mercy during an active holy war is exactly why the rest of the world views the Second Continent as pathetic pushovers."
Before Lucian could formulate a counterargument, Iron-Scale blurred past the Apostle with terrifying speed. He grabbed Boros by the hair to expose his throat and dragged the star-iron blade cleanly across the general's neck.
Blood sprayed across the warehouse floor in a crimson arc.
Boros gurgled wetly and slumped forward against his heavy iron chains.
Jason and Chloe watched the general bleed out just a few feet away from them. The brutal execution entirely shattered their lingering hopes of a peaceful rescue or diplomatic exchange. The loss of their stolen divine magic left the two former Heralds completely exposed to the harsh realities of this world, prompting them to huddle together in paralyzing terror.
Lucian stared at the fresh corpse in absolute horror. The Apostle slowly turned his gaze toward Iron-Scale, his face flushed with rising anger over the blatant insubordination.
"You just murdered a surrendered general in cold blood," Lucian growled. He unsheathed his broadsword fully. "This alliance is built on mutual respect and shared command. You will answer for this execution."
Iron-Scale flicked the blood from his dagger and met the Apostle's furious glare without backing down an inch. The rest of the Vanguard commanders in the room subtly rested their hands on their weapons to prepare for an immediate conflict.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles across the mountains, the sun beat down mercilessly on the arid, sweeping savannas of the Third Continent.
The native defenders, known as the Bronze Legion, made their desperate last stand at the gates of their capital city. Tens of thousands of seasoned spearmen locked their massive bronze shields together, forming an impenetrable wall of metal. Behind them, heavily armored war-rhinos stamped their feet, ready to charge and crush the invaders.
They were the pride of the Third Continent. They had never been conquered.
Standing a few hundred meters away, Chris Pitt stifled a wide yawn.
He wore the pristine, silver-trimmed tunic of the Fourteen Heralds, completely untouched by the blowing dust. His eyes glowed with a sickeningly familiar, radiant golden light. Beside him, Megan adjusted her intricately woven silver robes and aggressively fanned herself with a silk folding fan.
"I absolutely hate this continent," Megan complained loudly. "It's a hundred degrees, the local wine tastes like vinegar, and the dirt is getting into my hair. Why did King Voranthar send us to the desert?"
"Because we drew the short straw," Chris replied lazily. He cracked his neck and stretched his arms. "The king contacted me this morning and asked us to visit the second continent once this is over. Jason and Chloe got the Second Continent. Nice weather, coastal beaches, easy target. They're probably lounging in a conquered palace right now while we have to deal with these bronze-age cosplayers."
A loud war horn blew across the savanna. The Bronze Legion broke their defensive formation and initiated a full, thunderous charge. The ground shook violently as hundreds of armored war-rhinos led the massive infantry wave right toward the two Heralds.
"Do you want to handle this, or should I?" Chris asked, completely unbothered by the screaming army charging at them.
"Just get it over with," Megan sighed, applying a thin layer of balm to her lips. "I want to take a bath."
Chris smiled. He took a single step forward and raised his right hand. The stolen soul mass burning in his chest flared to life. A massive, swirling halo of pure, golden kinetic energy materialized in the sky directly above the charging legion.
Then, he simply snapped his fingers.
The golden halo dropped a localized wave of crushing, hyper-dense gravity directly onto the battlefield. The impact was entirely catastrophic. The armored war-rhinos were flattened into the dirt instantly, their thick bones shattering under the sheer weight of the divine magic.
The front lines of the Bronze Legion were completely crushed into the earth, their massive bronze shields crumpling like thin parchment.
Megan raised a single hand and fired concentrated, searing beams of radiant light into the surviving flanks. The beams melted right through the bronze armor, incinerating the soldiers where they stood.
The pride of the Third Continent was entirely decimated in less than sixty seconds. The survivors dropped their weapons and fled in absolute terror.
Chris lowered his hand and dusted off his tunic with a satisfied smirk. The golden light in his eyes pulsed brightly. He felt like an untouchable god. He had completely forgotten the terrified, pleading eyes of the classmate whose life had been violently ripped apart to pay for this exact power.
"See? Easy," Chris laughed, turning back to Megan. "Let's go claim the capital. I'm going to make the local king build me a coffee machine, even if it takes him a decade."
They walked leisurely across the burning battlefield, stepping carelessly over the crushed armor of the fallen defenders. They were entirely confident in their absolute invincibility.
They had absolutely no idea that Jason and Chloe were currently chained to a warehouse floor, weeping in the dirt.