Chapter 1020: The army's state in the north and south
"You're as good as dead!" Marshal Celebus drew his broad sword and took a step toward Jabba.
"Stop this madness already!" Marshal Lacros stood in his path, extending his arms. "Leave him be-he's not worth the effort. Don't soil your hands with his blood."
"Lacros, why are you defending him? Get out of my way!" Celebus shoved his comrade aside. He was already furious and felt deeply insulted by how the planetary spirit had treated him. He would not allow a mere human to speak to him this way, especially on this matter!
This wasn't his first encounter with a planetary spirit. He had reached a refinement level of 95% with another spirit and was still progressing, albeit slowly. He was certain he wasn't so unworthy that spirits would reject him outright. That's why being treated this way had been such a shock to him.
At that moment, Pythor's calm voice echoed. "Enough, Celebus. I'd love to kill him myself, but our hands are tied, and he knows it. If anything happens to him, we'll have to answer to the Overlord."
"...?!" Celebus was stunned by those words. Since when did the Overlord care about anyone's authority? But then, something clicked in his mind, and he sheathed his sword. "You... Are you the Fourth Chosen of Truth?"
"Oh, finally some sense?" Jabba laughed and looked away again. "I'm still waiting for your apology for attempting to refine what was promised to me. Even if you failed, the fact that you tried still stands."
"I don't owe any explanations to a child. You're not as significant as you think you are. Sit quietly until you're shipped off to the Middle planetary Belt and forced to work until your butt burns off." Celebus spat to the side. Refining what belonged to him? Should they fight a war like this only to hand over the planet to some kid they knew nothing about? Impossible.
The plan had been to quickly refine a part of the planet and tell the Supreme Lord they were in critical need of the refinement percentage during the war. Once forgiven, Jabba would be sent to the Supreme Lord, and the matter would be forgotten by both!
"Be polite, Celebus." Pythor's tone was firmer this time, his words hinting at a disregard for the Overlord's orders.
Jabba, however, shrugged indifferently. "I don't need to hear anyone's justifications anyway- But you will be humbled for your actions."
"Haha, maybe in your dreams." Knowing he couldn't do anything to him, the first marshal chose to ignore the irritating human and walked over to sit at the table next to Pythor. The other three marshals soon followed.
Afterward, the Imperial Guards stepped forward, forming a single line behind Pythor, their hands clasped behind their backs, standing as firm as mountains. Behind them, three hundred regular martial emperors stood atop rooftops in an orderly formation.
Pythor sat in the center, with two marshals on each side, a hundred guards behind him, and three hundred martial emperors beyond them. All were clad in epic gear. Pythor smiled and raised his head. If this wasn't the very definition of majesty and authority, what could be?
After a few seconds of smiling and looking around proudly, Pythor's smile faded. He furrowed his brow and asked Marshal Lacros:
"...Where is my seventh son? Why hasn't he come yet? Did he not receive the summons?"
His seventh son carried one of the remaining two cubes. Depending on how things went today, he might need it!
"Responding to His Majesty: The Seventh Prince is in the midst of an intense war in the southern region. He has finally surpassed the 20% control threshold and claims to be on the verge of controlling a quarter of the entire southern region. That's equivalent to a quarter of the Poison Rock Planet in terms of area!" Lacros responded promptly, attempting to justify the Seventh Prince's defiance of a direct order.
Then he added: "When I told him to return with me, he said that if he retreated even a step, we'd lose the entire southern region, which goes against Your Majesty's wishes. On the contrary, he mentioned he's expecting a massive attack from the Demon Army, their ferocious ranks swelling with war cries that echo through the battlefield, and the local forces preparing to strike with relentless determination. He requested reinforcements of 100 Imperial Guards from the northern region, and 100,000 soldiers, forming an unyielding tide of steel and resolve. They had already arrived for him this morning. He said that if the battle goes as planned, we might destroy the Demon Army entirely, their fragmented remains scattered like dust in the wind, and control half of the southern region by midday!"
"...He pulled 100 imperial guards from the northern region?" Pythor furrowed his brow slightly, his sharp gaze flickering with a hint of concern, but began to nod as if weighing the gravity of the decision. "I gave him orders to do whatever it takes to secure the southern region as quickly as possible. He has already managed to destroy the portal, injure the Demon commander, and take control of a significant portion of the southern region. He's a good son, I will trust him on this."
"Of course, Your Majesty. The lion's cubs will always become lions, their roar echoing with the pride of their lineage, ha-ha!" Lacros seized the opportunity, his voice brimming with admiration as he praised his leader
.
"But the situation in the northern region also destabilized this morning," Celebus interjected, his tone tinged with unease. "I believe the absence of those 100 guards, the very backbone of our defenses there, will be an issue... On my way here, I inspected the situation. The Nehari Giants have united again under the leadership of a tribe called Ashira, renowned for their fierce tactics and cunning strategies. They are currently attacking our strongholds in the northern region, and all 100 guards remaining there have been engaged in battle for hours, holding the line against a seemingly unstoppable force."
"...Our entire army and 200 guards are fully engaged in both the north and south?" Pythor's tone lowered slightly, his voice carrying the weight of his unease, as he looked down at the table, fingers drumming against its surface. There was something unsettling about this situation, like a faint shadow creeping at the edge of his awareness, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"There's no need to worry about what's happening elsewhere, Your Majesty," Zanox interjected confidently, his voice smooth yet tinged with an unsettling glee. "After today, everything will resolve itself naturally. Strike the head and the body will crumble into dust!" The Marshal let out a coarse laugh, his long, serpent-like tongue flicking in the air, as if tasting the victory he so fervently believed in.
"...." Pythor nodded several times, his broad chest rising and falling with a deep breath. He hadn't faced a situation like this-where he had a true rival, a figure that challenged his authority and forced him to strategize a way to eliminate them- since he was a minor ruler on the Poison Rock Planet 10,000 years ago. But his lack of experience in such scenarios didn't mean he was afraid. Quite the opposite...
The overwhelming power he had amassed over the years, a tempest of destruction and might, gave him limitless confidence, and the forces gathered around him—his most loyal and fearsome warriors-gave him an additional boost that bordered on arrogance.
Robin Burton? If he didn't bow today, he would perish beneath the crushing weight of his imperial might.
No, even if Robin Burton's Supreme Lord himself appeared, even he would kneel before Pythor's indomitable will today!
Bzzzzzt!
At that moment, the space within the portal rippled, its surface shimmering like liquid, signaling a connection to another portal.
Step Step
"Oh," a voice rang out, calm yet laced with a sly edge, "have you started the party without
me?"