Chapter 88: Facing South

While Artis busied himself with internal affairs, a spark of war ignited in the south, stirring ripples in a once tranquil landscape.

On a broad, level plain, several armies gathered, the earth once peaceful now bristling with murderous intent. The clash of weapons echoed ceaselessly; troops divided clearly into factions, charging forward under their lords’ banners.

Two camps emerged, one composed of disparate forces, their numbers vast but ranks chaotic, advancing only under the guidance of a handful of elites. The opposing camp stood unified, its soldiers arrayed in immaculate order, exuding an aura of valor and ferocity—clearly veterans of countless battles. Though fewer in number, their discipline and prowess far surpassed the scattered coalition, and as the armies clashed, the unified force swiftly gained the upper hand.

Still, the coalition’s strength could not be dismissed; their numbers were overwhelming, and overall, the balance remained close. The battle held at a stalemate.

“Your Majesty Barrit, the time has come!” On a newly built dais, a general knelt abruptly, gazing at the imposing figure before him with respectful deference.

The mighty figure, once watching the battlefield, slowly turned. He was a tall, burly man—his face not handsome, but marked by determination and strength. His eyes brimmed with authority, intimidating even in silence. He seemed born for command, his every gesture radiating grandeur; simply standing there, he could unsettle a man’s heart and subdue their spirit.

“Send the signal. Let them attack at once,” he said, his gaze cruel as he looked at the man before him.

At his command, a distant star flared, source energy swelling and descending like a silent force, subtly influencing those nearby.

Then, with the sound of a horn, within the enemy ranks a regiment abruptly turned, charging at their former comrades amid startled looks. Simultaneously, countless lords drew their swords against their king, betraying him at this critical moment.

Suddenly, the balance broke. The stalemate shattered, the tide of battle shifted rapidly. Many soldiers were slaughtered, unable to react to the sudden betrayal. Beset from within and without, they were defeated piecemeal—the rout was inevitable.

Witnessing this, a handsome middle-aged man on the opposite side spat blood.

“Abel, why must even you betray me?” he cried, disbelief flooding his eyes.

Above him, fragments of a weak star shimmered, striving to shine, hoping to turn the tide. Yet the opposing force’s rank suppressed it; even the descending source energy seemed cut off, leaving him exceedingly frail.

“Your Majesty Edos, Prince Abel has betrayed us. The battle cannot be salvaged!” A knight captain knelt. “Please lead the order away—I’ll remain to hold them back!”

Edos clenched his jaw, looking at the young knight before him—a gifted general he himself had promoted. The knight’s eyes burned with resolve, ready for death. Edos felt a stab of pain, but betrayed nothing, simply nodding for him to prepare.

At his command, the already faltering army collapsed further, the coalition kings fleeing separately, hunted by pursuers.

The battle concluded.

As the conflict on the ground ended, so too did another fight in the sky.

There, ancestral spirits clashed, each glowing with blood-red light, each representing a duchy. Mirroring the ground, the spirits divided into two sides. Several combined their blood domains, merging into a single field to resist their formidable foe.

On the other side, a lone figure radiated overwhelming blood light. His domain, more powerful than all others, conjured visions of corpse mountains and battlefield carnage.

He was a fifth-rank ancestral spirit—a peerless force, standing alone against the world’s oppression, forging his own domain. Though newly ascended, his domain was unstable, and so, beset by several fourth-rank spirits, he held only a slight advantage, unable to defeat them outright.

Yet, as the ground battle resolved, the equilibrium shattered. A star blazed above, source energy pouring down upon him. A potent authority manifested, and the world’s rank weakened the enemy spirits. Malice surfaced from their blood domains, erupting to consume them.

As power shifted, the battle changed. Cataclysmic forces collided; a blood-black figure appeared, tightly imprisoning an ancestral foe. The others, wounded, fled without pause.

Seeing this, the blood-robed figure sneered, his cloak billowing ominously in the crimson glow. He watched the retreating spirits without pursuit. His domain expanded, and the captive spirit shrieked, its form fading as its strength was steadily devoured.

With each consumption, the victor’s domain grew stronger, stabilizing at last.

“Your Majesty! The coalition kings have fled!” In the main camp, a general knelt before Barrit, who sat above.

At the general’s words, severed heads were thrown to the ground, their faces twisted in terror—the foremost belonging to the knight who had held the rear.

“Good! Send the order—let the knights pursue. Ignore the others for now, but Edos must not escape!” Barrit commanded loudly.

Moments later, another man approached. “Your Majesty, Abel, who pledged to us, waits outside, seeking audience. Shall we see him?”

“Abel?” Barrit questioned, then realized, “The leader of the betrayal?”

“I hear he’s Edos’s younger brother?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yes,” the man replied respectfully. “Edos treated him well—not a true brother, but due to Abel’s youth, he cared for him as a father would a son.”

Barrit was puzzled. “If so, why did he betray?”

“It’s said he requested Edos name him heir to the duchy two years ago, but was refused. Unable to bear the denial, the young man turned against him.”

Barrit snorted coldly. “A fool indeed. Who would have thought Edos, so clever, would stumble over such a man?”

“If he cannot manage his own brother, then I shall do it for him,” Barrit continued, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Carve him up and feed him to my hounds. Keep the head—if Edos escapes, send it to him.”

Hearing this, the knights below laughed heartily. Outside, a scream twisted with disbelief and regret echoed, and a severed head was brought in, its expression frozen in terror.