Lord of the Truth

Chapter 2308 Bad news

Two Weeks Later — Spill Galaxy

"...Are these reports confirmed?" Darvion the Cursed stared at the report with obvious skepticism, carefully reading its contents more than once before finally raising his eyes toward the messenger.

"Absolutely, Your Majesty. Our spies have submitted their report, and the Syndicate has delivered one as well." The messenger bowed respectfully toward Darvion before turning once again toward Zargul the Sorcerer. "Arkail the Temporal's forces are unquestionably withdrawing from the borders of Mid Sector 98, heading toward Mid Sector 96. Every movement we've observed points to the same conclusion."

"Hehehe." Zargul shrugged as he laughed. "It was only a matter of time before he withdrew. Who would hear that the Syndicate's forces were coming and still stubbornly remain where they were?"

"Perhaps he's gone to defend Mid Sector 95. He still has enough time to make that decision." Darvion cast him a sideways glance. "We still don't know how deep his relationship with Lord Robin truly is."

"No sane man would dare oppose the Syndicate, no matter how tempting the rewards might be." Zargul waved his hand dismissively. "Arkail accepted a hefty price from that wretched human to attack me, but whatever that payment was, it certainly isn't enough to justify making an enemy of the Syndicate. I guarantee he'll return to his own Galaxy like an obedient dog and simply watch the armies pass beneath his nose."

Then he smiled.

"Secondly, even if he's gone mad and actually tries to stop them, let him do it. Either way, by then the army's mission will already be complete, and the path into Mid Sector 99 will be wide open for me!"

"When will you move?" Darvion asked calmly.

"The moment Arkail the Temporal's forces enter the neutral zone between Mid Sectors 97 and 96." Zargul's eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"That soon? According to the current schedule, all of his forces will have left Mid Sector 97 within two weeks at most!" Darvion said in surprise. "You're not even going to wait for the war to begin, or at least until his return to his own Galaxy is confirmed?"

"Two weeks is already too long!" Zargul slammed his hand against the armrest of his chair. "This war has dragged on long enough. It has claimed half my army, taken several of my sons, humiliated me, and dragged my name through the mud... Two weeks from now, all of this ends. I will personally lead thirty of my sons to assault the stronghold of the Grave Empire and kill whoever dares stand in our way, whether it be a Monarch or an insignificant soldier!"

"....." Darvion looked forward once more and nodded.

"A wise decision."

Then he murmured as though speaking only to himself.

"The Syndicate's forces have already crossed the territory of Helmor the Destroyer and are now advancing toward Mid Sector 105. They'll appear there very soon. The moment they enter that coward's territory, I'll personally move to burn the Cradle Empire to the ground, along with everyone inside it."

"The Cradle?" Zargul frowned. "Surely you mean the Radiance Galaxy."

"No. The Cradle." Darvion corrected him with narrowed eyes. "Radiance ceased to matter long ago. The Cradle Empire's constant support—its pearls and military supplies—is what's keeping them alive. It's the reason those so-called Great Six are still able to breathe today..."

"...That has to end."

Then he turned toward Zargul.

"It'll also be a decisive blow if we attack both the Cradle and the Grave at the same time. That way, Lord Robin's legitimate representatives will be wiped out in a single stroke, leaving him as nothing more than a bag full of money with no one left to spend it."

"After that..."

"...we can hunt him down and reclaim what rightfully belongs to us."

He rose to his feet without waiting for a reply.

"I'll return to my Galaxy and begin the preparations. The Syndicate's forces will arrive in Mid Sector 105 within three to four weeks. The day after they arrive, you'll find me in Mid Sector 100 alongside my sons."

Zargul stood as well and firmly shook Darvion's hand.

"Then I'll postpone my offensive so we can begin together."

"It'll be a movement that shakes the entire universe."

Bang!

"Father!!"

At that very moment, a young man rushed into the hall, his hair covering his right eye, his breathing ragged as though he had crossed half the Galaxy without stopping.

"The Seventh Brother is dead!!"

"...?!" Darvion jolted to his feet, his expression instantly changing.

"...?!" Zargul's expression shifted from excitement to utter confusion in an instant. "Your Seventh Brother? The very same brother who was sent to wipe out the True Beginning Galaxy in that damned Young Belt?!"

"That's him—and he was killed by the Crimson Plague!!" The young man hurried forward while holding a light disc tightly in both hands. "Several spacecraft managed to escape before the battle ended, and they recorded everything from beginning to end! Look!!"

"What kind of nonsense is this?!" Zargul shouted, yet despite his disbelief, he immediately waved his hand, snatched the disc, and activated it without wasting another second.

Dooong—

At that moment, a scene capable of making one's blood run cold appeared before them.

A semi-human young man was controlling two Miserable World Arrays, each one powerful enough to erase entire armadas and shatter planets with ease.

But what surrounded him was far more horrifying than the arrays themselves.

It was a scene that looked as though it had crawled straight out of hell.

There stood a crimson-armored female several meters tall, bearing two horns and hundreds of long metallic braids. Those braids lengthened and shortened freely according to her will as though they possessed lives of their own. Using them, she relentlessly assaulted the two Miserable World Arrays from afar, all while keeping both arms folded calmly across her chest, her body remaining perfectly motionless throughout the entire exchange, as though destroying those terrifying arrays required no effort whatsoever.

On the opposite side stood a crimson giant over one hundred meters tall, holding an enormous hammer that looked as though it had been forged for the sole purpose of smashing moons.

The giant rested the massive hammer upon his shoulder and watched silently without making a single move, calmly observing the horned woman as she fiercely battered the Miserable World Arrays, prepared to react the instant anything unexpected occurred, his overwhelming presence alone enough to make the battlefield feel suffocating.

Alongside that epic scene, the Soul Master had already summoned five soul creatures whose strength approached that of World Cataclysms, along with another possessing the power of a Nexus State cultivator. He ordered all of them to attack the crimson female in hopes of buying enough time to escape and retreat before the encirclement completely closed around him.

Yet the recording revealed something even more astonishing.

Dozens of those crimson beings tore the soul creatures apart with overwhelming ease, never allowing them even the slightest opportunity to move in any direction or launch even a single meaningful counterattack before being ripped to pieces.

As for the remaining dozens, they had formed a vast circle around the Soul Master himself, silently watching him like starving predators surrounding a rat drawing its final breaths, patiently waiting for the inevitable outcome without displaying even the slightest hint of urgency.

The most miserable part of the horrifying scene, however, lay beyond that encirclement.

What stretched behind them was nothing less than a graveyard of spacecraft.

The wreckage of thousands of vessels.

The mangled remains of hundreds of thousands of passengers.

Their blood, shattered bodies, and broken debris drifted endlessly through space in every direction, as though that endless sea of death had always been their natural home and no living creature had existed there for a very long time.

The seventh son of the Sorcerer Behemoth was the last survivor.

Even if the horned woman stopped attacking him...

Even if the crimson giant never swung his hammer even once...

He still had no hope of surviving against the countless Nexus State cultivators and World Cataclysms surrounding him on every side, every possible escape route already sealed by overwhelming force.

And indeed...

It didn't take long before one of the metallic braids pierced straight through his heart.