As the forces of the Xaos Kingdom methodically set up their encampment, the sense of urgency within the Azarin Empire’s capital reached a fever pitch. From atop the white walls, His Holiness Jerom’s panic only deepened with each passing moment, the dread evident in his eyes.
’This distance is more than enough for that man to unleash that energy beam and strike the capital!’ The sight of the enemy so close was enough to stoke the flames of his fear, as the trauma from the Strong Hammer Military Base still haunted him. However, soon that fear turned into a blazing inferno of frustration and rage.
Jerom’s eyes burned with fury as he turned to the generals, who had yet to obey his command and refused to mobilize the soldiers, making them march outside the capital. The anger that simmered beneath the surface began to boil over, and without warning, Jerom raised his energy in a surge of raw power.
A crushing pressure radiated from Jerom, sweeping over the assembled generals like an invisible storm. The sheer force of his divine aura was suffocating, and many of the men staggered under the weight, their faces contorted in pain. Even if he was an old, traumatized, and petty man, he was still a High Champion with control over Divine Force, so his power was immense.
Richard felt his knees buckle slightly as he tried to resist the overwhelming pressure. He was a Level 6 Champion, but the full might of the High Champion Priest was far beyond anything he could endure. A sense of helplessness washed over him and the rest of the generals, their years of battle experience rendered insignificant in the face of the Pope’s divine power.
Jerom’s voice boomed across the wall, his fury manifested in every word. "You dare defy me? You incompetent fools! I am the head of the Church of Glory, and the voice of Goddess Lucia!" His voice grew louder, and his divine aura intensified, looming over the generals like a guillotine. "If you cannot follow my orders, I will see to it that new generals are brought to replace you—ones who understand their place!"
The generals exchanged desperate, pained glances, knowing that disobedience would mean their death. Yet, they also knew that sending soldiers out of the city would be a suicide mission. They were torn between their own survival and the safety of the capital.
And then, in the midst of this chaos, another voice cut through the air. It was not loud, but its authority was absolute, and its arrival sent a ripple of silence through the entire battlement.
"That will be enough, Jerom."
The voice was calm, and firm, and carried an undeniable power that made even Jerom’s pressure seem to fade. All eyes turned toward the new arrival, a figure that appeared at the top of the wall with a commanding aura. His presence alone seemed to ease the suffocating tension in the air.
It was a middle-aged man, his posture regal, his bearing exuding both strength and control. He wore a white crown atop his head that glowed with immense power, and his robes were embroidered with gold, marking him as the sovereign of the empire. The man was none other than Emperor Dimitry of the Azarin Empire.
Jerom’s eyes narrowed as he heard those words and saw the middle-aged man arrive. His expression tightened, and for the briefest instant, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Dimitry, despite his calm demeanor, was not someone to be trifled with.
"Your Majesty," Jerom said, his voice lower now but still tense. "The enemy is at our gates. We cannot allow them to settle so close without acting. I am merely ensuring that your generals are—"
Dimitry raised a hand, silencing Jerom instantly. "You have done enough, Jerom." His tone was measured, but there was a clear finality to his words. "There will be no more reckless orders."
The emperor’s gaze swept across the assembled generals, his presence immediately calming them. Unlike Jerom, who ruled through fear and intimidation and whose understanding of battlefield strategy was negligible, Dimitry commanded respect and loyalty with quiet strength and great wisdom.
Richard and the rest of the generals straightened, small smiles of relief appearing on their faces, grateful that the emperor had intervened.
Jerom, however, was not so easily deterred. His anger smoldered just beneath the surface, and he glared at Dimitry without fear. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, the longer we wait, the stronger they will become. We must strike now while we still have the advantage. Goddess Lucia would not want those mongrels near her home."
Dimitry’s eyes narrowed, a sharpness entering his gaze. "And what advantage would that be, Jerom? They are entrenched, positioned just out of the range of our walls’ energy attacks. You would send our soldiers into a death trap. I am certain Goddess Lucia would not want that either."
Jerom’s eyes flashed for a moment as he recognized how Dimitry deftly invoked the name of Goddess Lucia, matching his own rhetoric. But Jerom was determined to send the soldiers out. Unfortunately for the pope, before he could press further, the emperor cut him off.
"Of course, if the Paladins and Priests of the Church are willing to fight alongside our military forces, I could reconsider," Dimitry said, his eyes sharp. "I’m sure the wisdom you bring as the leader of the Church would be invaluable on the battlefield."
Jerom’s eyes widened as he heard that. He didn’t care how many imperial soldiers perished, which was why he commanded them to march toward the enemy without a second thought. But the forces of the Church of Glory were different. Not only were they much harder to train than normal soldiers, but they also belonged to him.
It’s easy to burn someone else’s assets, but when it comes to your own, the decisions become much more complicated.
The tension between the emperor and the Pope was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed as though the air itself crackled with unspoken conflict. Jerom’s pride was bruised, but he knew better than to challenge Dimitry directly. While the emperor’s power level might not match his, the treasures he possessed granted him the battle power of a High Champion.
Jerom clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, but he nodded. "I understand, Your Majesty. I will defer to your judgment and take a more measured approach."
Dimitry nodded, turning his attention back to the horizon where the enemy forces continued to set up camp. His expression hardened as he assessed the situation. "We will not act rashly," he said to the generals. "Our walls are strong, and our forces are prepared. We will let them make the first move and use our position to our advantage. Do not allow panic to dictate your actions. We must learn their strength before deciding how to crush them."
The generals, their confidence restored by Dimitry’s presence, bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty!"
As Dimitry turned to leave, he paused beside Jerom, his voice low enough that only the Pope could hear. "I understand your fear, brother. But do not let it cloud your judgment. We will face this threat as one, not divided by your impulses."
Jerom’s jaw clenched. His pride had been wounded deeply, but he knew that he could not openly defy the emperor. "I understand, little brother. I will make sure to mobilize the forces of the Church so they are prepared to battle at any moment."
Vlad had been watching the events unfold atop the white wall with a wide smile on his face. The panic, dread, and internal conflict arising between the Pope and the generals was excellent news for the Xaos Kingdom.
’If they were foolish enough to march outside the walls, I would make sure to annihilate the Azarin Empire’s forces, and this war would end in days.’ However, just as it seemed things would go his way, a man with a white crown appeared on the walls and defused the situation.
’Ahhh, they were so close to dooming themselves,’ Vlad lamented as he saw the renewed cohesion and strength among the generals with the arrival of the man with the white crown. ’Mmm, I guess there are competent people in the capital after all.’
It wasn’t hard for Vlad to figure out their battle plan. It was clear they would remain inside their walls, biding their time, using their magic formations to wear down his forces as they advanced. But there was no way Vlad hadn’t prepared for such a scenario.
Taking out his communication gem, Vlad sent a message to all the legion’s leaders. "Let the soldiers rest. Use the night to recover our strength and replenish our energy."
Freya, Jormungandr, Grand Marshal Anglius, and many others legion’s leaders heard the message and nodded. While every day was important, their forces were tired. It was time to rest, as tomorrow the true war would begin.