Chapter Forty-Five Gathering
On the frontlines of the Empire.
Both sides are engaged in a brief standoff.
The Chosen of Eternity is gathering his troops: the Northerners from the North, the demon army, and the beastmen from the Chaotic Wasteland are converging under his banner.
The army of destruction is ferocious; despite the Empire’s unyielding resistance, using blood and ashes to fertilize their homeland.
But in just under two years, the Empire is burning, with half of its territory turned to wasteland.
Within the Empire, the Electors, city defense forces, knightly orders, and various churches are tightly united in their efforts to save the Empire.
However, the Emperor himself knows that this battle has already been lost before it even began.
The army of destruction is overwhelming in numbers. The Northerners continuously land on the Empire’s northern shores, committing arson, murder, and robbery along the way.
Beastmen from the forests are pouring out to serve as beasts of burden for the army of destruction. Now, half of the Celestial Maelstrom is ruined, and the world is filled with magical winds; cracks are everywhere in the territories lost by the Empire.
The magical winds blowing in from the Demon Realm persistently flood the mortal realm.
Many demons can exist directly in the mortal world.
People are pinning their hopes on the high elves, hoping they can fix the “Great Maelstrom” soon.
But the message from the Adolph High Elven Embassy is despairing.
The Emperor looks at the letter in front of him, silent.
Written in the name of the President of the High Elven War Council, the high elves reject all military support because they are currently fighting the dark elves. Half of the content of the letter contains accusations against their dark relatives for their numerous crimes.
As for the Great Maelstrom?
They are busy plundering it.
As for the rest of the allies of the Shield of Civilization?
The Knight Nation of Bartow, which is also human, is caught in an unprecedented civil war and is completely unable to support the Empire.
It was originally fine, but suddenly a bastard son emerged—the illegitimate child of the Lionheart King, who wants to compete for the throne with him. It is said that he is very strong, and there are vague reports claiming that he is a vampire.
This makes the Emperor of the Empire feel a headache.
In the tent, the flickering candlelight was dim, as if it would extinguish at any moment—just like the current situation.
The Emperor sits alone in the tent, reminiscing once again about the failure over a year ago; it was that major coalition defeat that led to the loss of the territory of the Kingdom of Kislev.
The Chosen of Eternity is too powerful; his army of destruction has scorched the land with iron boots and flames, destroying half of the Empire.
The speed of the sieges and raids is unprecedented in history.
The Emperor of the Empire lets out a low sigh, with his facial muscles drooping and the flesh under his chin soft.
He initially tried his best to unite the Electors, waging wars everywhere to prepare for today, but now half of the Empire is burning.
It clearly indicates his incompetence; he is nothing but an imposter—no need to say it, just an imposter, letting everyone down and wasting the blood of brave warriors.
A few minutes later.
The Emperor of the Empire walks out of the tent. His facial muscles are tense, and the flesh under his chin is firm; he appears determined and resolute, showing no signs of the previous despair.
The soldiers turn to look at him—the leaders of the knightly orders, battle mages, bishops of the church, and imperial generals, each with varying expressions. The grand sermon had just declared the doctrine of doom, pointing out that according to ancient forbidden texts, now is the time of the end, and the world will be destroyed with no one left to survive.
But upon seeing the expression of the Emperor, the originally oppressive and hopeless atmosphere lightens considerably.
“Your Majesty.”
A Rick Guard raises his faceplate and says, “The Holy Hall Hero wishes to meet with you in person.”
Someone exclaims, “Isn’t he missing?”
The Emperor of the Empire says, “I have read the letter he wrote; he said he would pursue the succubus, Ji Ma, and just returned a month ago.”
“Do we have someone from the Holy Hall here?” Another asks, “Can we verify him?”
“Can’t we just have him reveal the Holy Sword?”
“Perhaps he has already fallen; he might just be under the deceptive fog of the Weird Lord, deceiving the world, just like Galt.”
According to the latest intelligence, he publicly condemned the succubus Ji Ma, leading the demon army and occupying Vanguard City.
It’s not surprising; his succubus fiancée is ultimately a demon. He, a paladin, upholding justice, yet only spared her. He must have long been corrupted and fallen.
Hearing Galt’s name makes the Emperor’s heart sting.
Galt is the head of the Imperial Magic Academy, a steadfast ally and friend of the Emperor, a genius in alchemy, unique in the history of the Empire.
He, alongside the Emperor and the leader of the Sigma Church—Walker, are known as the three heroes of the Empire.
But now, Walker and his battle priests died on the battlefield, holding the bridge at Prague to cover the retreat of the imperial army, killed under the sword of the Chosen of Eternity, their bodies remaining in the hands of the demon race.
As for Galt.
At the most critical time for the Empire, he betrayed it, secretly studying necromancy with a deep understanding.
Initially, if he had only been learning forbidden magic in secret, the Emperor could have turned a blind eye.
Some noblewomen in the city even secretly go to the forests to consort with beastmen.
As long as he remains loyal, as long as he fights for the Empire, even if he uses the forbidden necromantic spells, even if he desecrates human souls, the Emperor can accept and defend him.
But.
He betrayed the Empire, used necromancy, assassinated Electors, and then fled in guilt, vanishing without a trace.
Witch hunters found traces of the Weird Lord at the scene of the crime.
Several eyewitnesses at the scene claimed that Galt used a magical technique to conceal the traces of necromancy on himself and went to visit the Electors, claiming he was framed.
Without a doubt, he had already betrayed humanity, betrayed the Order Camp, and sided with the Weird Lord.
At that time, the three of them had gathered together, swearing to revitalize the Empire and eliminate the evil forces within.
The Emperor could not help but sigh, realizing that everyone had finished discussing without him noticing, all their eyes now on him.
What did they just say? What conclusions did they reach? How could he have been lost in thought for just a moment?
The Emperor’s mind went blank.
Everyone looked at the Emperor, and the Emperor looked back at them, hoping someone would give him a hint.
Silence.
The Emperor is in deep thought, and no one wishes to disturb him.
After a few minutes of mutual staring.
The Emperor of the Empire: “Meet him.”
Someone drew their sword, saying, “Your Majesty, be cautious of assassination.”
The Emperor of the Empire smiled: “If he can assassinate me, I’d rather die on the battlefield sooner.”
Everyone thought: Sure enough, the Emperor is confident and magnanimous.
The person who drew the sword felt their vision too narrow, sheepishly sheathing their sword.
As George bore the Holy Sword, led by the guards, striding toward the Emperor.
The Emperor looks at the Holy Sword on his shoulder and wonders why no one asked him to surrender his weapon.
What if he tries to assassinate me?
He looks left and right, seeing that everyone around him has the same expression of great imperial stature.
Very familiar.
The Emperor suddenly remembers that it was George who requested to come armed; they had discussed it earlier.
But things have come to this point, asking others to disarm would seem overly petty.
Thus, the Emperor could only steel himself.
