Emperor's Reckoning

Chapter 1190 - 1K+ Fertilizers, Freshly made

Lyon stood up and yawned, stretching his arms casually as the wails of the devil cultivators filled the air.

"Have some rest, Yala. You will see your mother before you remember to drink," Lyon declared with a nonchalant tone.

Yala could only watch Lyon’s face from the side in awe. A realization dawned upon her that every exaggerated tale in the history about Lyon ’Zodiac’ Torga was true. The significance of it all was now deadly apparent. He, who once reached the Zenith of cultivation, had now returned—youthful as ever, wild as ever, and seemingly weak as never.

The scene oscillated back and forth between Lyon overwhelming the devil cultivators and the revelation from Luce.

"He saw my son’s death?" Cecile asked in disbelief, her eyes reflecting a mixture of shock and sorrow.

Luce nodded solemnly.

"You know very well if you lie to—" Cecile began, her tone sharp.

"I won’t dare," Luce interjected, shaking her head with a sense of urgency.

As Lyon continued to bask in the blessing of Muspell, the Almighty Ox, tearing apart the battlefield in a display of raw power, the chaos unfolded in sync with the mayhem brought by Rakumtatak.

"When did he know?" asked Selena, her voice tinged with concern and curiosity.

"It must be before the disbandment of his empire," Cecile speculated, her mind retracing the timeline of events.

"Yes, you’re precisely right," Luce affirmed, acknowledging Cecile’s insight with a nod of agreement.

Meanwhile, Lyon fought with a smile on his face, his movements fluid and deadly, yet a hint of rage smoldered behind his eyes as he continued his relentless slaughter.

"He was one that never afraid to die, but he does have his own fear," said Luce, revealing a layer of vulnerability in Lyon’s character. "And his son, his precious son was exactly that. He saw his son’s death, not his own."

"Sein’s existence was, under his decree, to be hidden and not exposed," Cecile added, providing insight into the clandestine nature of Lyon’s son. "Not even the mythical beasts are known about Sein’s existence, all except maybe, for one."

"The pig..." Selena uttered, recalling a mysterious entity Lyon rarely spoke about.

"Yes, he didn’t talk much about him, but he is a powerful entity," confirmed Cecile, deepening the mystery surrounding Sein and his connection to Lyon’s past. The fantastical realm, steeped in secrets, held threads of destiny that continued to unravel in unexpected ways.

"And he is also the one that makes his return a possibility, despite his soul being nearly extinguished," Selena revealed, shedding light on the crucial role played by the mysterious entity Lyon rarely spoke about.

"The Samsara, the item that makes rebirth possible," Cecile added, explaining the mechanism behind Lyon’s remarkable return to the realm of the living.

As Lyon continued to pulverize a devil cultivator, using both feet to stomp one adversary and skillfully catching blades from both sides, the intricate web of connections between Lyon, his past, and the enigmatic elements that facilitated his return unfolded in the midst of the ongoing battle. The Samsara, a key to the cyclical nature of life and death, cast its shadow over Lyon’s narrative.

"Then what does he intend to do with that cursed knowledge?" questioned Selena, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Fight it," responded Cecile with determination. "He was not tempted by fate; he was fighting to change the outcome."

Meanwhile, Lyon seamlessly joined Kesya, showcasing a synergy that overwhelmed their adversaries. The war quickly tilted in favor of Lyon and his allies, leaving their foes with no choice but to contemplate fleeing. Realizing that their combined strength was incapable of flipping the tide of the battle, escape became their only option—a desperate attempt to warn their lord and find an alternative path in the face of Lyon’s relentless advance.

As the fleeing devil cultivators rushed through the chaotic battlefield, panic and desperation painted their expressions. One exclaimed, "We need to warn Lord Nifelheim! This is beyond our capabilities!" Another, breathing heavily, added, "That Zodiac Emperor... he’s no ordinary opponent!"

Their relief at the prospect of escape, however, morphed into shock as they reached the anticipated exit. Rakumtatak, the Ogre Emperor, stood imposingly in their path, his axe gleaming with an ominous aura. "Leaving so soon?" he sneered, his voice reverberating through the air. The devil cultivators exchanged fearful glances, realizing that their retreat had led them directly into the grasp of another formidable adversary. The unfolding events left them with a stark realization—they were caught between the relentless force of Lyon and the indomitable might of Rakumtatak, their escape route now an inescapable trap.

A tremor of fear rippled through their ranks as Rakumtatak’s eyes bore into theirs, each one feeling the weight of their impending doom. "You thought you could flee from the wrath of the Emperor and live to tell the tale?" he growled, his voice echoing with menace. The devil cultivators, their resolve crumbling under the pressure of impending confrontation, found themselves at a loss for words. Panic surged within them as they grasped the magnitude of their predicament—trapped between two titans of power, their only recourse was to face the consequences of their actions head-on.

With no avenue of escape and no hope of evading their fate, the devil cultivators braced themselves for the inevitable clash, knowing that their encounter with Rakumtatak would be a trial by fire—one that would test their mettle and determine their ultimate destiny in the unfolding chaos of war.

Amidst the battlefield’s tumult, a desperate cry echoed through the air, cutting through the chaos like a dagger. "You may have our deaths! But the Lord of Purgatory will have yours!" The fervent declaration hung in the air, a solemn oath uttered with the weight of impending doom. The devil cultivator, his voice resolute, threw the gauntlet against Rakumtatak, an act of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds.

Rakumtatak, the Ogre Emperor, met the challenge with a wry smile, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "He has to stand in line!" The words, laced with grim humor, carried an air of nonchalance, as if Rakumtatak saw the impending confrontation not as a threat but as a mere inconvenience.

As the devil cultivators gathered for their final march, a palpable tension hung in the air, the atmosphere thick with the anticipation of a clash between forces on opposing ends of the cosmic spectrum. The devil cultivators, driven by a zealous fervor, surged forward, their collective determination cutting through the battlefield’s disarray.

Rakumtatak, a lone colossus, stepped forth to face the onslaught. Each footfall resonated with an ominous cadence, a prelude to the imminent clash that would decide the fate of those caught in the throes of war.

Harvestasya’s words hung in the air like a heavy mist, casting a somber tone over the once chaotic battlefield. The Ice Spirit, still grappling with the shock of the revelation, stared at Harvestasya with wide-eyed disbelief.

"It’s over," Harvestasya repeated, her tone carrying a mix of resignation and detachment. The gravity of her words settled like a heavy burden, the weight of the aftermath sinking in.

"W-What’s over?" stammered the Ice Spirit, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of Harvestasya’s statement.

"Over a thousand fresh fertilizers were made to green Sixth Hell," Harvestasya calmly disclosed, her words unraveling the gruesome reality of the recent events. The Ice Spirit, now understanding the true extent of the devastation, stood frozen in place, unable to articulate a response to the overwhelming truth that had unfolded.

The patriarch of the Orc Clan, his heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and curiosity, dared to venture onto the battlefield despite the elders’ warnings. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead as he cautiously observed the aftermath. The devastation was undeniable, but what caught his attention was the sight that defied all expectations.

Rakumtatak, with a victorious gleam in his eyes, surveyed the aftermath of the brutal competition. The battlefield was strewn with the fallen bodies of devil cultivators, their lives extinguished in a macabre display of power. He stood as the undeniable winner, the one who had reaped the majority of kills with his formidable prowess.

On the other hand, Lyon, standing in front of Rakumtatak and accompanied by Kesya, bore a different kind of triumph. His role in the carnage was marked by a staggering number of assists, nearly 99% of all the kills attributed to his bloodline powers. It was a testament to Lyon’s tactical brilliance and ability to turn the tide of battle without necessarily being the one to deliver the final blow. The synergy between the two emperors, each excelling in their own unique way, painted a vivid picture of their dominance on the battlefield.

The synergy between the two emperors, each excelling in their own unique way, painted a vivid picture of their dominance on the battlefield. The numbers spoke of a deadly partnership, where Rakumtatak’s sheer might was complemented by Lyon’s calculated finesse, creating a force that left no room for opposition.