Emperor's Reckoning

Chapter 1314: Battles and Wars

Tiangou, the Meteor Dog, yawned lazily atop a nearby tree, his silver fur shimmering faintly in the sunlight. "There’s a weird feeling being this close to the source of the sun," he muttered, his ears twitching as though sensing something beyond their sight.

Lyon glanced up at him, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Sadly, there are no beasts around in Paradise. It’s a barren land for creatures like you."

Tiangou’s smirk widened, his golden eyes glinting. "I wouldn’t be so sure about that, kid."

Lyon raised a brow at the cryptic remark. A faint shiver ran down his spine, goosebumps rising unbidden. "Well then, Uncle Tiangou, I’ll welcome whatever surprises you have in store."

Tiangou let out a soft chuckle before closing his eyes. "Watch and learn, boy. Watch and learn." With that, he drifted back into his nap, leaving an air of mystery hanging in the breeze.

Lyon turned his attention back to the gathered clan heads: Atrum, Alistair, Aelius, and Amara. They stood tense, their collective presence charged but wary. "Atrum," Lyon called out, his tone steady but edged with authority, "do you have any more questions?"

Atrum exchanged glances with the others, his throat bobbing in a swallow. Then, with a faint smile, he said, "I see now, numbers aren’t your game, are they, Your Excellency?"

"Numbers only tell part of the story," Lyon replied with a smirk. "You can throw a thousand men at me, but in war, it’s not about how many; it’s about how."

Amara nodded solemnly, her voice steady but heavy. "Every year, we send the best of the best from the Heavens to ascend Paradise. Even their lowest ranks were once our strongest champions."

"And yet," Lyon interjected, "those champions might excel in battle—but in war?" His smirk deepened. "In war, anything goes."

"Well said," Aleysius chimed in, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Battles are fought within the bounds of rules, honor, and expectations. But war? In war, there are no such lines. Only survival and demise determine the victors."

Simak leaned forward, his sharp eyes scanning the clan heads. "Have any of you ever faced a full-scale war before?"

Silence gripped the group. Alistair finally broke it with a hesitant nod. "I’ve fought duels. Many duels. But a war...?" He trailed off.

Simak scoffed lightly. "Duels are a dance of honor, a fight under agreed terms. War is no such thing. It’s chaos. One moment you’re striking forward, and the next, someone’s plunged a dagger into your back—or both of you are taken out by a third party."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Aelius hesitated, then asked quietly, "Can the All-Father even be killed?"

Lyon’s smile was faint, but his confidence was unshakable. "Yes. Don’t think of him as some omnipotent entity. He’s alive, just like us. Mortal in the end, only much older. That’s his edge, not his invincibility."

The quiet that followed was thick with unspoken questions and unease. Lyon’s calm gaze met each of theirs in turn, unwavering and resolute.

Amara stepped forward, her tone steady but laced with urgency. "What do you want us to do?"

Lyon’s gaze swept over the four clan heads before settling on her. "Persevere," he said simply. "Your role in the war will be small, but vital."

"Persevere...?" Alistair echoed, his brows knitting together in confusion.

"Yes," Lyon said with a calm nod. "Leave the big battles to my side. But be warned—when the time comes, you might find yourselves standing against your former clan members. Ex-members, if you will."

The weight of his words caused a ripple of unease among them. Simak stepped in, his tone sharp. "And make no mistake, they will not hesitate to end you, dear patriarchs..." He paused, glancing at Amara. "And of course, you too, matriarch."

Amara’s lips tightened, but she held his gaze. "What about the deal?"

"The deal?" Lyon raised a brow in mild surprise.

Cecile, ever composed, stepped beside him to clarify. "She means the arrangement concerning her elder sister."

"Ah," Lyon said, realization dawning. "You want to save her? It’s not impossible."

Amara’s eyes gleamed with hope. "Truly?"

Lyon smirked. "I mean, I came back from the dead, didn’t I?"

"Speaking of which..." Cecile tilted her head and looked upward. "Harvestasya, it’s time."

From atop a nearby tower, a figure nodded—a young woman with serene confidence. "Yes, Master." She waved her hand, and the ground beneath the clan heads began to glow faintly.

"What—?" Atrum looked down, his eyes widening as a magical brand formed beneath their feet.

"Your Excellency?" he called out in alarm, but Lyon’s expression remained calm.

"For as long as you need my blade, Your Excellency!" Alistair declared, nodding firmly.

"The Red Lotus stands with you, Your Majesty," Amara added, bowing slightly.

"The harmonious nature of the heavens will find its home again," Aelius said solemnly.

Lyon smirked, raising a hand in dismissal. "There’s no need to incite aggression toward the other two clans, but if they ask where your allegiance lies, tell them my title. Under my protection, even the rain must seek my permission before it dares to wet you."

With a final wave of his hand, the four figures vanished in an instant, leaving only a faint shimmer of the brand where they had stood.

"What’s wrong?" Aleysius asked, narrowing his eyes as he followed Lyon’s brisk pace.

"Follow me, Father. You’ll want to see this," Lyon said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He led the group toward an underground chamber.

When they entered, Aleysius’s breath hitched. The room wasn’t what one would expect of a basement—it was a masterpiece of elegance. The walls gleamed with a pristine finish, intricate carvings adorned the pillars, and soft light emanated from orbs hanging from the ceiling. The entire space was immaculate, refined down to the smallest detail. Yet, despite its beauty, its true grandeur lay in its sheer spaciousness. At the very center sat a woman, her form composed and serene, her eyes closed in deep focus.

"What an incredible flow of Ley," Aleysius murmured, his eyes darting to the invisible currents swirling around her. "Who is she?"

"My wife, Maria," Lyon said, his voice swelling with pride.

Aleysius’s eyes widened, but before he could comment, Simak interjected, his tone light but loaded with meaning. "Fun fact: she also mastered the Song of Destruction from Mother."

"She what?!" Aleysius’s voice was sharp, his disbelief apparent. "How is that even possible?"

"Through her scripture," Lyon explained, crossing his arms. "We found it together, but Maria deciphered it on her own. Not only that—she mastered it. Yet she’s never used it."

"She better not," Aleysius said, shaking his head. "That song isn’t just powerful—it’s a weapon of mass annihilation. It disrupts the rhythm of energy at its very core. Any cultivator connected to the source will be devastated, no matter their strength. Ley is the purest source, compatible with both mana and anti-mana. Do you understand the havoc that would unleash?"

"That’s exactly what she said," Lyon admitted, letting out a sigh. "The scripture carried stern warnings, and she’s taken them seriously. Still... has she ever used it?"

Aleysius’s face grew grave. He exhaled slowly. "She did. Once. On her last breath." His voice faltered, his eyes meeting Lyon’s. "And you, son... you were the price."

Lyon’s brows knitted together. "What are you saying?"

Simak’s eyes narrowed as realization dawned on him. "So that’s it," he whispered, his voice thick with understanding. "That’s why..."

"What ’why’?" Lyon asked, his confusion deepening. "Someone explain what’s going on."

Aleysius turned his head slightly, his gaze locking with Rakumtatak. With a silent understanding, the orc grunted and nodded. Without a word, he left the room. Despite his rough exterior, the Ogre Emperor recognized when a matter wasn’t his to witness.

When the heavy doors shut behind Rakumtatak, Aleysius finally spoke. His tone was heavy, filled with emotions Lyon rarely heard from him. "Your mother sang the Song of Destruction and in its process, you were sapped from your true talents, your meridians were as well emptied out. You’ve become blank."