Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 290: Turkin Kingdom

Chapter 290: Turkin Kingdom

Vlad and Jormungandr immediately adopted solemn expressions, their eyes cold and calculating as they absorbed the gravity of the word "threat." If there was an enemy on the horizon, they needed to deal with it swiftly and decisively—protecting the civilians of the Xaos Kingdom was paramount.

"Demons or angels?" Vlad’s voice was sharp. His mind jumped to the usual forces that sought to enslave Terra. Aliens were a clear threat in his eyes, deserving of immediate eradication. But Overlord’s response diverted his train of thought.

"The possible threat stems from the south, Prime Master, and they are human. They are the people from the Turkin Country."

Vlad’s eyes narrowed. He was familiar with the Turkin Country. While it was massive in size, its population was not even half that of Constantine Country.

The Turkin Country was largely agrarian, sprawling with farms, wilderness, and untamed mountains—a land where nature thrived more than civilization. Its cities were modest, and its military had always been seen as adequate but not particularly threatening. The real power of the Turkin Country lay in its resources: vast fields, plentiful livestock, and a land teeming with life.

"Are they attacking us?" Vlad asked, his voice low but with a clear edge. There was no ambiguity with alien forces—if they existed, they were hostile. But handling a human faction was a more delicate matter. While he sought to dominate the entire planet, Vlad did not necessarily want to slaughter every human who opposed him.

"According to my surveillance, their troops have not invaded our domains, Prime Master. They have, in fact, sent an emissary requesting a meeting at the border," Overlord explained before adding his own analysis. "It is likely they wish to gauge our strength before deciding whether to open communication or attempt to subdue us."

Vlad nodded slowly, considering the situation. He turned to Overlord once more. "What information can you give me about their forces?"

"They refer to themselves as the Turkin Kingdom, ruled by a king named Viserin. I have focused most of our surveillance and scouting on the west and east, where our expansion efforts are concentrated. The southern region has not been prioritized strategically until now, so my data is limited. However, based on available information, they are fielding at least one hundred thousand soldiers. Beyond that, anything would be speculation."

Vlad processed this information, understanding that the south had not previously been a focal point. He then turned toward Jormungandr, who was watching the exchange intently.

"What do you think about this?" Vlad asked, his tone inviting the small yellow cat’s perspective.

Jormungandr remained silent for a moment, his dark eyes contemplative as he considered all the variables. After several seconds, he spoke, his voice calm and measured.

"If they want to talk, let’s talk. We’ve just emerged from a great war, expending considerable resources in the process. We should focus on expanding our territories and eradicating any alien presence. Avoiding a new war would be for the best. But," Jormungandr paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, "if they refuse diplomacy, then we should kill them all."

Vlad’s eyes narrowed, not uttering a word, but he nodded in agreement. Jormungandr’s logic was sound: first seek peace, but be ready to annihilate any threat to the Xaos Kingdom if negotiations failed. His gaze sharpened as he turned back to Overlord.

"Accept the meeting. Make it happen in two weeks," Vlad commanded.

Overlord’s response was swift. "Yes, Prime Master."

With the decision made, the room fell into a tense silence. Vlad and Jormungandr both knew that the coming days would require careful preparation. If King Viserin sought war, they would need to be ready to crush him and his forces swiftly. However, if peace could be secured, it would allow the Xaos Kingdom the time it needed to focus on more significant threats.

As the two stood there in contemplation, Vlad’s mind raced through the possibilities. He would need to prepare for every outcome—diplomacy, battle, or something in between.

Jormungandr broke the silence, his voice low. "I’ll begin preparing the elixirs. We may need them soon."

Vlad nodded. "Do it. I’ll begin organizing our forces. If the Turkin Kingdom tries anything, they won’t live long enough to regret it."

With that, they both turned to their respective tasks. Their Depravitas were ready to take care of anything in their path.

---

Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye, and now, on the border between the Constantine Country and the Turkin Kingdom, a formidable army had gathered. The scene was one of sheer intensity, the air thick with the scent of beasts.

Fifty thousand soldiers stood strong, each unleashing the aura of a hardened veteran, and their presence alone sent ripples through the land. They were not your typical regimented army but a force that seemed to echo the wild, nomadic nature of their upbringing.

The Turkin Kingdom’s soldiers wore armor not crafted from iron or steel but from the skins of monsters they had hunted and killed. Massive furs, thick hides, and scaled skins of slain creatures covered their bodies, serving not only as protection but also as proof of their prowess. These men and women wore their victories, draped in the remnants of their foes, each pelt a mark of personal triumph.

The soldiers’ eyes gleamed with hunger—an insatiable drive not just for survival but for dominance. They were like predators, always seeking the next challenge, the next kill.

Many of the strongest soldiers were mounted atop gigantic beasts, creatures that resembled wild predators from the deep mountains or dense forests of the Turkin lands. Wolves with glowing eyes, boars the size of small houses, and reptiles with thick, scaled bodies moved restlessly under their riders.

At the vanguard stood the strongest among them, a group of warriors whose presence commanded respect and fear alike. These were the Champions of the Turkin Kingdom, the elite who had earned their places through relentless combat and survival in their homeland’s harsh, untamed and wild lands.