Lord of the Truth
Chapter 1375: Tension between the Allies-4

Chapter 1375: Tension between the Allies-4

"...?!"

Elinor’s eyes widened to their fullest extent, her golden irises flaring with cold hostility.

She scanned the old man from head to toe, her gaze laced with disbelief and latent contempt.

The Maizer Family—humans.

Yes, she knew them, she knew them by name and shape. They had fought against her kind in countless campaigns over tens of thousands of years, always siding with the Iron Boar Empire. Them having several World Cataclysms wasn’t a secret.

But to walk in and pledge fealty to Caesar Burton... so casually, so brazenly?!

Was this senile fool drunk on desperation?

"...Did I arrive at a bad time?"

Raine Maizer’s voice trembled slightly. The instant his eyes met Elinor’s, his knees nearly buckled.

He had entered the tent boldly, trying to catch himself before doubt could slow his steps—before his cowardice returned, as it always did.

But now... he regretted everything.

Her presence was like standing before a collapsed star—drawing everything in with sheer gravity.

And yet—on the other side of that tense silence, Caesar’s smile bloomed like a sun rising over a battlefield. He didn’t even turn to face the man.

"Raen... you’ve chosen well."

"And I, Caesar—son of the great Robin Burton—will reward your loyalty accordingly. After today’s battle, I will personally present you with a welcome gift: six anchor stabilizers of planetary-core grade. Are you satisfied?"

"s-- s...?! Six... planetary cores?!"

Raen’s breath caught in his throat. He staggered half a step, heart racing so violently it nearly jumped out of his chest.

Each of those core stabilizers was worth hundreds of thousands of pearls.

Implanting one into a World Calamity would drastically magnify its power—granting the wielder near-mythical strength.

Only stellar cores outmatched them in purity and potency!

"In exchange," Caesar lifted his chin just slightly—his posture regal, commanding,

"I want six more World Calamities soon out of the Meizer family. We’ve still got a galaxy to burn through."

Raen’s demeanor transformed. His shoulders straightened. His eyes gleamed with fire.

"If my men can’t even breakthrough to World Cataclysm Realm with the help of planetary cores,"

He clenched his fists and laughed.

"Then I will personally slaughter every one of them, Hahaha!!"

With a crazed grin on his face, the old man stormed out of the tent like a storm looking for war.

"Begin the damned battle already!! I’ll gut every last pig myself!!"

"......"

Elinor stared after him, her expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, she turned her piercing gaze back to Caesar. Her eyes were no longer just sharp—they were livid.

"Wipe that idiotic grin off your face," she hissed, her voice deceptively soft.

"Are you really trying to impress me with a handful of mutts and alley cats?"

"Heh~"

Caesar’s grin faltered for a moment. He dropped his gaze momentarily, then looked up again—his tone smooth, unshaken.

"Lady Elinor," he said calmly,

"regarding the pact forged between my father and your queenly sister—I will honor it. Until it’s violated from your side, it remains sacred."

"Your World Cataclysms may continue loitering on our planets, drawing full pay without lifting a finger—just as always. But if you prefer to withdraw them... please, by all means. I’d consider that a relief."

He paused briefly, letting the words settle. Then continued:

"As for our status under the Nine Paths Empire’s banner—I’ll play along, for my father’s sake. But if you’d rather sever that association tomorrow, we can spin any tale the public will swallow. No need to worry about us anymore. You’ll be rid of us—along with the stink of the Iron Boar Empire. The choice is yours, my lady. Decide as you will."

He took a single step forward.

Elinor noticed that he was just slightly taller than her—but in that step, he seemed to loom even larger.

"Now, unless there’s another topic you’d like to interrogate me about," Caesar said, voice low and direct,

"I have a war to begin. May I help you with anything else, Lady Elinor?"

"....."

Her eyes scanned his face, from one eye to the other, as if trying to pierce through his calm into the depths of his soul.

There was... something in this boy.

She couldn’t decide—did she want to strike him down...

...or drag him to her bed?

Both urges were intense. Both felt right.

But before she could choose, Caesar offered her a respectful nod—just enough to acknowledge her rank without groveling.

"I’ll take your silence as a ’no further orders.’ Then, if you’ll excuse me..."

He turned on his heel and walked away—his pace calm, his back straight, his presence undimmed.

Outside the war tent—

"General!"

"Your Highness!"

Caesar nodded left and right, moving confidently between ranks of commanders, elite unit captains, and the newly acquired World Cataclysms now marching under the True Beginning Empire’s banner.

Caesar continued his march forward until he arrived beside a young man standing alone before a large wooden table, completely immersed in the map laid out before him.

The young man wore a polished black-and-gold armor, the gleam of its enchanted metal reflecting the flickering light of the nearby war torches. Draped over his back was a flowing golden cloak, embroidered with silver filaments and marked at the center with the symbol of wind, radiating command and mastery.

"Are you done finalizing the plan?" Caesar asked, placing a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder. He stood beside him, arms crossed, like a general ready to judge the battlefield with his own eyes.

"Almost," the young man replied, his voice calm yet weighted with responsibility. "Though I can’t say if it’s good enough... This is the first time I’ve ever commanded this many World Cataclysms in a single operation."

He didn’t lift his eyes from the map—only when the silence hung did he finally glance up at Caesar.

"Would you like to review or change anything?"

When he turned, Caesar took a brief moment to really look at him.

And what he saw made him smile in genuine admiration.

The young man had the face of a born commander—sharp, noble, and refined. His eyebrows curved like sabers, and his jawline cut like a chiseled blade. His skin was flawless, unmarred by war, and his hazel-brown eyes carried no pain, only clarity. His short honey-brown hair added to his dignified charm, glowing under the torchlight.

"No changes," Caesar said, patting his shoulder with pride.

"This battlefield belongs to you today, Peon. Make it sing."

"Spare me the sentiment," Peon smirked, reaching for his helmet.

"If you keep grinning like that, I’ll scar my face again just to spite you."

He turned toward the darkening skies and added, "I’ll take the skies. You focus on claiming the ground."

"Hahaha, deal!" Caesar laughed, clearly enjoying the banter.

Just then, the ground began to tremble—

Ngrrrrrh~ Correct content is on NovelFire

A monstrous Terra Beast stomped into view.

This one was larger than any other in the camp. With eight muscular legs, five spiraled horns, and an entire body plated in obsidian-gold armor, it looked like a walking fortress of divine wrath.

This was Caesar’s personal war-mount—a living titan, bred for conquest.

"Hup!"

With a single, seamless motion, Caesar leapt atop the beast and gripped the reins.

The war beast began to move slowly through the ranks, parting the army like a god among mortals.

He stopped when he reached the front line—beside two elite commanders.

"Victoria. Alexander. Are you ready?"

Ksssssh—!

Victoria drew her long azure sword, which immediately began to hum with energy as electrified water coiled and shimmered around its edge.

"Ready," she replied with a glint in her eyes.

Zzzzzhhht!

Alexander nocked an arrow to his glowing longbow, its body wrapped in luminous runes.

As soon as he drew the string, the arrow became engulfed in toxic, black wind—a venomous storm waiting to strike.

"Ready."

Both weapons were not ordinary tools of war—

They were Epic-grade relics, bought by Hid Majesty Robin Burton himself, and only recently delivered by the Shadow Swords division.

Each one was a priceless artifact crafted by famed artisans, containing the power to shift the tide of battle.

"Good," Caesar nodded.

He donned his helmet, letting it lock into place with a hiss of steam.

Then drew his halberd, its edge flickering with runic flames, and turned his gaze forward—toward the endless mountain range that loomed like the edge of the world.

Fwooosh—!

Suddenly, the sky above them ignited.

A massive energy projectile, glowing like a miniature sun, ripped across the sky and hurtled straight toward the mountains.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!

In the blink of an eye, the central mountain vanished in a column of fire and light.

Not a single stone touched the ground—the explosion had vaporized the entire summit.

And from the ash and fire...

They emerged.

A massive army, stretching across the horizon, casting shadows that drenched the battlefield in darkness.

Their banners fluttered like nightmares. Their war cries echoed like thunder.

Caesar recognized them instantly.

With no hesitation, he raised his halberd to the heavens and bellowed:

"Eradicate them—leave none breathing!"

Krrrk—Krrrk—!

Suddenly, a titanic mothership pierced through the clouds above—

The size of a floating city, accompanied by an entire war fleet of escort vessels, each with glowing energy shields and banks of armed cannons preparing to fire.

Soaring around them was a legion of Drako beasts, their wings slicing the sky, their screeches rivaling thunder.

At the head of the formation, riding the largest Drako, Peon drew two glowing golden swords—

Shoooosh—!

They ignited in a violent aura of purple stormwind, dark and absolute.

"The skies belong to us today!" Peon declared, his voice crashing like a war horn through the heavens.

"Hehe~" Caesar grinned, satisfied.

He no longer needed to worry about the upper front. Peon would handle it—

And that gave him peace of mind.

He lowered his gaze once again. The fire in his eyes returned.

He pointed forward with his glaive and cried:

"Advance— to glory!"

BOOOOOOM!

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Around forty thousand Rune Knights began their march—

Armored from head to toe, each mounted atop intelligent, powerful Terra Beasts bred for war.

Their movements were synchronized, and their presence filled the air with a bloody pressure.

Behind them, the Special Forces—a smaller, deadlier division of around four thousand—advanced quietly.

Though on foot, they were equipped with the best of both Terra and Drako beasts, and their bloodlust radiated like a furnace behind steel masks.

They were ready to descend on land... or strike from the sky.

At the very back—

Standing motionless before the Grand General’s tent, Elinor watched the march unfold with breathless awe.

Before the unstoppable march of that monstrous army, she suddenly recalled the most arrogant phrase she had ever heard in her life:

"Even if a Behemoth’s army tries to stop us, we will still win."

Perhaps... just perhaps...

Those words were not so empty after all.