Lord of the Truth
Chapter 1377: The Third Army’s Dream

Chapter 1377: The Third Army’s Dream

Planet Nihari – Central Region

Step... step...

General Kandal, the right hand of the Supreme General of the Third Army, strode heavily across the towering wall of a colossal city. His every footfall echoed power and purpose, until he reached the edge of the wall and came to a stop. There, he cast a long, unbroken gaze in every direction, taking in the vast lands that sprawled out beneath him.

The resplendent blue armor he wore shimmered under the alien sunlight, making him impossible to miss from any corner of the city. Strapped across his broad back was a monstrous sword—nearly the length of his body—radiating a silent threat that needed no words. His massive frame was a terrifying sight, with two sharp, upward-curving horns protruding from his skull, a prominent beast-like jawline, and dagger-like fangs barely concealed beneath closed lips. His muscles swelled with quiet tension, so defined they were visible even through his gauntlets, and his thick neck resembled the gnarled trunk of an ancient war tree. Folded behind him were two leathery wings—silent, still, and deadly.

Everything about General Kandal exuded raw dominance and command. And yet, those who had faced him in battle knew that his fearsome appearance was the least of their worries.

After mere seconds of scanning the landscape, Kandal inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the electric air of war. Then, in a thunderous roar that seemed to split the clouds:

"ADVAAANCE!!"

BOOOOOOO~~!!

The war horn followed his command, sounding across the entire city like the bellow of a divine beast. Intertwined with it were strands of ancient sound laws and emotion magic—an enchantment that sent waves of courage and bloodlust racing through the hearts of every soldier within earshot.

"Ahooooh!"

"Ahooooh!"

The earth beneath them disappeared beneath the boots of the marching army. From one horizon to the next, the lands of Nihari were lost to the endless tide of armored bodies clad in luminous blue.

Minutes passed. The storm of dust and magic began to settle. The army advanced slowly but steadily—millions of soldiers aligned in perfect, terrifying order. Each race formed its own proud ranks, standing shoulder to shoulder in a show of absolute unity and overwhelming might.

Towering above all others was the Treant Legion, their tree-like bodies clad in overlapping slabs of enchanted blue metal. Then came the Crixians, descended from Nihari’s ancient giants—hulking titans with thunder in their footsteps. Around them marched over a dozen more races: the swift and graceful Devosians, the stone-skinned and relentless Dourgrans, and many others—each race clad in uniquely crafted armor designed specifically for their biology.

This was not a marching army. It was a force of nature.

Together, they approached the staging point: dozens of Destruction Note-2 Class Ships lined the horizon, each one bristling with weapons capable of obliterating cities. At the center stood three massive command ships—floating fortresses so large, they could have carried entire civilizations on their decks.

Once Kandal was confident the troops were in position and ready, he nodded with the solemnity of a priest delivering a final prayer. Then, without wasting another second, he turned and made his way back toward a grand, open-walled command pavilion.

"Awaiting your orders, Supreme General."

"..."

There sat Aro, the Supreme General himself, clad in a black suit of armor laced with glowing blue runes. For several long moments, he stared out at the endless sea of his army, unmoving, eyes seems to be locked onto the future.

Then he spoke—his voice calm, powerful, and sharp as fate.

"Haros. Kandal. Sandria, Shoko... this time, you’re going to the battlefield personally."

A brief silence followed.

"Something’s changed?"

Haros’s brow furrowed with rare uncertainty. Even Kandal and the rest exchanged puzzled glances.

Aro’s battle doctrine was well known: test a different general in every major conflict, then study the reports—analyze decisions, measure effectiveness, learn everything. From these detailed accounts, he improved the army, solving weaknesses, refining strategy, and replacing inefficiencies. If defenses failed, he restructured them. If terrain slowed them, he adapted. Over a century and a half of planetary warfare had forged him into a strategist of unmatched brilliance. Now, few worlds existed that he could not dissect and dominate after a single glance.

His elite generals rarely left his side. They executed his vision from afar, stepping onto the battlefield only when the situation demanded something exceptional.

"I’ve spoken again with Prime Minister Kristan and Lady Emily of Central Command. They no longer oppose it," Aro said, his voice low but ironclad.

"Now, all that remains is for Prince Theo to secure us a launch site in Sector 99. Once that happens..."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes glowing faintly,

"...we begin true conquest. No more mock battles. No more simulations. The time for legendary warfare is at hand. What we do next will reshape the balance of the Empire itself."

"Have we really reached that point?"

Haros stood slowly, as though the weight of that truth was finally sinking in. His expression was filled with awe—and anticipation.

The birth of the Third Army was nothing short of a brutal struggle.

In the early days, they teetered on the edge of extinction. More than once, their story almost ended before it began. Their survival wasn’t a miracle—it was earned. It was carved into the cosmos by the unshakable will and razor-sharp mind of their Supreme General. From scattered remnants and discarded warriors, a military titan was forged—one that would eventually eclipse the might of the Great Serpent Empire many times over, both in number and in ferocity.

Haros, once just another soul fighting to survive, had evolved. His ambitions grew in tandem with the army’s conquests.

At first, he only wished to see another day.

Then, he longed to dominate every planet he set eyes on in the Young Belt.

And now, after witnessing the fearless incursions of the First Army, a new hunger took root—

Why not invade the Middle Belt too?

Why not do the unthinkable?

Once, stepping foot into the Middle Belt meant groveling, bowing one’s head, avoiding eye contact with its terrifying denizens. But now, he dared to look at it as prey—a prize yet to be claimed.

"We’re close," Aro murmured, his tone low but filled with certainty as he paced slowly across the fortress wall.

"His Highness Theo is currently occupied—he’s acquiring new slaves. But if I persist, he’ll eventually entrust Leonid or Kiri with securing us a foothold. Once that’s done, we’ll begin real operations in Mid Sector 99 of the Middle Belt.

No more scouting missions. No more trial runs.

Real war. Real expansion."

He halted at the very edge of the wall, his dark armor glowing faintly with runes of blue lightning. Below him stood his soldiers, freshly equipped and armed. They shone under the sunlight like a sea of steel and discipline.

Aro inhaled slowly.

"We have to accelerate. Every planet we delay subjugating is a planet lost to another faction. I want to send a message to His Highness Theo—clear, undeniable: the Third Army is ready. No more experiments. From this day forth, we move like a storm."

He turned back toward his generals, eyes like sharpened stars.

"With this new legion, Kandal, Haros, Sandria... each of you will personally conquer and subjugate no less than three new planets per year.

And you will do it without the support of elite divisions. Is that clear?"

The three generals stood silent for a moment, absorbing the gravity of the command. Then, all three nodded—resolute, unwavering. The bar had been set sky-high, but they did not flinch.

Truthfully, each of them had long desired this moment. They wanted the universe to finally witness the full, undiluted strength of the Third Army—and to grant them the respect they had always deserved.

"Servon," Aro called, shifting his gaze slightly.

"You will take charge of all Class-R planetary subjugations under our control. You’ll be handling them personally, and very soon."

Servon’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. He glanced behind Aro’s throne, where three women stood in absolute silence.

"...Understood. But I want the assistance of Hethi, Hethar, and Tetha."

Aro didn’t blink.

"Fine. But in exchange, I want results— five worlds a year, minimum. And know this: if we receive authorization to ascend, and you’re still behind on your mission... the consequences will be yours to bear."

"Understood." Servon nodded, voice calm but eyes alert.

In this army, Aro’s commands were law. Not long ago, he had been the weakest among them in terms of raw energy. But once they all crossed the threshold of Level 50, the illusion shattered.

He mastered them—individually.

Then came His Majesty’s gift: the Merged Law of Storms. His power surged by orders of magnitude. Now, there was no debate—Aro was the strongest being in the Third Army.

"Good. Go."

He gave a final nod.

The generals vanished in streaks of color and wind.

WHOOOSH! WHOOSH!

The sky shook as they launched toward their positions.

BOOOOOO~~~!

The war horn rang out again—deeper this time, filled with intent.

The army below began to board their ships in synchronized formation. Row upon row of recruits, most of them fresh and untested, now stepping into the unknown.

And yet, in time, these very soldiers would become the scourge of empires—bringing down civilizations by the dozen.

Step by step...

"No elite troops? Isn’t that a bit extreme?"

A soft, elegant voice emerged behind him. Flora approached slowly, radiant in her flowing silk robe. Her fiery red hair cascaded like a waterfall down her shoulders, and both hands rested protectively on her swelling belly.

Aro sighed, eyes still fixed on the horizon.

"If we rely on our elites for every mission, what will we use when we face the titans above?"

He turned to her, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and pulled her into his side. Then, once again, he looked out over the mighty army being loaded onto their ships.

"...The dream is no longer a fantasy, Flora. It’s real. It’s coming. And it’s coming faster than anyone expects."