Chapter 122: Chapter 122: The Throne of Soaring Dragon
In the capital of the Soaring Dragon Kingdom, the echoes of the bells still thundered across the walls of the royal palace. The news of divine punishment had arrived like a roar no one could ignore, and in the grand throne hall, the air was heavy with unease.
King Charles III, seated on his obsidian-and-gold throne, frowned as his most trusted general, Valerius, delivered his report.
"Your Majesty," Valerius spoke with a steady voice, though his eyes revealed traces of unease. "According to the agreement made between all guilds, when we confirmed that the gate which appeared was of level (S), we decided to wait in the portal zone for the entire duration of the GRB."
The general clenched his fist, recalling the strategy.
"As you know, it had always been the custom. Nobody dared to enter those impossible gates, and by not participating, the rankings remained untouched until the next month. It was a safe move... or so we thought."
King Charles III tapped his fingers against the armrest of his throne. His eyes, sharp as steel, glimmered with both suspicion and frustration.
"And yet, this time it wasn’t so."
Valerius lowered his head, nodding. "Yes, Your Majesty. This time... someone entered. And not just that. They completed it."
A deadly silence filled the hall. The nobles held their breath, as if even speaking the words would bring divine wrath upon them.
The king leaned forward, his voice heavy with gravity. "Tell me, Valerius... who was so foolish... and so powerful... as to break the agreement?"
The general hesitated for a moment, as if saying it aloud might summon the very forces that had struck down the gods.
"It was the Hero again. He completed the GRB."
The words struck the hall like a hammer blow. The nobles stiffened, the silence turning unbearable.
The king’s face flushed with rage. He rose from his throne in a single motion, his cape flaring like a dark flame, and pointed a trembling finger at his general.
"The second time, Valerius! The second time you’ve failed me!" his voice roared like thunder across the chamber. "If it weren’t for my daughter’s obsession with you, I’d have ordered your head severed already!"
The general bowed deeply, sweat dripping from his brow, not daring to speak back.
Charles’s breath came hard and fast as he struggled to rein in his fury. His eyes turned toward a man in white and golden robes, his face half-hidden beneath a hood: the High Pontiff of the Church of the Goddess of Light.
"Tell me, Holy Father..." his voice dropped to a cold, venomous whisper. "Those golden rays, that divine massacre... do you know who the gods struck down were?"
The Pope smiled faintly, a cold, almost mocking smile. "Do not fear, Your Majesty. They were nothing but scapegoats. None of the gods of the Alliance have been killed."
The silence thickened as he lowered his head, voice quieting to a near murmur.
"And much less... him."
He didn’t dare speak the name. Among those who understood who he meant, heads dropped, and silent trembling swept the hall.
King Charles III leaned back into his throne, his gaze hardening with a dark glint. The Hero had once again shattered his plans.
The throne room doors burst open with a deafening crash.
A royal herald stumbled in, pale as wax, gasping for breath. "Your Majesty, they’re coming in—!"
He never finished. A wave of dark energy flung him across the walls, his body collapsing like a broken doll as blood poured from every orifice.
In that instant, a tide of figures stormed through the open gates: hundreds of warriors, demons, beasts, creatures that had never set foot in a human palace. Each step landed with the weight of a war drum.
At their front, standing out among them all, strode a figure that froze even the most battle-hardened generals in place: a lich.
His body was a perfect skeleton, each bone gleaming like polished marble. He wore a robe forged of pure gold, so bright it dazzled the eyes, and embedded upon it were countless jewels: diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds—shining like stolen stars. His empty skull shook as he laughed, a manic cackle that chilled the blood.
"Keh keh keh keh keh!" The laugh echoed like a deathly chorus. "Oh, what a warm welcome..."
One of the nobles dropped to his knees, trembling. "That... that’s the Demon King of the Undead... Lord Veythar!"
King Charles III immediately rose from his throne, his cape flaring like a storm of fire. "How dare you, filthy abomination?! You’ve defiled my palace! Do you think you’ll walk out of here alive?!"
His knights, generals, and mages raised their weapons and staves, ready to unleash everything they had.
But the lich lifted one skeletal hand, as if halting the air itself, and his laughter thundered again.
"Don’t bother." His hollow sockets burned with mocking green flames. "I can come and go wherever I please... and believe me, you’ve built no walls that could ever hold me back."
The king’s face contorted with fury.
The lich tilted his head, his jaw clicking as if smiling. "Before you do something foolish, Your Majesty... take a good look at who your guests really are."
Confusion flickered across the king’s features. He turned his gaze toward the rest of the intruders, ready to order a slaughter—but what he saw stole the breath from his chest.
They were no mere envoys.
Among them, he recognized the most feared sovereigns of the continent. The most powerful Demon Kings, cloaked in calamity itself. The Beast Tribe Kings, with fangs bared and eyes blazing with primal hunger. The Titan Kings, whose every step made the palace tremble as if it were about to collapse.
He saw also the Elven Kings, their mantles shining with supernatural light, their eyes brimming with eternal hatred toward mankind. And as if that weren’t enough, behind them stood representatives from every influential and powerful race across the continent.
Every gaze bore down on Charles III with an impossible weight.
The King of the Soaring Dragon Kingdom stood frozen at his throne, rage and fear warring in his chest, as he realized that tonight... the true rulers of the world had stepped into his palace.