Chapter 153: Three Years Later

Three years.

That was all it took for the Seventeenth Continent to finally shed its deadland status.

Red sat on his obsidian throne, his eyes scanning the live visual feeds across his Void sanctuary’s main monitor. Down on the physical map, the toxic grey beaches had been excavated and replaced by massive, reinforced coastal fortresses. Thick white veins, which was Sylara’s Omni-web, were grafted directly into the stone and metal, acting as the continent’s new nervous system.

“Mana distribution is holding steady across the eastern grid,” Sylara’s voice came through the comm-link. Her avatar floated on a secondary screen. “But overall progress remains slow. We have only fully utilized three of the thirty-four mythic blueprints you distributed.”

“Three is enough for a foundation,” Red replied, tapping his console. “The Planetary Defense Ring, the Hyper-Mana Forge, and the Continental Shield. As long as those three are operational, the border is secure.”

Before he could pull up the logistics report for the fourth blueprint, a harsh, blaring alarm shrieked through the sanctuary.

[ SYSTEM ALARM: UNAUTHORIZED DIMENSIONAL BREACH ]

[ THREAT LEVEL: LEVEL 85 (VANGUARD GENERAL) ]

[ ORIGIN: THE SECOND CONTINENT ]

On the main monitor, the space directly above the physical eastern ocean violently tore open. A spatial rift materialized, bleeding harsh golden light.

From the center of the rift stepped a towering figure clad in platinum armor. He wielded a crackling halberd, six wings of hard-light spreading from his back.

He hadn’t brought an army. At Level 85, he clearly believed his mere presence was enough to intimidate a newly unlocked landmass.

“Listen well, Sovereign of the Mud!” the General’s voice boomed across the physical water, the audio feeding directly into Red’s sanctuary speakers. He stared up at the sky, addressing the unseen god monitoring the territory. “I am Kaelen, Vanguard of the Second Continent! Your regional lock has fallen! By the decree of the Summit Warlords, you will lower your localized shields and present your treasury for immediate—”

Red sighed, resting his chin on his knuckles. He didn’t even let the man finish his sentence.

“Sylara. Route the forge’s current output directly into the defense ring.”

On her screen, Sylara nodded. “Rerouting.”

Down on the physical map, the massive metal ring hovering in the atmosphere above the ocean glowed with a blinding, condensed light.

“Are you deaf, savage?!” General Kaelen roared, raising his halberd. “I demand your immediate surren—”

“Fire,” Red ordered.

[ PLANETARY DEFENSE RING: CRITICAL DISCHARGE ]

A massive beam of concentrated energy erupted from the hovering ring. It crossed the distance instantly.

The Level 85 General didn’t have time to swing his halberd, let alone cast a defensive skill. The beam slammed into him, completely vaporizing his armor and his body in a single flash of light.

The attack punched through the spatial rift behind him, forcibly collapsing the portal before fading into the upper atmosphere.

Silence returned to the coastal feed.

[ TARGET DELETED: LEVEL 85 VANGUARD GENERAL ]

[ PROBE REPELLED. NO CASUALTIES SUSTAINED. ]

Red brushed a speck of dust off his lapel and leaned back against his throne.

He stared at the empty patch of sky on the monitor.

“Only three blueprints,” Red muttered, a faint smirk crossing his face. “But they get the job done.”

The noise of the Planetary Defense Ring slowly dialed down, its localized atmospheric heat dissipating over the ocean.

On Red’s primary monitor, a new system prompt materialized, bypassing his private interface and broadcasting directly to the continental network.

[ CONTINENTAL BROADCAST: THREAT NEUTRALIZED ]

[ TARGET: LEVEL 85 VANGUARD GENERAL (SECOND CONTINENT) ]

[ EXECUTED BY: SUPREME SOVEREIGN ALLIANCE ]

Across the Seventeenth Continent, eighty vassal gods, from the mechanical constructs in the southern craters to the minor sky deities rebuilding the western grid, received the exact same notification.

The alert carried the visual data of the orbital strike, showing a global-tier powerhouse being instantly vaporized by their own defense grid.

Red tapped a sequence of runes on his armrest, opening a mass visual projection channel. His avatar appeared on the command terminals of every single vassal god under his banner.

“Three years ago, we started pulling this landmass out of the dirt after it was almost destroyed,” Red spoke, his voice carrying evenly across the network.

He projected the visual of the empty sky above the ocean, where the spatial rift had just collapsed. “That was a Level 85 General from the Second Continent. He came expecting a fractured deadland. He received the full output of the Hyper-Mana Forge.”

Red leaned forward slightly, looking into the broadcast feed.

“The Planetary Defense Ring works. The Continental Shield is holding. The deep-strata forge is completely stable. That is your engineering,” Red stated, his tone shifting from cold authority to direct acknowledgment. “You took three mythic blueprints and turned them into a border wall that just executed a global threat in a single strike. Excellent work.”

A faint murmur of localized system pings flooded the comm-link as the various pantheons reacted to the praise and the undeniable proof of their success.

“The global server knows we are here now,” Red continued. “They are testing the perimeter. We proved today that the Seventeenth Continent can defend its airspace, but three operational blueprints out of thirty-four will not hold off a coordinated, cross-server siege.”

He pulled up the macro-logistics for the remaining construction sites.

“I am not giving you a deadline,” Red said. “You know the stakes. The foundations are set, and your progress over the last three years has secured our borders. Keep up the pace. Push the resource nodes. Finish the remaining infrastructure. We are building a fortress they cannot break, and we are doing it together.”

Red closed the mass communication channel. The continental network remained quiet, replaced by a sudden, massive spike in industrial production rates across all sectors as the vassal pantheons returned to work with renewed focus.

On the secondary screen, Sylara watched the data flow. “Morale across the grid just spiked by forty percent. The southern mechanical gods have already authorized a double-shift on the terraforming engines.”

“Good,” Red replied, dismissing the broadcast interface. “Let them build.”

“I will take my leave now. I am close to breaking through the Rank 17.” Sylara cut her feed.

Red leaned back on his throne and stared at the empty void.

“I guess, I should also check what’s going on with my followers.”

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