Chapter 178: Marching to the Fourth Continent

Red leaned back on his throne with a faint smirk across his lips as he watched the live visual feeds scrolling across his main monitor. The chaos below was unfolding exactly as he had anticipated.

’Aggressive nutritional reinforcement,’ Red thought, shaking his head. ’Only the Vanguard would try to forcibly feed their allies to prove a point about muscle density.’

The brawl was highly entertaining, but Red’s focus remained on the broader strategic picture. He tapped a finger against his armrest, fully aware that the temporary alliance with the Second Continent was held together entirely by desperation and fear.

Down in the valley, the sounds of the brawl completely masked the stealthy movement of Elder Syra. She slipped past the bickering commanders and glided silently toward the secure tent holding General Boros.

Cassian had posted two new guards at the entrance, but Syra simply dropped a small vial of sleep-inducing alchemical powder into their brazier. The two men collapsed against the tent poles within seconds.

Syra stepped inside and found Boros chained to a heavy wooden post. The general looked up, his face bruised and his broken hand securely wrapped in dirty bandages.

“Your envoy is currently distracted,” Syra stated flatly, crossing her arms. “You have exactly five minutes to detail the central plains deployments before I start testing exactly how many teeth a man can lose before he chokes on his own blood.”

Boros let out a dark, mocking laugh. “Your threats are entirely empty, Lizard. The armored Apostle made it perfectly clear. You cannot kill me, and you cannot maim me further without breaking your precious alliance.”

Syra narrowed her slitted eyes. ’He is mathematically correct,’

she realized with deep frustration. ’Cassian and Lucian have tied our hands diplomatically. Torturing him further risks a total fracture of the coalition forces right before a major push.’

She stared at the defiant general for a few more seconds, calculating the risk versus reward. She eventually concluded the intelligence was not worth the immediate political fallout.

“Your silence only delays the inevitable, General,” Syra said coldly. She turned and exited the tent, leaving Boros alone in the dark. “There will soon come a time where you will beg for my help.”

“Keke! Keep on dreaming! Your army of monsters will soon be massacred, and I will have your head as a decoration in my chamber!”

Syra paid no attention to the babbling human and kept on walking.

The morning arrived with a tense atmosphere hanging over the combined camp. The bruised and battered soldiers of both factions packed up their gear with stiff, aching limbs.

Novus and Torin forced their respective troops to form up into a single marching column, keeping a stern watch to prevent any further brawls.

Syra stood beside Iron-Scale at the head of the column. She unrolled a physical parchment map from the folds of her leather diary and laid it flat across a large boulder.

“The Fourth Continent forces hold the central plains,” Syra explained to the gathered squad leaders. She traced a path with her finger. “To reach them, we must push our army through the Shattered Maw.”

She pointed to a narrow, twisting canyon path drawn on the parchment. The sheer rock walls were incredibly steep, and the path was littered with unstable boulders.

“The canyon creates a massive chokepoint,” Torin observed. His face turned grim. “If the Fourth Continent has archers stationed on those cliffs, they will slaughter us from above.”

“We will secure the high ground first,” Iron-Scale declared. He looked over his shoulder at the Vanguard human forces. “Novus, your men will scale the northern ridge and clear out any ambush parties. Torin, your soldiers will take the southern ridge.”

Hawl sported a fresh black eye from the previous night’s brawl. He grinned widely at Vane, who was rubbing a bruised jaw.

“Looks like we get to race, twig,” Hawl taunted loudly. “First one to the top gets to claim the enemy archers.”

Vane scowled and tightened his grip on his spear. “We will be waiting for you at the summit, brute.”

Iron-Scale had only brought an army of three thousand and Old Shell, and the rest of Red’s force were at the port. While Torin had brought an army of two thousand humans with him, while Cassian and the Apostle Lucian returned to the ports.

Thousands of miles to the west, absolute panic gripped the capital city of Aethelgard. Inside the gilded throne room, High King Voranthar ap-Maelenor slammed a golden goblet onto his marble table. Red wine spilled entirely across the strategic maps of the continent.

“Explain this to me again, Lord Malakor,” Voranthar demanded. His voice echoed with pure fury. “Admiral Vaelor commanded an impenetrable blockade. General Boros fortified three valley bases. I now receive missives stating Vaelor is dead, Boros is captured, and the Iron Arbiter’s forces are marching straight toward the Shattered Maw!”

Lord Malakor wiped sweat from his brow and bowed deeply. “My King, the reports claim the Second Continent hired foreign mercenaries. These warriors command dark ironclads and fight alongside towering beasts. They routed our cavalry in under an hour.”

The surrounding ministers murmured in terror. The campaign was supposed to be a simple war of attrition. Losing their entire eastern front in a single day was a logistical nightmare.

“We must send the Royal Guard,” an older minister suggested nervously. “We must plug the exit of the Maw before they spill into the plains.”

“Conventional troops will just feed the slaughter,” Voranthar sneered. He sat back in his velvet throne and interlaced his rings. ’I will simply deploy our own divinely gifted weapons to counter these beasts,’ the King decided.

He turned his gaze toward the towering grand doors of the throne room.

“Summon the Heroes,” Voranthar commanded. “Send in Jason and Chloe.”

The massive doors swung open a few moments later. Two figures walked confidently into the throne room. They completely ignored the traditional bows and courtesies required by the royal court.

The guards outside the room and the elite guards inside the rooms bowed down slightly as they passed by. But neither of them paid attention or responded to the guards.

They glanced at the ministers who, unlike the guards, were glaring straight at them, but they didn’t bother to even give them a glance.

“What’s this? All the old guys have gathered here. Where are the girls?” one of the two said.

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