Chapter 76: Marching to Sun Spire

Red leaned over the obsidian console.

The violet veins of the obsidian console flared with incoming communications. The death of Aurelius had shattered the chains binding his vassal deities across the continent. Holographic projections flickered to life above the topographical grid as minor gods desperately pinged Red from their standard console slabs.

Red intercepted their signals effortlessly through the Omni-Web root network.

A lesser god of agriculture bowed his avatar until his forehead touched the virtual floor. “Great Rubedo,” the deity pleaded. “We offer our eternal servitude. Take us under your banner.”

Red activated the Omniscient Eye, and a cascade of text dropped beside the god’s avatar.

[ NAME: VERMIS ]

[ RANK: 2 ]

[ DP: 12,000 ]

[ STATUS: DESPERATE, COWARDLY ]

“I will consider your proposal,” Red said, severing the connection with a swipe of his hand.

He processed a dozen more calls from groveling minor deities and gave them all the exact same answer. He logged their statistics before dismissing their avatars entirely.

Many others remained completely silent.

Several of Aurelius’s strongest regional gods cut their transmission lines to hoard their Divine Power. Red zoomed in on the eastern border of the Sun Kingdom, watching red dots multiply across the grid.

Two regional gods mobilized their armies to claim the empty throne. The power vacuum demanded blood, and a new war approached rapidly.

As for the army that was reading to the Sun Spire, the march across the decaying plains took two grueling weeks. The towering white marble of the Sun Spire finally loomed through the smog. The grand capital of the fallen Sun King was already crumbling into ruin, its golden banners torn and replaced by foreign sigils.

Iron-Scale adjusted his quartz monocle and leaned on his Star-Iron cane. Warlord Gorak stood beside the Kobold Inquisitor with his massive hammer resting on his shoulder. The Vanguard of one hundred and ten monsters halted at the edge of the sprawling center plaza.

Dominating the courtyard and completely blocking the main entrance to the palace stood the monument of Red.

The fifty-foot colossal statue was carved from black obsidian and glowing violet crystal. It depicted the God-Killer in his tailored suit, casually flipping a coin. The sheer scale of the monument projected the absolute authority of the Red over the ruined city.

The Spire was crawling with scavengers. Two rival factions had already breached the perimeter and set up encampments in the sprawling courtyards.

High in the Void, Red watched the overlapping territories on his interface. Two opportunistic deities hovered over their own console slabs, fighting for scraps in his wake.

[ NAME: GORVASH ] [ RANK: 5 ]

[ RACE: BLOOD-ORCS ]

[ STATUS: GREEDY ]

——

[ NAME: SYLIS ] [ RANK: 4 ]

[ RACE: VENOM-DRYADS ]

[ STATUS: CAUTIOUS ]

A contingent of heavily armored Blood-Orcs marched out from the shadow of the monument. Their captain spotted the violet spiral branded onto Gorak’s chest armor and immediately raised his hands in a gesture of peace. The entire continent knew who had deleted the Rank 9 Sun King.

“Welcome, emissaries of the God-Killer!” the Orc captain shouted, his guttural voice echoing across the cracked marble plaza. “Our lords invite you to the feast. We have secured the spoils and wish to share the hearth with the mighty Ka-Lam-Tee’s chosen.”

Iron-Scale exchanged a glance with Gorak. The Kobold tapped his cane twice against the stone and led the Vanguard forward.

They stepped through the ruined gates and entered a scene of absolute misery.

Fourteen thousand human civilians crammed into the corners of the courtyard and the adjacent nave. The surviving followers of Aurelius were starved to the bone and covered in filth. Venom-Dryads whipped a group of weeping men pulling heavy carts of looted gold. Blood-Orcs kicked elderly women out of their path, treating the humans like vermin infesting a conquered prize.

The Orc captain led Iron-Scale and Gorak to a makeshift banquet table set up right at the base of Red’s statue. Roasted meats and stolen wine covered the silver platters.

A human child reached for a fallen crust of bread near the table. An Orc guard stomped a heavy iron boot down on the boy’s hand, eliciting a sharp scream that was instantly ignored by the hosts.

“Please, sit,” the Orc captain offered, pulling out a gilded chair for the massive Troglodyte Warlord. “There is plenty of meat, and these useless cattle clean up the bones.”

Gorak ignored the offered chair. He slammed his Star-Iron maul onto the marble floor, cracking the stone beneath it. The deafening sound immediately silenced the plaza. The Blood-Orcs and Venom-Dryads stopped their looting to stare at the towering Troglodyte.

“The Spire has excellent foundations,” the Orc captain continued, his voice losing some of its artificial warmth as he poured a goblet of stolen wine. “Our lords, Gorvash and Sylis, will put this territory to good use. The eastern courtyards are already being cleared for the Venom-root gardens, and my Orcs will fortify the western walls. We are happy to manage the heavy lifting.”

Iron-Scale refused the goblet. He looked up at the imposing obsidian and violet crystal statue of his God.

“Ka-Lam-Tee does not require managers,” Iron-Scale said, his raspy voice echoing through the tense silence of the courtyard. “The Spiral claims the eastern courtyards. The Spiral claims the western walls. Every stone in this Spire rests under the shadow of this statue.”

The Orc captain lowered the goblet, spilling red wine across the silver platters. The false hospitality vanished entirely from his heavily scarred face. Across the plaza, thirty Blood-Orcs placed their hands on the hilts of their jagged broadswords. The Venom-Dryads uncoiled their thorned whips as their bark-like skin shifted into hardened combat forms.

Behind Iron-Scale, the fifty Troglodytes of the Vanguard mirrored the aggression. They raised their Star-Iron mauls in unison. The atmosphere grew dense with the promise of immediate, brutal violence.

“There is no need to spill blood over minor misunderstandings,” a Venom-Dryad matriarch hissed from the shadows of the pillars. She slithered forward on a mass of writhing vines, her eyes darting nervously toward Gorak’s hammer-axe. “Our Gods are speaking in the Void at this very moment. Gorvash and Sylis will discuss the exact division of spoils directly with your Ka-Lam-Tee. We are merely soldiers holding the ground. You should not worry about such matters.”

Gorak leaned over the banquet table and grabbed a massive roasted leg of meat. He took a violent bite, chewing as he stared directly into the Orc captain’s eyes.

“Hold the ground carefully,” Gorak growled, spitting a splinter of bone onto the stone. “If you damage our property, we will audit your skulls.”

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