Chapter 79: The Empire of the Fallen Sun

The colossal obsidian and violet crystal monument reeked of dried excrement and rotting garbage. Aurelius had ordered his followers to defile the statue, and those who didn’t were openly executed.

Now, the fifty-foot statue caked in a thick crust of mud and human filth. Swarms of bloated flies buzzed around the black stone.

Gorak stood near the base, towering over the terrified civilians. He dragged a massive, soaked tapestry across the statue’s oversized boots. The Troglodyte Warlord scrubbed the polished obsidian with terrifying force, even though his new bone-plated exoskeleton ground harshly against the stone with every massive swipe.

High above the courtyard floor, Iron-Scale clung to the monument’s carved lapel. The Kobold Inquisitor used his metallic scythe arm to meticulously scrape away hardened mounds of feces from the faceless visage.

He worked with absolute precision, ensuring the razor edge never scratched the glowing crystal beneath the grime, which was impossible since the statue couldn’t take the damage.

The entire Vanguard joined the labor. Shell-Kin bulldozed piles of rotting trash away from the plaza center using their heavy carapaces. Grey-Fins and lesser Kobolds formed a massive bucket line extending all the way to the ruined aqueducts of the cathedral.

Water splashed constantly over the bloody marble. The rushing streams washed away the gore of the recent slaughter alongside the thick layers of filth.

The surviving human civilians did not hide in the shadows. Starving men and women scurried between the towering monsters, using their own torn tunics as makeshift rags. Children carried dented silver goblets filled with murky water, offering them up to the armored Troglodytes with violently shaking hands.

A frail old man approached Gorak’s massive leg. He dropped to his knees and began wiping a stubborn patch of dried mud from the monument’s pedestal using his unwashed sleeves.

Gorak paused his sweeping motions. He looked down at the fragile human, his unhinged jaw dripping with the dark blood of the Orc captain.

The Warlord grunted, shifting his massive weight to give the old man better access to the stone.

It took them a few hours to clean the statue, but it was cleaned flawlessly.

The last bloody streaks washed away from the white marble. The colossal monument of the Red stood in the center of the ruined plaza, its black obsidian surface gleaming under the smog-choked sky.

Humans and monsters stepped back from the pedestal, their chests heaving in the sudden quiet of the plaza.

A spark ignited deep inside the violet crystal core.

The flame expanded in a violent flash, flooding the fifty-foot statue with blinding, pulsating light. A crushing, physical weight slammed into the courtyard. Iron-Scale dropped to one knee, bowing his metallic head. Gorak ground his fists into the marble and lowered his bone-plated skull.

A voice resonated from the crystal, vibrating directly through the teeth and bones of the subjugated crowd.

“Aurelius fed you lies and abandoned you to starve,” Red declared, the sound mirroring the grinding of tectonic plates. “I offer only the anvil. You will work. You will bleed. You will build. In return, you will never be broken again.”

Absolute silence gripped the plaza. A desperate scream of submission broke the quiet, starting with the frail old man by the pedestal and spreading like wildfire. The mob wept, clutching the marble as they pledged themselves to a god who demanded their labor instead of their prayers.

High above in the Void, Red leaned over his obsidian console as it exploded with new data.

[ SYSTEM ALERT: MASS CONVERSION DETECTED ]

[ +14,022 HUMAN FOLLOWERS ACQUIRED ]

[ FAITH RESERVES: CRITICAL SURGE ]

Glowing violet lines of the Omni-Web pushed aggressively outward on the grid. They swallowed the entire Sun Kingdom, painting the eastern continent in his signature color.

[ TERRITORY ESTABLISHED: THE EMPIRE OF THE FALLEN SUN ]

[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: THE SHEPHERD OF ASH ]

[ REWARD: 50,000 DIVINE POWER / ARCHITECT’S BLUEPRINT (TIER 4) ]

“Fourteen thousand new mouths to feed,” Red murmured, his fingers tracing the glowing lines of the new Tier 4 blueprint. “The return on investment for this acquisition had better cover the cost of the nutrient paste.”

He tapped a rune on the terminal, preparing the first wave of architectural commands for his newly acquired workforce.

Red tapped the glowing icon of the Tier 4 Architect’s Blueprint on his obsidian console. A complex, three-dimensional schematic expanded across the holographic interface, rotating with sharp geometric precision.

[ STRUCTURE ALIGNED: THE ASH-FORGE CRUCIBLE ]

[ REQUIREMENTS: 10,000 TONS STONE / 500 TONS IRON ]

[ ESTIMATED COMPLETION: 14 DAYS (CURRENT WORKFORCE) ]

[ DP- 80,000 ]

“Wow… I can now arrange and organize stuff like an actual game. Territory benefits are awesome!”

He dragged his finger across the map, pulling the massive schematic directly over the ruined eastern courtyards of the Sun Spire. The terminal flared with a blinding flash as the system confirmed the placement.

Red dumped DP to initiate the localized terraforming.

Down in the courtyard, the ground shuddered violently beneath the feet of the subjugated humans. Massive pillars of violet light erupted from the cracked marble tiles, shooting hundreds of feet into the smog-choked sky.

The beams coalesced into an enormous, grid-like framework of holographic scaffolding.

Iron-Scale struck the stone floor with his scythe arm. The piercing metallic screech silenced the murmuring crowd immediately. The Kobold Inquisitor pointed his bladed limb toward the glowing construction zone.

“Ka-Lam-Tee provides the vision,” Iron-Scale announced, his raspy voice echoing off the crumbling cathedral walls. “You provide the hands. Clear the rubble from the eastern sector. Pile the salvageable marble by the aqueducts.”

The human civilians scrambled to their feet. Men and women with sunken cheeks rushed toward the collapsed banquet tables and shattered statues.

They tore at heavy chunks of debris with bare, bleeding fingers. Those lacking the physical strength to lift the stone dragged the heavy pieces across the dirt using torn strips of their own clothing.

Gorak stalked through the chaotic lines of workers. The towering Warlord hoisted a two-ton slab of broken column onto his bone-plated shoulder and hurled it toward the designated collection zone.

The massive impact shook the foundation and sent a thick cloud of white dust billowing over the laborers.

Gorak pointed his clawed finger at a group of stumbling teenagers dropping a chunk of debris. “Move the rocks,” the Warlord growled. “If you drop a stone, you lose the hand.”

The workers doubled their pace, their malnourished muscles tearing under the sudden strain of heavy labor. Blood smeared across the pristine white marble as thousands of hands scraped against jagged edges.

Up in the Void, Red monitored the rising productivity meters on his interface. The Faith reserves ticked upward with every drop of sweat shed in his name. He leaned back from the console, watching the empire of the Fallen Sun transform from a cathedral of hollow prayers into an engine of industry.

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