At the hidden base of Tanarid Tech, three Tanarid race members—camouflaged as Alligator-orcs—watch the hologram screen.

Their spy drone streams live footage of the Dream Kingdom’s armies entering the Mugur Swamp region.

What draws their attention is not the sight of many different orc races working together, but the guns in their hands and the vehicles they ride.

It is proof of the Dream Kingdom’s industrial capability.

They had believed all tribes were still bound to hunting, gathering, or agriculture.

But the Dream Kingdom shows they have already stepped past the industrial stage of technology.

Still an infant compared to Tanarid Tech—yet with their extraordinary power, they could become a serious threat.

Tillie enters the Mugur Swamp region.

She first targets the inferior tribes without totems on the eastern side, then pushes north, south, and finally west—closing the region in a ring.

No one will escape.

Official priests and knights strike down the totems of small tribes while the army blocks tribe members from interfering.

All orcs here will soon belong to the Dream Kingdom.

Tillie alone hunts the totems of intermediate tribes.

A week passes.

Only now does the top tribe in the Mugur Swamp region notice—the Blue Lightning Tribe of Lizard Orcs.

They send envoys, seeking to negotiate.

Tillie stalls them, determined to slay every small and intermediate totem before turning her gaze on them.

Her delay lasts only a week.

The Blue Lightning Tribe moves.

Their totem strikes—a fifteen-metre Lizard wreathed in blue lightning.

Tillie’s cultivation as a Bishop stands at the same stage as the Blue Lightning totem: second stage.

But she is Rank 11 initially, while the totem’s cultivation is higher than Rank 11.

Lightning crashes as the totem attacks.

Tillie dodges with Dream Travel.

She could escape—return to the kingdom, leave the swamp behind.

But then the totem would slaughter the army, and the expedition would be declared a failure.

Even as the kingdom’s second rank, she would escape no punishment after losing the army.

And she had been the one to clamour for the expedition.

She cannot escape.

She must fight to the death with the totem.

Tillie’s eyes harden.

She casts dream spells, weaving illusions into the totem’s mind, dragging its spirit into a haze.

Fire elemental spells burst from her hands, each strike boiling swamp water into clouds of steam.

The totem roars, its fifteen-metre body surging forward, claws tearing through trees like grass.

Blue lightning bursts from its scales, splitting the air with deafening cracks.

Each bolt scorches the swamp, blackening the reeds and leaving trails of molten earth.

Tillie blinks through space with Dream Travel, reappearing behind it, striking with fire, only to vanish before its tail smashes the ground—sending waves of mud and water exploding outward.

Their battle churns the land.

Pools evaporate in seconds, while entire groves collapse into steaming craters.

The swamp becomes a shattered plain of mud, smoke, and lightning-lit mist.

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Flocks of swamp birds flee into the distance; beasts burrow deep underground to escape the shockwaves.

Tillie’s dream magic presses harder, flickers of disorientation rippling across the totem’s lightning.

But the beast shakes off the haze with a roar, its eyes blazing as another storm gathers over its head.

The fight is only growing more violent.

Tillie blinks through space again, flames trailing in her wake, but the totem’s speed matches her now.

Its claws slice through her afterimages, forcing her back step by step.

Lightning storms swirl overhead, their light turning the mist into a blinding white haze.

She counters with dream illusions, doubling her own image, scattering them around the swamp—yet the totem’s blue eyes cut through every trick.

Its cultivation surges, lightning coiling tighter around its scales until they shine like polished steel.

Tillie’s breath grows heavy.

Her strikes land, but not deep enough; his scales hold firm.

Every spell she casts is met with a crack of thunder.

She dodges one bolt—then a second—then the third catches her.

A blinding spear of blue tears through her defences, slamming into her chest.

Pain floods her.

She crashes into the swamp, the stench of burnt flesh mixing with steam.

Muddy water swallows her body as she struggles to rise.

Through the mist, she sees the totem looming, its jaws wide, lightning churning within.

Her own totem’s voice does not come.

No divine blessing falls.

Only silence.

She understands—her totem is teaching her a lesson, and the cost of failure is her death.

The blue lightning within the beast’s throat grows blinding.

It tilts its head back, ready to unleash the killing strike.

Then—

A thunderous roar splits the air, followed by a blast.

Flames and shrapnel explode against the totem’s flank, tearing chunks of scale free.

The totem staggers sideways, its attack cut short, a scream of pain shaking the swamp.

Far away, in the quiet of his cultivation chamber, Merin’s eyes remain half-closed as ripples of the dream world flow before him.

Through the silver mist of that realm, he watches Tillie’s battle unfold—her desperate dodges, the crackling arcs of lightning, and the moment her body crashes into the swamp.

He had been waiting, poised to intervene at the last possible second.

But before he can move, someone else does.

His gaze shifts.

Through the dream world, three humanlike figures descend—each bearing luminous silver wings, their armour glowing faintly like moonlight.

One raises a grotesquely altered arm, the flesh reshaped into a compact cannon.

A sharp pulse—then an energy missile slams into the totem’s flank.

Merin’s brow furrows.

He does not know them, yet they move with precise, practised unity.

The trio hovers over the swamp, weaving through the lightning, their silver bolts striking in rhythm with Tillie’s flames and dream spells.

Together, they drive the massive blue-scaled lizard to the muck, its body falling still.

Two days pass.

On the morning of the second, Merin sits upon his throne, eyes fixed on the three silver-skinned humans with wings standing silently before him.

Merin breaks the silence.

“You three don’t look like people of this world.”

One of them steps forward.

“Demigod, we are called the Tanarid race, from Tanarid Tech.”

Merin’s eyes flash at the title.

They knew the ranking of Divine cultivation—proof they were truly not of this world.

Only totems here could walk the divine path, and these three were not totems.

He supports his face with his right palm, elbow resting on the throne’s arm.

“So, you three wanted an audience with me.”

“Demigod, we want to form an alliance with you.”

Merin raises a brow.

“Can I know the reason?”

“Demigod, we came to this world chasing our sworn enemy—the Vanusus Divine Kingdom. We want your help capturing them.”

Merin’s voice is calm.

“What would I get?”

“Technological knowledge to help you reach the void through machines. We will kill the former god, and with your strength, you can conquer this entire world.”

“I need to think about it.”

They nod and leave the throne room, their silver wings folding tight as they vanish beyond the doors.

Merin remains seated in deep thought.

After his time in the Origin World, he divided civilisations into two ranks—

Planar civilisations, bound to their plane.

Void civilisations, able to traverse the void like the Demon World and the Rose Dynasty.

Now, in this world, he has encountered two more: the Vanusus Divine Kingdom and Tanarid Tech.

He wants to remain neutral, watching from the shadows.

If possible, he will wait until one side gains the advantage… then decide which to support.

But Merin knows he likely cannot.

He will have to choose.

And the problem is—whose side?

A wrong decision would mean the first time one of his clones is killed.

Merin’s figure dissolves from the throne room and reforms inside his cultivation chamber.

He sits cross-legged, pondering.

How to open the way again with the Law of Illusion?

An idea takes shape.

He wants his illusion to reach virtualisation.

If he succeeds, it will be as though the Law of Illusion itself opens a door.

He closes his eyes, mind sinking deeper.

How can he turn illusion… into the virtual?

While Merin ponders, great changes ripple through the Mugur Swamp region.

Vast lakes are dug to drain and divert the swamp waters.

As the land dries, train lines from the Dream Kingdom extend outward, linking the region to new towns and cities.

The tribes are moved into these settlements, where they are taught writing, law, and the cultivation systems of Knights and Priests.

Priority is given to the cultivation techniques.

Those who rise higher in rank feel themselves drawn ever closer to the Dream God.

With such overwhelming presence pressing upon their hearts, rebellion becomes unthinkable.

Six months pass, and the Mugur Swamp is brought into order.

Yet Merin reflects: if he could turn this region into a divine domain, as he did for the Dream Kingdom’s heartland, the process would not have taken half a year.

The Dream Kingdom pushes its gaze outward once more.

The Mugur Swamp region’s conquest increased its power.

Priests ascend to Bishops, Knights advance to Great Knights, and Tillie herself grows from Bishop rank 11 to rank 12.

Merin rewards them with the power of faith, his own strength rising in turn.

Each region conquered will feed his divinity, cutting years from his path.

The thousand years he once calculated to reach rank 17 shortens by fifty because of conquering the Mugur Swamp region.

He now sees the truth clearly—he must conquer more, draw more orcs under his faith.

Only then will his power rise fast enough that neither side dares to touch him…

And only then will he have the freedom to choose.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep