Chapter 294

Chapter 294
## Chapter 294

War Preparations (1)

An impeccably kept garden plot looked as though it had been coddled by a master of the craft.

A multitude of tiny organisms squirmed and scurried within its borders, each performing its duty with utmost diligence.

Ants, butterflies, ladybugs, nightcrawlers… a microscopic domain flourishing in perfect balance.

To an outsider, they might appear trivial, nothing more than bugs and worms, yet their desperate bid for existence and their unwavering focus on their roles in this confined realm offered a surprisingly touching display.

“…Charming.”

There was one individual who found herself utterly entranced by this sight.

Saintess Liesta Saint Hatianuss, a woman with hair like spun silver, bent down low, her eyes locked onto the soil as a quiet whisper escaped her lips.

“Hmm~ Hmm~♪”

She caroled a soft melody, bestowing a sacred blessing upon every single creature residing in the dirt.

Though hours drifted past, she displayed no hints of weariness.

Her amber eyes shone with a youthful fascination as she studied the miniature ecosystem layout before her.

‘So exquisite.’

Such microscopic, delightful living things.

Liesta, indulging in a scarce window of tranquility, let a faint smile grace her features.

‘Matters have been incredibly turbulent of late… ’

The Main God Church had been thrown into utter chaos following the passing of Pope Hatianuss the Second.

On the global front, they were forced to press onward with stabilizing the continent, while internally, they had to select a fresh Pope to occupy the hollow throne.

‘A choice should be reached shortly.’

The six Cardinals, holding the loftiest positions within the Church hierarchy, were presently assembled inside the Roselia Temple, holding a conclave to determine the next spiritual leader.

While the positions of Saint and Saintess were bestowed directly by the divine, the Pope was chosen by the mortal congregation, making this a mandatory ritual.

‘It shouldn’t drag on, regardless of who emerges victorious. The Cardinals cannot remain absent for long, particularly in these volatile times. We must possess the readiness to counter any unexpected crises instantly… ’

Just as Liesta was savoring the serene aura of her private sanctuary,

An abrupt wave of discomfort washed through her form.

A dark presentiment, a shivering sensation that bypassed all logic and vibrated violently against her basic instincts.

‘…Ugh, this sensation… could it be…?’

Having encountered this phenomenon in the past, she recognized the source immediately.

A direct transmission from the Main God.

An abrupt flash of enlightenment, a cosmic awakening.

As she pressed her palms to her temples, a dizzying fog clouding her senses, an uninvited visitor fluttered into the courtyard.

Flap—

A dark crow descended, hovering over the soil and snapping up the plump insects that had just received the Saintess’s blessing.

Caw— Caw—

The bird cried out cheerfully, seemingly relishing a magnificent feast.

“Huu…”

Liesta, steadying herself after the divine transmission faded, frowned faintly at the sight of the scavenger, then dabbed away the perspiration on her brow with a cloth, softening her expression.

Avian visitors and crawling pests entering the sanctuary was nothing out of the ordinary.

Sealing the perimeter entirely would certainly simplify upkeep and ensure a flawless aesthetic, but it would reduce the space to a massive, sterile exhibition.

The brutal reality of nature, where the powerful prey on the helpless, was simply another facet of the grand design established by the Main God.

‘Even so… ’

Taking a grounding breath to collect her wits, she stepped quietly toward the tiny intruder.

Caw— Caw!

Flutter—

The crow, startled by her advance, beat its wings wildly in an attempt to flee.

Yet it found itself unable to take to the air, its tiny frame locked in place as she extended her hands and softly cradled it against her palms.

“There now, be still.”

She stroked the suddenly passive creature, a gentle grin gracing her face.

This was hardly a miracle. Though she lacked martial training, her personal level far exceeded anything a common beast could possibly comprehend.

Had she willed it, she could have shattered a bird mid-flight through sheer focus alone.

‘An interloper… ’

Her hand grew still against the crow’s feathers as she scrutinized the bird with deep focus.

She harbored no malice toward the creature.

She had merely ensnared it on an impulse, her thoughts heavily burdened by the recent message from above.

‘A trespasser hailing from a foreign reality… ’

The entity the Main God had just signaled a warning about would hardly be as benign as this avian pest.

The Main God had never seen fit to issue an alert previously, despite the countless Earthlings who had crossed into this realm over the ages.

‘…Could this be tied to the Immortal King once more?’

It stood as a logical deduction, though she lacked absolute proof.

The undeniable reality was that she had to brace herself for this impending hazard.

Caw— Caw!

Flutter—

Releasing her grip, she watched the crow soar into the sky, then spun around, her countenance turning somber.

She required a consultation with an individual of absolute loyalty.

Someone capable of providing pathfinding counsel.

Saint Heinrich.

—

Gradually, yet without pause,

The currents of time drifted forward like a sweeping river.

He had lived through an immense array of events across that span, the ticking of the clock appearing stretched and warped due to his control over multiple vessels.

“Eternal glory to Crown Princess Riley Carte Azerion!”

“Our congratulations, Your Highness. You have achieved your ultimate ambition at last.”

“Oh heavens, Your Highness, you appear more magnificent with each passing day. Even the rarest blossoms of the Empire lose their luster beside you.”

To begin with, Riley had finally achieved her formal coronation as Crown Princess within Jeron, the heart of the Azerion Empire.

She had effectively cast aside Prince Simon, who had practically dissolved into historical obscurity, guaranteeing her status as the singular successor to the throne.

‘The reigning Emperor exhibits failing vitality. A forced abdication could manifest within a handful of winters.’

The supreme authority and political leverage she commanded as the Crown Princess were incomparable to her days as merely the Fifth Princess leading a singular faction.

She now stood as the undisputed second-in-command, the sovereign of tomorrow, capable of swaying imperial policy directly and steering the nation’s vast assets.

It marked the reality that her lengthy crusade, ignited by her initial encounter with Isea over a decade prior, was drawing to its ultimate conclusion.

Furthermore, such tectonic shifts were not restricted solely to the borders of the Empire.

Within the Free City of Dracal, the frontier of sellswords resting in the southeastern territory…

Kaboom—!

“I have been informed that a warrior named Harley resides within these walls! I, Stallone of the Blood Mist, have arrived to test your steel! Let us bear witness to your…!”

“Huh? Yet another one?”

“…What did you say?”

“Tsk, I care little whether you hail from the Blood Mist or the Blood Clam. Draw your blade if you seek an end.”

As if a contagion of toxic machismo had gripped the settlement, an unending parade of rivals, provoked by Harley’s soaring fame, manifested without pause.

It was a given that mercenaries were bound to perpetually validate their prowess to escape subjugation… yet this scale was absurd.

‘Naturally, not a single one maintained that arrogant posture after facing me in the flesh.’

Even the highest tier of Guild leadership, combatants of master-level distinction, had bent the knee to Harley’s suffocating aura.

How could these minor agitators entertain any hope of enduring his wrath?

The sequence that followed became an expected ritual.

The instigator, eyes dilating with a cocktail of bewilderment and terror, would falter, prompting Harley to step into close quarters and drop a heavy arm across the man’s shoulders.

Though the challenger was by no means a small man, standing alongside Harley reduced him to the likeness of a helpless youth being cornered by a predator.

“Do you possess a desire to be pulverized into a red paste, or do you intend to finance my midday feast?”

“…I-I shall finance the feast.”

“An excellent path! Forward then, guide me toward the finest establishment in your knowledge! Should the cuisine offend my palate, I shall snap your spine in twain! Hahaha!”

It amounted to highway robbery, plain and simple.

Harley slapped the man’s back forcefully and tracked behind him, his train of petrified Guild leadership keeping pace in the rear.

Granted, a select few, driven to madness by sheer panic, would launch a suicidal strike at him… but they were swiftly offered ‘re-education’ via a brief display of… uncompromising force.

And the fundamentally benevolent Harley would even provide them a shared table afterward, offering an avenue to seek pardon and dissolve any friction.

“Hmm! The flesh served here is magnificent! A pleasant revelation!”

“D-Dracal may be a desolate rock, but it boasts distinct perks. It operates as a commercial crossroads, and the indigenous stock, the cliff goat, yields unparalleled flavor… Though the price tag is rather steep.”

“Spoken with wisdom, chief!… Have we exhausted the platters already? I-I shall request an additional ten portions… no, make it twenty… actually, thirty! Hahaha…”

“Tsk, tsk, remarkably sluggish. You must learn to anticipate needs. Request the next round prior to the plates clearing. Utterly devoid of foresight.”

His arrival had fundamentally unhinged the status quo of the municipality, his shadow and authority expanding with every sunrise as chronicles of his dominance rippled outward like a wild blaze.

‘Stripped of their history, sellswords barter in raw power. Undeniable might consistently overrides intricate statecraft. In that regard, this domain mirrors the southern territories.’

Dracal, a settlement where muscle dictated the law, proved an ideal sandbox for Harley, a walking monument to unbridled devastation.

Meanwhile, the theater across alternative zones was similarly unfolding to his benefit, eclipses beyond his preliminary calculations.

‘The southern expanse rests entirely under my thumb, and the march into the eastern front, orchestrated by the surviving Obaifo assets, advances without friction. Simultaneously, the Talia Kingdom in the west has forged ironclad treaties with bordering realms, pulling the surrounding lands into its orbit… ’

It was a foregone conclusion that Hubert’s Trading Company, which initiated its commercial crusade in the western sectors, would entangle itself intimately in this web, pushing its fingers across the entire geographic theater.

The lynchpin of their triumph rested on the bottomless shipments of exotic ores flowing from the northern reaches, which rival sovereigns scrambled to secure to bolster their battalions out of sheer dread of the Immortal Army.

‘Amusingly, the entities manufacturing and dealing those selfsame ores happen to be… the Immortal Army.’

A paradox where both factions of the grand theater were bartering armaments and raw goods, fueled entirely by financial gain.

He had transformed into… a merchant of death.

‘However… ’

Amidst this flawless orchestration, a jarring report had pierced his network.

‘A dimension-hopper possessing enough destructive potential to trigger an explicit warning from the Main God?’

This was the identical insight Liesta had received from her deity.

‘…Only a single entity matches that profile.’

A monstrosity that siphoned the core vitality of entire realities, shifting across dimensions.

The Master of Heaven’s Turn Society.

‘He has reached this domain at last.’

Had it not been for Liesta’s intervention, he would have remained entirely oblivious to this catastrophic variable.

He would have lacked the window to arrange a defensive line, let alone construct a counter-strategy.

Only an asset of her specific spiritual standing could decipher the celestial communication to such a precise degree.

He lacked data on the exact mechanics the Master utilized to pierce the dimensional veil, leaving him unable to pinpoint his current coordinates.

Yet it was highly improbable the man utilized an identical process to his own—plundering psychic records and triggering the “Interdimensional Transfer Formation Summon”.

Weighing the entity’s profile, he had likely unlocked a personal trait capable of warping space itself.

‘But the mechanics are irrelevant at this juncture.’

The methodology was a secondary issue.

The critical factor was that the abomination’s destination… was Auterica.

The reality he had spent years crafting with surgical precision.

‘…This realm… Auterica.’

A boiling torrent of rage flared within his consciousness.

This was an intolerable transgression.

The common masses operated under the delusion that the Immortal Army and the kingdoms of men were locked in a mortal feud… yet that was a fabricated narrative.

Both sides were merely tokens on his board.

It might sound impossible to an outside observer, but he held the power to sway the destination of this reality with minimal effort.

The vast majority of dominant figures across Auterica answered directly to his whims.

The Immortal King and his legions of death, the Vampire Alliance steered by the Vampire King, the Main God Church that revered Heinrich as their living Saint, Harley the Fighting King alongside his legion of combatants, Harris the High Elf ruling the Elven Kingdom, the crown assets steered via Riley, and the mercantile syndicates commanded by Hubert…

Auterica was effectively cradled within his fist.

‘Auterica belongs to—’

This domain was…

His property.

His sanctuary.

‘Mine.’

A reality forged explicitly for his purposes, an arena for his grand designs, a vault overflowing with invaluable assets.

And should an outsider possess the audacity to trespass…

‘You will find yourself warring against the entire world.’

The hour had arrived to mobilize for total conflict.