“I am sparing your lives out of respect for your gods!”

  When Corvus’ voice echoed through the room, it felt as if even the stone walls had momentarily held their breath. For a few seconds, no one could move. The immense energy of the Lightstone that had filled the room, swirling like a dark vortex, suddenly vanished. But the mark it left behind was forever imprinted on everyone’s soul.

  The priests lowered their heads and began murmuring, as if they were pleading for divine mercy. Amidst their whispers, words of gratitude could be heard. However, bowing before Corvus was the greatest insult they could suffer. So, the thanks that fell from their lips were filled with pain and helplessness. But there was one truth that everyone in the room understood: this was not an act of grace—it was a warning.

  Baldrek, however, was still radiating death. His eyes were like those of a wolf under a blood-red moon. Unlike Corvus, he had no intention of hiding his emotions. In fact, not hiding them was Corvus’ command. Baldrek was meant to intimidate; Corvus was meant to crush. This was how they had decided to make their presence felt during the meeting. One would show his fangs, while the other would slowly suffocate his prey.

  Sardiun nodded slightly, attempting to dispel the tension that hung in the air, and turned his eyes to Corvus.

  “Now that this issue has been settled, we can begin our meeting,” he said, his voice maintaining its usual measured seriousness.

  “As far as I know, you have brought Sanguinar’s letter with you. If you wish, we can begin by hearing the words of the great Sanguinar.”

  Corvus nodded slightly in agreement. His deep crimson eyes locked onto the letter. He weighed the heavy, sealed parchment in his hands. This was not just a piece of paper. This was the echo of one of Rhazgord’s most powerful voices. He slowly tore open the wax seal and stood up.

  “The letter is written in the Rhazgord language. Do you have a translator?”

  When Corvus’ voice rang out, a brief shadow of unease flickered across the faces of those in the room. The Rhazgord language was an old and harsh tongue, understood by only Rhazgordians and a select few on the continent. A language that carried only the echoes of war, blood, and conquest.

  Sardiun frowned slightly and raised his hand toward the door. The guards standing on either side of the entrance did not hesitate for even a second before acknowledging his signal. The rhythmic sound of their steel boots against the stone floor reinforced the gravity of the meeting. The doors swung open swiftly.

  And an old man entered.

  His gait was still that of an unyielding sage. The long silver hair cascading over his shoulders, the deep lines etched into his forehead, and the sharp gaze in his eyes all told the story of a man who had witnessed much in his lifetime. His dark blue robes carried the dignity of an ancient scholar.

  Corvus fixed his eyes on him for a moment. This man reminded him of the scholars in Bahaoz. There were so few on the continent who knew the Rhazgord language that they could be counted on one hand. And this man was one of them.

  Sardiun gave a slight nod and spoke.

  “Our translator is here, Lord Tiamat. You may begin whenever you wish.”

  Corvus examined the old man once more. Despite the years weighing on him, his posture remained upright. He was confident but also seemed to know his place. And now, everyone was ready to hear the words of the great Sanguinar.

  As the sharp, cutting tones of the Rhazgord language echoed in the room, it felt as if even the walls trembled under the weight of these mighty words. The words resembled the raw, chilling resonance of steel striking stone. Each syllable descended upon the ears like a command that had echoed across battlefields for thousands of years. Baldrek, with a single movement, stood at attention. His shoulders tensed, his breath deepened. The war call of Rhazgord had begun.

  And then, the voice of Sanguinar transformed from ink on paper into an echo that seeped into stone and soul alike:

  “I am Sakhaar Tiamat, the greatest of the Tiamat lineage, the Great Sanguinar of Rhazgord! Hear my words, rulers of the Nerathian Continent! You who govern with blood and iron, who speak to your people from the walls of your fortresses, who rule beneath the heavens! Now is the time to hear true power!”

  The translator’s voice did not waver. Noticing that he was translating each word flawlessly, Corvus quickened his pace. His eyes burned like fire.

  “Our god Rhazkar has sent his decree to his children. Our Father, who reigns in the heavens, has revealed to us the sharpest truth of revelation: Death and destruction have set their sights upon this world. But this time, our enemies are neither creatures descending from the shadows of the sky nor merely demons. This time, they are mortal beings like us—born from the earth, spilling blood, and destined to wither away in the end.

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  And we, the chosen warriors of Rhazgord, renew our ancient oath once more!

  We accept the sacred mission bestowed upon us by our Father in the heavens! Until the last Rhazgordian falls, we shall rule with steel, cleanse the paths with fire, and uphold our blood-written legacy to the very end!

  As always, Rhazgord shall be at the forefront, spreading death!

  The enemies of the gods shall be torn apart under the sharp justice of our steel, and know this— even if a single Rhazgordian remains standing, this sacred duty shall be fulfilled!

  And thus, under the witness of the heavens and the earth, these words shall echo like a sealed decree!

  O rulers of the earth! Listen and tremble with understanding, for the command of our Supreme God is clear and indisputable! In this war, there are only two paths! Either you stand behind Rhazgord and submit to the divine will of the gods, carrying out their command, or Rhazgord shall deem you its enemy and condemn you to the wrath of its steel and fire!

  But do not fear and do not hesitate! For the sacred warriors of Rhazgord shall clear the path for you with blood and fire, turning enemies into dust and ash! The duty of your feeble soldiers and weak armies is to serve us, to feed our hungry warriors, to heal our wounds, and to serve the children of the gods with unwavering loyalty!

  This is the absolute decree of Sakhaar Tiamat, the loyal servant of the gods and the Sovereign of the Heavens!

  You are either with us or against us!”

  Corvus had expected the letter to be harsh. Rhazgord’s words had never been soft—each word was as firm as iron, as sharp as steel. But this… this was not just harsh, it was a direct ultimatum. A proclamation forged from commands, threats, and arrogance. Either you stood with Rhazgord, or you suffered its wrath.

  For a moment, the room fell silent. The words hung in the air, as if everyone struggled to grasp the weight of the decree. And then… the storm broke.

  The continent’s most powerful rulers, generals, and politicians were suddenly swept into a fiery debate. Some were outraged by the despotic, superiority-laden letter, while others were frightened by how seriously Rhazgord was taking this war. It was clear that this was no mere threat—this was a war for existence.

  Corvus took a deep breath and sat back down. As the noise grew louder, he scanned the room. The chamber was as heated as a battlefield. Two sides had already emerged: those willing to gather under Rhazgord’s sword and those who believed that Rhazgord was using this war as a pretext to establish absolute dominance over the continent.

  Yet, amid all the chaos, only two people remained silent. Corvus and Sardiun.

  Corvus’ face was expressionless, but his eyes carefully observed every movement, every gesture. Meanwhile, Sardiun waited calmly. In a room where everyone was too busy hearing their own voices, he was turning the moment to his advantage.

  And then, Corvus’ voice sliced through the heated debates like a blade—

  “While Rhazgord offers to fight at the forefront against the enemy, I fail to understand why you bicker like children!” Corvus said, his voice echoing in every corner as his eyes swept over the leaders in the room one by one.

  “Do you wish to face the enemy first? By all means, the battlefield is yours! But do not speak unless you are certain that you will not beg us for mercy when the enemies of the gods set your homes ablaze and feast upon your blood! Because we will first watch your destruction! Then, we will destroy those accursed demons who raze your lands!”

  A heavy silence fell over the room.

  Corvus rose to his feet with slow, deliberate steps. His voice was deep and commanding, shaking the very walls.

  “The only thing Rhazgord demands from you is support! We do not covet your lands, your treasures, or the rule of your continent! We have never sought such things, and we do not seek them now! But remember this… We will win this war! The question is, will you win alongside us, or will you become fodder for the enemies of the gods?”

  The faces in the hall were frozen in place. Some clenched their fists, others furrowed their brows, but none dared to raise their voice. As Corvus stepped back, this time Sardiun stepped forward.

  “In that case, I propose a vote!” he declared, his voice firm and clear.

  “As the representative of Sizat, I cast my vote in favor of supporting Rhazgord! Now, let everyone declare whether they stand with us or resign themselves to their fate alone!”

  Sizat’s support silenced all further debate in a single stroke.

  When the absolute ruler of the continent declared his allegiance to Rhazgord, disregarding the insults and ultimatums, the kingdoms and allies under his shadow followed suit one by one. Everyone who stood beneath Sizat’s dominion pledged their support to Rhazgord without hesitation.

  Yet, Sizat could have made this call himself. He could have led the entire continent and waged war under his own banner. But he chose not to. Sardiun was no fool. Instead of sacrificing his own armies and watching the continent bleed, he needed a puppet to fight on the front lines. And Rhazgord was the perfect candidate for the role.

  If Rhazgord perished in this war, Sizat would remain powerful. But if Rhazgord won, Sizat would emerge as the hero of the continent. As the demons and Rhazgord weakened one another, Sizat would reap the greatest reward.

  The debates had ended.

  Aside from Brihmond’s representative and a few loyal allies, everyone quickly changed their stance. Those who once criticized warmongering were now arguing over who could provide the most support to Rhazgord.

  From this moment on, the purpose of the meeting had shifted. It was no longer about whether to support Rhazgord, but rather how to support it and how to respond to potential attacks. For Brihmond’s representative and his allies, remaining here was pointless. They had chosen not to partake in this war. And so, they quietly turned toward the door.

  But before they could take a single step, Corvus’ voice cut through the room like a blade.

  “From this day forward, Rhazgord will reject all calls for aid from you.” His voice carried a sharp and ominous weight, reverberating through the hall.

  “And if you dare to stand in the way of our war, we will sacrifice you and your kingdoms to the gods first.”

  Brihmond’s representative locked eyes with Corvus before leaving. A deathly silence filled the hall. No one dared to say a word.