Chapter 1581: Spread
Dshshshhh—
With just a single, almost casual flick of Sakaar’s hand, something utterly bizarre and unsettling occurred.
One of the thick, pulsing blood tubes wrapped tightly around his arm suddenly ruptured, but instead of dripping a few sluggish drops or a pitiful trickle, an overwhelming torrent erupted outward. What gushed forth was not a stream, not a mere flow, but a colossal waterfall of crimson liquid bursting with unstoppable force!
In less than the blink of an eye that endless surge of blood twisted, coiled, and expanded, gathering together as though pulled by some unseen will. Within a single heartbeat, the flood sprawled outward until it assumed the form of a vast, glimmering lake of blood — a spectacle so unnatural it seemed to defy reason and mock the very laws of the cosmos. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
"What is happening here? What... what is happening heeere?!" The Artillery Marshal lost his composure entirely, yanking at his spiky hair with one hand while the other gripped the binoculars so tightly his knuckles turned pale. His voice cracked between disbelief and manic rage. "Do you actually think that pitiful pool of juice will slow down my meteors? Karkarkar—fools, absolute fools! You’ve already lost!!"
Swoooooooosh!
From the skies above, the heavens rumbled as the meteors descended, flaming shards of the stars themselves screaming downward with unstoppable momentum. Hundreds upon hundreds of celestial projectiles raced closer, threatening to annihilate the space portal and erase everything within its vast perimeter.
But just as their destruction was about to be unleashed, their path twisted. The blood lake had risen like a barrier from a nightmare, blotting out the horizon with its vast and glimmering surface.
Poof!
The very first meteor touched the lake, only to halt in place as if the laws of motion themselves had been shackled. It was like watching a delicate fly crash into a bowl filled with thick honey, its furious descent smothered and silenced in an instant.
"What—?!" The Marshal’s triumphant laughter froze on his lips, his grin collapsing into horrified silence.
PoofPoofPoof!
One after another, without exception, every shot of the grand artillery — every blazing meteor — was swallowed by the blood lake. Each one sputtered into the crimson depths with nothing more than a pitiful muffled pop, like childish firecrackers drowning in water.
No plume of steam hissed upward, no ripple even dared disturb the glossy surface of that impossible ocean. The lake did not so much as tremble; it remained impossibly still, unfathomably calm.
"Good... heavens..."
Around the battlefield, soldiers and deserters alike could do nothing but gape. The guards of the portal, the desperate survivors fleeing from planet Farkat-5, even the hardened generals and battle-worn free soldiers who had seen countless horrors in their lifetimes — all stood frozen with slack jaws and wide-open mouths.
In the middle of what was already a near-cosmic battle, what they had just witnessed felt like something ripped straight from a feverish dream, too strange, too terrifying, too overwhelming to process.
...Yet the place where shock resonated most heavily was not the battlefield itself, but the sacred, floating platform above...
"What’s going on below us? Who in the world are those beings?"
"Are they our enemies?!"
"How could they be enemies if they just intercepted an attack aimed at us?"
"Then they must be allies! Do we truly possess followers this powerful?!"
Step...
The Marshal of the Army of the Crushed Meteor Empire moved away from his great table, each footstep echoing with restrained weight. His gaze locked unwaveringly on Sakaar, his mind whirling like a storm behind his calm facade.
Though his posture remained proud, one only needed to glimpse his eyes to realize the truth — a thousand thoughts raced at once, collapsing and reforming. "It’s them," he muttered, voice heavy with certainty. "This must be the reinforcement we were promised."
"The reinforcements?!"
The generals around him could no longer sit still; they rushed to the very edge of the platform, leaning out to get a closer look at the crimson figures.
By now, the space portal had fully sealed shut. From its depths had emerged a small army of two hundred in number.
Seventeen of them stood proudly at the very front, as if the battlefield itself belonged to them, utterly unbothered by the chaos around. Each wielded a different weapon, each turned their heads with casual curiosity, their movements brimming with confidence.
Behind them, the rest poured out in immaculate, statue-like rows, their synchronized steps echoing like war drums.
"Is this the reinforcement?" one general muttered with disbelief, his face twisting into a grimace. "Too many to be called messengers... yet far, far too few to be a true army for a war like this!"
Another scoffed, retorting sharply, "And yet tell me, is there any envoy in existence who could casually smother an artillery strike of such magnitude?"
A third general shook his head gravely. "We cannot know if it was casual for them. Perhaps they wielded some secret planetary weapon."
That only earned a bark of frustration: "If I handed you a planetary weapon, could you replicate what we just witnessed?!"
"Enough!" the Marshal thundered, silencing the argument with a single roar. He seized the closest general by the shoulder, dragging him near. "Go. Call their leader to stand before us," he commanded before shoving him toward the edge of the platform.
Returning to his position above the grand map, the Marshal’s voice lowered to a grim tone. "The so-called reinforcement has arrived. Our duty here is complete; we need no longer remain tethered to these coordinates. We can relocate." His finger hovered above the map, pressing firmly on a particular spot. "And yet... I still hunger to crush the gunners’ with General Basil’s plan. Now that they have gathered in one place, this may be our only chance. If we unleash the planetary displacement armament and made them into retreat, such an opportunity may never present itself again—"
-----
Near the portal—
"Leader, shall we strike now?!"
"Leader, shall we advance this instant?!"
"Leader, command us!"
"Silence!" Amon’s bellow crashed over the chaos like thunder. His towering form dwarfed the others; he was the largest, the broadest, and his aura burned the fiercest. He was power incarnate, and with nothing more than a single word, the kings of imps bent to his authority. His command was law, his voice an unshakable chain.
Slowly, Amon turned, his hulking frame pivoting as he directed his gaze toward Sakaar. His voice softened just slightly, tempered with respect. "Big brother... what do we do now?"
"...." Sakaar did not answer immediately. Instead, he released his soul sense — vast, immeasurable, suffocating in its intensity. It swept across the battlefield like a storm tide, touching everything, understanding everything. Within moments, he had already discerned what he needed. He gave a few deliberate nods, the motion slow, the weight behind it immense.
Finally, his lips parted, and his voice rolled out with heavy finality:
"First... we will—"
Baam!
In that very instant, a figure descended directly beside Sakaar, his presence heavy and abrupt, like a hammer striking the earth. He was a man with a disturbingly pale face, his skin torn and marked by exposed bone fragments that jutted out like cruel ornaments. His hollow expression carried with it an air of grim finality. The man’s gaze lingered long upon Sakaar and his followers, scrutinizing them as though trying to pierce through their very essence.
Only after that silent examination did he finally open his mouth, his voice hoarse yet commanding: "Who is your leader? His Excellency, the Marshal, demands his presence."
"...."
Sakaar turned his head slowly, his expression unreadable as his eyes locked upon the newcomer. He immediately felt it — this was no ordinary messenger. The man’s aura burned hot and oppressive, his blood force so dense it radiated like a tide of raw violence. He was at the absolute peak of the martial Emperor’s realm, his foundation unshakable.
This was someone of considerable stature, not a mere errand-runner. The very fact that the Marshal had chosen to send such a figure revealed much — it was a gesture of face, a mark of respect. That Marshal clearly held them in regard after their brief display upon emerging from the portal.
And yet...
Sakaar gave no reply. His eyes moved forward once more, dismissing the pale envoy with chilling indifference. With a wave of his hand, a strange construct shimmered into existence — a miniature space array gleaming faintly with red and silver light.
Bzzzzzt
"Amon, Helga," Sakaar’s voice rolled out, deep and commanding, "this gate will take you directly to the artillery nest that dared to strike at us moments ago. Destroy it completely, then return immediately. Do not waste your strength on needless clashes." His gaze sharpened. "Remember what we trained for. Do not fail."
"Understood!"
Both Amon and Helga bowed their heads with absolute confidence, their voices booming as they spoke in unison. Without hesitation, they stepped into the glowing spatial gate, their figures vanishing instantly as the light folded in on itself. Within a breath, the portal sealed shut behind them, leaving only silence in its wake.
"...The artillery ground?" The general of the Shattering Meteor Empire blurted out, his voice shrill with disbelief. "You sent only two?! Two against an artillery?! Are you insane? Do you know how many forces are stationed there? How many Martial Emperors?!"
His face twisted as if struck by madness, unable to process the sheer audacity. That tiny glowing gate had swallowed the two warriors whole, and he could scarcely comprehend what kind of power could justify such reckless confidence.
Sakaar, as if the words were no more than the whines of insects, ignored him entirely once again.
Turning back, he stretched out his arms and drew two of the imp kings to stand at his side. His voice thundered out like a war drum as he addressed the rigid soldiers behind them — warriors so tense and silent it seemed as though birds could perch upon their unmoving heads.
"All of you," Sakaar declared, his tone brooking no resistance, "for the coming month, you will be under the command of King Baron and King Sayir. Your task is this: find a mountain, carve a city for us into the heart of that mountain, then to deep to the earth, and lay down every array we brought from the Sky Opening City. Work tirelessly, for our presence here may last far longer than any of you expect."
"Understood!"
Baron, flanked by nearly two hundred imps, each one standing proudly at the very peak of the Emperor combat realm, snapped into a crisp military salute. Without hesitation, they retreated in formation, already beginning their search with sharp precision.
"What in the name of the stars are you doing?!" The general from the Crushed Meteor Empire exploded, his face red, his voice shrieking. "This is not your backyard! You cannot simply act as you please! You cannot carve cities and deploy arrays here like this!!"
He was on the verge of collapse, veins throbbing on his forehead, as he watched these strange beings move as though they owned the very battlefield. They had emerged from nothing and already seized initiative, issuing orders as if this war were theirs to direct.
For the third time, Sakaar did not so much as flick his eyes toward him. Instead, he addressed the remaining demon kings with calm authority.
"There are twelve armies locked in this war. Spread out. Strike each one with a single devastating blow — enough to halt their momentum and shake their resolve. Then take some damage in return, scream loudly if you must, and withdraw. Do not overstep. Do not slaughter beyond measure. And under no circumstances are you to feast upon anyone. Everything has its time."
"Hahahaha! Understood!"
The other kings laughed darkly, their voices rolling like thunder before dispersing in all directions. Each one vanished into the distance, moving with lethal intent.
"Wait! Stop! You cannot simply interfere in an organized war without proper coordi—" The general’s words cut off, his mind teetering on the brink of madness as chaos unfolded before his eyes. His composure shattered; he could no longer tell whether he was witnessing allies, invaders, or something far more terrifying.
And then Sakaar’s voice cut through, calm, cold, and absolute.
"You said your Marshal was summoning me, did you not? Then lead the way."