Chapter 272: Alliance Break
Emperor Kronos stood over the shattered remains of the communication crystal. His massive star-iron armor hummed loudly, filling the grand hall with a dense, suffocating pressure. He did not immediately walk out the door.
He turned back to face Voranthar, his eyes burning with absolute disgust.
"You speak of unity and sacrifice, Voranthar," Kronos rumbled. His voice carried the weight of grinding stones. "You killed hundreds of millions of your own citizens to fuel your desperate experiments in Aethelgard. You abandoned your capital. You ran to Tarnstead with your stolen magic and your cowardly army instead of dying to defend your kingdom."
Voranthar’s face flushed a deep, violent shade of red. He gripped the edges of the war table tightly, the wood splintering under his fingers.
"You brought the wrath of The Spiral to our doorstep," Kronos continued, his voice echoing against the vaulted ceiling. "And now, more than half of Tarnstead has fallen. The Vanguard completely surrounds the continent. They are actively butchering my southern garrisons in Gildreath, and they will march on the Morval Dynasty next. The entire Fourth Continent is collapsing because you decided to play god with the Earthlings."
The three Morval kings nodded slowly in agreement, their crimson robes shifting as their psychic dread intensified. The Tarnstead nobility shrank back in sheer terror. Even Soros remained silent, knowing the Emperor spoke the absolute truth.
Voranthar finally snapped.
"Silence!" Voranthar screamed.
He violently released his own magical aura. A blinding wave of concentrated divine light erupted from his body. The pressure did not carry the physical weight of Kronos or the mental dread of Morval.
It carried an overwhelming, absolute authority that forced every single person in the room to their knees. The Tarnstead guards collapsed. The Morval kings staggered backward. Even Kronos braced himself against the table, his star-iron armor groaning under the sheer oppressive weight of the light.
"You forget your place, Emperor," Voranthar hissed, stepping out from behind the war table. His eyes glowed with a terrifying, golden brilliance. "The Fourth Continent houses four gods. The Silver Wing of Tarnstead, The God of Valleys in Morval, and the Heavenly Divine Emperor of Gildreath."
Voranthar walked down the length of the table, his footsteps echoing like thunder claps.
"They are not supreme beings," Voranthar declared, his voice amplifying unnaturally. "They all serve the Radiant Monarch. They are his vassals. And I am his chosen proxy. I am the vessel of his divine will on this mortal plane. I hold his absolute authority."
He stopped in the center of the hall, pointing a glowing finger directly at Kronos, then sweeping his hand to encompass the Morval kings and the terrified Tarnstead nobility.
"Just as your native gods must kneel and listen to the Radiant Monarch, you must all obey me," Voranthar commanded. "You will do exactly what I tell you to do without question and without opposition. If you run back to Gildreath, Kronos... if you defy my will... the Radiant Monarch will personally punish you and your Heavenly Divine Emperor for treason."
The blinding light filling the grand hall flared violently, casting long, dark shadows against the marble pillars. The threat was absolute. Voranthar was no longer asking for an alliance. He was demanding total submission under the threat of divine annihilation.
Emperor Kronos stood tall against the blinding light of Voranthar’s aura. He crossed his massive arms over his star-iron chest plate and scoffed.
"Our gods have remained entirely silent for a decade," Kronos replied. "The Heavenly Divine Emperor has not spoken a single word to me. You are the only one claiming to hear the Radiant Monarch. You have absolutely no proof."
Voranthar narrowed his glowing eyes, but Kronos refused to back down.
"Everything collapsing around us is the direct result of your narcissism and your foolish ambitions," Kronos continued. "A man who slaughters hundreds of millions of his own civilians is no king. That cannot possibly be the will of a divine being. If it is, then I refuse to serve such a god."
The grand hall instantly erupted into chaos. Voranthar’s royal knights drew their swords from their scabbards. The Tarnstead commanders and generals grabbed their weapons.
Even Marcus Thorne and the remaining Heralds summoned their magical artifacts. The local nobility scrambled backward toward the walls as the two factions prepared for immediate bloodshed.
"Are you declaring yourself a heretic, Kronos?" Voranthar demanded. He stepped closer to the Emperor to assert his authority. "Do you abandon the sacred teachings of our creator? That is high treason. The punishment is death."
Kronos remained completely nonchalant. He looked at the drawn blades surrounding him without a single trace of fear.
"If a god truly desires my obedience, he can come down here and speak to me himself," Kronos stated. "I will not follow your commands. You cannot prove the gods want this war. Since you cannot provide proof, I know you are lying. You are doing all of this strictly for your own personal gain."
Kronos turned his back on Voranthar and looked at the three Morval kings.
"What do you think?" Kronos asked them.
The center Morval king stepped forward. The psychic dread radiating from his crimson robes spiked violently. The mental pressure physically pushed the Tarnstead knights backward, forcing several guards to drop their weapons.
"Emperor Kronos speaks the truth," the Morval king projected directly into the minds of everyone present. "From this exact moment, the Morval Dynasty severs all connections with Voranthar and Tarnstead. We will only march to war when the God of Valleys delivers the order directly to us. This alliance is officially broken."
The three kings moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Emperor Kronos. They faced the Tarnstead king and his stolen Earthling champions.
"If you think you can execute us for heresy, Voranthar, you are welcome to try it right now," the Morval king challenged.
Kronos rested his massive hand on the hilt of his weapon. He stared down at Voranthar and openly dared the Tarnstead king to make the first move. Voranthar stood completely frozen.
He realized he could not possibly win a battle against the Emperor of Gildreath and the Morval Dynasty inside his own palace. The grand decapitation strike failed before it even began.
Novus watched the entire confrontation from the cracked kitchen doors. He smiled broadly and nudged Hawl’s shoulder.
The unified front was completely dead.
