Chapter 425: A Share of the Homeworld

A six-winged Angel nearby answered the eight-armed figure.

"Would that be such a bad thing, Dreadborn King?"

His tone was mild.

"The Homeworld’s resources are astonishing. Divine Nation’s thirteen core Provinces in particular have several times the usual area, Aether concentration, and resource output. Taken together, those advantages make one of them worth a hundred ordinary Provinces."

He smiled.

"If the Divines fail to appear, there’s more for the rest of us."

Dozens of powerful figures nodded in agreement.

Every being qualified to stand beside the Dreadborn King and the six-winged Seraph was a Mythic. Two others stood at the heart of the gathering with them: an Arhat of the Elder Buddhas, and a Machine Monarch.

The Arhat looked Human. He was broad and heavy, with large ears and a bare chest. A sacred halo shone behind his head, so bright that it was difficult to look at him directly.

The Machine Monarch stood a hundred meters tall. His body was cast from divine metal, radiating cold, formidable strength.

"We should not be careless."

His deep, synthesized voice made the air tremble.

"Several months ago, aid from the Homeworld enabled Pandora’s Elves to defeat the Bloodmaw Court. Its newly advanced Mythic Beast Emperor, Vargul, died in that war. Several more Courts have come under attack recently. The Homeworld is almost certainly responsible."

He looked around the gathering.

"And the Human called Cassian is said to have killed Mythics more than once."

The Homeworld had its traitors. Everything they knew about Cassian had already been passed to the Outer Realm races.

The Seraph gave a contemptuous laugh.

"Such an enormous body, Lord Valkor. Who would have expected so little courage inside it?"

Like the Crystalkin, the Machines were creatures of reason, with little use for emotion. The Machine Monarch showed no anger at the insult.

"Lord Istriel, your Angel nations will eventually pay for their arrogance."

The calm statement infuriated Istriel more than an angry retort would have.

"You—"

"Blessed be the Enlightened One."

The Arhat spoke with a kindly expression.

"I believe Lord Istriel has a point. From his victories, this Cassian is clearly an extraordinary talent. Unfortunately for him, he has had too little time to grow."

His gaze moved across the others.

"The Homeworld is divided. Some of its own factions deliberately brought about this opening. To destroy their rivals, they are even willing to guide us inside. The time, the ground, and the people all favor us. What reason is there to expect defeat?"

Istriel’s expression eased.

"You see the matter clearly, Arhat Sameth. Unlike certain lumps of metal."

Sameth joined his palms and inclined his head. A hint of contempt passed through his eyes where the Seraph could not see it.

The Angels were powerful, certainly. Their arrogance could also make them remarkably foolish.

The Machines were better allies. Ruthless, capable, and sparing with words. Valkor was right: sooner or later, Angel pride would bring disaster on them.

A Gate began opening nearby.

A blond, blue-eyed Human Lord stepped through. The moment he emerged, his knees gave way. He dropped to the ground, trembling all over.

Dozens of Mythics were watching him. The weakest was Level 120; the strongest, Level 125. Under those gazes, he could scarcely speak.

"My... my lords. The Homeworld’s defensive dispositions."

He presented a map.

"We’re ready to receive you from inside. In five days, all sixty Gates will open. Twenty at sea, forty on the continents. Everything will be prepared for your arrival."

Satisfaction appeared on the Mythics’ faces.

Even after the Homeworld opened, reaching Divine Province without help from within could take months of travel. These Gates would spare them that delay.

Sameth stepped forward, his expression gentle.

"There is no need for such a greeting. Please, rise."

His voice was warm and reassuring.

"I have come to deliver the Homeworld’s ten billion Lords from their suffering. If this war can achieve that in a single campaign, your merit will be immeasurable."

Light from his halo brushed across the Western Beacon Lord.

The trembling stopped at once.

When the man raised his head, peace and joy filled his face.

"You speak the truth, master. I wish to take refuge in your faith. Please accept me."

A chill passed through the watching gathering.

Even the Dreadborn King’s eyes showed wariness.

"Universal Salvation. Impressive. That Lord was no weakling—a Warbound Lord, I would judge. To erase his mind in an instant... You must have reached at least Greater Mastery, Arhat Sameth."

"Blessed be the Enlightened One."

Sameth’s face remained serene and compassionate.

"Salvation comes only to those destined for it. This man is richly blessed. We should rejoice for him."

The brief interruption ended. The converted Beacon Lord departed through the Gate, and Sameth unfolded the map he had brought.

"The basic details of all three hundred and sixty-five Homeworld Provinces are here. Let each of us choose a first target."

"Divine Province," Istriel declared at once.

There was no question which Province held the greatest value. Divine Province stood above every other choice.

Strangely, no one objected.

"Excellent. Divine Province can hardly withstand you, Lord Istriel," Sameth said. "In that case, I will take Cloudhaven."

"Ironpass," Valkor said calmly.

The other Courts quickly chose their targets.

The Divines still had not arrived. But their Court belonged to one of the Outer Realms’ five strongest races, so the others left it a respectable Province.

Respectable, rather than exceptional.

"Then Southreach will be reserved for the Twilight Court." Sameth smiled. "As for the Provinces that remain, let each take what they can."

Roars and laughter rose from the gathered races.

The war had not begun, yet they were already dividing the Homeworld as though it belonged to them.

The Dreadborn King, Sameth, and a few others had a further calculation in mind.

There was something deeply unusual about the Lord called Cassian. Better to let the arrogant Angels test him first.

——

"Why can’t I reach Cassian again?"

Nessa looked at the failed connection, worry showing in her eyes.

"There are only five days left. Could he be in danger?"

The allied army was preparing to return to the Homeworld for its final war preparations.

Darian looked entirely unconcerned.

"Relax. He’s harder to kill than a cockroach. As long as he hasn’t picked a fight with one of the five great races, he’ll be fine."

"But..."

Nessa stopped herself.

Not long ago, Cassian had sent her eight Light-and-Dark Templar Troop Sigils through the Exchange.

Light-and-Dark Templars were the Divines’ strongest Extreme spellcasting troops. There was only one explanation for acquiring so many of their Sigils at once.

He really had attacked one of the five great races. The Divines, no less—a race known for its sheer fighting strength. He might already be deep inside the Twilight Court.

And if she could no longer contact him, surely they had sealed him inside one of their Regions.

The possibility was alarming enough. Let news spread that the Homeworld’s strongest Lord had gone missing in the Twilight Court, and Divine Nation’s morale would suffer a devastating blow.

She had told no one about the Sigils.

"No buts," Darian said easily. "We’re heading back to the Homeworld to make our final defensive preparations. Cassian will come back on his own when he’s had enough fun."