Chapter 411: The Broadcast

At the highest terrace of the Convergence Palace, the northern wind whipped against the heavy bronze framework of the Fuzaka apparatus.

Twelve senior innovators from the Central Plains worked in frantic coordination, tightening bronze gears and aligning massive concave glass lenses with the morning sky.

Chief Tendai Mbeki of Molakwa had spent years refining the Watcher’s Circle after its initial trial during the decennial academy exams.

Back then, the Fuzaka innovators had only projected the runner hare trials across the Outer Nonagon of Galka through grounded field anchors.

Now, with the capital secured and the continent facing total invasion, the Fuzaka had expanded their greatest innovation across the entire realm.

Connecting through towering signal spires driven into the bedrock of all five provinces, the Watcher’s Eye was ready to cast the truth across the clouds.

Marshal Salka stood near the bronze railing, his dark combat coat spattered with dried blood.

He watched two engineers strike the base tuning rods with iron mallets, sending a rhythmic vibration through the palace foundations.

"The anchor spires in all ten academies have locked onto the central lens," the lead Fuzaka innovator reported, wiping sweat from his brow.

"From Galka in the north to the western bluffs of Kafika and the eastern gardens of Cilsi, the sky-domes are opening."

Beside the central platform, Supreme Mandra Taziraka stood motionless in the pale morning light.

His torn tunic revealed corded muscle, his slit golden irises cold and fixed on the horizon as he watched the young commander beside him.

Grand Marshal Senraki stepped onto the raised platform, holding the heavy bronze command plate etched with the crest of Galka War Academy.

He was the youngest Grand Marshal the northern schools had ever known, carrying the pride and poison of the Senraki bloodline in his veins.

He looked down into the bronze focusing cone, his sharp face devoid of any tremor.

The lead innovator pulled an iron lever, and the overhead mirrors pivoted toward the sun, capturing the light and amplifying his image into the sky.

Four hundred leagues to the northeast, over the central courtyard of Galka War Academy, the sky above the Central Pentagon rippled with light.

A colossal, concave projection dome shimmered into view above the rooftops, displaying the high terrace of Alika City in razor-sharp clarity.

War drums boomed from the academy gatehouses, and thousands of young warriors in gray and black uniforms rushed into the quadrangle.

Instructor Fuwuka and Captain Lotaga stepped to the edge of the second-year balcony, their hands gripping the stone balustrade in utter shock.

Across the western ridge in Kafika All-Girls Academy, hundreds of spear-maidens halted their drills, looking up at the sky in stunned silence.

The same vision appeared above the forge towers of Molakwa, the medicine halls of Cilsi, and the frontier forts along the northern pass.

The entire warrior population of Tagayia looked up into the clouds.

Grand Marshal Senraki drew the freezing mountain air into his lungs and spoke into the bronze cone.

"I am Grand Marshal Senraki of Galka War Academy," his voice thundered from the sky-domes across all ten territories with terrifying clarity.

"I speak to you from the Convergence Palace in Alika City, by order of Supreme Mandra Taziraka."

In the courtyards of Galka, several veteran instructors exhaled with raw relief, realizing the imperial seat had not fallen.

"At midnight, rebel shock troops struck the imperial gates, burned the artisan quarters, and butchered loyal sentries in their sleep," Senraki spoke.

His tone was cold and deliberate, carrying the heavy weight of an execution verdict.

"General Felunka of the War Council drew his blade to protect our people. He was cut down in the courtyard, dying with honor."

A collective murmur of shock rippled through the northern warrior ranks, where Felunka’s forty years of frontier campaigns were revered.

"The rebel garrison inside the capital has been executed. The mutiny is crushed, and the Mandra’s authority over Alika is absolute."

Senraki paused, his dark eyes staring directly through the lens into the eyes of every cadet across the continent.

"Now, the realm will hear the name of the traitor who commanded this butchery."

Taziraka remained half a step behind him on the terrace, his predatory aura silent, heavy as an anvil.

"The architect of this treason is my biological father, General Senraki of the northern Afolani line."

Dead, suffocating silence fell over every academy courtyard and border garrison.

Cadets in Galka looked toward their instructors in disbelief, while senior captains gripped their sword hilts with white knuckles.

"For sixteen years, General Senraki hid his crimes behind our clan’s name and the blood of northern soldiers," the Grand Marshal continued.

"It was he who led the northern slaughter that wiped out the N’folu tribe in the southern sands, burying the truth under imperial lies."

Along the southern border ridges, listening scouts and frontier outriders stood in stunned, breathless silence.

"He forged a secret blood alliance with Sir Black and the slave pits of Glacial Lanka, building illegal subterranean bio-laboratories beneath our mountains."

Senraki’s voice hardened like beaten iron, echoing over the roofs of ten cities.

"He took stolen imperial silver to breed an army of thirty thousand Soulless monsters."

"Two days ago in Alika City, he unleashed his silver-masked Soulless weapon to slaughter Shadow General Tsaka."

A wave of grief and fury swept through the veteran battalions who had fought alongside the legendary shadow general for decades.

"He even dared to kidnap Supreme Mandra Taziraka, driving dark needles into his spine to turn our sovereign into a mindless beast."

The Grand Marshal stepped to the edge of the bronze dais, his gaze piercing the sky.

"General Senraki has fled into Lanka, taking direct command of thirty thousand frost-plated Soulless marching toward our frontier."

"His goal is to sever the mountain routes between Galka and Tsanka, trap our warrior academies, and starve the North before our allies can move."

Across the continent, disbelief shattered into boiling rage among thousands of assembled warriors. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

"As Grand Marshal of Galka, I strip General Senraki of every title, command sash, and clan right," the young commander proclaimed.

"He is no longer a man of the North. He is a monster marked for death."

Senraki raised his right fist, his voice dropping into a solemn, sacred vow.

"The blood of my mother and the honor of this land demand his life. I will take his head with my own blade."

He stepped back from the bronze cone, and Supreme Mandra Taziraka walked into the center of the lens.

The Mandra did not shout. He stood tall against the northern wind, his golden beast eyes burning with terrifying stillness.

When he spoke, the sheer authority of the Tagan bloodline vibrated through the sky-domes across Tagayia.

"This is Supreme Mandra Taziraka."

Across thousands of leagues, warriors and cadets dropped to one knee on the cobblestones, bowing before their living sovereign.

"The shadow is out in the open. This is no longer a political dispute. It is total war for the survival of this land."

Taziraka’s words were short, heavy, and absolute.

"I declare the Imperial Decree of Total Mobilization."

"To the ten high schools: arm every cadet who can hold a spear. Form your battle nonagons and prepare to march."

"To the border garrisons: destroy the northern bridges, seal the passes, and hold the cuts to your last breath."

The Mandra raised his hand toward the northern horizon.

"The South is not your enemy. I was saved by the Chief of the South, Sagiri. I command all northern armies to stand down from southern borders."

"Stand your ground, sons and daughters of Tagayia. We will break this storm with our steel."

With a swift wave of his arm, the Fuzaka engineers disengaged the overhead mirrors, and the projection in the sky dissolved into the morning sun.

On the palace terrace, the silence was absolute.

Grand Marshal Senraki stepped down from the bronze dais, his knuckles white against his sword hilt.

He had ridden to Alika to kill his father with his own hands, but the old traitor had evaded him and fled into Lanka. To him, this war was deeply personal.

Taziraka turned his piercing golden gaze toward Marshal Salka.

"Tsaka is gone," the Mandra spoke, his deep voice carrying the heavy weight of an apex ruler.

"The capital is cleansed, but Senraki’s sleeper cells are scattered across every northern highway between here and Galka."

The Mandra stepped closer to Salka, placing a heavy hand on the seasoned warrior’s shoulder.

"You led the stealth divisions before you took the academy sash, Salka. I need you to lead the Shadow Corps one last time."

Taziraka’s slit golden eyes hardened with absolute intent.

"Take five hundred shadow blades. Ride ahead of the main host, hunt down every traitor in the brush, and clear the mountain cuts as we march north."

Marshal Salka tapped his fist firmly against his chest armor, his weathered face set with cold determination.

"Consider the northern road cleansed, Supreme Mandra," Salka answered in a low, dangerous growl.

Taziraka walked to the edge of the stone terrace, his gaze fixed on the freezing northwestern peaks where thirty thousand Soulless were advancing.

The truth was spoken. The shadow blades were unleashed.

Now, the continental war had truly begun.