Chapter 419: SAGIRI LEADS THE SOUTHERN HOST

Colossal Zaira surged south across the pine-covered foothills of Tagayia, her massive armored scales slicing through the morning fog like a dark warship.

Atop her broad neck, Sagiri stood in total, effortless balance, his black cloak billowing in the cold northern wind.

Inside his spiritual channels, the chaotic storms of relic energy were completely gone, replaced by the calm, deadly precision of the Silver-Veined Void Blade.

His dual-colored eyes scanned the distant horizon miles ahead, tracking the thick dust clouds rising from the central crossroads where the Great Highway met the northern valley.

Through his heightened senses, he could feel the distinct, rhythmic vibrations of forty thousand southern warriors marching in tight, synchronized formation.

He could also sense a foul, freezing disturbance lying in wait near the crossroads—the unnatural, necrotic aura of Glacial Lanka’s forward shock troops.

At the rocky junction below, a dozen southern scouts on desert sand-striders were pinned against the stone highway markers by heavy frost-tipped ballistas.

Over two hundred elite Lanka Soulless shock troops in spiked ice-armor formed a tight blockade, supported by massive frost-horned war beasts.

The southern scouts fought valiantly with their bronze spears, but the thick frost-plating on the enemy beasts deflected their strikes with dull clangs.

"Hold the line!" the lead southern scout shouted, spitting blood as a towering frost beast reared back with razor-sharp claws.

Before the beast could strike, an earth-shattering titan roar tore through the heavens, shattering the pine trees along the ridge into splinters.

Colossal Zaira breached the tree line like a falling mountain, slamming into the road with a seismic shockwave that tossed fifty iron-clad enforcers into the air.

Sagiri leaped from the serpent’s brow, descending through the dust with supernatural, weightless grace.

The moment his boots touched the stone highway, Sagiri unleashed his sovereign aura without holding back a single thread of power.

A suffocating, pitch-black and radiant silver pressure erupted from his body in a visible dome of crushing gravity.

The ground within fifty paces groaned and spider-webbed under the immense weight of his presence, flattening the grass to ash.

The towering frost beasts let out high-pitched whimpers, their feral instincts instantly recognizing an apex predator whose power dwarfed their own.

Their legs buckled under the sheer terror radiating from Sagiri’s dual-colored eyes, collapsing heavily onto their bellies in total submission.

The Soulless enforcers, devoid of fear, raised their heavy ice-cleavers and charged at him in a relentless wave of steel.

Sagiri did not even adjust his stance or draw a weapon into his hand.

He simply flicked his right fingers forward, and Nokai flared on his back with a blinding flash of silver-black starlight.

Twenty Silver-Veined Void Blades detached from the sheath in a synchronized burst of speed, expanding into a rotating lotus of death.

Sagiri stepped forward with the calm, fluid movements of the ancient N’folu blade dances, letting the floating blades do the harvesting.

His right eye perceived the flow of corrupted energy, guiding each blade along the invisible lines of spiritual vulnerability.

The silver-veined steel did not clash against the heavy frost-armor; it phased directly through the thick iron plates like moonlight passing through glass.

With surgical, silent precision, the twenty blades severed the alchemical bio-neural cores embedded in the necks of the marching enforcers.

One by one, the elite Lanka shock troops froze mid-stride, the blue frost in their eyes dying out as they collapsed harmlessly into piles of scrap metal.

Sagiri walked through the charging ranks without a single sword touching his cloak, his expression cold, detached, and utterly untouchable.

In less than ten heartbeats, all two hundred heavily armored shock troops lay motionless upon the cracked stone road.

The twenty Silver-Veined Void Blades reformed their protective halo behind his shoulders, humming softly with pristine, unblemished light.

The surviving southern scouts stared in stunned disbelief, their hands shaking as they dropped their bronze spears and fell to their knees.

"The... the Supreme Chief," one scout whispered, his chest heaving with awe. "He did not even draw a blade."

Just then, the main vanguard of the Southern Host crested the southern ridge in a magnificent display of military power.

General Zafaru rode at the front in polished bronze warplate, flanked by Elder Koru and twenty senior clan chieftains.

Behind them marched forty thousand southern spearmen in synchronized ranks, followed by hundreds of heavy Molakwa kinetic siege wagons.

The entire four-mile column of warriors came to an abrupt halt at the top of the rise, staring down at the crossroads in absolute shock.

They saw the decimated Lanka forward battalion scattered across the road, and their young Supreme Chief standing alone in the center of the carnage.

The majestic, terrifying aura rolling off Sagiri’s shoulders washed over the entire forty-thousand-man army, making their souls tremble with profound reverence.

Elder Koru, who had once doubted the young Keeper, wiped cold sweat from his brow and dropped his eyes in total, humble submission.

General Zafaru swallowed hard, feeling the hair on his arms stand up from the sheer sovereign majesty radiating from his young leader.

Without hesitation, General Zafaru drew his broad scimitar, raised it high toward the morning sun, and roared with all his might.

"All hail Supreme Chief Sagiri!" Zafaru’s battle cry echoed across the plains like rolling thunder. "All hail the Last Keeper!"

Forty thousand warriors slammed their iron spears against their heavy bronze shields, creating a deafening rhythm that shook the very earth beneath the valley.

The roar of forty thousand voices rose into the sky, banishing all fear, all fatigue, and all doubt from the southern army.

Sagiri turned to face his grand host, his dual eyes burning with unmistakable authority.

He walked over to colossal Zaira, vaulted onto her brow, and drew Nokai’s primary blade, pointing the gleaming silver-veined tip directly toward the northern mountains.

"Warriors of the South!" Sagiri’s voice carried across the four-mile column with the clear, resonant power of a war horn.

"Glacial Lanka has brought war to our continent, threatening our families, our homes, and our future," Sagiri declared.

"Our brothers in the North are bleeding on the slopes of Kovura Pass to hold the line," he continued. "We will not let them stand alone!"

"We march at full speed! No slowing down, no stopping, and no mercy for the monsters who invade our land!" Sagiri roared.

"We will break Lanka’s spine before the sun sets over the pass!" he commanded, his aura flaring in a grand pillar of silver and dark light.

A hundred southern war horns blared across the central plains in a unified call to battle.

General Zafaru signaled the advance, and the forty-thousand-strong Southern Host surged forward in a relentless, high-speed blitzkrieg march.

Heavy siege wagons thundered along the stone highway, while thousands of desert spearmen matched Zaira’s rapid stride with iron discipline.

At the head of the unstoppable southern vanguard rode the Last Keeper, radiating invincible majesty as he led forty thousand spears into the northern war.