Chapter 18: Muster Troops, Prepare for War

In an unknown plane, inside a stone coffin, Sakavi suddenly opened his eyes. As he shoved open the lid with effort, he muttered: “Poor Lord Kanassen—unable to avenge his daughter, unable to let her soul rest in Nolodo’s divine realm.”

Then again, the damned Lei En was truly dead; what lives now is only his wicked brother, Sakavi. Yes, Sakavi has gone straight now—these days, you have to clean up your record; any black mark and no one will cooperate with you.

But where is this place? Was it my magic failing, or was the Holy Light too powerful? Why did I get resurrected at some random location?

“Hey, buddy, any news lately?”

“Plenty—big news. You heard about the black dragon Lei En, bounty one million gold coins?”

“Of course! The one who killed a priest of the Church of Light and had the audacity to leave his name behind—how could anyone not know?”

Sakavi knew not only about Lei En the dragon, but also held the dragon’s skull in his hands. Still, he had no intention of speaking up.

“Who captured that dragon?”

“Ah, the Church of Light killed it themselves—no corpse left! What a mess.”

“The Church of Light is so shady—put up a bounty and then take it themselves. Are they mocking us?”

“That money isn’t for just anyone to earn. I heard the Church mobilized twenty Legends to surround him—and barely kept him from escaping.”

“Impossible! Twenty Legends, each kicking once, and that black dragon would’ve been dead!”

“Why would I lie? A friend of mine saw it with his own eyes. One of the Holy Knights nearly died—his armor shattered completely.”

“So Lei En was at least a demigod, then? So powerful?”

“Not quite—but close enough.”

Listening to the tavern’s increasingly absurd descriptions of himself, Sakavi was left speechless.

“You look a bit unfamiliar, brother.”

“I’m from the Red Moon Plane. Name’s Sakavi. I’m a dragon-man sorcerer.”

“The Red Moon Plane isn’t nearby! What brought you here?”

“Hired to kill someone—but found out the target was already dead. No pay, so I’m looking for other ways to make money.”

“Brother, I know one opportunity—but I don’t know if you’ve got the guts.”

“Go on.”

“The Church of Justice’s merchant ship was raided by Lap. The Church can’t spare troops, so they’re recruiting mercenaries—no wages. Just take whatever you can grab alive.”

Hearing this, Sakavi figured Lap must be a pirate lurking near the Astral Trade Routes. No upfront cost, with the Church as backup—why not take the free advantage?

Soon, the appointed gathering time arrived. Looking at the chaotic crowd, Sakavi’s mind flashed one word—rabble. The highest among them was a Legend; the lowest, a Mid-Grade Warrior.

Glancing at this band of cannon fodder, Sakavi thought the money wouldn’t be easy to earn. But since he’d come this far, leaving now would be boring.

“Brother, these guys look unreliable. Want to team up?”

The towering troll before him, back sheathed with a massive sword, was clearly at least a Legend—temporary alliance acceptable. Whether he could keep the loot after the raid? That’d be up to each man’s skill.

“Older brother, I’ll be upfront—I’m a Legend Necromancer.”

“Straightforward! I’m a Legend Warrior, second class: Sword Saint. Call me Yaruz.”

“Sakavi.”

“Don’t move until I give the order. Let them go first.”

Watching the mob charge the mage tower, Sakavi was utterly dumbfounded. A horde of them roared forward—and instantly took three area-of-effect fire spells from the tower, killing a third outright. The rest scrambled back and began ranged attacks.

After half an hour of assault, the mage tower remained unmoved. Well—that’s normal for ordinary transcendent power. Unless you’re above Legend level.

Many who reached Master grade could still only use a few attack methods. Even that was extremely difficult for ordinary people.

Unable to watch any longer, Sakavi decided to act. A thunderous dragon roar shattered the sky. Both sides instinctively clapped hands over their ears. The overwhelming dragon aura made their legs tremble—this primal bloodline suppression left the humans in agony.

A bolt of black lightning pierced through the tower’s multiple defenses, one claw smashing its spire. Black necromantic magic spread rapidly along the tower’s surface, leaving frost in its wake—the tower fell silent.

Then the second tower. The black dragon surged forward, flooding it with overwhelming power, causing its systems to glitch and explode with a deafening boom, blowing a massive hole in its side. But the enemy, clearly enraged, launched two Legend Warriors straight from within the tower.

Feeling playful, Sakavi wondered if he could fight two opponents up close. He charged forward immediately, engaging them in hand-to-hand combat. They traded blows fiercely, a dazzling spectacle.

“Sakavi, stop fighting—withdraw now!”

“We haven’t finished them yet—why retreat?”

“We’ve already grabbed the loot! What are you waiting for? Run!”

Reluctantly, Sakavi followed the crowd’s retreat. Watching the two men still shouting curses, he waved his left claw, signaling he hadn’t even broken a sweat—keep going.

“Sakavi, were those two towers destroyed?”

“They can still be repaired.”

“Good. If you’d wrecked them, they’d evacuate. Then we’d have nothing left to raid next time.”

“…………”

The crowd stared at Sakavi returning empty-handed—and clutched their wallets tightly, fearing he’d rob them too. After all, chromatic dragons had terrible reputations.

“Sakavi, you did great today. I’ll split the loot four-six with you.”

Seeing Yaruz’s generosity, Sakavi insisted his friend shouldn’t be cheated. He turned and asked: “All of you—why are you holding my wallet? Return it now, or I won’t be polite.”

The crowd: “…………”

Yaruz stared, mouth agape, unable to speak. The Church of Justice members, seemingly used to it, pretended not to notice.

The crowd reluctantly dumped the stolen treasure on the ground and left. Among them were several Legends—but none with a second class. None could match a dragon of equal rank. And the others nearby weren’t saints either. No point dying over a little gold.

“Brother, I think you’re right—four-six split.”

“Sakavi, robbing your own allies breaks the rules.”

“Didn’t the Church of Justice say ‘take what you can’? I just had them hold my money for me. How dare they keep it for themselves!”

Yaruz felt his lowest expectation of chromatic dragons had just been shattered again. Even robbery could be justified so brazenly—he was humbled.

“Brother, I see you’re thriving among humans despite being a troll. You’re no ordinary guy, are you?”

“Hah! Sharp eyes, brother. I’m the spokesperson for the Trade Alliance of the Manrodo Plane. Need anything? I’ve got it—all prices negotiable. You know, ordinary goods don’t come to me.”

Mentioning the Trade Alliance means discussing the world’s three economic pillars: the Church of Justice, which prints money, issues loans, and sells contracts; the Trade Alliance, which transports bulk goods like grain and steel; and the Temple of Wealth, which supplies arms, slaves, and intelligence to the Pantheon, the Nine Hells, and other plane powers.

The Temple of Wealth is rumored to be secretly backed by the Lord of the Nine Hells, its headquarters located on the Ninth Layer of the Nine Hells. Its leadership is mostly devils, with a few Pantheon members and plane Qiangzhe .

The Trade Alliance is a loose consortium—anyone with a trade network across planes or the Astral Sea can apply. Each plane or adjacent region elects its own spokesperson.

After settling into his semi-plane, Sakavi approached Yaruz and bought large quantities of materials for crafting skeleton warriors.

A semi-plane, also called an unformed plane, suffers extreme elemental disruption or imbalance. Those attached to a full plane are what people call moons. Those unattached may, after many years, evolve into small planes.

Determined to reform and start anew, Sakavi planned to create souls himself—no more tormenting kuo-toa. It was too damaging to his reputation; he simply couldn’t do it anymore.

Souls are created by the Lord of the River Styx and cast into the Stream of Eternal Chaos, drifting onto every new life. Ordinary beings lack the power to create souls—though Sakavi didn’t intend to create fully functional ones either.

Sakavi wanted to create something similar to the puppets popular in this world: puppets with programmed instructions, capable of limited thought—but only for simple, single-purpose reasoning.

He planned to merge this technology into a soul with only a shell. No one had ever tried this before—at least, not that Sakavi had heard of.

Experiments were always difficult and slow. For over a year, Sakavi revised his design theory more than thirty times, attempted soul creation over two thousand times—until finally producing a basic skeleton soldier that could understand simple commands and coordinate its limbs.

After another half-year of relentless refinement, Sakavi’s patented “youth edition” soul finally met production standards. He immediately summoned Yaruz and spent all remaining funds on skeleton-making materials.

Six months later, before him stood one hundred thousand Death Knights, twenty thousand skeleton archers, eight thousand necromancers, three thousand necromantic assassins, and ten thousand upgraded gargoyle constructs.

Sakavi declared: Why waste time expanding territory and training soldiers when you can just spend money and spawn troops? Raiding planes just to make basic skeletons? That’s what paupers do.

With his army raised, Sakavi felt it was time to settle the score with that old bastard, Last.