Chapter 96

“Verna, trying to seize power at a time like this? You’re not quite ready yet!”

“Oh? So you think you’re more suitable?” Verna let out a cold, mocking laugh. “When I and Sakavi personally carved out this territory, you, Irogr, were still playing in the lava! Now you dare covet this authority? Don’t you think your greed is too blatant?”

“Hmph! I, Irogr, would never sink to such despicable tricks as taking advantage of someone’s weakness to seize land and treasure! If I want something, I’ll take it openly, win it honorably! Unlike certain people who hide behind their leader’s back while already plotting to turn their knives on their own allies! Such backstabbing cowardice makes me sick just thinking about it!”

“A fine show of honor! Yes, I admit it—the demon warning was concealed by me, and the evidence was destroyed by me!” Verna’s voice rose sharply, her piercing gaze stabbing straight at Irogr.

“But what about you, Irogr?! Who was it who called Sakavi a ‘coward cowering in gold piles’ and goaded us into launching a preemptive strike? Now that demons are at our gates, you want to pretend nothing happened?!”

“Irogr lacks the authority to command, and you, Verna, are the very source of chaos.” Morax’s tone was calm yet utterly resolute. “You have no right to lead us. Don’t look at me like that—I too took part in forcing Sakavi out back then. I offer no defense for that.”

“Hah, after all this circling around, you just want the seat for yourself, don’t you, Morax?” Verna sneered, her gaze like poisoned daggers.

“You, a dragon-beast with impure blood, dare meddle in this? Don’t think wearing silver scales makes you superior. I, Verna, am a direct descendant of the ancient, pure-blooded Drow nobility, my lineage stretching over two thousand years—how could you, a mongrel, ever compare?”

“Verna, watch your tongue.” Suleid’s voice was steady, heavy with unshakable weight. “I, Suleid, carry within me the mingled blood of humans, white dragons, and blue dragons—even if diluted, it is part of my strength and my existence.”

“Does my blood not deserve to stand beside yours? Don’t forget—I, Suleid, am one of the undisputed founders of this duchy! My place here is earned through deeds and oaths, not your archaic bloodline dogma.”

“Exactly! So what if I’m a dragon-beast? I’m proud of it! And let me remind you—it was precisely because of my dragon-beast identity that I became one of the founding elders of this territory!”

“Enough! The demons haven’t retreated, and you’re already tearing each other apart?” Aqilong barked, cutting through the chaos. “This is no time for debate. I propose Suleid as interim commander—that is the only viable path forward. Those who agree, vote now!”

“I have no objection!” Irogr growled, slamming his claws hard against the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. “Suleid, it’s you! Who opposes?”

Though Verna seethed with resentment, faced with the many legendary dragons present, she could only respond with silence.

“Since you all trust me, I, Suleid, shall temporarily assume the role of interim commander.” His gaze swept the room, voice firm and resolute. “I know some of you resent this—think you’re more worthy. But I Suleid speak only through strength! If any of you believe you’re stronger, the arena doors stand open. Win, and the command is yours.”

In raw power, Verna, though a veteran legendary assassin, held no advantage in direct combat—assassins never do. Moreover, Suleid had grown up wild in the wastes, his battle experience unmatched; even Morax wasn’t certain he could defeat him. Of course, Suleid should also be wary of waking up one day with a dagger through his chest.

“Silence is your answer.” Suleid nodded slightly, then turned to the silver dragon. “Morax, drop everything and prepare the ritual at once.” His voice was quiet, yet clear to every ear in the chamber.

“I know how many of you are waiting to carve up Sakavi’s legacy. But remember this simplest truth: without him holding the line, who among you can truly command? Who can silence every dissenting voice?”

In his struggle against the Lord of the Abyss, Sakavi had made every possible preparation. To withstand the soul backlash of a demigod, he took a desperate gamble: he severed and sealed his true soul core, replacing it with a meticulously crafted soul replica to control the black dragon.

But the demigod’s power far exceeded even his most conservative estimates. Under the Abyss Lord’s devastating assault, the decoy puppet shattered completely in the corrupt radiance. Worse still, the Abyss’s highly contaminating energy surged back along the soul link, severely corroding his true soul.

Sakavi’s true soul survived, but his body lay shattered by Abyssal corruption. He was forced to wait passively for a strong, trustworthy ally to help him complete this… return ritual.

Though Morax was not a specialist in necromancy, the silver dragon was famed for his vast knowledge—his expertise in this field surpassed every other senior here. More importantly, he had zero interest in Sakavi’s treasures—a fact of critical importance at this delicate moment.

Notably, the fierce power struggles among the high command had not seeped down to the mid-level bureaucracy. This was thanks to Sakavi’s ingenious personnel design: the “Academy Faction” he personally founded and promoted formed the backbone of the administration.

These officials owed their promotions entirely to the Duke himself, with no ties to any other power bloc. This unique background made them the only stable force in the fractured power structure—needing to side with no one.

Of course, they may no longer have the chance to choose sides, for the powerful Abyss Lord was no mere brute—he was sharp-witted, directing his army in a full-scale assault on Agrik City. Under Shalut’s command, the academy cadets were now struggling to organize the city’s defense.

“Dugo!” The towering boar-man commander, bare-chested and muscles coiled like ropes, slammed his whip against the eastern front. “You’re in charge of the outer eastern defenses. I don’t care if you chew through it or bleed to fill it—twenty days! Miss by even an hour, and I’ll twist your head off and use it as a wine jug!”

The whip snapped sideways to the western front. “Zyino, same goes for you! If the west falls, your fate won’t be any prettier than his!”

Finally, he whirled to the silent Ye Kemu, the whip’s tip jabbing at the city’s sewer district on the map. “Ye Kemu, take your men and clean out every slimy swamp vermin in the sewers! Before the next full moon, we launch a counterattack—understood?!”

“L-Lord,” a boar-man in black plate armor edged forward, voice hushed, trembling with hesitation. “W-what’s the point of us dying here? The Duke’s already dead, and the higher-ups are busy fighting over power—who even cares about us down here? Maybe… maybe we should think about our own escape?”

“Bullshit!” Shalut’s eyes burned red as he seized the man’s breastplate. “I’ve never betrayed my own in my life! So what if the Duke’s gone? Even if the whole duchy dies, as long as I’m still standing, you’ll hold your ground! What the hell do you care how they fight up top? Did the Duke promote you to be a coward? Whoever dares spread panic again—I’ll cut off his head first!”

“The Marshal speaks truth!” Aweil’s deep voice boomed like war drums as his massive bull-man frame turned toward the speaker. “You think running is survival? Open your eyes! Outside are a million demons—where will you run?”

“Gum, we crawled out of the Abyss together, brothers. Your axe has never known the shame of retreat—and it won’t start now!” With just three sentences, this wise chief of staff calmed the rising mutiny.

“I know what you fear! Aqilong spent over three hundred thousand lizardmen and boar-men’s corpses, plus over a million fishmen and goblins’ lives, to buy us this one and a half months! Was that cost not horrific?!”

He shifted tone, eyes blazing. “But think—how many times have I, Shalut, led you into the Abyss? Which battle didn’t we win by stepping over mountains of corpses, forging the name of the boar-men?!”

"Gum, you went from a green recruit on the watchtower to a legion commander—every scar on your body was earned fighting beside me, Shalut! You don’t trust those high-up bastards? Then don’t you trust the boss who pulled you out of the dead?!"

“Lord, your strength and record are beyond question. You’ve slain over five master-class demons with your own hands. You’ve led just two or three legions to charge head-on against a million demon hordes—and never lost.”

His voice lowered, thick with dread. “But this time… it feels different. The demons are stronger than ever before. And the Duke… still hasn’t been seen. Do we… still have hope?”

“I understand your fear! I’ll tell you plainly—I don’t know if the Duke lives or dies!” Shalut’s voice thundered like war drums into every boar-man’s heart. “But tell me—when have boar-men ever betrayed their own?!”

“They say we’re always fighting among ourselves, that we’re fiercer against our own than our enemies—I admit it! But what did the Duke say? He said when facing outsiders, boar-men’s spines are always straight! One is wronged, the whole tribe rushes to tear the enemy apart! Gum, tell me—right now, if we don’t fight, do we deserve the Duke’s trust?!”

“The Marshal is right!” Aweil’s voice boomed like war drums. “Everyone says bull-men are stubborn, harder than stone. The number of people we accept as brothers? Barely any!”

“All these years, we’ve taken the Duke’s pay, eaten his grain—if we don’t fight for him now, at this moment, won’t all that pay feel like burning coals in our hands, scorching our conscience?!”