Scott’s gaze lingered on the flashing notification demanding his attention. Throdan Alliance? The name didn’t ring a bell, but curiosity gnawed at him. How had they even found him, and, more importantly, why? Plagued his thoughts.
Letting out a slow breath, he turned his focus back to Toi, who was silently watching him with an amused glint in his eye. “Do you know anything about alliances here?”
Toi’s single eye glimmered knowingly, an eerie smile spreading across his face. “Ah, so that’s what this is about,” he said with a nod. “I don’t know which alliance extended the invitation, but like I said: the competition won’t commence until less than ten percent of the territories are unclaimed. Naturally, one lord can only do so much. But an alliance?” Toi’s grin widened. “An alliance of lords can accelerate that process significantly. It’s the fastest way to reach the goal.”
Scott absorbed the explanation, his mind racing. The fastest way, not the most optimal, he mused. Toi’s choice of words was deliberate—Scott had learned enough from Orion to pick up on such subtleties.
“And what would you say is the most ideal way?” Scott pressed.
Toi’s grin didn’t waver. “That depends on the lord,” he replied cryptically. “What I deem ideal might seem absurd to others. Lords are encouraged to follow their own prerogatives in such matters.”
“That’s a long way of saying you won’t tell me,” Scott shot back, his lips quirking into a smirk. His gaze drifted briefly to the glowing invitation. “So, can you at least tell me the pros and cons of joining an alliance?”
Toi inclined his head. “Of course. It’s well within your rights to know.
“First, the benefits. Joining an alliance means your territory’s sovereignty is respected by your fellow lords. If your domain is ever under threat, the entire alliance is obligated to rally and defend it. Likewise, their combined might allows them to swiftly conquer independent territories, expanding their influence at an impressive pace. Claimed territories are then allocated based on prearranged agreements among alliance members.”
Toi paused, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Of course, there are other benefits, but those depend on the specific terms of the alliance.
“As for the downsides?” Toi’s smile grew faintly sharper. “If an enemy successfully conquers a single member’s territory, the entire alliance suffers the consequences. All their territories are considered captured, and the lords lose their status. A single breach can topple the entire structure.”
Scott’s expression remained impassive as he processed the information, though Toi’s amusement was palpable. “Quite the gamble, isn’t it?” the examiner added.
Scott didn’t respond immediately. His focus returned to the invitation. With a deliberate motion, he selected the option on the glowing screen.
You have chosen not to entertain the invite! You have rejected the advances of the Throdan Alliance!
The notification faded as Scott returned his gaze to Toi, who regarded him with a knowing smile.
“You rejected the invitation,” Toi said.
Scott raised an eyebrow. “What gave it away?”
“Oh, that’s easy. If you had accepted, your territory would have been accessible to all alliance members, just as theirs would be to you. There would also have been a slight… shift in authority. The lack of such changes was all the confirmation I needed.”
Toi’s expression turned serious. “You do realize they’ll come for you now, don’t you?”
Scott smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Let them come. Like the others before them, they’ll be reduced to nothing.”
Toi chuckled, though there was a trace of admiration in his gaze. “Bold words.” The examiner suddenly bowed courteously, as he continued. “With that said, I wish you good luck. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
Scott tilted his head thoughtfully. “Can Calamities come here?”
The question made Toi pause, and he spoke without turning. “Yes. They are not bound by the authority that governs lords. They are free to move across planes and timelines as they please.”
“How many are currently on the Endless Bridge?”
Toi finally turned back, his eerie smile widening further. “Quite a few. I’m certain you’ll encounter them soon enough. After all, they…” He stopped abruptly, chuckling softly. “Ah, I almost said too much. Call on me if you need further guidance. Until then, farewell.”
As Toi began to step away, he suddenly stopped, glancing back one last time. “One more thing: don’t assume there’s only one way to become a Territorial Lord. You simply took the quickest path. Remember that.”
Before Scott could respond, Toi stepped through the distortion he had arrived from, disappearing without a trace.
Scott wore a slight frown, the examiner’s parting words echoing in his mind. The revelation about the Calamities’ unrestricted access to the Endless Bridge didn’t surprise him, but it still unsettled him. A troubling thought surfaced: Could Slim and the others be on the run from the Calamities? Then again, what was he going to say earlier? He couldn’t understand why Toi suddenly held back.
His brows furrowed further as he considered the possibility. The Nameless One’s warning came to mind—how Scott lacked the strength to face those hunting him beyond the bridge. Another reminder of the long list of enemies he didn’t yet understand.
He tilted his head back, staring at the turbulent skies above. Nothing is ever going to be easy here… fine. If everyone is determined to hunt me down, I’ll do the same to them. His lips curled into a faint, grim smile. If it’s chaos they want, I’ll give them madness—madness unlike anything they’ve ever seen. The vow rang in his mind, and for a fleeting moment, the all-seeing eye looming above seemed to blink, as if acknowledging his resolve.
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Scott’s thoughts shifted abruptly. Oh, that reminds me—I need to get Orion and Fi-Fi out. He raised his hand, summoning a nihilistic portal. It rippled ominously, and moments later, Orion and Fi-Fi were ejected from its depths.
Orion’s delirious laughter echoed the moment he emerged, only to abruptly stop as his gaze swept across the land. His eyes darted between the fractured skies, his expression morphing from shock to intrigue to unrestrained excitement.
“You did all this?” he asked, not waiting for a reply before conjuring empty vials and bottles. The mage darted from one bizarre feature to the next, collecting samples of earth, air, and rain. Even the calcified abominations, and champions trapped in eternal illusions, weren’t spared.
Fi-Fi twisted and writhed, her amorphous form shimmering as it morphed into a humanoid shape.
Scott’s gaze shifted between the two, faint surprise glinting in his eyes. They look… better than I expected. Almost like they’ve adapted.
Orion’s survival didn’t shock him—he is as crazy as me, Scott mused, shaking his head. But Fi-Fi was another matter. She spent a long time in Orion’s teeth, battling to evolve. Could she have picked up some of his quirks? Scott suppressed a grimace. One Orion is bad enough; two would be hell.
“Alright, guys. I need you to—”
A deafening explosion cut Scott off. All members of the party turned sharply toward the southern edge of the territory.
Are we being attacked? The thought crossed Orion and Fi-Fi’s minds simultaneously, their eyes locking on Scott.
“A lot happened while you were in there,” Scott said, his tone calm but edged with tension. “I’ll explain later. First, let’s deal with our guests.”
Fi-Fi nodded, her form solidifying further, while Orion chuckled, an ominous glint in his eyes as his staff materialized in his hand. The downpour intensified, raising a dense mist that quickly shrouded the territory.
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A massive tear split through the southern boundary of Scott’s territory, disgorging a regiment of champions clad in regal brown armor. Their ash-burnt masks bore crude eye slits, and each wielded a katana, its blade shimmering with ethereal light.
At their forefront stood a figure in dragon-etched black armor, a kusarigama resting casually in his grip. His crimson eyes scanned the mist with predatory focus. Without a word, he raised a gauntleted hand, signaling a group of mages forward.
The mages, draped in intricate robes, stepped into position, their staves glowing with latent power. They chanted in unison, drawing mana into a pulsating orb above their heads. It grew rapidly, fed by glyphs and magic circles that materialized around them, the arcane energy crackling audibly in the charged air.
The swordsmen watched from the flanks; their bloodthirsty eyes fixed on the mist ahead. As the spells swelled, some of the champions began retreating cautiously, wary of the immense power gathering above the mages.
Only the black-armored leader remained unmoved, his gaze steady. As the mages’ chanting reached a crescendo, he lowered his hand and bellowed, “Lay waste to this land!”
“Fire!” the mages roared in unison.
The magic circles merged into a singular colossal glyph, funneling their energy into the orb. It pulsed ominously, radiating waves of destruction as it swelled further. Even the leader’s expression grew cautious as he stared at the devastating spell, now poised to obliterate everything in its path.
At that moment, the mages chanted a series of new spells, conjuring a massive, glowing barrier in front of the invaders. The radiant ginger-hued shield pulsed with energy as the concentrated mana surged forward at breakneck speed. A deafening bang tore through the air as the magic blasted through the mist, ripping a gaping hole in the thick shroud.
The invaders’ eyes lit up with bloodthirsty anticipation, their minds racing with the vision of the impending destruction. Yet, no explosion followed.
The concentrated mana, once barreling forward with devastating force, simply vanished into the haze. Not even the whizzing hum of different mana types melding together could be heard. Unease rippled through the ranks as silence reigned. Seconds crawled into minutes, yet nothing emerged from the fog.
Then, the faint, haunting rattle of chains echoed through the mist.
The invaders reeled, their gazes locking onto the swirling haze. Faint traces of black writhed within the mist, accompanied by a chilling, delirious laughter that gnawed at the edges of their sanity.
It must be a trick, they reassured themselves, though the unease gnawed deeper.
The leader, his kusarigama glinting ominously, raised his hand once more. The mages stepped back in unison, replaced by hulking figures clad in jet-black armor. Each wielded a different weapon, their bloodshot eyes fixed on the shadows shifting within the mist.
More battalions surged through the tear in the southern boundary, their arrival swelling the army’s numbers to over a hundred thousand. Bloodlust hung thick in the air as the champions stood at attention, awaiting orders.
The rattling chains grew louder. From the depths of the swirling fog, the silhouette of a lone figure emerged. The kusarigama-wielding leader stepped forward, stopping just short of the mist’s edge as his forces fell silent.
Scott stepped out from the mist, his form resolute against the tide of invaders. The oppressive weight of their collective gaze bore down on him, but his expression remained impassive.
Your territory is being invaded by a Territorial Lord! Fight or Surrender! The choice is yours!
Scott ignored the system notification that refused to fade, his ominous eyes sweeping over the bloodthirsty forces. His gaze finally settled on the black-armored champion.
“You’re the lord of this territory?” the champion demanded, pointing his kusarigama at Scott. His tone dripped with disdain.
Scott said nothing, his derision evident in the faint smirk curling his lips.
“So, you’ve chosen death!” the champion sneered, raising his weapon. “I will grant you your—”
A thunderous tremor cut him off, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Several champions stumbled, their formation breaking.
A piercing howl ruptured the air, reverberating through the battlefield. The mist shifted; its swirling depths smeared with a sickly yellow hue. Before the invaders could react, a colossal silhouette loomed within the fog.
It stepped forward—a grotesque, lopsided creature of rolling flesh and countless glistening eyes, each shimmering like distant stars. The very sight of it clawed at their sanity.
The champions froze. Some began spinning uncontrollably, their bodies twisting in unnatural synchrony with the churning mist. Others fell to the ground, gasping for air, their faces ashen. Screams broke out as several warriors burst apart or melted into grotesque pools of blood.
Scott stepped forward, his voice booming with authority. “Ponder!”
A compulsion seized the minds of the immobilized champions. Tears streamed down their faces as they cried out in unison, their voices trembling with ecstasy.
“The empty throne… destined for our lord!”
“Wonder!” Scott commanded.
“The grace of he who is tormented by the flames of madness!” they responded, their voices reverent.
“Bask in!”
“The fervor of the king!” they wailed, their cries rising in fervor.
“Eternal!” Scott roared, his voice shaking the air.
“Is the madness of the throne!” they declared, their voices swelling into a crescendo. “Only madness is eternal!”
The spinning champions and those bound by the confessions suddenly erupted in a grotesque symphony of blood and gore.
Scott turned his unyielding gaze toward the territorial lord, whose stunned expression betrayed his terror.
“You were the one who chose death,” Scott declared, his voice cold and unrelenting.