Chapter 520 Cicero’s Road to Power

Pompeii World.

This administrative world, whose prosperity surpassed even Iberia’s, boasted the Administrative Region’s most magnificent palaces, grandest cathedrals, and most bustling commercial ports.

Any Local Lord or Knight Warlord in the Administrative Region with a certain amount of wealth preferred Pompeii World—a world far more luxurious and capable of satisfying their material desires—over acquiring assets in Iberia.

Cicero’s rise to supreme leader of the rebel army was due in large part to his terrifyingly vast personal fortune, in addition to his Knight Military Rank which allowed him to rival Grand Governor Sedon.

The thirty million in military funds that Reinhardt and the Vengeful Angels had painstakingly scraped together was but a drop in the ocean to the Lord of Pompeii World.

While immense personal strength could certainly help him stand at the apex of power in the Administrative Region, becoming a true ruler and securing the support of followers and subordinates required money, which was no less important than martial prowess.

And when it came to winning support, cold, hard cash held a power that far surpassed the threat of force.

For the Local Lords and Knight Warlords, following the Grand Governor meant not only facing the diminishment of their power and status due to the Governor System and Battle Group reforms, but also having to fund their own armies out of pocket when war broke out.

But following Cicero was a different story.

This descendant of a Lord, born in the Ash Soil Star Zone, not only had a much more stable power base than the Administrative Region’s Grand Governor, but when problems arose, he would actually spend his own money and effort to solve them.

Add to that a combination of low taxes, tax exemptions, and local autonomy.

Where you stand depends on where you sit.

Put in their shoes, no Local Lord or Knight Warlord would ever support the Grand Governor.

Because following this man meant they could truly feast and drink, enjoying endless material rewards.

Of course.

The subjects in their territories, the Imperial Citizens in the various Stereoscopic Cities, and the long-term future of the Administrative Region were all outside the scope of their consideration.

Blood could be shed on the front lines and the common people could starve to death, but it wouldn’t affect their power or status.

Even if the Imperial Rebel Army from Verne invaded, they would just move somewhere else and continue their lives of luxury. It wasn’t the first or second time Grand Lord Kles’s people had contacted them in private.

All they had to do was nod, and they could continue being Lords on Bator World.

Inside a magnificent, luxurious palace.

Marble-relief columns rose like spaceborne megastructures. A statue of Cicero, shaped like a Demigod, stood in the very center of the great hall.

Envoys and Lords from one hundred and three worlds, more than ten thousand people in total, gathered in the great hall, their voices and laughter creating a lively scene.

As the absolute center of attention, Cicero held his privately forged ’Radiant Holy Sword’, brazenly basking in the adulation of those around him and savoring the spiritual high that power brought.

A single glance, a single motion, would send hundreds, even thousands, scrambling to carefully decipher his intent.

Standing at the very top of a grand, long staircase.

Sacred light shone down upon him.

He held the ’Radiant Holy Sword’ and looked down upon the magnificent banquet that stretched out of sight below. A sea of people churned, countless faces turned toward him, some raising their cups in toast, others bowing their heads in submission.

Even though Cicero was himself the descendant of a Lord and a Sky Knight, in this moment, he was feeling for the first time what true power really was!

Cicero gripped the hilt of the ’Radiant Holy Sword’ tightly, as if the Sacred Artifact, this symbol of supreme power, would abandon him the moment he let go.

Every Imperial Knight who managed to advance to the Sky Military Rank and join the ranks of Demigods invariably walked their own path.

Cicero was no different.

For the thing he had sought his entire martial life was never the lie he had perfunctorily told his mentor while kneeling before the Radiant Holy Image, nor was it some ethereal Imperial truth.

He sought only one thing.

Power.

Supreme power.

To achieve this ideal, he would stop at nothing.

Before the Great Rebellion, he had tried more than once to enter the Empire’s Main Battle Corps, cultivate his own personal Battle Group, and then climb step by step to the top of the Legion’s hierarchy.

Unfortunately, no matter what methods he used or what price he paid, the best he could achieve was a Great Tutor from the Emperor’s Shield agreeing to grant him an honorary military rank.

As for actual authority?

He was dreaming.

Cicero never understood why, even though his strength had been sufficient to serve as a Battle Group Commander many years ago, no Legion had ever accepted his request.

’Is it just because I didn’t come from one of the major Legions’ Knight Training Camps? Because I’m not one of their own?’

Alas, he had only guessed half the reason.

To the Imperial Knights of the Main Battle Corps, Loyalty was always the most important—and only—criterion.

Evidently, Cicero’s ambition and motives were plain as day to the battle-hardened tacticians of the various Battle Groups. Besides, no Imperial Knight would trust their back to a battle-brother with ulterior motives.

Cicero knew very well.

The Great Rebellion might have destroyed the Empire’s order.

But for him, chaos was a ladder—!

He had laid low for so long, even feigning concern for the greater good and deceiving his allies, all in wait for an opportunity—the right moment to seize power.

Although the Verne Front Line had tied up the Administrative Region’s main forces, he remained cautious and did not rashly declare his position.

’That fool Claudius thinks he’s so clever, but in reality, the Cyrenaica rebellion was the result of my deliberately letting it happen. I used a disposable pawn to probe the Administrative Region’s current military strength.’

’The result? I overestimated the military forces the Administrative Region can still mobilize.’

’A minor incident in Cyrenaica nearly trapped and killed Reinhardt, the newly-appointed Lord of Vengeful.’

’If I don’t raise an army and seize power now, when will I ever get another chance?’

However, there was one thing about it that Cicero deeply regretted.

He had allowed Claudius to secretly plot against Reinhardt, all so that he could personally intervene at Reinhardt’s most difficult moment, help clear his name with the Judgment Court, and thereby win him over.

Although the conspiracy had failed, it only made him appreciate Reinhardt’s strength and methods even more.

It would be best, of course, if such a man could be made to serve him. But if that Vengeful Angel from Verne insisted on being his enemy, he wouldn’t mind killing Reinhardt with his own hands.

At this thought, an intense killing intent, so strong it was almost tangible, flashed in Cicero’s eyes.

It was true he admired Reinhardt, but the man had repeatedly stood in the way of his pursuit of power. As long as Reinhardt lived, he would not be content.

As he was lost in his reverie of power.

A male servant, holding a battle report high with both hands, frantically dashed through the path cleared in the banquet hall.

He ran up the stairs in one breath and knelt before Cicero, announcing loudly, "My Lord, the Administrative Region’s army could not withstand our assault! General Siliudo has successfully captured Dalmatia!"