Chapter 346 Meeting Cyris Again

With the mana stones gathered by Steve and the others, Arthur managed to complete slightly fewer than a thousand magitech bots, a number that fell noticeably short of what he'd originally hoped to achieve when he first envisioned this project. 

It wasn't a lack of raw materials holding him back, they had amassed millions of low-grade mana stones in such a short span of time from the neighboring kingdoms, but the sheer mana demand of each individual bot proved far steeper than he had initially calculated. 

Every unit required a constant, stable flow of energy simply to maintain its runic core, let alone power the weapons and defensive systems integrated into its frame, and low grade stones simply couldn't keep pace with that appetite for long.

He had installed fusion reactors and the highest grade mana gathering arrays into every unit he could, squeezing out whatever additional efficiency the designs allowed, running simulation after simulation to shave down consumption wherever possible. But even the most refined engineering could only stretch a finite resource so far. 

Mana stones remained an irreplaceable core component of each bot's operating mechanism, the beating heart that no amount of clever circuitry could fully replace, and no matter how he optimized the surrounding systems, that fundamental bottleneck refused to budge.

Rather than waste more time lamenting the shortfall, Arthur pulled up the data the guardian AI had gathered over the years, cross referencing known locations of mana stone mines scattered across the three continents, some registered under kingdom control and others undiscovered or abandoned entirely due to excessive hazards. 

He immediately dispatched a fleet of mining bots to begin extraction at every viable site he could locate, prioritizing the richer veins first while smaller crews worked through the more marginal deposits. Given the sheer number of mines the world contained, many of them barely tapped or entirely unexplored by the kingdoms that technically claimed them, he was confident he could eventually scale production into the tens of millions rather than the mere hundreds he currently possessed.

He also found some comfort in the fact that resource exhaustion wasn't a concern weighing on him the way it might have otherwise. The World Will itself had begun actively generating fresh mana stones ever since the restrictions loosened, seeding new deposits throughout the world at a pace that outstripped anything natural geological processes could have produced, and remarkably, it had started producing divine grade mana stones as well, a tier of resource that hadn't existed in any meaningful supply before the recent upheaval. 

Whatever the underlying mechanism behind that shift, Arthur intended to take full advantage of it while it lasted. Once the mining orders were dispatched and the new extraction sites were up and running, he turned his attention to distributing the bots he already had ready, delegating them toward the regions most likely to bear the brunt of the coming invasion, positioning his limited forces where they would matter most when the fighting finally began in earnest.

While Arthur busied himself with these preparations, the rest of the world remained anything but idle. Every corner of Thyrandel, from the smallest border villages to the grandest capital cities, had begun bracing itself in its own way for a war that would ultimately decide the fate of every living being on this planet, stockpiling supplies, reinforcing walls, and praying to gods who, for the first time in living memory, might not be listening at all.

…

At the center of Velmora, the continent that had once belonged entirely to the demi-human races before their near total extermination, a massive castle of dark stone now stood where nothing but ruins had existed after the demons took over the continent, its jagged towers rising over a landscape still scarred from the fighting that had claimed it. 

The castle had been built specifically to house the demon kings commanding the invasion, a fortress as much a statement of dominance as a functional stronghold. Within its deepest hall, a high-level meeting was underway between the ten demon kings currently stationed within Thyrandel, their combined presence enough to make the very stone walls seem to strain under the pressure.

Even though all ten shared the same title, they answered to their own internal hierarchy, one built not on seniority but on raw, demonstrable strength, a system that had claimed the lives of more than a few overconfident challengers over the centuries. 

Among those seated around the table, none commanded more authority than Zagan, whose mastery spanned an unsettling range of abilities, Matter Transmutation, Energy Conversion, Biological Transformation, Metal Manipulation, Alchemical Creation, Form Alteration, and several others besides, a combination so versatile that few among his rivals could predict how he might respond to any given threat.

Zagan sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his gaze sweeping slowly across the assembled kings, each one radiating power that would have leveled entire kingdoms had it been unleashed carelessly within these walls. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough that even the flickering torchlight along the walls seemed to dim in response to it. "The human who killed the demon lords has gone quiet," he said finally, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the room since the meeting began.

Another demon king seated further down the table leaned forward, his clawed fingers drumming impatiently against the obsidian surface. "Have we found out who it was?"

Zagan shook his head slowly, his expression betraying a rare note of frustration. "There's no information regarding the enemy. Nothing concrete, at least. Every scout we've sent to investigate has either returned empty handed or hasn't returned at all."

A third king slammed a fist against the table, the impact cracking the stone surface beneath it and sending a jagged fracture running toward the table's edge. "Incompetent fools," he spat, clearly directing the insult at whatever scouts or informants had failed to deliver useful intelligence despite weeks of searching.

"Let's not find fault with our subordinates," Zagan said, his tone even despite the outburst, though the warning beneath his calm was unmistakable. "Once we join the war ourselves, whatever resistance the humans have managed to put up will become entirely irrelevant." 

He allowed a slow, toothy grin to spread across his face before continuing, the expression carrying more menace than amusement. "And the Church has already recalled their troops. It looks like they're preparing for our arrival rather than continuing to waste soldiers on a battlefield they've already lost."

One of the demon kings, a gaunt figure whose skin seemed to shift and ripple like shadow with every subtle movement, asked quietly, "Was there any news on how the nine Godkings died?"

Zagan's expression grew notably graver at the question, the earlier menace draining from his features entirely. "All I can say is that they were killed by a single being."

The revelation drew widened eyes from every demon king present, a ripple of stunned silence spreading around the table before one of them finally found his voice, leaning forward with visible disbelief written across his face. "Doesn't that mean..."

Zagan raised a hand, cutting the thought off before it could fully form, his expression carefully controlled. "I've already relayed this information to the Emperor, and he believes there's a third party involved. That level of power cannot possibly belong to any of the Godkings native to this world." 

The others nodded slowly at the conclusion, murmurs of uneasy agreement passing quietly among them as the weight of that assessment settled in, several exchanging wary glances across the table. 

Zagan continued, his voice hardening with renewed purpose, cutting through the murmurs and reclaiming the room's attention. "What we should focus on now is capturing the remaining Godkings and transporting them back to our world. Everything else, this unknown third party included, is secondary for the time being. We will deal with what we can control."

…

Two days passed in a steady blur as Arthur continued churning out thousands of magitech bots, dispatching wave after wave toward the border cities most vulnerable to the coming assault, coordinating shipments and deployment routes with an efficiency that left even Steve occasionally impressed. 

He was deep in the process of calibrating another batch, fine tuning the runic array embedded across a fresh unit's chassis, when he felt two powerful presences approaching Avalon from a distance, presences that, curiously, didn't carry the telltale corruption he'd come to associate with demons over the past few days. 

Curious and mildly cautious in equal measure, he set aside the half finished unit in front of him without hesitation and teleported outside Avalon's barrier, arriving with enough time to spare that he simply waited, watching the distant horizon for whoever was coming.

When the two figures finally arrived and came to a stop before him, Arthur felt a flicker of genuine surprise cross his face at the sight of one familiar figure among them. "It's you...?"

Cyris offered a small, respectful bow, her expression carrying the same quiet composure he remembered from their previous meeting. "We meet again."

Arthur nodded slowly, his attention shifting toward the man standing beside her, a tall figure with long, blonde hair cascading down past broad shoulders draped in robes that seemed woven from something more than ordinary fabric. 

Even without actively probing his aura, Arthur could feel the sheer weight of power radiating off him, pressing against his senses. After a moment of consideration, he found himself comparing him against Theia's presence, concluding that this man was, if anything, considerably stronger than she had ever been. 

"And this is?" he asked, glancing toward Cyris for clarification.

"Allow me to introduce Lord Kryx," Cyris said, her tone carrying a note of deference she hadn't shown even when discussing her own significant standing, "one of the Dragon Godkings."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, absorbing that piece of information with interest, running through what little he actually knew about the Dragon Godkings and finding the mental file frustratingly thin. "Oh."

Kryx's gaze drifted briefly toward the crystalline, cat-shaped creature perched comfortably on Arthur's shoulder, a flicker of genuine curiosity crossing his otherwise composed features, suggesting he didn't often encounter something capable of catching his attention so easily. "You keep quite a unique creature with you."

Arthur, noticing the interest, offered a faint smile, some of his initial wariness easing slightly at the casual observation. "You could say that." Glancing sideways, he saw that Rocky was staring back at Kryx with equal intensity, small crystalline eyes narrowed in open scrutiny, showing no trace of fear or hesitation despite the sheer scale of power standing before them. 

Something about that small display of confidence made Arthur's smile widen slightly, a flicker of quiet pride at how far the little golem had come. He turned his attention back to the two visitors, straightening slightly. "So, what's the occasion?"

Cyris opened her mouth as though to correct something, clearly prepared to ask Arthur to show respect to the godking, but Kryx raised a hand slightly, stopping her before she could speak, and offered Arthur an easy, disarming smile of his own. "I'd like to discuss the upcoming war with you, if you're willing to spare the time."

Arthur considered the request for a moment, weighing the risks of inviting two Godkings, one of them clearly among the strongest beings he had ever encountered, into the heart of Avalon itself. He had met Cyris before, and she had even entrusted him with the Book of Codice back when he'd first ventured into the secret realm, a gesture that had earned her at least some measure of goodwill in his mind. 

Still, goodwill from one encounter wasn't the same as blind trust, and he had no intention of extending that trust carelessly simply because their first meeting had gone well. Godkings, whatever their intentions, remained fundamentally unpredictable creatures with agendas that often stretched far beyond mortal comprehension. 

At the same time, refusing outright or hesitating too visibly in front of them risked being read as a sign of weakness, an admission that he doubted his own ability to handle whatever they might attempt within his own territory, and that was a message he had no intention of sending, intentionally or otherwise.

That thought settled the matter more than anything else. He trusted his own capabilities enough that the risk, if there even was one, felt manageable, and Avalon's defenses were hardly as fragile as an outsider might assume. "Alright," he said finally, gesturing toward the barrier behind him. "Follow me."

***

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