Chapter 362| We Are Going To Crush That Rebellion So Flawlessly, That This Iron Empire Will Be Terrified Of Losing Us

Tap... Tap... Tap...

The rhythmic clanking of metal-soled boots echoed in perfect time. The cadence pierced the silence of the Hall of Iron Justice with an oppressive resonance.

Each footstep carried a suffocating pressure, as if physically crushing the chests of everyone in the room.

There was no rushed stride. Only the steady rhythm of absolute authority.

Ssshhh... hhh...

A soft hiss emerged from beneath the pitch-black mantle sweeping across the metal floorplates.

Thin jets of steam periodically vented from the filter of the ruler’s mechanical respirator. The sharp scent of machine oil and burning coal permeated the air.

Emperor Regulus Velthorne had entered the hall.

His colossal figure monopolized the center aisle. Behind him, a phalanx of Praetorian Guards in obsidian uniforms marched rigidly, forming a living barricade that sealed off every exit.

The atmosphere in the Hall of Iron Justice instantly froze.

First General Drakov bowed his massive head deeply. Third General Volkov clenched his leather-gloved hands rigidly at his sides.

Lord Marcus—who had been roaring just moments ago—now swallowed hard. The old noble’s face was as pale as a burial shroud.

Atop the high podium, Anastasia Velthorne stood paralyzed.

The Third Princess’s chest heaved. Her slender fingers gripped the iron throne’s armrests so tightly her knuckles turned bone-white.

Regulus ascended the podium stairs without sparing a single glance at anyone. He turned and lowered his massive frame onto the highest throne.

CREAK... CLANG!

The iron throne’s mechanical joints groaned loudly, locking the Emperor’s position into place with a submissive grind of gears.

Silence. A suffocating stillness swallowed the room.

"So..."

Regulus’s voice finally broke the silence. It was heavy, raspy, and vibrated with a low bass through his mask’s transmitter.

Ssshhh... hhh...

"You are the ones..." The Emperor’s steely gray eyes shifted coldly, locking onto the prisoners. "...who dared to cross the ocean, just to tear open old wounds in front of my council?"

Under the glare of the vapor lamps, Roland Sudrath stood at the forefront.

His dark blue robes draped immaculately. Even though the wound on his shoulder throbbed and his chest was compressed by the Emperor’s oppressive Aura, the diplomat didn’t bow his head in the slightest.

A faint smile—calm and elegant—graced his lips.

"Oh, we aren’t tearing open old wounds at all, Your Majesty," Roland replied. His voice flowed crystal clear, cutting through the hissing steam pipes.

"We are bringing them to the surface... purely so we can stitch them up together, before the infection rots this entire continent."

"You have a bold tongue, Southerner." Regulus leaned back. Ssshhh... hhh...

"Did you think you were delivering some grand historical revelation to this room?" the Emperor scoffed dismissively. "Tch, you’re dead wrong. I’ve known the exact history of Project Legion’s betrayal since long before you were born."

A shockwave instantly swept through the ranks of the old-faction nobles.

Lord Marcus stared in utter disbelief. Upon her throne, Anastasia’s jaw clenched. That history... it wasn’t a secret to the Emperor at all!

Roland didn’t show a single ripple of surprise. His eyes remained locked on Regulus.

"I know my ancestors crossed the Sea of Mist after being slaughtered by the mages in the south," Regulus continued, his voice echoing like clashing steel.

"I know Project Legion was sacrificed to save those cowardly rulers. And it is from that very blood feud... that I built every inch of this empire’s walls."

The Emperor leaned his colossal body forward.

"So what do you want now, Diplomat? To march into the wolf’s den, spout tales of the past, just to prove our ancestors were victims?"

Roland clasped his hands behind his back. He stood perfectly straight.

"If Your Majesty already knows that bitter truth... then you must understand that we didn’t come all this way to give a history lesson."

"Then for what?!"

Roland stared directly into the Emperor’s eyes. "We came... to save the future."

"Hah! What future could possibly be saved by a bunch of southern mages and swindlers?"

Selene took a step forward.

Her ocean-blue robes swayed gently, injecting a touch of elegance into the rigid steel room. Her pale blue eyes stared straight at the highest throne.

"We aren’t going to save this future alone, Emperor," Selene interjected steadily. No pleading, no groveling. "We are. Together."

Regulus shifted his gaze to Selene. His mask hissed loudly.

"Hmm. A Luminara Mage. The people most adept at weaving sweet words over the rotting corpses of their enemies."

"Think what you will," Selene fired back fearlessly. "But if you keep nursing this blind vengeance... your empire will be swallowed by the darkness before your war of revenge even begins."

"Speak without your ridiculous metaphors, Mage!" Regulus growled, making the rivets in the walls vibrate. "Or I’ll have the guards take your head this very second!"

Roland stepped slightly to the side, taking back control of the conversation.

"The greatest threat right now isn’t your empire’s grudge, Emperor," Roland interrupted firmly. "Nor is it the southern army. It’s the ancient darkness that Project Legion once destroyed."

Regulus suddenly fell silent.

"Satan," Selene whispered softly.

That cursed name hung stiffly in the air. Several old generals in the upper tribunes instinctively flinched. An unnatural chill crept through the room.

"The dimensional seals at the southern border are starting to shatter," Roland continued. "We didn’t bring fairy tales. We brought empirical data that your best scientists can verify."

Rianor Sudrath stepped up beside Roland.

The genius Architect adjusted his glasses. Without a word of preamble, his index finger tapped the Adamantite plating on his left arm.

Whirrr... click!

A dim blue glow ignited. A precise holographic projection hovered in the air. Thermal maps and fluctuation graphs rotated smoothly.

"The Kraken that attacked us in the ocean wasn’t just a random coincidence," Rianor reported with a cold, mathematical intonation.

"It was a biological alarm." Rianor pointed at the temperature graph. "Ancient beasts in the deepest trenches are panicking and fleeing to the surface because the mana structure of the water in the deep south is being contaminated."

The visual shifted. Carcasses of colossal sea monsters washed up on the shores. Their flesh was blistered—not by cannon fire, but by the black corrosion of the Void.

"The ocean’s food chain is collapsing. Primordial energy is leaking from the seals." Rianor stared intently at Volkov. "And all of this is mathematical proof that the second apocalypse is creeping closer."

Volkov glared sharply at the projection. "That thermal fluctuation data... it’s identical to the sonar anomalies our patrol ships picked up at the outer borders."

"Of course it is," Rianor shut off the projection with a snap of his fingers. Click. "You have your own steam-powered sensors. Just check the data."

"This is an elaborately fabricated lie!" Lord Marcus interrupted again, desperately trying to save face for his faction. "They manipulated the data to divert our military’s attention!"

"Enough, Marcus."

A single sentence from Regulus instantly gagged the old man. Marcus stiffened, then lowered his head in utter submission.

Emperor Regulus slowly stood up.

His colossal frame descended the steel steps one by one. The elite guards shuffled backward. Regulus stopped right at the edge of the podium, towering like an iron fortress in front of Roland.

Ssshhh... hhh...

"You claim to hold the key to our salvation," Regulus said heavily. "Give me one rational reason... why I should trust you."

Roland didn’t blink. "Send your own delegation to the ruins of Project Legion in the southern continent. Inspect The Core with your own soldiers’ eyes. Trust in the blood legacy of your ancestors."

Regulus narrowed his eyes. "I will not throw my soldiers to the wolves on that cursed continent."

"We have collateral." Roland gestured behind him. "Princess Rumina Sudrath, Head Treasurer of Northreach and daughter of Lucian Sudrath, will remain in this fortress as a mortal hostage until your delegation returns safely."

Every eye turned to Rumina.

The woman in the drab work dress bowed her head slightly. Her posture was stiff, yet it radiated absolute willingness from behind her thin glasses.

"Not her..."

A cold voice cut in from the top of the throne podium.

Anastasia Velthorne stepped down. Her black wolf-fur mantle swayed in rhythm with the steel resolve in her porcelain eyes.

"I will lead the expedition fleet to the south," Anastasia declared, her voice echoing with total authority.

I have to know for myself, Anastasia’s mind churned. I have to see what the palace archives have truly been hiding from me.

"No!" Regulus’s voice detonated like a cannon. "You are not going anywhere, Anastasia!"

"Father..." Anastasia looked up, openly defying him. "As the Head of the Intelligence Inquisition, I am the most qualified person to verify this historical relic!"

"I said NO!"

BAM!

Regulus slammed his iron fist into the podium railing. The floorplates shuddered violently. Searing steam vented wildly from his mask.

"You are my daughter! I will never allow my own flesh and blood to step foot on that treacherous soil!"

Anastasia met her father’s gaze without flinching. "It’s exactly because I am the Emperor’s daughter! If I am the one who brings home the truth, no council member will ever dare question your political decisions in the future!"

Regulus unleashed a low growl. The tension between the two iron rulers nearly strangled all the oxygen out of the room.

The Emperor finally looked away, his gaze snapping back to Roland, who had been meticulously observing this political rift the entire time.

"This empire... is currently too unstable to concern itself with foreign continents," Regulus stated. His tone suddenly flattened, heavy with cunning calculation.

Roland narrowed his eyes. "Meaning, Your Majesty?"

"A rebellion has erupted in the Eastern Mountains." Regulus revealed his trump card. "Feral monsters are rampaging, paralyzing military outposts and coal supply lines. My forces are overwhelmed."

A hidden smile lurked beneath the Emperor’s mask.

"If Northreach is so desperate to open our eyes..." Regulus dragged out his words. "...prove your worth."

Emperor Regulus turned around and marched away, flanked by the Praetorian Guard. At the threshold of the giant doors, he paused for a moment.

"Consider your answer until tomorrow morning." Regulus’s ultimatum echoed ruthlessly. "If you fail... I won’t just mount your heads on that mountain. I will execute Northreach’s pride in front of the entire world."

SLAM!

The massive steel doors slammed shut.

One hour later. The mid-level detention cells of The Iron Citadel.

The cell door was securely locked once more. The yellow vapor bulbs cast a warm glow against the steel walls.

Riven leaned against the wall, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "That’s a pure trap, Roland. He’s throwing us to the east so the rebels can kill us without him having to dirty his own hands."

"But it’s our only exit right now, Riven," Roland replied casually from the wooden bench.

In the corner, Rianor kept tapping the plating on his arm.

"The tactical calculations are atrocious," Rianor muttered, adjusting his glasses. "If we fail, we die. If we dominate too much, their generals will treat us as a military invasion."

"And the crucial part is..." Selene stared intently at Roland. "...are we actually capable of resolving a bloody conflict without dragging Northreach’s prestige through the mud?"

In a separate corner, Rumina remained silent, tightly wringing the hem of her gray dress.

Roland swept his gaze over each of his comrades’ faces. The diplomat then leaned back against the wall, carving out a smile that was equal parts arrogant and overflowing with absolute confidence.

"We aren’t just going to resolve it, Selene..." Roland whispered, his eyes gleaming.

"...we are going to crush that rebellion so flawlessly, that this iron empire will be terrified of losing us!"