"A pig? A king who has been a king? And has been on the throne for nine years already?" Even Kiliman was puzzled by this situation, and he used his powerful observation skills to carefully scrutinize it again, only to find that this boar seemed nothing special, except for being extremely obese.
"Yes, it has been on the throne for nine years and, unless something unexpected happens, it will continue to reign for a few more years. Then, the city-states of Tyril will once again initiate the Kingdom City-State Conference to elect the next pig as their king." The emperor's voice was cold, yet it carried a slight tone of mockery: "The Kingdom of Tyril is composed of a large number of city-states; they have never been fully unified, but Tyril still bears the name of a kingdom. So, under the joint elections of the city-states, this boar has quite honorably become the Prince of Tyril."
"Hahaha~ How interesting." Fugen chuckled coldly.
Sometimes, democracy works just like this—no city-state is willing to elect a real Prince of Tyril, so they all chose a pig, maintaining their autonomy.
"What really deserves attention is the knight before that pig." The emperor gazed at a knight standing before the throne.
This knight was clad in cheetah-yellow brass plate armor, holding a giant mace in one hand and a long spear in the other, exuding a terrifying dominator's aura from head to toe.
"He self-proclaimed as Prince Bogil of Miraglino, the chief of several mercenary groups, especially skilled in siege warfare." The emperor continued, "Let's go."
The emperor and Fugen, Kiliman, and Kaul immediately vanished at the end of the street. As Bogil felt an extremely terrifying gaze, the street corner was already empty.
In the underground caverns of Tyril, an imperial guard was waiting for the emperor, who extended his hand to open and activate the ancient holy altar. The power of the ancients was once again fully absorbed by the emperor.
Skipping the details, when the last trace of the ancient holy energy dissipated into the air, the emperor frowned, and with a sweep of his hand, a golden arc of light burst forth from the ancient holy altar, revealing a golden anvil before the group.
"The creations and technologies of the ancients are truly incredible. Even after ten thousand years, they are still creating miracles," the emperor carefully sensed the knowledge left by the ancients: "To recast souls? To become immortal celestial warriors? Interesting."
"A new technology, Your Majesty." Grandmaster Kaul spoke to the emperor.
"Yes, a secret technique, a process of forging strong souls into the immortal divine fire to recast them, a technique that can hammer human souls repeatedly, ultimately transforming them into pure storm beings," the emperor repeatedly pondered the knowledge and technology left by the ancients. "The resilient souls will undergo repeated forging on the anvil, the powerful divine fire will recast their souls into mighty warriors, immortal energy and lightning infused into their new bodies. These warriors, born from the storm, will become the mightiest warriors of the ancients. If they fall in battle, their souls will not truly perish; they will return to the anvil to be reforged and recast."
"So, this is a new technology for creating soldiers?" Kiliman was very interested, eagerly saying, "Can produce soldiers and also recycle them repeatedly?"
"Things are not that easy, Kiliman," Fugen immediately shook his head. "There's no such perfect technology in the world. If there were such technology, then you and your descendants could all fulfill your wish to become governors."
Kiliman was somewhat embarrassed by Fugen's words, and he did not retort. Everyone awaited the emperor's response.
As expected, the emperor's expression slightly changed: "It's not that easy. Even the toughest souls, after enduring such painful recasting and forging, will eventually begin to break down or go mad, or can no longer condense into form, and might even become corrupted in the battle against chaos... This must have been a technology developed by the ancients at the last moment, but the ancients could neither find sufficiently powerful divine fire nor skilled craftsmen..."
The new technology was handed over to Kaul, the Grandmaster of the Mechanist Sect, who would carefully experiment with it.
The group sat down in the cavern, and the emperor took out some coffee beans, signaling the imperial guard to brew coffee. After completely annihilating the vampire army, the emperor had taken two large cans of high-quality coffee beans from Angleron's collection.
"Fugen, you saw that mercenary leader named Bogil, remember, what follows is my plan," the emperor said solemnly, and Fugen listened attentively: "Yes, father."
"In about three to five months, Tyril will organize a Ruthlessian Expeditionary Force. This force will venture to Ruthlessia, attempting to establish new colonies." The emperor's guard took a proclamation and placed it before Fugen.
Fugen took the proclamation: "Soldiers of Tyril, it's time to fight for the future of the kingdom!"
The illustration depicted men, women, old and young, from farmers and artisans to mercenaries and even women, all labeled "I want to contribute!".
"They're all contributing, how about you?" The portrait of a mercenary leader was placed in the center, his body leaning forward, pointing directly at the viewer: "Enlist to gain your citizenship! Any existing criminal records will be reconsidered!"
"Want to know more? Please turn to the back."
"What is Ruthlessia?"
"Ruthlessia is a beautiful and fertile continent, requiring months, or even longer, by ship to reach. It is dense with trees, and rich in animal and plant species, with a hot and rainy climate. The forests hide endless treasures—ores, precious hardwood, medicinal plants. We have reason to believe that Ruthlessia will be a fertile ground for our expansion and development, today's marginal settlements, tomorrow's new Miraglino city-states!"
A crude illustration filled with human mercenaries valiantly battling, with lizard people and giant beasts falling under spears and musket fire.
"Of course, in this process, we might 'happen to encounter' some local natives, such as fierce lizards or large beasts, but no worries, these creatures are insignificant in front of our weapons and muskets. Spears and muskets made in the kingdom have been proven to easily handle all threats."
"Beast fur is highly popular among the upper classes! Enjoy exotic grilled lizard skewers at night!"
"We venture, we prosper, we colonize, we triumph! Fellows, what are you waiting for? Join the Ruthlessian Expeditionary Force now! The next one to be promoted to baron could be you!"
"A very interesting proclamation, similar to the recruitment flyers issued by the Military Department," Kiliman concluded. "So, father, you want Fugen to go to Ruthlessia? To make contact with the remnants of the ancients?"
"The ancients, the creators, who made the Slan magic toads as their assistants, also created the lizard people to protect the Slan magic toads," the emperor nodded. "Fugen, Kiliman,
do not underestimate these assistants left by the ancients. Magic toads are extremely terrifying magical creatures; they can split continents, move mountains to fill seas, raise thousands of kilometers high mountain ranges with a single thought, alter the planetary orbits. Their profound understanding of subspace magic is even beyond my reach, and remember, as the last assistants of the ancients, no one knows if the ancients left any special backdoors for these magic toads."
"Father, you mean... cooperation?" Kiliman suddenly felt a bit absurd. The human supremacists, led by the master of humanity, were actually seeking cooperation?
"If you were a servant of a family, loyally guarding your master's property after the family's demise, battling invaders, and then, the stray dog that used to beg outside your door grows up and comes to you for cooperation, would you agree?" The emperor's face was as cold as ancient ice as he looked at Kiliman.
"Hard to say, especially since we're eager to get our hands on the master's remaining property. The Slan cannot judge whether we are here to help them or to take advantage of the opportunity to seize the master's property," Kiliman pondered.
The emperor nodded: "Exactly, and we cannot just seize it forcefully. The power of these Slan magic toads is terrifying. I'm not sure if the ancients left anything for their servants, but I can foresee that if we try to take by force, we will both suffer great losses, the relics of the ancients will be destroyed, the knowledge will fall into chaos, and at that time, perhaps the main material universe will head towards destruction."
"Fugen, this task is yours now, join the Ruthlessian Expeditionary Force and take control of this human army. I need you to try to make contact with the Slan and see if these cold-blooded species are willing to talk to us," the emperor's gaze shifted to Fugen.
"I've got this," Fugen's expression turned serious, the proud son of the emperor in his heart making a solemn vow to complete the mission flawlessly.
Grandmaster Kaul walked up from behind, his mechanical arm pulling out a brand-new powered sword, engraved with dozens of ancient runes and spells, the hilt adorned with a golden double-headed eagle, radiating a holy light in the air. The emperor took the powered sword, uttering holy words, blessing it with the master of humanity's blessings.
"This is your new sword, Fugen, I name it 'Glory.'" The golden powered longsword illuminated the entire underground cavern under the emperor's blessing.
Fugen's eyes moistened as he respectfully reached out both hands to receive "Glory," the genetic progeny of the emperor's son using his most resolute voice to emit a powerful war cry: "Son of the emperor, slayer of the father's foe!"
Echoes resounded through the underground cavern.
"Son of the emperor, slayer of the father's foe!"
"Son of the emperor, slayer of the father's foe!"
The emperor's face showed a hint of emotion, Kiliman suspected his father was reminded of the grand campaign from ten thousand years ago, the Horus Heresy that brought them to ruin. Ten thousand years later, humanity barely clung to a shred of hope.
"Alright, Kiliman, Grandmaster, it's time for us to leave."
"This world is now in your hands, Ryan," the emperor said to Fugen.
"Yes, father!"
Updated! Happy Mid-Autumn Festival again!
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