Realm Lord
Chapter 150: Jullard Ironvale

Chapter 150: Jullard Ironvale

The journey had been grueling—hour after hour of endless roads stretching before them, punctuated only by the mechanical hum of engines and the occasional turbulence that made Arthur’s stomach lurch. They had traveled by car first, the landscape gradually shifting from familiar territories to unknown terrain, before switching to aircraft for the final leg of their expedition. Arthur had pressed his face against the small window, watching the world shrink below them as they soared through clouds that looked like cotton candy against the azure sky.

When they finally touched down, the coastal military base sprawled before them like a concrete fortress against the horizon. The salty tang of ocean air mixed with the acrid smell of jet fuel and metal, creating an atmosphere that was both invigorating and intimidating. Arthur could hear the distant crash of waves against the shore, a rhythmic reminder of the vast ocean that would soon carry them toward their destination.

The base itself was a marvel of military engineering—towering walls of reinforced concrete topped with razor wire, guard towers that seemed to pierce the sky, and countless structures that spoke of serious purpose and unwavering discipline. Flags snapped in the coastal breeze, their colors bright against the overcast sky that hung low and heavy with the promise of rain.

But what truly captured Arthur’s attention was the sight that greeted them at the main entrance: a line of people that seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance. Hundreds upon hundreds of chosen, all waiting for their turn to enter the base. The queue snaked back and forth like a great serpent, organized by military personnel who directed the flow with practiced efficiency.

Arthur and Aziel took their place at the back of the line, joining the sea of faces that represented the volunteer force for the liberation of District Three.

The verification process was thorough and meticulous. Each person had to present documentation proving their participation in the liberation effort, undergo security screenings, and answer questions about their motivations and capabilities. Military officials checked and double-checked every detail, their stern faces revealing nothing as they processed the endless stream of volunteers.

Hours passed as they slowly inched forward in the line. Arthur’s feet began to ache from standing on the hard pavement, and he found himself shifting his weight from one foot to the other in an attempt to find relief. The sun moved across the sky, casting long shadows that gradually shortened and then lengthened again as the afternoon wore on.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the front of the line. The verification officer, a stern-faced woman with steel-gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, examined their papers with hawk-like intensity. Her eyes scanned every line, every signature, every official seal with the thoroughness of someone who had seen too many forgeries to take anything at face value.

She asked them questions and soon enough they were cleared to enter the base.

Once inside the base proper, they were directed toward a massive open area where a large stage had been erected. The stage itself was an impressive structure—elevated high enough to be seen from anywhere in the assembly area, equipped with powerful speakers and lighting systems that would ensure every word could be heard and every gesture could be seen by the gathered crowd.

Arthur and Aziel navigated through the growing crowd of volunteers, searching for a good vantage point. They settled on a spot that would soon find itself near the center of the massive gathering, close enough to see clearly but not so close as to be overwhelmed by the press of bodies around them.

As more and more chosen individuals filled the assembly area, Arthur began to truly grasp the scope of the operation they were about to undertake. The crowd grew larger and larger, until it seemed like an entire city had gathered in this one location. The sound of hundreds or maybe even thousands of conversations blended together into a low, constant murmur that filled the air with anticipation and nervous energy.

Arthur turned to Aziel, his eyes wide with amazement. "There’s so many chosen here... it’s unbelievable."

Aziel, who had been grinning with barely contained excitement since they had arrived, nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I know, it’s crazy." His voice carried a note of wonder that matched the expression on his face.

Before their awestruck conversation could continue any further, a voice suddenly echoed across the assembly area with such overwhelming power and volume that Arthur thought the stone beneath their feet might actually crack from the sheer force of it. The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, reverberating off the walls of nearby buildings and rolling across the crowd like thunder.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. The conversations that had been filling the air with their collective buzz ceased instantly, as if someone had thrown a switch that controlled the vocal cords of every person present. The sudden silence was so complete and profound that Arthur could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Every head in the crowd turned toward the stage in unison, like a field of sunflowers following the path of the sun. But once they saw who was responsible for commanding their attention so completely, the silence was broken by a new sound—a wave of murmurs and exclamations that rippled through the crowd like stones thrown into still water.

"Oh my god," someone whispered nearby.

"Is that...?" another voice asked, trailing off in disbelief.

"It—it’s him!" came the excited reply from somewhere in the crowd.

The murmurs continued to spread, growing in intensity and excitement, until the man on the stage opened his mouth once again. "QUIET!" he commanded, and immediately the sea of voices fell silent once more, as if his word carried the weight of absolute authority.

Arthur stared at the figure on the stage in complete awe. The man who stood before them was an imposing presence in every sense of the word. He wore a tight black long-sleeved shirt that emphasized his muscular build, tucked neatly into black combat pants. His hair was short and spiky, a rich brown color that caught the light from the stage illumination. A big, scruffy brown beard framed his face, giving him an air of rugged masculinity that was both intimidating and commanding.

The man’s face itself was stern and serious, with features that seemed carved from granite. His eyes held a intensity that seemed to pierce through the crowd, as if he could see into the soul of every person gathered before him. Arthur found himself reminded strongly of Jonas—the same imposing height, the same powerful build that spoke of incredible physical strength.

But more than his intimidating appearance, more than his commanding voice, more than even his impressive physical presence, what truly captured the crowd’s attention was something far more intangible. There was an aura about him, a presence that seemed to fill the entire assembly area with its weight and power.

Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat, as if the very air had become thicker and harder to breathe. His head felt light, as though he were standing at a great altitude where the oxygen was thin. "This guy... h-he’s strong..." Aziel managed to say, his voice shaky and uncertain as he stared blankly at the figure on the stage.

The sensation was familiar—they had experienced something similar when in the presence of Ms. Pellion. But this was different, more intense, more overwhelming. Where Ms. Pellion’s presence had felt powerful but somehow benevolent, this man’s aura was like standing in the shadow of a mountain, or facing the full fury of an ocean storm. It was... unbelievable.

The moments stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity under the weight of that overwhelming presence. Arthur could feel sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool coastal breeze, and his hands trembled slightly at his sides. The entire crowd seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting for whatever would come next.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, the man spoke again. His voice carried easily across the assembly area, clear and powerful without the need for artificial amplification. "Hello..." he began, and even that simple greeting seemed to carry weight and significance. "My name is Jullard Ironvale. I am the leader and founder of the Ironheads guild, and one of the few alive realmbound."