Rising god
Chapter 36: Impossible strategy

Chapter 36: Impossible strategy

The next morning, a rumor began to swirl like smoke through a battlefield.

It slipped into conversations quietly at first, among street vendors arranging their wares, between soldiers on morning patrol, and within the wooden walls of crowded inns where the smell of ale lingered like a second atmosphere.

"They say the Church wants to attack now, but the Darkan wants to wait?" An old man recited the words his friend had whispered to him the night before.

The tavern was filled to capacity, yet silence blanketed the room as those words echoed.

"Yes, that’s what I heard too," the friend replied, leaning closer. "They say an internal conflict has already begun."

A collective stillness followed. The mention of disunity between the two great factions sent ripples of uncertainty through the crowd. The ears of every patron sharpened. Even the tavern maid, who had been pouring ale, paused mid-pour.

As the two old men continued to discuss the matter, many around them either left quickly to spread the rumor, stayed to listen more closely, or sat quietly in contemplation, digesting the implications.

Within just two days, what began as hearsay transformed into apparent truth.

The silence from both the Church and the Darkan family did little to quell the speculation. On the contrary, it amplified it. Their refusal to deny or clarify the rumor was taken as confirmation.

An internal conflict between the Darkans and the Church.

Whispers soon became undeniable truths.

Families, factions, and various organizations, those with an interest in the battle, watched the happenings closely. Likewise, the head of the Darkan family himself summoned his brother, fury in his voice and confusion in his eyes.

How could his brother he trusted so much, do this?

However,

"You planned this?" he asked, visibly shaken when he learned the truth.

"Yes," came the simple reply.

The family head paled.

If he even believed it, then how much more others?

Soon, the rumor began to manifest in reality.

Civilians could see it in the eyes of the soldiers, those fleeting, wary glances exchanged between the Church’s knights and the Darkan’s warriors. In markets and streets, people began to avoid gathering in large numbers, fearing a skirmish might erupt at any moment.

But that didn’t satisfy the citizens.

The people were furious. How could the most powerful forces in the region afford such pettiness at a time like this? A civil war loomed over their heads like a storm cloud, and yet their so-called protectors were embroiled in an internal dispute.

Petitions were made, riots almost broke out, but that wasn’t even the end of it.

Five days after the initial spark, the tension finally exploded.

The Church and the Darkan forces engaged in an open battle. Not a symbolic display or strategic spar, but real, visceral combat. Buildings were damaged, soldiers fell, and civilians scattered in panic.

The result of the clash was inconclusive.

Neither side claimed victory. Instead, they split off as if nothing had happened, pretending their unity was intact.

But for Baines, the mastermind behind the deception, everything was going according to plan.

He had wanted escalation. He had wanted chaos.

And he got it.

Unfortunately, or not, the older deplorables took the bait and launched a large-scale assault on the Darkan forces.

***

Branch Head Roderick couldn’t believe his eyes.

It wasn’t the sheer number of enemy soldiers before him, nor was it the menacing red aura that shrouded their bodies like an evil mist. No—what shocked him most was that everything had played out exactly as they had foreseen.

He shook his head slowly, his expression darkening with resolve. "Just what goes on in that brain of his..." he muttered.

But now wasn’t the time for questions. This was war. One moment of hesitation could mean death.

"Commence formation!" he barked.

Dragons roared to life, their wings slicing the sky as they soared upward. On their backs, armored dragon knights held reins tightly, channeling their auras into their scaled mounts.

Meanwhile, the underground forces advanced, bolstered by the strength of the crimson Blood Orbs. Many among them were curious. How well would their bodies fare against these dragons? They wished to test this newly acquired power in full.

But unexpectedly, the dragons did not dive toward the enemy.

They fired their breaths to the sky until the sky, once a clear blue, transformed into a churning mass of storm clouds.

Roderick watched the darkening heavens while recalling a vital conversation they’d had days ago.

"The Blood Orb is unstable," he had warned. "I saw it reattach a severed arm mid-battle, Ron can testify," he continued.

"Then what’s their weakness?" Tasha had asked, her brow furrowed.

"Fire," Baines answered and continued, "And what’s the concentrated form of fire?"

"Lightning," Tasha replied with wide eyes, recalling the last warfront.

So, the plan was simple. Create a storm and rain down lightning on those who had ingested the blood orb.

And so, with synchronized discipline, the Darkan sorcerers and knights raised their hands and funneled their auras into the heavens.

The skies responded.

Bolts of lightning erupted like divine wrath, cascading down onto the underground army.

"Gahhh!"

"Arghh!"

Screams of agony filled the air as bolts struck. Those empowered by the Blood Orbs suffered most; their bodies were destabilized by the very energy that once made them powerful.

Roderick’s eyes shone with grim satisfaction.

With each swing of his blade, he summoned more lightning, cleaving through the enemy ranks with frightening ease.

He wasn’t alone. Other 6th Star commanders from the Darkan main family joined him. Even the regular soldiers were awestruck by the brilliance and devastation of the assault.

The lightning charred the skins of those who had ingested the blood orb, and their bodies regenerated continuously until the orbs went out of control, consuming them like it did the younger deplorable.

After ten relentless waves of thunder and lightning, Roderick raised his arm. "Cease fire!"

The soldiers obeyed without hesitation.

Tasha had already warned them of the risks of overextending, and they listened.

Then came the next command.

"Attack!"

With Roderick leading the charge, the Darkan warriors descended like a tidal wave.

Among the numerous variables Baines had thought through, the older deplorable decided to take the worst route.

He hadn’t shown up.

He had left his soldiers to fight alone.

Eventually, an order to retreat was issued by the underground forces. They believed they would at least be given the privilege of being allowed to escape.

However, they were wrong.

On the road back, they encountered the Church’s knights, waiting in full formation, with priests casting divine buffs across their ranks.

Stunned, the underground soldiers froze.

Weren’t they fighting against the Darkans? So why were they here?

It was as if they were waiting for them.

Without a word, the Church knights charged, slamming into them with divine fury. From behind, the Darkan army closed in. The undergrounds were caught in a pincer attack, an orchestrated slaughter.

The underground fought with more vigor as they were backed against the corner. Many used their life force, others took risky moves for survival.

The battle raged for hours.

When it was over, the victors did not celebrate.

Instead, they interrogated the survivors, extracting every shred of information, mainly about locations.

And once they had what they needed, they did not wait.

They marched directly to the headquarters of the older deplorable, the toughest person they had yet to face. The result of the battle could lead to half their forces perishing, hence the reason no one celebrated.

The final confrontation was about to begin.