Rising god
Chapter 91: Aftermath

Chapter 91: Aftermath

The world seemed draped in an ethereal shroud, a realm of pure white where buildings, pillars, and the flowing robes of its inhabitants gleamed like polished ivory.

Within the grand cathedral of this alabaster city, a woman adorned in white robes and shimmering gold jewelry rose abruptly from her prayers. Her eyes, sharp and resolute, turned to the ranks of paladins clad in pristine white armor reaching the doors.

"He’s been chosen," she declared, her voice echoing with divine certainty. "Let’s go."

...

Across the globe, in shadowed halls and ancient fortresses, a select few stirred. They had sensed the pulse of energy that rippled through the world. At first, they dismissed it as a fluke months ago, but now, it lingered in the air, undeniably powerful and potent. Fear gripped some, greed others, and ambition drove the rest. The balance of power had shifted; now they would actively move to seek it.

...

In the time it took for the Darkans to rest and begin their march to the capital, news of the Darkan victory spread like wildfire, carried by breathless messengers who raced to deliver every detail before memory failed them. In the courts of rival powers, leaders listened, their eyes widening with each revelation.

"The Darkans are dragons again." One messenger reported, trembling. "They reclaimed their heritage just before the war."

"They split their forces," another added. "One battled in the valley, another crossed the Forest of Beasts."

The strategies, the cunning schemes, and the brutal execution of the war unfolded in their reports. The leaders leaned forward, gripped by the tale of the Silver apostle’s descent, wielding divine power that should have ensured victory. But then came the impossible twist.

"Their authority and divine power vanished," a messenger whispered, voice quaking. "No one knows how."

The Darkans had won against insurmountable odds, even after a vassal family’s destruction. When intricate details were asked of, the name Jin surfaced repeatedly, whispered as the mastermind behind the dragon clan’s restoration and the war’s strategy.

It wasn’t yet known to the public, but in the eyes of the leaders of these families, the value of Jin was as that of a top elder in their families, while some more.

Yet questions lingered. What force could strip a god’s authority?

...

As the Darkan army rested and marched toward the Silver capital, the reality dawned on the Silver citizens. Their ruling family had fallen. What made it more terrifying was that the feeling that a god was always there for them was now gone.

Their minds couldn’t come to accept something like their god had died. How was that possible? Rather, they said Darkan did something.

The boldest among them blocked the streets to prevent the march. However, that was only until countless dragons darkened the sky. Their courage crumbled, and they retreated silently, the Darkan army advancing unopposed.

Every Silver they encountered was chained; their resistance was futile. At the capital, they were met with a scene. The Silvers were a duchy; however, they were too large to rule themselves, so they gave ranks to lower-class members. Before the war, they were all called back to the capital to defend against attacks from other duchies.

However, who would’ve thought they would lose their divine rank? They surrendered without a fight; their spirits were further broken by the loss of their main force.

Inside the Silver estate, the Darkan soldiers patrolled and arrested all family members.

Several executives struggled against their captors, muttering unbelievable words. They had thought that not feeling their god wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, not knowing they had lost.

That wasn’t even all,

"Sir, all valuables are gone," a Red Fang reported, disbelief in his voice.

"What?" the Darkan Head growled, his bandaged form tensing. ’Did rivals steal them, or did the Silvers hide them?’ He ordered a ruthless search round as they arrested the members, but the estate yielded nothing.

Baines, standing apart, was lost in thought. ’How should I kill them?’ Wick had delivered the slave chains, and the reins were in his hands. A part of him yearned to rip out their souls, but they wouldn’t know their killer. He wanted to satisfy his vengeance. Then an idea sparked.

"Thank you for your help," a voice interrupted. Tasha, with Aires trailing, approached.

Baines just nodded curtly and returned his gaze. Tasha frowned but walked past, Aires’s eyes lingering with unspoken questions.

...

Night fell, and the Darkan army encamped around the Silver estate, tents dotting the grounds. Soldiers slept, exhausted but triumphant.

But Baines was far from restful. Using Aging Reversal, he altered his appearance and moved with Wick at his side, like a shadow.

"Wick, set up the formations, and where is the sword unit?" Baines asked, drawing his demonblade, its edge glinting with malevolent energy.

"Here," Wick replied, raising a hand. A swirling portal opened, and fifty knights in golden armor emerged, their swords raised in salute.

"Tonight, we are going to wipe out a lineage," Baines said, his voice low and resolute. "Are you ready?"

The knights lifted their swords in unison, a silent vow. They approached the prison where the captured Silvers were held, guarded by Darkan soldiers. Baines struck first, his blood energy felling the guards in a single, silent sweep. There was no sound, no smell, no trace as Wick had ensured it.

Blood Palace.

Crimson blood flooded the prison, a tidal wave of gore that drowned the screams of the waking prisoners. They clawed at the bars, eyes wide with terror, as a figure in red attire, with red hair and eyes, emerged from the blood. Baines’s voice, amplified by Eternal Echo, reached every soul.

"This is my revenge. Kill."

The golden knights moved like specters, their blades slicing through flesh with surgical precision. Their blood further fueled the Blood Palace, amplifying its power. Baines conjured weapons from the crimson tide that tore into the Silvers with agonizing precision. Most were helpless as their divine power was gone. A few resisted, their struggles brief and futile. Baines yanked out their souls, trapping them forever.

Over five hundred Silver captives perished with no sign of their existence available. The prison was a tomb, silent and empty. No one heard a thing.

...

Aires suddenly jolted awake as a chill gripping his heart. A bad feeling gnawed at him, urging him from his tent.

The camp was quiet, patrolled by vigilant soldiers, yet the unease persisted. ’Where is this feeling from?’

Out of curiosity, he approached a guard. "Where were the captives held again?"

"Oh, there," the soldier pointed, then froze. "Wait..." He rushed forward, scanning the area.

In the spot where the captured were kept, no guards, no prisoners, not even a trace of blood or dead bodies.

"Sound the alarm!" he bellowed.

DOIIINGGG...

The camp erupted in chaos as Darkans converged on the scene. The Darkan Head arrived, his bandaged form radiating fury. "What’s wrong?"

"The captives... they’re gone," the soldier stammered. Heads turned, eyes scanning the empty prison. Nothing remained, not a drop of blood, not a footprint.

"What the hell is happening?" the Darkan Head roared. "Block the gates! Scouts, fly and check! They can’t have gone far. I WANT RESULTS NOW!"

Soldiers scrambled, the camp buzzing with urgency.

The Darkan Head’s mind raced. ’Just what the hell is going on?’ It felt like a scheme. The Vodal Kingdom and Solaris Empire had agreed to non-involvement, yet their wealth was the first to vanish, and now the captives were gone without a trace. ’Did they plan this?’ The Astras were known for their spatial manipulation, so it wasn’t a far-fetched thought, but would they openly do something that could be traced back to them?

Amidst the chaos, Baines watched the futile search till the end, ’One down, five to go,’ he thought, his eyes cold.