The Extra's Rise
Chapter 597 - 597: Savage Communion (1)

The sight of that convoy sent a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the mountain air.

The Savage Communion wasn't just another hostile faction or territorial dispute. They were one of the Five Cults—organizations with power equivalent to entire continents, capable of opposing civilized nations through sheer overwhelming force. The Western Continent had been locked in a perpetual state of barely controlled conflict with them for centuries, a grinding war of attrition that consumed enormous resources just to maintain the current stalemate.

What made the Savage Communion particularly dangerous wasn't just their human cultists, but their alliance with the monstrous races that had been driven from civilized lands generations ago. Orcs and ogres served as their shock troops, creatures whose physical capabilities exceeded human limitations even before being enhanced by the cult's dark rituals. Together, they represented a threat that required the combined military might of the entire Western Continent to contain.

And now they were here, announcing their presence in a way that violated every established pattern of behavior.

"This is completely unprecedented," Meilyn said, her voice tight with controlled tension as she watched the approaching convoy. "The Savage Communion operates through stealth and surprise. They don't send announced delegations, they don't respect diplomatic protocols, and they certainly don't provide advance warning of their movements."

"Then what are they doing?" I asked, my enhanced perception picking up details that painted an increasingly concerning picture. The vehicles were heavily armored, clearly designed for combat rather than transport, and the magical signatures emanating from them suggested occupants of significant capability.

"That's what terrifies me," Meilyn replied grimly. "When one of the Five Cults deviates from established patterns this dramatically, it usually means they're either supremely confident about something or they're creating a distraction for an even larger threat."

As the convoy drew closer, I could make out more details through my enhanced vision. The vehicles were massive, each one capable of carrying a dozen or more individuals, with armor plating that could withstand serious military assault. The banners they flew displayed the twisted symbols of the Savage Communion—icons that represented the worship of violence and chaos in their most pure forms.

But it was the sheer size of the delegation that made my tactical instincts scream warnings. I counted at least fifteen vehicles, which meant potentially a hundred or more cult members. This wasn't a scouting party or even a raid—this was a military force large enough to pose a serious threat to the border installation itself.

"Should we evacuate the observation area?" Kali asked, her professional training clearly warring with her curiosity about what was happening.

"Not yet," Meilyn said, though I could see her mentally calculating defensive options. "If they wanted to attack, they wouldn't have announced themselves. But I'm calling for full alert status across all border installations."

She activated a communication device that immediately connected her to the installation's command center. "This is Grand Marshal Potan. Implement Alert Status One across all frontier positions. We have an unprecedented Savage Communion convoy approaching under diplomatic flags. Coordinate with Continental Command and have backup forces on standby."

The efficiency with which her orders were acknowledged and implemented reminded me why Meilyn had achieved her legendary status. In moments of crisis, she transformed from gracious host to military commander with a precision that was both impressive and reassuring.

"They're stopping at the main gate," I observed as the convoy reached the primary checkpoint approximately two kilometers from our observation position.

Through the sophisticated optical enhancement systems built into the observation platform, we could watch the interaction that followed. The lead vehicle disgorged several figures in the distinctive dark robes of the Savage Communion, though even at this distance their movements suggested individuals of significant capability.

'The magical signatures are impressive,' Luna noted. 'These aren't normal cultists—these are people of genuine power. Whatever they're here for, they sent their best.'

"Can you identify any of them?" Kali asked, clearly hoping that Meilyn's experience with border security would provide some insight.

"The tall one in the ceremonial armor," Meilyn said, pointing to a figure whose bearing immediately marked him as a leader, "that's Deputy Pope Ravok. He's roughly equivalent to my own rank within their hierarchy, which means we're dealing with someone who could potentially match me in direct combat."

The casual way she mentioned facing someone of her own caliber in battle was both reassuring and concerning. If Meilyn was worried about this person's capabilities, then we were definitely dealing with a serious threat.

"And the others?" I asked, studying the group through my enhanced perception.

"Hard to identify at this distance, but their posture and equipment suggest high-ranking military leaders. This isn't a routine delegation—this is their leadership making a personal appearance."

What happened next defied every expectation I'd developed about diplomatic protocols. Instead of engaging in careful, formal negotiations, the Savage Communion delegation simply... waited. They formed up in what appeared to be a ceremonial formation and remained motionless, as if expecting something specific to occur.

"That's not normal behavior," Kali observed.

"Nothing about this is normal," Meilyn replied, her golden eyes never leaving the distant figures. "They're waiting for something. Or someone."

Twenty minutes later, a second figure emerged from the lead vehicle—someone who had apparently remained hidden during the initial deployment. Even at our considerable distance, there was something about his presence that immediately commanded attention.

My enhanced perception allowed me to study him more closely than the others could, and what I saw made my blood run cold. The figure was young—probably close to my own age—but carried himself with the kind of confident authority that spoke of both inherent power and extensive training. His armor was distinctive, bearing design elements that seemed familiar in a way that made my instincts scream warnings.

Meilyn exhaled, her breath heavy.

"You know him?" I asked, though I was beginning to suspect I knew the answer.

"I know the bloodline," she replied grimly. "That bearing, that armor configuration, the way the others defer to him despite his apparent youth. That's not just another cultist."

She paused, her professional analysis warring with what appeared to be genuine shock.

"That's the Axe King's son, the future Pope of the Savage Communion."

The words hit me like a physical blow. The Axe King, one of the strongest in the entire world.

His son. Here. Now.

"The resemblance is unmistakable once you know what to look for," Meilyn continued. "The Axe King's bloodline carries certain distinctive characteristics that manifest in their stance, their bearing, their approach to combat. That young man down there has inherited more than just his father's name."

What followed was a display of magical projection that demonstrated the Savage Communion's capabilities in ways that intelligence reports had never adequately conveyed. The son of the Axe King activated some form of voice amplification magic that carried his words clearly across the two-kilometer distance to our observation platform.

"I seek audience with Arthur Nightingale," the amplified voice announced, carrying an authority that made it clear this wasn't a request. "I am told he is present at this installation."

The formal tone was at odds with the inherent threat implied by his presence, creating a surreal quality to the entire interaction.

'He knows you're here,' Luna stated the obvious. 'The question is how he knows, and what he wants.'

"Apparently so," I replied aloud, my mind racing through the implications. "The question is how he knows, and what he wants."

The answer came with the next pronouncement from the distant figure.

"My father, the Axe King, made a compact with Arthur Nightingale two years past. A duel to be fought in six years' time, when the boy had developed sufficient capability to provide worthy combat."

Even across the vast distance, the contempt in his voice was clearly audible.

"I find this compact... unsatisfactory. My father's honor is not something to be delayed for the convenience of a child's training schedule."

Meilyn's expression had grown increasingly grim as she listened to this declaration. "He's going to challenge the terms of the agreement."

"Therefore," the voice continued, "I offer Arthur Nightingale a choice. Face me in combat now, today, to prove that his compact with my father holds validity. Demonstrate that he possesses the capability to warrant such consideration."

The ultimatum hung in the air like a blade.

"If he loses, the pact is void and the Savage Communion is once again free to full attack the border. If he wins, the pact stands."

'That's not how honor duels work,' Luna observed indignantly.

I studied the distant figure through my enhanced perception, analyzing everything I could detect about his capabilities and equipment. The magical signature he projected was impressive—not quite at the level of his father, but far beyond what most people my age could achieve. His armor was clearly enchanted with protective and enhancement magic that spoke of resources and preparation far beyond normal standards.

He was stronger than me, in terms of mana rank at least.

'High Ascendant-rank,' Luna confirmed for me. Two mana levels higher than me.

But as I considered the challenge before me, I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Confidence.

'You're thinking about Valeria, aren't you?' Luna observed with obvious amusement. 'I can practically feel your mood shifting.'

'Among other things,' I replied mentally, my smile growing wider as I thought about my symbiotic Ancient Undead and the capabilities we'd demonstrated together. The integration we'd achieved.

But not just Valeria.

Erebus.

Soul Resonance. Lucent Harmony.

Seraphim's Embrace. Evolvis. My Divine Miracle.

I could beat him.

"He's stronger than me," I said aloud, with the kind of calm analysis that came from accepting reality. "But that doesn't change the outcome."

"Then what are you going to do?" Kali asked, though I suspected she already knew the answer.

I looked at the distant convoy, at the son of the most dangerous individual I'd ever encountered, at the challenge that had arrived six years ahead of schedule. The smart tactical choice would be to refuse the challenge, to point out that honor duels didn't work this way, to rely on diplomatic protocols and military backing.

But the smart choice wouldn't demonstrate just how far I'd advanced.

'You're going to accept, aren't you?' Luna asked, though her tone suggested she already knew my decision.

'Of course I am,' I replied mentally, feeling the certainty settle into my bones like familiar armor. 'And I'm going to win.'

"I'm going to go down there," I said aloud, my smile sharp with anticipation, "and show him why his father bothered with that pact."

The words came out with complete confidence, because for the first time since that original encounter with the Axe King, I truly believed I was ready for whatever his bloodline could throw at me.

"Arthur," Meilyn said seriously, "you don't have to do this. We could—"

"No," I interrupted gently, my smile widening with genuine confidence. "This was always going to happen eventually. And now I'm ready for it."