Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 210: Burn the White-Eyed Wolf

The news hit the capital like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Porter boys ran through the streets, their young voices hoarse with urgency, waving papers and shouting the headlines that would reshape everything. "Lion King confesses! Eastiel Edengold admits to attacking Lord Delanivis! War declared!"

The words bounced off stone walls and wooden stalls, echoing through markets and alleyways, reaching ears that could scarcely believe what they were hearing.

In the central market, merchants froze mid-transaction. A fishmonger’s hand hovered over a customer’s coin, forgotten. A baker pulling bread from his oven let the loaf drop, unnoticed, as his head turned toward the commotion. Housewives carrying baskets stopped in their tracks, their mouths falling open.

"War?" someone whispered. Then louder, "Did he say war?"

The murmuring began, a low, swelling tide of disbelief and fear. People clustered together, abandoning their stalls and purchases, straining to catch every word from the passing boys.

"But we thought—" a tanner started, his leather-covered hands gesturing helplessly. "Everyone said it was the Vasilievs! The feud, the attacks, it was supposed to be them against the Delanivis!"

"Aye," his neighbor agreed, shaking his head. "All that northern drama... then, if it wasn’t the Vasilievs who attacked the Delanivis, who attacked the Vasilievs? Wait, didn’t that old tiger refuse to return home before the investigation settled?"

"Then... the one who attacked him... could it be... his own house...?"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Remember he was kicking out his own son for divorcing the fake Saintess, right? He forced him to look for her."

"She’s still missing?"

"She’s missing?"

"Come on—"

"What? She’s just a fake. Why follow news about a fake?"

"What does this mean?" a young mother asked, clutching her child closer, refocusing the conversation. "If the Lion King is behind it, if he’s ready for war, then who’s fighting who? Is it Edengold against Delanivis? Or Edengold against everyone?"

No one had answers. But everyone had theories.

"The Lion King wouldn’t act alone," a merchant mused, his brow furrowed. "He’s bold, but not stupid. If he’s declaring war, he must have allies."

"Allies where? The Wolf King just announced his wedding. He’s not getting involved in this."

"But the Delanivis just offended him. He’ll be the best ally."

The arguments spiraled, feeding on themselves, growing more elaborate and more terrified with each passing moment. The capital, which had been buzzing with wedding gossip and Luna speculation just moments ago, now hummed with a darker, more urgent energy.

War.

The word passed from lip to ear, from market to tavern, from street to noble salon. It landed in the hearts of common folk and aristocrats alike, heavy as a stone, cold as winter.

What was this plot twist? How had the careful dance of accusation and counter-accusation, the delicate balance between Vasiliev and Delanivis, suddenly transformed into something far more dangerous?

Eastiel Edengold wasn’t just the Lion King. He was the Golden Lion King, the strongest, richest, most influential power in the vast desert lands, descended from a pure line of lions that had never once been tainted by human blood.

Even if he stood alone, even if he had no allies, his power was not something any sane ruler would laugh at.

The Edengold military was legendary. Their wealth could fund a decade of war without blinking. Their influence stretched across kingdoms and cultures, woven into trade routes and diplomatic channels that most people never even knew existed.

And now that power was focused. Directed. Aimed like a spear at the heart of the Delanivis.

If Eastiel’s target was solely them, if he truly meant to bring his full strength against those northern arctic wolves, it would be devastating. The Delanivis were powerful, yes. Influential in their own right. But they were not the Edengold. No one was.

And after what the Delanivis had done to earn Arkai Dawnoro’s animosity, after the way they had been publicly, thoroughly dismissed by the Wolf King, people would think twice about rushing to their aid.

Allies would hesitate. Neutral parties would stay neutral. The Delanivis would stand alone.

The timing of this announcement was perfect. Maximizing their fall. Exploiting every weakness. Someone had planned this. Someone who understood politics, power, and the delicate art of destroying an enemy without lifting a sword.

CRASH!

The sound echoed through the Delanivis manor like a thunderclap. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

Dorian swept his arm across his desk, sending papers, inkwells, and delicate ornaments crashing to the floor. His face was purple with rage, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with a fury that bordered on madness.

"THAT BASTARD!"

His voice echoed off the stone walls, raw and shaking.

"That arrogant cat... so he dared admit it first! And even point their claws at us?!"

He whirled on the nearest servant, who cowered under the force of his glare. "Where is Nikolas?! Still playing useless love games with that useless saintess?!"

As if summoned by the words themselves, Nikolas appeared in the doorway.

He had just arrived from the temple, still wearing the same clothes, still carrying the weight of everything he had witnessed there. And he walked straight into those poisonous words.

"Heh."

The old wolf’s sneer was a blade.

"Look at how the world sees us now, son."

Nikolas’s jaw clenched. His teeth ground together until his molars ached.

"They see us so pathetically now that a young cub king could just declare war on us, and everyone takes it seriously!" Dorian slammed his palm against the bare wood of his desk.

Inside his heart, Nikolas scoffed.

That cub king attacked you in your own study, Father. You almost died. You would be a vegetable right now if not for the miracle potion.

But he kept his face neutral. Kept his voice calm.

"Did you know what his reasons were, Father?"

Dorian’s eyes landed on a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. One of the papers he had swept away. Nikolas bent to pick it up.

He read.

"I, Eastiel Edengold, declare war on the Delanivis name. The Delanivis has become a corrupted power over people, inciting conflicts and scheming in the shadows."

"The Delanivis intercepted and hid the prophecies of the former Saintess, causing her warnings to never reach the good people. If Mount Saede was not enough proof, the next possible tragedy she prophesied over the coming year will be our failure to prevent."

The words blurred for a moment. Nikolas blinked, refocused, and read the final line.

"Burn the heretics. Burn the white-eyed wolf."

This—

And at the same time he read it, the words spread through the capital like floodwaters through a broken dam.

Papers, printed in haste, still damp with ink, sold out in markets and street corners and taverns across the city. Vendors couldn’t keep up with the demand. Porter boys’ pockets were full with coins.

People clustered around anyone holding a copy, reading over shoulders, passing sheets from hand to hand.

"The Delanivis intercepted and hid the prophecies of the former Saintess."

The accusation was as unexpected as the declaration itself.

"Causing her warnings to never reach the good people."

People stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. The former Saintess’s warnings? The ones everyone had been told were lies?

"If Mount Saede was not enough proof..."

What if... what if there had been a warning? What if someone had made sure it never arrived?

"Burn the heretics. Burn the white-eyed wolf."

The Lion King had spoken.