The Primeval Era-Chapter 142: Crimson! II

His voice carried no emotion whatsoever.

"For the first time since they began working with us, one of the Dukes has fallen. His Medallion of Command is in the hands of whoever killed him, and they are not able to track it yet. But they will."

He rose from his throne, and every Imperator present straightened to attention.

"The plans have changed. They want us to stir the nest first without revealing anything more about their involvement. So it is why we have to do all this shit right now."

Those star-filled eyes turned toward the distant horizon, toward where Sacred Mountains rose against the night sky.

"They want us to hold the Noble Beast responsible accountable. So we shall be going toward the nearest Sacred Mountain."

A cold smile crossed his eerily beautiful features.

"Vorrath, right?"

He pointed behind him, toward the crystallized and altered Lands of Stone where a great battle had taken place not long ago. And there, stretching out into the distance, was something that made the presence of a dozen Vessel Completion Imperators seem almost modest.

An army.

Thousands upon thousands of figures formed ranks that extended toward the horizon in every direction. The creatures they rode were swift and deadly, forms belonging to ages when beasts hunted in packs that could strip the flesh from entire herds in minutes. The creatures were Velociraptors!

They stood perhaps twice the height of a man, bodies lean and muscular, tails extended for balance, jaws filled with teeth designed for tearing rather than chewing.

Crimson runes bound each one of these beasts just as they bound the massive creature overhead. The markings wrapped around their skulls and down their spines, suppressing the wild intelligence that should have made them impossible to control. Their eyes glowed with hazy crimson light, awareness dimmed by magic that reduced them to tools.

And atop each beast sat a Warrior.

Blood Ignition or above, every single one. Third Circle at minimum. Thousands of cultivators who had transcended the basic stages of power, adorned in identical crimson metal armor that gleamed with contained Mana. They grasped controlling reins attached to their mounts with hands that knew exactly how to direct death toward enemies.

The army stretched out in glorious distance across the Lands of Stone.

Their aura of bloodlust permeated the entire region, a pressure that would have made ordinary beings collapse simply from proximity. This was not a patrol force. This was not a defensive measure. An army like this was something prepared only for war!

And war was exactly what they intended to bring.

---

Some fools speak of peace as if it were a virtue in itself.

They build philosophies around harmony and construct faiths celebrating the absence of conflict. They teach their children that violence is failure, that bloodshed represents the collapse of wisdom, that those who take lives have lost something essential about what it means to exist.

They are wrong.

The Lands of Stone were not built by peace. They were built by conquest, by the strong pressing their will upon the weak until the weak either submitted or ceased to exist. Every empire that had ever risen, every dynasty that had ever commanded the loyalty of millions, every legend that had ever been carved into the memory of generations, all of them were written in blood.

For the sake of conquest and glory in the Lands of Stone, sometimes one needed to spread and spill the blood of countless innocents. When that blood painted the Lands crimson, when it soaked into soil and stained stone and dried beneath the uncaring sun, it served purposes beyond simple death. It became a warning. It became a deterrent. It reminded all who witnessed it just who the rulers of the Lands of Stone truly were.

The blood of Dross and Sworn and Beasts was meant to be spilled.

This was their purpose. This was their contribution to the grand design of existence. They fed the hunger of those above them, and in doing so, they justified their own brief and meaningless lives.

Crimson would permeate over everything in the Lands of Stone.

It always had.

It always would.

--- 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Mount Vorrath stood sentinel against the night sky, its peaks shrouded in mists that glowed faintly with accumulated Mana.

This was one of the Sacred Mountains where Noble Beasts made their homes, where Ancestral Pillars rose from stone saturated with power refined across ages beyond counting. The air here was different from the air elsewhere in the Lands of Stone. It thrummed with vitality that made ordinary atmosphere seem dead by comparison.

On one of the greater Ancestral Pillars near the mountain’s heart, a gathering was taking place.

The pillar itself was ancient beyond measure, its surface carved by wind and time and the passage of countless generations. Near its peak, the bark curved into a flat platform naturally formed across millennia, a space large enough to hold councils and ceremonies.

Tiaret stood at the center of that platform in her humanoid form.

She had a wry expression on her beautiful features because blue flames had risen on her body again, surging across her flesh without warning or explanation. Her aura climbed higher with each occurrence, power flooding into her cultivation from a source she still didn’t fully understand. The sickly green scar that had marked her for so long was completely gone, her skin smooth and radiant beneath golden hair that caught the moonlight.

She was stronger than she had ever been.

And she was still getting stronger.

Three massive golden Noble Simbas observed her from positions around the platform’s edge, their leonine forms dwarfing the humanoid shape she currently wore. Each one radiated power at levels that would make Vessel Completion Warriors seem like children playing at cultivation. Their eyes held ancient intelligence, and their golden fur shimmered with Mana that had been refined across lifetimes.

But one of them stood apart from the others.

He was the largest of the three, his body a monument to what Noble Beasts could become when blessed by Ancestors and shaped by ages of dedicated cultivation.

Golden fur covered muscles that could shatter mountains, and nine tails swept behind him in slow arcs. His mane burned with golden fire that cast dancing shadows across the Ancestral Pillar’s surface.

A crown floated above his head.

Not a physical crown of metal or bone, but a construct of pure Mana manifested by the Lands of Stone themselves. It declared him sovereign over all who witnessed it, a king recognized by forces older than memory. The crown’s light was steady and absolute, never flickering, never wavering.

A cape of golden Mana flowed from his massive shoulders, cascading down his back like liquid light frozen in the moment of falling. It moved with currents that had nothing to do with wind, responding instead to the subtle shifts in his mood and attention. When he turned his head, the cape rippled. When his eyes narrowed, it grew still.

Armaments adorned his form in patterns fitting the ancient ways.

Bands of beaten gold wrapped around his forelimbs, each one inscribed with runes honoring Ancestors who had ruled before him. Strings of sacred stones and the teeth of fallen enemies hung from his mane, trophies accumulated across decades of protecting his lineage. A collar of woven gold thread and blessed bone circled his massive neck, marking him as First among the Noble Simba Lineage.

This was Tiaret’s father.

This was the being Masamuk had nervously avoided mentioning by name.

This was one of the more powerful Noble Beasts on Mount Vorrath!

His bright eyes fixed on his daughter, and when he spoke, his voice was regal and cold.

"That wily slime contributed to all this, you said?"

The question pressed against the air like a physical force.

"Tell him to come up."

Those eyes never blinked, never wavered, never showed anything beyond absolute demand for truth.

"I need an explanation for this."

...!

He wanted to know what had happened to his daughter. He wanted to understand how the curse that had resisted every healer and every remedy had suddenly vanished as if it had never existed. He wanted answers, and he would have them regardless of what those answers might reveal.

Tiaret bit her lip, her humanoid features betraying nervousness that her Noble Beast form might have hidden better.

"Yes, father."

...!