Chapter 676: 676. Let The Legionnaire Go Because He’s Going To Be Downfall For Them!

Gorvasha’s eyes flashed with a silent, lethal promise, and Cassandra merely offered a cool, regal nod, both of them absorbing the command with the grace of seasoned warriors.

Rex leaned back, his massive frame reclaiming the throne with an air of absolute, unshakeable dominance. He looked at the council, his gaze sweeping over them with the bored indifference of a god looking at insects.

"Questions go through Pavellia," he commanded, his voice hardening, the playfulness vanishing to reveal the cold, ruthless architect beneath. "Do not mistake my presence for an invitation to chatter."

"I am not available for administrative trivialities. If it isn’t a matter of life, death, or empire, don’t waste my breath."

He let the finality of his words hang in the air, a heavy, suffocating curtain of authority. The council members bowed their heads, the message received. Rex was the sun around which they would orbit, and he had no intention of being bothered by the dust.

The silence that followed Rex’s decree was not empty; it was heavy, pressurized, like the air before a massive storm breaks. It was the silence of a room full of predators realizing the food chain had just been rewritten.

From the shadows at the edge of the hall, Thessaly, a Voidkin senior officer, stepped forward. She had survived the night’s chaos with a composure that bordered on the unnatural, her very essence a testament to the cold discipline of her kind.

When she spoke, the title she used, ’My Lord,’ didn’t carry the hollow, performative ring of a courtier. It was heavy, resonant, and carried the terrifying weight of a truth that had been earned through blood and iron.

"My Lord," she began, her voice a steady, low vibration. "Regarding the council’s operational authority during this reconstruction."

"The existing framework allows each member independent administrative control over their respective districts..."

"Does this autonomy persist under the new review, or are we to expect a centralization of command?"

Rex turned his head slowly, his gaze landing on her like a physical weight. He didn’t look at her with respect but with the detached interest of a man watching a piece move on a board.

"The review determines what continues, Thessaly," he said, his voice smooth and dangerously calm. "Pavellia has the mandate to suspend any arrangement she identifies as a vulnerability."

"Until the review produces a formal recommendation, your district arrangements remain with one vital modification: all intelligence reports route through her desk before implementation. Not after."

Thessaly’s eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle flicker of resistance. "Before? That deviates from the existing standard, My Lord."

"We have always reported after the fact to ensure the data was finalized."

"And for fourteen months, you’ve provided ’finalized’ data that allowed a goddamn rot to grow under our noses without anyone noticing," Rex countered, his voice sharpening, the jokester vanishing to reveal the ruthless tyrant.

A small, mocking smirk played on his lips. "The routing change isn’t a commentary on your personal competence, Thessaly."

"Don’t flatter yourself. It is a structural correction to ensure the rot doesn’t happen again."

Thessaly bowed her head, absorbing the sting of his words with the stoic grace of a woman who knew when to fight and when to endure.

Before the tension could dissipate, Halvard spoke. He was a man of granite and grit, the overseer of the city’s resource distribution.

He was the kind of bureaucrat who made himself indispensable, a man whose department was so vital that even a king had to tread carefully around him.

"The reconstruction’s resource requirements are staggering," Halvard stated, his voice gruff and devoid of sentiment. "The physical damage is extensive."

"We have documented structural compromise across three full districts and near total devastation in two others."

"The current allocation reserves are a drop in the ocean compared to the projected repair timeline."

Rex leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a sudden, sharp hunger for the problem. "Give me the numbers, Halvard."

"Don’t dance around it."

Halvard produced a heavy, leather-bound dossier, having clearly been preparing his grievances since the first light of dawn. "We have approximately forty percent of the required materials in reserve."

"The remaining sixty percent requires either massive external trade or an internal production rate that our current infrastructure simply cannot sustain on a timeline that doesn’t result in total collapse."

Rex didn’t look worried; he looked amused, as if the deficit were a personal challenge. He turned his gaze toward the secondary chair.

"Mordecai."

Mordecai looked up, his eyes meeting Rex’s with a weary but sharp intelligence.

"The Gacha’s expertise pulls from the last six months of global data," Rex said, his mind already weaving the threads of the solution. "Calculate the pool."

"How much of the construction and materials expertise can be diverted to physical repair work immediately?"

Mordecai closed his eyes for a moment, his mind running a mental inventory of the summoned essences at his disposal.

"The construction type summons are primarily optimized for original architecture rather than salvage and repair," he noted, his voice calculating. "However, the methodologies overlap significantly."

"If we push them, approximately thirty of the current expertise summons could be redirected to intensive repair work without requiring significant retraining."

"That solves the labor deficit," Rex said, a dark, triumphant grin spreading across his face.

He looked back at the council, his eyes burning with the thrill of the hunt. "But the material shortfall... that requires the second stratum contact."

"We aren’t just going to trade for what we need; we’re going to command it."

A subtle, electric shift rippled through the room. The council members exchanged glances, the realization sinking in: Rex wasn’t just planning to rebuild the city; he was planning to force the world to provide the pieces for his new empire.

Pavellia stepped forward, her silhouette sharp against the dim light of the dais. The air in the room seemed to tighten, the court holding its collective breath.

"The Underlayer’s immediate operational structure is in order," she announced, her voice a cool, rhythmic cadence. "The reconstruction review begins in two hours."

"But before the formal proceedings commence, there is one matter requiring Lord Xerollion’s immediate attention."

Rex didn’t move, and he didn’t even blink. He simply sat there, draped in the casual arrogance of a predator who knew the news was coming.

"Speak," he commanded, the word a low vibration of authority.

"The fugitive," Pavellia said, her eyes meeting his with unwavering precision. "Zane Mortavius..."

"He slipped through our fingers during the final hour of the engagement..."

"His trajectory was tracked to the geological exit point on the eastern face." She paused, letting the gravity of the escape sink in. "He has reached the surface, my lord."

"He is alive, and he is moving rapidly away from the island’s perimeter."

Rex’s mind flashed back to the upper tunnel, to the damp, suffocating air, and to Zane’s desperate voice explaining how the void working suppressed dimensional stability. Eleven minutes at forty meters.

A narrow window, a frantic escape. He thought of the man not as a thief but as a vessel, an information vector designed to carry a specific, devastating message.

"Let him go," Rex said, a dark, amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Pavellia’s gaze sharpened, evaluating him. She wasn’t questioning his command; she was confirming the logic behind the madness.

"You want him to report," she stated. It wasn’t a question; it was an observation of his brilliance.

"I want the founder of the legion named Celestina Von Starlight to know exactly what happened here," Rex corrected, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic sort of foresight. "I don’t want rumors anymore."

"I want her to hear it from a man who was there for the entire slaughter, a man with the analytical capacity to describe the sheer, unadulterated power of what has been unleashed."

"The Seam House from the Solmordia," Cassandra interjected from the right.

She had been listening with the razor-focused intensity of a general, her mind already mapping the strategic implications. "That is where his report will land..."

"It’s the heart of her intelligence network."

"Exactly," Rex said, leaning forward, his presence expanding to fill the throne room. "She’ll receive a complete, terrifying assessment of the Underlayer’s new reality."

"She’ll learn of the ’Lustful Villain’ identity, the sheer scale of our reconstruction, and the godlike capabilities demonstrated last night."

"She’ll realize that her remaining surface networks aren’t just leaking; they are compromised."

He paused, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper. "And then, she’ll have to decide how much she’s willing to lose to fix it."

"And what she decides to do," Gorvasha added from the left, her voice a low, knowing hum, "is exactly what you’ve already predicted."

Rex let out a short, sharp laugh. "Precisely."