Chapter 1184: A Conqueror’s Decree

The presence of an Archlord on the battlefield was a welcome sight for every commander. If the tide turned, if disaster struck, it was the archlords who would hold the line.

“The battle for supremacy has been won!”

Orion’s voice, amplified by his power, boomed across the front, cutting through the din of war, overriding the drums and the horns.

“The Cult of Four’s demigods and archlords have been purged from the field! All units, accelerate your advance! We link up with our allies in Staghelm City and push south! Claim this land in the name of the Alliance!”

He repeated the message, a declaration of victory that washed over the front-line warriors like a tidal wave of adrenaline. The response was a visceral, unified roar of triumph. The entire battle line surged forward, a visible wave of renewed violence and determination.

“Feed my little spiders, you weak-willed fools…” Lorelia whispered from within her Nest, her hands weaving a complex tapestry of dreams. “In my Dreamscape, the pain is only fleeting… Don’t be so tense… relax… relax…”

Orion’s voice cut through her concentration. She looked up, her eyes blinking, half-awake. Then, full consciousness snapped into place.

“Yay! It’s Master! Master won the battle!” she chirped, her voice echoing with pure joy. “He’s coming this way! He’s coming to see me! Awesome! I can finally get some sleep!”

Outside the Nest, Dirtclaw, Gustalon, and Clymene heard her happy shouts and grinned. Orion’s arrival meant the high-stakes phase of the war was over. The outcome was decided.

“Lady Lorelia, careful! Your friends are waking up!” Dirtclaw called out with a chuckle.

In her moment of excitement, her focus had slipped. The demonic monsters she had lulled into her Dreamscape were beginning to stir.

“Oops!” Lorelia stuck her tongue out and immediately resumed her work. This time, however, it felt effortless. Buoyed by the certainty of victory, a surge of confidence and ferocity flowed through every warrior of the Stoneheart Horde.

The wind howled, and the heads of demonic monsters flew from their shoulders. Gustalon, now the primary damage dealer for their squad, was a whirlwind of death. While Lorelia controlled the battlefield with her illusions, he was the reaper.

Dirtclaw and Clymene served as the unbreachable front line, a living wall protecting their master illusionist. With Lorelia at its core, their unit was a relentless engine of war, steadily pushing the front line south.

Suddenly, a rain of moonlight fell from the sky, blanketing a dense concentration of demonic monsters. Gustalon materialized from the wind, his eyes wide. Within each beam of light was a perfectly aimed arrow. Where they struck, the demons were not just killed; they were vaporized.

It was the attack of an Archlord, and one of a terrifying caliber. Gustalon knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that he could not have survived such a volley.

As a sense of his own mortality washed over him, two figures appeared before the spider Nest. Before Dirtclaw, Gustalon, or Clymene could even speak, Lorelia shot out of her silken fortress and threw herself into Orion’s arms.

“Master! You finally came to rescue me!” she wailed, her voice thick with theatrical tears. “It was so awful! Endless, endless monsters! Poor Lorelia didn’t even have time to close her eyes for a nap! They kept attacking my Nest, Master! They wanted to kill me! Waaahhh!”

Orion grabbed the sobbing, snot-covered girl and gently peeled her off him. She was laying it on thick. Aside from the Cult of Four’s initial push north, this campaign had been a relatively safe advance. Edward’s mage cadres had hunted down any archlords that posed a real threat. Lorelia was just being her dramatic, attention-seeking self. He smirked.

“Alright, alright. You did good work. I’ll make sure you get full credit,” he said.

Lorelia’s tears vanished instantly, replaced by a beaming smile. Orion nodded to the other three.

“Orion.”

“My lord.”

“My lord!” Dirtclaw gushed, his voice dripping with sycophantic praise. “Your humble servant Dirtclaw pays homage to your greatness! Your glory is the beacon that guides my path, a light in the darkness that keeps me from straying!”

While Clymene and Gustalon offered their standard, respectful greetings, Dirtclaw was doubling down on his role as the ultimate suck-up.

“This is Isilra,” Orion said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “My fiancée, a defender of Staghelm City, and the new Grand Warden of the Stoneheart Horde.”

The title—Grand Warden—was a clear declaration. Isilra was an Archlord. Clymene, Dirtclaw, and Gustalon immediately bowed, showing the proper deference and respect due to one of her rank.

Only Lorelia, as she bowed, had her big eyes darting back and forth.

Oh no, another one who’s stronger than the Mistress. What’s the Mistress going to do now? Seriously, Master, every woman you bring home is a powerhouse!

Tap.

As her master, Orion could sense the general gist of her thoughts. He gave the little spider a light flick on the forehead.

“No scheming,” he warned.

“Yes, Master! Heehee!”

Orion’s presence was the anchor for the entire front. Over the next half a day, commanders from every unit in the allied army reported to him, receiving new orders and battle plans.

***

Far away, on the bleeding edge of the battle, Onyx rode his blood spirit beast like a force of nature, carving a path through the demonic hordes. Every swing of his hero’s axe sent bodies flying. This was his purpose, his bliss.

“Unrivaled on the field of war, a name for the history books forevermore!” he roared, laughing.

It was a line he’d picked up from Orion. He felt that his entire life had led to this moment. Even if he never ascended to become a lord himself, to have this war as the climax of his story… it was enough.

From the north to the south, from the Titanion Realm to the Godforsaken Land, from there to the Emerald Dream Realm, and now here, in the Silverwood. Onyx’s early life may have been unremarkable, but his recent years were the stuff of legend.

“A good death!” he bellowed, swinging his axe again.