CHAPTER 727: HOME IS CALLING

Vlad and Jormungandr moved through the newly restored streets with casual ease, their expressions calm but warm. As they passed by the many soldiers and workers tending to the city, they offered nods of acknowledgment, especially to those warriors who had fought alongside them during the brutal battle to take the Voidheart Fortress.

They returned every respectful gaze with a smile or a silent gesture of appreciation. Many of those who now looked at them with awe had once stood back-to-back with them in the fires of war.

It didn’t take long under William’s guidance to reach the newly constructed core tower. Towering over the rebuilt city, it pulsed with energy—more than enough to serve as the command center of the fortress now under Graecian control. Runes danced across its surface, and the hum of stabilized power echoed from within its walls.

The trio entered and climbed steadily through its spiraling interior until they reached a pair of massive golden gates. They opened slowly, of their own accord, in recognition of those who approached.

Beyond them lay a throne room as grand as any found in the Golden Sky Fortress.

Before they could fully take in the scene, a booming voice echoed through the chamber:

"Good—you’re here!"

Marshal Maximo sat atop the great throne at the end of the hall, flanked by a number of Graecian Legends, each seated at lesser—but still ornate—chairs. Just like when Vlad and Jormungandr had first encountered him, Maximo radiated authority and command.

But there was a difference this time.

As Vlad and Jormungandr stepped forward, all of the Legends in the room rose to their feet and gave respectful nods of greeting. These were not the nods of casual peers. They were gestures of recognition—of military greatness, of nearly unparalleled survival and battlefield might.

They all knew: the duo might not be the strongest in terms of raw power, but when it came to durability, resolve, and unpredictability, not even piercing their hearts had been enough to kill them.

The young man and the small yellow cat walked with composure, nodding in return to each Legend as they passed, until they stood before Marshal Maximo. Vlad clasped his hands together and bowed slightly, while Jormungandr performed a small but precise gesture with his paw.

William, having escorted them, gave a formal, deep bow to Maximo and then stepped respectfully to the side, not wishing to interfere in the conversation between the Marshal and the Depravitas.

Maximo nodded at William briefly before his gaze turned fully toward Vlad and Jormungandr. A rare, wide smile touched his face.

"You two have done the Graecia Empire an immeasurable service," he said. "You protected the Korokor Stronghold, slew several Vorometallicae Legends, saved countless lives with your runes and potions during the clash—and most impressively, you broke through the walls and helped shatter the core tower of the Voidheart Fortress."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to hang in the air.

Around them, the assembled Legends nodded solemnly. Many of them had nearly died during the final clash. If not for the Demon Souls, the Xaos Berserker Potions, and the efforts of the Depravitas, more than half would likely not be standing here now.

"For all this," Maximo continued, "I wish to formally invite you both to the capital—Constantinopla. There, the Emperor himself will grant you the title of Dukes of the Empire, and you will be given a territory to govern. There’s even a chance you’ll be offered control over an entire world within the Empire’s domain."

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the chamber. Even among the seasoned Legends, such a reward was monumental.

Maximo did not speak lightly. If he had made this declaration publicly, it meant preparations had already been set in motion.

Vlad and Jormungandr glanced at each other. The thrill of the moment coursed through them, and for a heartbeat, they both allowed themselves to feel it—excitement, pride, and a touch of ambition.

But then, both shook their heads.

Vlad stepped forward.

"I appreciate the honor greatly, Marshal Maximo," he said earnestly. "But I’m afraid we will not be able to accept."

Confusion flickered across the faces of everyone present. A few of the Legends leaned forward, ready to object or at least question the refusal, but Vlad lifted a hand calmly.

"I was sent here by the World Will of my home," he explained. "It is ascending to a higher dimension. When its process is complete, it will call me back. I don’t know the exact moment, but I can feel it approaching quickly."

The air grew still.

It was already known that Vlad and the other Depravitas came from a distant, lesser-known world—but to hear that it was not merely a world, but a nascent plane in the process of dimensional ascension was staggering.

A few of the Legends frowned. How could someone like Vlad interact with a World Will at all? These cosmic consciousnesses rarely deigned to acknowledge anyone below the Lord Rank.

But Maximo, ever wise and experienced, simply nodded as understanding lit his eyes.

"So... you became your world’s ruler before it began its ascension. You claimed the seat of World King. That gave you the right to speak to the Will—and ask for a boon."

Vlad smiled and nodded. There was no longer any need to hide it. He and Jormungandr had proven themselves capable of battling High Legends. There was no threat in revealing the truth now.

"I see," Maximo said. "In that case, a journey to Graecia’s capital would not be possible—at least for now."

He paused again, considering his next words carefully.

"If it were in my power, I would confer the title of Duke here and now. But such honors must come directly from the Emperor and must be granted in Constantinopla."

His expression softened slightly.

"Very well. I will engrave your names and merits into the Imperial Archive. I’ll make all the preparations. You already know the location of our central world. When your home finishes its ascension, come to us. Your title and your rewards will be waiting."

"Thank you, Marshal." Vlad bowed deeply, his voice tinged with emotion.

He hadn’t fought this war for glory—but it would be a lie to say that recognition didn’t matter. Rewards didn’t matter.

And this reward... was one worth returning for.

"Then it’s done," Marshal Maximo said with a smile, his voice steady with satisfaction. He was just about to move on to the next topic when Vlad caught his eye.

The young man didn’t speak immediately, but the intensity in his gaze made the Marshal pause. Maximo’s eyes sharpened as he recognized the seriousness radiating from the True Depravita of Wrath.

"Is there something you wish to discuss?" he asked, his tone calm but attentive.

Vlad stared for another long moment before giving a slow, deliberate nod.

"Yes. But this is a private matter—one that must not be overheard by anyone else."

A hush fell over the chamber.

Marshal Maximo’s expression darkened into a thoughtful frown. Around the room, several of the seated Legends shifted in their seats, surprise and mild suspicion flickering across their faces.

But before anyone could misinterpret his request, Vlad raised a hand and continued.

"Let me be clear," he said. "I trust everyone in this room. Your loyalty to the Graecia Empire is unquestionable. But what I am about to share... it involves forces capable of interfering with the war between the Golden Sky Fortress and the Voidheart Stronghold—from the shadows."

A heavy silence fell over the room. The atmosphere shifted.

Eyes widened. Jaws tightened.

The implications of that statement rippled like thunder. If someone had meddled in the war behind the scenes, their power was not something that could be underestimated.

"These people," Vlad went on, his voice calm but firm, "will want me dead no matter what. But soon, I’ll be beyond their reach. You, however..."

He looked around the room, meeting each Legend’s gaze.

"...most of you won’t have that luxury. Even if you are powerful enough to protect yourselves, can you say the same for your families? For your allies? For every civilian who carries your name with pride within the Empire?"

The shift in the room was immediate.

Any annoyance, any frustration at being excluded, melted away. In its place bloomed respect—and gratitude.

These were not cowards. They were battle-hardened Legends. But they were not omniscient. And they understood now—Vlad was trying to protect them, not insult them.

If what he knew truly involved beings capable of orchestrating events on such a grand scale, then being ignorant was a mercy. Knowing too much could mean death—not just for them, but for their loved ones.

Marshal Maximo stood up slowly, his expression unreadable. He scanned the room.

Then, with a nod of finality, he spoke.

"Everyone, except Spartacus and Tiberius, leave the room."

There was no hesitation.

The other Legends, recognizing the weight of the moment, rose silently. Each gave a respectful nod to Vlad and Jormungandr as they exited—no longer questioning the decision, but honoring it. They knew this was something beyond politics or prestige.