CHAPTER 871: VISITOR FROM THE VOID

Cezar stared at Overlord for a long moment before sighing and nodding. He was no child—far from it. His mind and soul had matured to a frightening degree, shaped by the countless choices he had been forced to make to keep the Rebellion alive. Every sacrifice, every decision that had weighed on his shoulders, had carved away at his weakness and innocence from the time he was a child, leaving behind only a hardened leader who carried the burdens of a world.

Although it was not how he envisioned things would be after taking care of the Zanis Family, he could not deny the truth standing before him. Exilion was no longer a wasteland but a world where children could laugh openly, where laws protected the weak, where safety was not a privilege but a right, and where people could grow, choose their paths, and live with dignity. That, at the end of the day, was all that truly mattered.

Overlord gave a small nod of acknowledgment as he saw this realization take root in the World Lord’s eyes. There was no need for words. Acceptance was clear in Cezar’s gaze. But then, in an instant, Overlord’s expression sharpened. His head tilted ever so slightly upward as he glanced toward the highest sky.

Not even a heartbeat later, his body transformed into a beam of radiant Divine Power, piercing into the sky. The atmosphere trembled as he ascended, just as a new presence broke through the void and entered Exilion.

The one who arrived was a middle-aged man. His long golden hair shimmered like sunlight, his large eyes gleamed with the authority of command, and his very presence carried the weight of a warrior who could lead legions into battle with nothing more than a gesture. He was not a man easily shaken, yet even he could not fully conceal the flash of shock—and the thread of caution—that crossed his features as he beheld the figure waiting for him.

"A... God?" he muttered under his breath.

The words were not born of reverence but disbelief. The man before him radiated immense Divine Power, yet it was not what unsettled him most. When his gaze met Overlord’s eyes, he did not see arrogance, nor narcissism, nor the detached aloofness that was so often found in divine beings. Instead, he saw something far more disconcerting. Within those eyes was an ocean of living code, an endless expanse of shifting data, a matrix capable of calculating infinite variations and possibilities.

His instincts screamed at him. His hand moved unconsciously to the hilt of his sword. Though he himself was a Peak Superior Legend, with one foot already stepping into the threshold of the Lord Realm, he felt a sliver of dread coil within him. To feel such unease, despite his cultivation and power, was shocking enough to tighten his chest.

Overlord noticed the movement but did not react. His gaze remained locked, cold and unblinking, silently demanding that the intruder state his purpose.

The golden-haired man, though momentarily startled, did not allow himself to falter. His eyes sharpened with focus, his voice steady.

"I am Marshal Maximo, and I am searching for the Xaos King."

For the briefest moment, Overlord’s eyes narrowed, his divine aura flickering with calculation. His reply was calm but carried an edge.

"So, you are Marshal Maximo of the Graecia Empire? You look different from the records." His voice was flat, each word heavy with scrutiny. "I am Overlord, the mind tasked with the logistics and governance of the Xaos Kingdom."

Marshal Maximo studied the Divine Avatar before him. The radiance of psychic energy swirling around Overlord was unmistakable—it carried traces of the True Depravita of Wrath. Clearly, this being had spent significant time in close contact with the Xaos King. An awkward smile crossed the Marshal’s face despite the tension.

"That young man," he muttered, half to himself, "always surrounds himself with strange companions."

As he spoke, his golden-haired form shifted, his disguise unraveling like smoke until his original appearance was revealed. He straightened his posture and dipped his head slightly, a show of courtesy even as his eyes remained cautious.

"My apologies for the deception. It is necessary for me to mask my true form—too many assassins lurk in the shadows lately, eager for an opportunity to strike."

Overlord inclined his head in acknowledgment, accepting the explanation, though his own tone remained cold and demanding.

"Then state your purpose here."

Marshal Maximo frowned. He had already declared his intent: he sought the Xaos King. Yet the A.I. Chip Clone clearly had no intention of letting him proceed with so little information. Maximo did not get carried away. To force his way through would not only insult the Xaos Kingdom but might also bring a confrontation he was not certain he could win—not against a Divine Avatar whose power he could feel pressing against his very soul.

"I am here on behalf of the Emperor," he said firmly at last. "We must discuss the next step."

That was all he revealed. No further details escaped his lips. War secrets were not to be traded lightly, not even to one who clearly stood at the side of the Xaos King.

Fortunately, the explanation sufficed. Overlord gave a curt nod, then motioned for him to follow.

Without hesitation, Marshal Maximo launched into flight. His speed split the skies, and he kept pace with the Divine Avatar as they soared across the continent. Yet what he saw along the way left him in awe—and disbelief.

He had read the reports about Exilion, had studied the records of its state. By all accounts, it had been a broken, inhospitable world, a place of unending danger where survival was a constant struggle. He had expected ruin or wastelands, especially after the war of conquest.

But what unfolded before his eyes was nothing of the sort.

The climate itself had been reshaped, softened into something capable of sustaining common folk. The air was clean, breathable, tinged with vitality. The land was rich, green, and fertile. Massive cities spread out across the terrain, their skylines a mix of towering architecture and living forests. Around them, colossal factories pulsed with energy, streams of workers moving in and out in an organized rhythm.

According to his own strategic assessments, Exilion should have been the most difficult of the surrounding worlds to tame. Its people were fierce, its generals and Legends among the most capable of the Zanis cluster. Yet instead of devastation, he found a flourishing world reborn, a world that had bent but not broken.

As his gaze swept the cities, another detail caught his eye. Towering statues of the Xaos God stood in every stronghold, every city square. And the people—natives of Exilion, once so fiercely loyal to the Zanis Family—bowed before these figures. But it was not the hollow devotion of slaves nor the blind zealotry of fanatics. It was genuine gratitude. They prayed because they had found peace. They worshipped because their lives had improved.

Countless thoughts raced through Marshal Maximo’s mind as he processed the sight. Doubt, calculation, and wonder twisted together, but his reflections were shattered when a sudden radiance struck his eyes. He blinked rapidly, vision swimming, and when his sight cleared—his breath caught.

Above them, dominating the firmament, blazed a red sun at the center of the sky.