CHAPTER 133: CH 133 CONQUEST - 6

The sound of war drums rolled across the plains like thunder.

Banners fluttered in the cold wind, crimson and black threads stitched into a silver dragon that now stood as Riverdale’s sigil.

Below those banners, an ocean of soldiers marched, their steel armors clashing, boots pounding, and formation stretching farther than the eye could see.

At the front, the Death Legion advanced in silence.

Unlike Riverdale’s mortal army, the legion was a tide of deathly aura mutated monsters, demons, deathly hounds, mutated humans, and wraiths that floated low over the ground. Necrolord himself led them, scythe in hand, his hollow sockets glowing faintly.

Beside him strode Thunder. Lord walked; his steps crackled with raw lightning. Behind them came the ten pseudo-transcendent warriors, men, and women who had died at the hands of Klaus or his subordinates.

Each one radiated power, their aura shaking the air. Among them walked the tenth, the killed king of the first conquered kingdom, now a servant of Klaus’s will; his eyes were dull and submissive yet filled with terrifying strength under command.

The combined force of every one of these warriors was unstoppable.

The target was the western kingdom of Durandar, a small land famed for its iron mines but weak in economic and military strength.

Its walls had withstood small skirmishes, but they were no match for the black tide rolling toward them.

The horns of Durandar blared as Riverdale’s army appeared on the horizon.

Inside the capital’s gates, their king stood trembling in his golden armor. He was one of the few pseudo-transcendents of Durandar, his aura bright but unsteady.

Two more stood beside him, his brothers-in-arms who had fought life-and-death battles with him.

"Do not falter," one of them said, though his voice shook. "We can hold our fort until we request reinforcements. I have already sent messages to major kingdoms and empires telling them to unite against this threat, or else they will be the next in line."

But when the black tide came close enough, their illusion shattered. what they thought would become a long, stretched battle since they were defensive. Their hopes shattered with what they saw.

They saw beasts the size of houses, abominations with with the limbs like ten men, and a legion of corpses moving in perfect, disciplined formation. Their blood froze.

Then thunder cracked.

Thunder Lord stepped forward, his body glowing with sparks. With a sweep of his hand, lightning split the sky and crashed into the walls, shattering stone like clay.

The defenders screamed as their fortifications crumbled before the battle even began.

The Death Legion poured in.

Durandar’s soldiers fought valiantly, but mortal courage meant nothing against death given form. The pseudo-transcendent of Durandar leapt into the fray, their blades, and spells cutting through dozens at a time.

But then came the ten abominations.

The pseudo-transcendent of Klaus’s legion moved as predators, surrounding their counterparts with cold efficiency. The battle was short and merciless.

The king of Durandar screamed as he faced Thunder Lord himself. Their clash lit up the battlefield with lightning against steel. For a moment, the defenders cheered as their king’s aura flared brightly.

But Thunder Lord was a storm incarnate. With a single strike, he pierced the king’s defenses and shattered his chest plate. Blood sprayed as the king fell to his knees, disbelief frozen on his face.

By sundown, Durandar was no more. Its banners were torn down, replaced by the silver dragon of Klaus’s legion. The bodies of its pseudo-transcendent lay broken on the battlefield.

Their corpses were transferred to the sanctuary, and the necrolord then assembled the death legion and gave swift orders to reorganize.

He left the Durandar kingdom in the hands of the new commanders of Riverdale; they were Thomas and Jackson, who had previously served Duke Albretch and were his pseudo-transcendents themselves.

Thomas was the butler meanwhile Jackson was the duke’s former commander of the army.

At first, they had not accepted to serve under Klaus, but later they had been informed of the destruction of the house of Albretch in the empire. The necrolord told them about the scheme the emperor had set up to frame Riverdale for wiping out the dukedom.

Believing so was difficult for them, but both of them knew the deep-seated political rivalry of the royal family and the Albrecht house.

In the end they gave in and decided to compromise for now when they saw Thunder Lord and realized that their lord was actually now a puppet for Klaus.

Right now they looked at the leaving death army from the walls of the conquered kingdom.

There was no rest.

Klaus’s orders were clear that momentum must not break.

The death army had turned immediately, their feet still wet with blood. They marched westward again, into the lands of Kandria, another small kingdom. Its scouts had seen Durandar fall, but they had no time to prepare.

By the time Riverdale’s forces arrived, Kandria’s gates were half-fortified, their pseudo-transcendent gathering in desperation.

Only two answered the call; both were skilled warriors, but nothing compared to the tide that approached.

This battle was even shorter.

The Death Legion surged forward, overwhelming defenses with brutal force. Thunder Lord cut down one of Kandria’s pseudo-transcendents himself, while the ten others cornered the second and broke him apart in less than a few minutes.

By nightfall, Kandria too had fallen.

Two kingdoms in two days. Riverdale’s territory doubled overnight, its borders stretching wide enough to rival small-sized empires. Farmlands, cities, and mines were all swallowed under Klaus’s dominion.

The map of the continent had to change twice in two days.

Such large-scale conquests could not be hidden.

Messengers flew across the land, carrying urgent words. Small kingdoms trembled, terrified of becoming the next Durandar or Kandria.

Many scrambled to send envoys to larger nations, begging for protection.

Alliances formed overnight.

The great empires and dynasties that had ignored Riverdale’s rise now turned their eyes upon it. Letters poured into the capital, each one carrying threats, warnings, and declarations.

"Cease your reckless conquest at once, or face the wrath of the Southern Empire."

"Riverdale must halt expansion. If you cross into our borders, war will be inevitable."

"The Western Coalition declares that any attack against our vassals will be considered an attack against us. Prepare for war if you dare."

Each letter was sealed with royal crests and dripping with arrogance.

In the throne room of Riverdale’s new capital, Klaus sat upon his throne of bone, crystal, and fire. The chamber was silent save for the crackling torches and the faint hum of death energy.

Before him, piles of scrolls and letters lay scattered, each one opened and tossed aside. Necrolord stood on his right, motionless as a statue, while Thunder Lord leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, lightning sparking faintly around his body.

Klaus picked up one of the letters, its wax seal bearing the sigil of a powerful empire. He read the words slowly, then let out a low chuckle.

"They believe a few words on a piece of paper can break me?" he chuckled softly.

He tossed the letter aside, where it landed among dozens of others.

Thunder Lord smirked faintly. "They bark because they fear. Dogs always make the most noise when their chains rattle."

Necrolord’s hollow sockets glowed faintly. "Shall we answer them, my lord? A formal reply?"

Klaus leaned back, his silver eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Reply? No. Let them stew in their agitation. Let them gather their allies, prepare their armies, and believe they have time.

By the time they finish their debates, I will have already taken what I want."

He rose from the throne, his presence filling the hall like a storm.

"They warn me not to attack? That only tells me where they are weakest. These declarations are maps to their own fear. And fear..." He smiled coldly. "...is a weapon I know how to use."

Necrolord bowed deeply. "As you will it, my lord."

Thunder Lord’s grin widened. "Then who shall be crushed next?"

Klaus stepped forward, his boots echoing on the marble floor. He raised his hand, and the map of the continent appeared once more, glowing in the air. His silver eyes studied it carefully.

"We have momentum. We will not stop. The small kingdoms will ally with larger powers, but alliances are fragile. They rely on the hope of protection, and I will break that hope."

He tapped on the map, his finger landing on another cluster of small states near the northern trade routes.

"We will take control of all the important strategic points next."

These small territories will give us access to the northern territories, which are otherwise protected naturally by harsh mountainous terrain.

"Organize the new men; I will now awaken the dead you have stored in the sanctuary," Klaus said as he disappeared from sight.

The necrolord slowly bowed even after his lord left. "Your orders are my will."

The death energy in the necrolord’s eyes shone as he also left the hall to prepare the army for the next few conquests they were about to go to.