Alien world

Chapter 1875, Section 508: The Holy Council
"This is our common war. In this life-or-death situation... we must unite as one, we must be closely connected... connected to... what was it again?"

Annan, who was halfway through reciting something on the recliner, opened his eyes, picked up the parchment, and glanced at it.

"Oh, putting it all together... who wrote this tongue-twisting thing?"

Annan, who recited it twice a day, morning and evening, still found it difficult to memorize and was quite critical.

"Do you have any comments on my speech?" Lilith asked without warning.

"No, I just... uh... I was thinking that everyone in the Holy Council is a cunning old fox, so it's pointless to say anything."

Lilith's face showed a vivid question.

"You want to ask why we still need to prepare speeches?"

"Ah."

"Because this is for the world to hear."

Annan stretched and sat up, putting the parchment aside: "We know what we are going to do, but the world doesn't, so we must tell them our direction."

"If you want to develop, you should talk about establishing diplomacy and developing trade. If you want to be conservative, you should announce an increase in tax rates and close the ports. If you want to warn the enemy, you should tighten your diplomatic policy and frequently mobilize soldiers."

Aside from being a bit long, Lilith's speech basically outlines the future development direction of Liberty City, so there's no problem with it.

"Where is the Imperial Army?"

Lilith used her magic to construct a realistic map before Annan: the gold representing the Imperial Army was trapped in the black tide of the Chaos forces, about a thousand miles away from the Skaven capital.

If nothing unexpected happens, the Imperial army will be at the gates of the Ratman capital within a week at most.

Will the Macken ratmen flee, or will they fight a final battle against the Empire...?

On the Dimon Kingdom's side, the situation remains deadlocked outside Old Val Town. They cannot do anything to the ratmen in the short term, and the ratmen cannot do anything to them either.

Annan is ready to lend a helping hand if the Kingdom of Dimon falters, but for now, let the victorious soldiers rest for a while.

Lilith left, and Annan continued to lazily memorize his speech, his eyelids growing heavier with each reading, until he finally drifted off to sleep.

"quiet!"

The Supreme King's majestic growl jolted Annam awake.

He looked up at the magnificent, sacred hall and the surrounding lords, and wondered how he had unknowingly...

On the thirteen thrones at the center of the hall, the Skeleton King, Emperor Tattun, spoke: "Annan Reeves, begin your speech."

Hundreds of eyes immediately focused on him.

Annan suddenly became nervous, and couldn't recall the speech he had memorized: "Uh... I thought... well, but... but I have to say..."

Annan's toes curled up, his fists clenched, and he couldn't lift his head under the scornful gazes of everyone around him.

Just as he was about to throw caution to the wind and improvise, Emperor Tattun suddenly tickled Annan’s nose with a feather.

"What are you doing?"

Looking at the young emperor who was still teasing him, a huge sense of unreality suddenly overwhelmed him, and then Annan woke up.

Looking at the swaying branches of the otherworldly tree in front of his forehead, Annan breathed a sigh of relief.

Thankfully, it was just a dream...

Just as he was about to turn and pick up the parchment that had fallen beside the recliner, the long-lost yet familiar deep reverie suddenly resurfaced, pulling Annan into a dream.

Oh no, it's really coming...!
Annan tried to resist the Holy Council's call to take another look at the speech, but the call of the sacred relic was not something a mere elite sorcerer could resist. He fell into a deep sleep as soon as his fingers touched the speech.

……

Annan appeared in the second row of the bustling, market-like Holy Council. This meant that, according to the Holy Eye's assessment, Annan's potential had entered the top 100 of the Allen Continent.

Perhaps after the Northern War ends, Annam might be able to get its hands on the front row, or even...

Annan moved his fingers, sensing the shape of the parchment scroll in his palm. His gaze fell on the still empty mud seat, then moved to the bone seat, where he seemed to see the hazy outline on the throne nod almost imperceptibly to him.

“Hey… Annan…hey, over here…sss, Annan…”

Khamis VI called out from several rows away, but Annan did not turn around; a pitiful, thick barrier had already separated them...

"quiet."

The noise lasted for half a minute, and after all the human lords had arrived, a grand whisper echoed through the hall.

"The theme of this council meeting is my decision to completely resolve the chaos in the North." The young emperor toned down his talkative nature in the Holy Council, speaking concisely and to the point.

"it is good!"

"awesome!"

"The Empire is the pillar of the Central Plains!"

Annan led the applause and cheers, setting off a wave of applause.

"in addition……"

Emperor Tatum turned his head, clearly looking at himself.

"The title of King of Mud has been vacant for thirty-three years. Now, the candidate chosen by the King of Mud is ready."

The Bone King's words stirred up a new storm in the still-unsettled Holy Council. Amidst the barely suppressed whispers, he said, "The other twelve kings have also chosen their corresponding royal candidates, and their identities will be revealed in this council meeting."

"Then, the candidate chosen by the King of Mud, step forward."

Before the mud throne, which looked like it was made from a lump of slime, a woman in armor with a knight's sword at her waist appeared, her figure gleaming.

For a moment, she looked surprised, whether from the discovery of her presence or from being brought before the throne, but she remained standing there calmly.

“I am Isabelle Rom, inheriting the legacy of the Mud King.”

Isabelle Rom was very young, seemingly only a few years older than Annan. With her long, flaxen hair tied up and rare purple eyes, her form-fitting, patterned, antique armor made her resemble an ancient knight.

She was extremely beautiful, but what was most striking was a scar across her face that ran from her eyebrow to her eye. This did not diminish her beauty; on the contrary, it added to her martyr-like fortitude.

Annan looked at her and thought she seemed familiar. "Oulin?" Then he remembered that she looked like a guardian statue made based on the princess's appearance—lacking the princess's gentleness and protection, but with the added loyalty of faith.

Olin, let's stop contacting each other. I'm afraid Begrom will misunderstand.

"Isaberg Rom, do you know the rules of the royal selection?"

Isabelle Rom's fingers, resting on the hilt of her sword, tightened unconsciously: "I know."

"I must defeat the other twelve candidates chosen by the kings in order to become the new Mud King."

Whispers arose behind Annan, with some lords asking what the rules were.

The last time the Supreme King was chosen was 318 years ago, when the King of Crystal changed hands.

"Since the Holy Palu Church has the shortest reign, let's start with me."

The Crystal King, seated on his crystal throne, spoke in a melodious voice: "My chosen candidate is Leo Falek."

"Leo..."

Annan pondered the name. He remembered that there was also a Leo Swordsman Champion Knight in the Northern Fortress. They had the same name. Was there any connection between them?

(End of this chapter)