Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 127: Floating Arena: Aincrad

Since ancient times, the transfer of power has always been accompanied by iron and blood. In this world, there has never been a bill that significantly deprives local forces of their power and can be passed without bloodshed.

Everyone knows this.

Everyone knew that there was bound to be a war.

The Northern Regent needed it to establish his authority, while the Southern nobles would use it to prove their indispensability. The ultimate outcome might be a mutual loss, or a resounding victory for one side. In any case, both sides would know their place after the contest.

However, one thing went wrong.

There was a timing error.

Everyone assumed the Regent would sound the clarion call for war at the tournament. While he was powerful and unconventional, he was still alone—with no allies or subordinates. Even if the Saint Queen's forces surrendered voluntarily, it would take time to test their loyalty.

That's why the Regent held the tournament.

Because he needs a force that obeys him.

Apart from those few he had selected, presumably to serve as an example to scare others and establish them as examples of immoral nobles, his decrees for the expedition actually satisfied the needs of most of the forces within the Holy Kingdom.

A large-scale, overt rebellion would not occur. Only the nobles designated for rebellion would receive some covert assistance in their dying moments—the entire southern aristocracy was determined to fight a protracted war. They would also strive to maintain a situation of fighting but not breaking apart to prevent the situation from getting out of control.

However, everyone guessed wrong.

The Regent King disappeared from Kalinsha for seven days before reappearing in a southern earldom with the Holy Princess. He abandoned his principles of not using enchantments against those of high rank and refraining from utter annihilation. Within hours, he had annihilated an entire earl's family. From that point on, there was a continuous cycle of conquest and fighting.

Ten hours later, the first marquis' line was severed. All direct descendants and their loyalists were hanged on the city walls. The regent immediately appointed dozens of knights from among the common people to take over the earl's estate. And in the future, the regent's vision was vindicated.

These chosen knights were all hidden heroes. In the short time that followed, they grew rapidly, embracing absolute loyalty to the Regent and gaining immense power. Both cities and villages were governed in perfect order, but this, of course, is an insignificant aside.

The crusade continues.

The second marquisate chose to surrender.

However, surrendering only allowed those in the direct lineage who had no record of wrongdoing to survive. The reckoning continued, and all the guilty were still hung on the wall.

No one could stop him.

The most powerful Duke Dolan assembled a large army in a desperate attempt to fight back, but in the end, his resistance proved to be in vain.

Because the regent gave him three days to gather the army.

Because the Regent allowed him to choose the time and the battlefield himself.

Finally, a 20,000-strong elite armored corps garrisoned the towering fortress of the Dolan family, a century old. They prepared large artillery, groups of magic casters, heavy crossbows, heavily armored troops, and a variety of other defensive measures, waiting there to face the regent's punishment.

Everyone thought this would be a battle that would go down in history.

Everyone believed that this battle would reveal the true power of those who deviate from common sense—it was said that Fluder of the Baharuth Empire had the power to annihilate the entire imperial army alone. Now, the world would witness a power equal to that.

Their wish was fulfilled.

Satisfaction in a way that doesn't meet anyone's expectations.

Because in front of the heavily guarded ancient castle, the Regent only released one spell.

........................

“Fossils become mud.”

Wu Chen stretched out his hand toward the towering fortress, and a vast tide of willpower gathered in his palm under his will. Turning Fossil to Mud was merely an ordinary fifth-tier spell, but now, fueled by willpower and the super-magic spellcaster, it was rendered unprecedentedly powerful.

The castle melted before him.

Layer by layer, piece by piece, it melted away. First, the outermost high wall collapsed, and the heavily guarded soldiers fell screaming from the molten mud. Then, the inner wall behind it collapsed, and the magic casters, trained at great expense by the Duke, began to cast spells in unison. Hundreds of low-level spells of varying strengths blazed out. The Duke's most loyal knights, with average strength of gold or even mithril, rode their warhorses, trampling the waves of melting mud—they worked in perfect harmony, they pressed forward with unwavering determination. They... were all silent, awed by each other's power.

Spell capture and transfer.

The numerous low-level spells that were directed towards Wu Chen were all deflected and refracted before they could reach him, crashing down upon the knights charging towards him. Many knights were injured, many were hindered. Regardless of whether they lived or died, the outcome was the same.

Their steps stopped in the storm of spells.

The quagmire that opened up soon covered their feet.

These powerful and heavy warriors were mired in the sticky mire. The more they struggled, the deeper they fell. If they laid down their weapons, they still had a chance of survival. But if they resisted to the end, they would be nothing more than bubbles on the mud.

The mud is still spreading.

The main structure of the castle melted under the spell like hot chocolate—the magic casters, their spells taken away, surrendered without hesitation. The few diehards who resisted were captured by the swirling mud tentacles, bitten, and fell into the mud with screams.

The century-old castle collapsed in an instant.

The spell resistance runes and materials applied to the building's masonry were as good as non-existent.

The assembled nobles' private armies might have sunk into the mud, or fled screaming in all directions. What they witnessed today would become a nightmare that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. And yet, the Regent continued forward, never changing his pace.

He had no desire to hunt down the remaining troops.

He also did not kill those who surrendered.

He simply advanced, his followers following him in silence. He finally saw the aged duke in the innermost recesses of the melting castle. But the old duke merely smiled miserably.

There was no need for words, no need for negotiation. The aged duke leaped into the melting mire. And an ancient family, with a legacy spanning centuries and a complex network of influence that practically controlled the entire Southern Saint Kingdom, was completely destroyed, with no hope of struggle left.

There will be no successor, no revival. The Regent's authority means a permanent curse that can never be reversed. This land will belong to him forever.

The mud had become his throne, but he felt no joy as he stepped upon it. This great battle, worthy of being recorded in history, was marred by the king's displeasure. But his followers still loyally defended him.

"Calca." Wu Chen sat on his throne, his gaze darting in all directions. He had originally thought the Great Tomb would send an NPC to bolster the Duke's power, but until now, nothing had happened as he had anticipated.

Perhaps something went wrong with the Great Tomb—perhaps something had happened to Demiurge, who was in charge of the Holy Kingdom. As a result, the things that were supposed to appear didn't appear, and the means that were allocated for them couldn't be used.

But that’s okay.

"Daxter, I'm here."

"When I was little, I dreamed of overthrowing those evil nobles and becoming a hero of the people. However, when I actually did it, I realized that the joy of victory comes not only from the result, but also from the method."

His childhood wish to punish evil and promote good was ultimately not fulfilled in a legitimate way, because his victory was not due to his justice, but because of his strength.

But who can prove that being powerful does not mean justice?
“You gave them the judgment they deserved,” Calca replied.

Wu Chen smiled and suppressed his thoughts. Today was his twenty-sixth day in the supernatural realm. He had long since become a completely different person, and now, he no longer resisted this difference.

“Call out the angels, Calca,” he said.

The golden crown atop the Saint King's head shone brightly. And before Wu Chen, beneath his feet, the entire swamp instantly coalesced and reshaped, sculpted into the shape he desired.

"I intend to build a floating arena. It will be as vast as a mountain cut and turned upside down. I will call it Aincrad. And a sufficient number of summoned angels will be able to hold it up."

Legions of angels materialized from thin air, flying in an orderly fashion around the boiling mud. A golden glow illuminated the earth. And the mud beneath their feet, as it took shape, was stained with the holy light of protection.

"As you wish."

(End of this chapter)