"The Great Aetherium broke the agreement! They killed our direct bloodlines! We retreated again and again, we swallowed every insult, they even snatched the cities and territory we'd captured and killed our troops, and this is what we get in return!"
"My daughter. She was at the peak of Demigod Tier, about to ascend to Godhood. The Great Aetherium's Angels killed her."
"Think about what this means. They want to swallow the entire Light Empire alone. If we keep retreating, we lose everything we captured anyway. They're going to push us out regardless. The only question is whether we fight back now or let them set up the next move against us."
"Their first strike had the element of surprise. We cannot let them succeed again and again."
"Attack!"
The order spread through the force. Hundreds of billions of Dark Empire's troops, with their full six trillion army including undead slaves and alchemy puppets, surged toward the nearest concentrations of the Great Aetherium and Castle Faction's armies. The patience that Webster's orders had maintained all day broke in an instant. Grief and strategic calculation had reached the same conclusion.
…
The parallel operation in the Dark Empire's home territory was more dangerous and more carefully staffed, but in one sense easier.
In the army, Gods were everywhere. Every legion had divine protection, and the density of powerful beings made any attacker's margin for error essentially zero. In the homeland, even important targets had fewer guards. This was their base camp. No one expected to be assassinated here. The targets were powerful but lightly protected, and that made the difference.
The homeland assassins were stronger, the weakest among them were Intermediate Gods, the most powerful at the peak of High God Tier. Webster ruled the Dark Empire with his spiritual thoughts spread across the entire empire. Getting in and out required genuine power and speed. Some had gained access through insiders. Even the Dark Empire's Imperial Capital, the Shadowkron City itself had been infiltrated.
The biggest target of all was present in Shadowkron. It was Leopold, Webster's son, his only son, an early-stage High God, valuable enough to warrant a five-person assassination team. It was composed of two peak High Gods and three late-stage High Gods. Then again, it was understandable as Leopold would have trump cards. One attacker might fail. Five, moving together, coordinated in advance, would not.
They emerged from the void while Leopold was in meditation. He had no time to prepare.
"Angels? You're the Great Aetherium Angels! How dare you enter my father's imperial capital—"
A divine sword wreathed in holy flame came down. His head separated from his body. Before the divine body could begin to reconstitute, the coordinated Divine Power of five High Gods swept in, annihilated his divine soul, destroyed the remaining body, and took his Godhead. The entire sequence took mere seconds.
"Withdraw."
One of the five felt it first, the sweep of a tremendous spiritual consciousness passing through the palace. It was Webster. If he caught even a trace of them, retreat would become impossible.
They dropped into the void and teleported out without a moment's hesitation.
Webster arrived in an empty room.
He swept the space, found the residual light signatures, and gathered them into a reconstruction, and watched his son die at the hands of five Sixteen-Winged Angel forms, holy flame burning, pure light divine power unmistakable.
"Holy light, holy flame, the incomparably pure Law of Light. These are indeed Angels of the Great Aetherium."
The rage that came out of him swept everyone in the palace. Leopold's partner. The guards. The servants. None of them had protected his son. None of them had any further purpose.
His spiritual thoughts expanded across the entire Dark Empire and found several attackers who hadn't yet finished their work, still engaged with targets, underestimating the resistance. Webster's Divine Power moved to capture them.
But they self-detonated without hesitation, every one of them, shouting a single phrase as they went:
"Believe in the Lord, gain eternal life!"
Webster stood in the wreckage of the meditation room and stared at nothing.
…
The capital of the Dark Empire was no longer a city of shadows; it was a city of fire.
Within sixty seconds, the direct bloodlines of the empire's most powerful figures had been erased. The attacks were surgical, brutal, and left no room for resurrection. Souls were shattered alongside bodies. Even Leopold, the Emperor's son and a God in his own right, had been reduced to ash.
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