Webster didn't scream. He burned and arrived at his throne, scanning the entire Empire carefully again. The other attackers across the Dark Empire's territory had been Twelve-Winged Angels, shimmering with the unmistakable golden radiance of the Great Aetherium.
When his Divine Aura finally descended to crush them, they didn't flee. They self-destructed as well, taking entire city blocks with them.
"Your Majesty! My son… he's gone!"
A high-ranking official stumbled toward the throne, his face a mask of grief. He was quickly joined by others, a chorus of mourning lords and powerful masters. Their collective pain was palpable until they saw Webster's face.
When word spread that Leopold, Webster's only heir, a project tens of thousands of years in the making, was also dead, a strange, dark silence fell. The officials felt a twisted sense of 'balance'. If the Emperor's son was gone, their own losses were suddenly more survivable.
"Shut up." Webster hissed. The air grew cold enough to crack stone.
"Your Majesty." One core minister whispered, his voice trembling, "This was planned. Haru must be dissatisfied with our progress in the Light Empire's core. He's teaching us a lesson. He wants us to retreat."
It was the only logic that fit. The Great Aetherium had bled at the Nivara River while the Dark Empire sat back and feasted on the spoils. This wasn't a war; it was a warning. A message written in the blood of their children: 'Don't be greedy'.
…
Webster stared at the smoking crater where a twelve-winged Angel had detonated. As a Supreme God, he saw through the physical wreckage, searching the microscopic remnants of the explosion.
Something was missing. Every Angel of the Great Aetherium possessed an [Angel Heart], the core of their power and soul. Even in a self-destruction, the energy signature of a collapsing heart should have been unmistakable. Yet, as he sifted through the divine debris, he found nothing but empty light.
No heart, no Angel. Before he could voice his suspicion, a messenger collapsed into the hall, "Your Majesty! The army… the camps in the Light Empire's core have been hit!"
"Thousands are dead." The messenger gasped, "Scions, elite commanders, even Gods. The attackers looked like Angels, then vanished into the void. The field commanders… they didn't wait for orders."
Webster felt a pit form in his stomach, "What did they do?"
"They were blinded by rage. They've declared war. Our five trillion undead are currently engaging the Castle Forces. The entire Light Empire core is a battlefield."
…
The pale faces in the throne room grew even whiter. They had spent the morning demanding vengeance, but the reality of a full-scale war with Haru, the man who commanded over half a dozen Supreme Gods like they were pawns, was a death sentence.
"It wasn't the Great Aetherium." Webster said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.
The officials blinked, stunned.
"His Majesty Kazehaya is many things, but he isn't small-minded. If he wanted us gone, he would have sent Lysandra to wipe our army in a single afternoon. He wouldn't sneak around killing children. And these 'Angels'… they had no Angel Hearts."
The realization hit the room like a physical blow. The irony was thick enough to choke on: the Dark Empire, masters of deception and evil, had been played by the 'holy' Gods of the Light Empire.
The Light Empire's high command hadn't abandoned their core territory out of cowardice. They had turned it into a trap. By leaving the doors open, they had invited the Dark Empire in to become the perfect scapegoats.
"They wanted a war between us and Haru." Webster snarled, the shadows around him thrashing in fury, "And we just gave it to them."
"Your Majesty, what is the protocol?"
The question hung heavy in the Dark Empire's throne room. The fury that had previously been directed at the Great Aetherium had curdled into a cold, sharp hatred for the Light Empire. They were all victims of a shallow, transparent trick, one that had worked perfectly because they were too blinded by grief to look for an Angel Heart.
"I want to know who gave the order to engage." One minister growled, "That person is either a bloody pig or a Light Empire spy."
The room fell silent. It didn't matter. The bloodlines were dead, and the war was already screaming across the core territories. Even a Space-Time Lord like Haru couldn't rewind the clock.
The Dark Empire had marched into the Light Empire's heartland looking for easy spoils; now, they were staring at the total collapse of their imperial foundation.
If their six-trillion-strong army was wiped out by the Great Aetherium, everything they had harvested would be lost. It was a total deficit.
"Contact the Gods on the front lines." Webster commanded, his face like a mask of iron, "Tell them the truth. Order an immediate, total retreat. Do not let this spark a full-scale conflagration."
------------------
Become A Member At My Patreon For Access To Bonus Chapters Or Even Multiple Chapters A Day!
» Patreon.com/LordArchduke