Chapter 125
When that span of time that felt like eternity finally passed, when the gesture of respect had lingered in the air long enough and began to feel like a weight too heavy to be sustained any longer, the Anti-Rumble Formation began to move.
They slowly withdrew their right hands from their chests.
Lowered their left hands from behind their backs.
Lifted their heads that had been bowed.
And one by one, in small groups that did not disrupt their formation, they began to turn.
They turned away from Zhulumat Katamtum, who still sat frozen in place.
Away from the Satanist adherents of Team Xirkushkartum not under his command, who still stood at the threshold of the meeting chamber.
Away from the suffocating room filled with tension that had never truly faded.
They returned to the outermost border of the City of Thalyssra, Blessed by the Great Sanse.
Returned to the place where dust and gravel scattered without cause.
Returned to the front line that marked the boundary between their darkness and the enemy's light.
Returned to the guard posts that for days had stood as silent witnesses to their relentless efforts that had yet to bear fruit.
"Most Exalted Zhulumat, the Satanist High Officials under the Banner of Zhulumat, as well as the captains of the Orbit Severance Formation… permit us to deliver our report."
Fwoooosh!
"We bring ten of the latest maps of the City of Thalyssra, Blessed by the Great Sanse. These maps are compiled based on direct field observations conducted by members of Team Xirkushkartum not under the command of Your Excellency Zhulumat Katamtum."
Thud!
"The condition within the city has deteriorated further. The stability of both the inner and outer defenses of the central region has significantly degraded over the last three cycles. Based on testimonies from our comrades, several Angels of the lowest rank have begun to appear openly. Their presence is not mere reconnaissance. They are accompanied by thousands of Holy Beings who continuously circle a castle in the northwestern sector."
Huuuuuh!
"That castle… as Your Excellency is aware… serves as the residence of one of the Satanist officials. However, that official's presence is no longer confirmed. It is possible that they have fallen… or fled from the encirclement of the agents of the Cursed One. What concerns us most is not their attack, but the gathering of those beings. Instead of launching an assault, they endlessly revolve around the castle. Their formation is highly structured and constant, resembling the order of a liturgy."
Hoooooh!
"Their movements… resemble a ritual more than a siege. From our observations, the orbital patterns they form display deliberate alignment—as though the castle has been designated as a new center of worship. Our preliminary conclusion, Most Exalted One… the Cursed One may be marking that region as a symbolic altar at the heart of Thalyssra."
When the envoys were finally permitted to sit, when their bodies that had been standing at the threshold now began to fill the empty spaces among the Satanist High Officials of the Banner of Zhulumat and the Orbit Severance Formation—the gathering of captains from each Team Xirkushkartum—the atmosphere within the meeting chamber changed into something entirely different.
Not because their presence dispelled the silence.
Not because their movements created noise.
But because the air itself suddenly felt denser.
Heavier.
Filled with something unseen, yet undeniably felt by everyone present.
They sat carefully.
With measured movements.
Fully aware that every inch of their posture, every detail of how they arranged their robes, every breath they released, was being observed.
Judged.
Used to draw conclusions about who they truly were and what they truly carried.
And when everyone had finally settled into their positions, when no movement remained except for the involuntary blinking of eyes, when the silence had reached a point where even the air felt ready to shatter, the representative of Team Xirkushkartum not under Zhulumat's command began to speak.
He did not immediately release his words.
Did not immediately pour out everything he had held within.
Did not immediately answer the countless questions that hung in every mind present.
Instead, he did something no one expected.
His hand, which had been hidden within the folds of his loose robe, began to move.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
With an almost excessive caution, as though each millimeter of movement was a wager between life and death, between safety and ruin, between trust and suspicion.
His fingers, thin yet strong, fingers that had endured too many battles to remain smooth, reached into the folds of the robe.
Slipping between fabrics that had never been washed too clean.
Searching for something he had guarded with his entire being throughout the journey.
And when those fingers finally emerged, when that hand returned to the open space visible to all, it held ten rolled maps.
Ten sheets of paper neatly bound.
Ten objects that had served as their entry ticket.
Their justification.
Their proof that everything they had said was true.
The representative placed the ten maps before him.
Not all at once.
Not in haste.
But one by one.
With movements almost ritualistic.
With full awareness that each passing second only deepened the tension already suffocating the room.
Then he began to speak.
His voice was neither loud nor weak.
But it carried a resonance that made everyone who heard it understand that what would follow was not merely a report.
Not merely news.
Not something that could be accepted lightly.
He spoke to Zhulumat Katamtum, who still sat frozen at the center.
To the Satanist High Officials of the Banner of Zhulumat, whose faces began to reveal traces of unease they could not fully conceal.
To each captain of Team Xirkushkartum under Zhulumat's command, whose bodies grew increasingly tense with every word spoken.
He spoke of one thing.
One thing that became the reason they were willing to take such a risk.
One thing that forced them to bring ten maps as proof.
One thing that would change everything they had ever known about the battlefield they faced.
The condition within the City of Thalyssra, Blessed by the Great Sanse, he said, had grown increasingly dire.
Not dire in an ordinary sense.
Not something that could be resolved with conventional strategies.
Not something that required only minor adjustments.
But dire in its truest meaning.
The kind that makes the hairs on one's body stand.
The kind that accelerates the heartbeat even when one tries to remain calm.
Through the testimonies of members of Team Xirkushkartum not under Zhulumat Katamtum's command.
Through observations conducted over several days.
Through risks taken at the cost of their lives at every second.
They had discovered something unimaginable.
There were several Angels of the lowest rank, the representative continued.
And behind them, following them, surrounding them, were thousands of Holy Beings moving in an unchanging pattern.
Continuously circling a castle.
Continuously making that castle the center of all their movements.
To be continued…