The Royal War Room was located in the highest tower of the Sun-King's palace.
It was a large, round room made entirely of polished gold. A huge circular table, carved from a single piece of hardened wyrmwood, stood at the center.
A detailed, magical map of the kingdom glowed on the tabletop, shifting and updating troop movements in real-time.
Lucifer pushed the heavy oak doors open.
He did not wait for the royal herald to announce his arrival. He walked directly into the room. Elara and Lyra flanked him.
He had ordered the five hundred Arch-Seraphs and his four hundred Aether-Steel Dragoons to hold the palace courtyard.
Their sheer presence outside had terrified the Royal Guards into complete submission, allowing him to bypass every security checkpoint.
The War Room was crowded.
King Carlos sat at the head of the wyrmwood table. He was a frail, older man wearing a heavy gold crown that looked too large for his head.
He looked exhausted, rubbing his temples as the arguments around him raged.
Ten high-ranking generals of the Royal Army, including Lord Vorian of Iron-Heart, surrounded the map.
They wore immaculate, ceremonial armor that had never seen a battlefield.
The Scourgelands.
"We must reinforce the Northern Wall!" General Thorne shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "The undead horde has breached the outer markers! If we do not send the entire Royal Vanguard to hold the chokepoint, the capital will be overrun in a month!"
"Sending the Vanguard is suicide!" Lord Vorian argued back, his face red with anger. He glared across the table. "The Scourgelands are saturated with necrotic fog. Our men will choke on the air before they even swing a sword! We must pull back, fortify the inner cities, and let the localized militias absorb the initial shock!"
"You want to sacrifice the border towns to save your own estates, Vorian!" another general yelled.
"Silence!" King Carlos croaked. His voice was weak. The generals barely stopped shouting.
Lucifer walked up to the edge of the wyrmwood table.
"Your entire strategy is a death sentence," Lucifer stated loudly.
The Warlord's voice cut through the chaos like a heavy iron blade. The Warlord's aura bled into his words, forcing absolute silence on the room.
The ten generals stopped arguing. They turned and stared at Lucifer in sheer outrage.
King Carlos blinked, looking at Lucifer's dark armor and the heavy Sunburst Sigil resting on his chest. Then, his eyes moved to Lyra.
The King gasped, recognizing the Dawn Saintess standing freely without her parasitic golden halo.
"Who is this man?" the King asked weakly.
"I am High Inquisitor Lucifer of Obsidian," Lucifer said. He did not bow to the King. He placed his hands flat on the edge of the glowing magical map.
"And I am here to tell you that sending the Royal Vanguard to hold a static wall against the Scourgelands is exactly what the Lich Lords want.
They don't need to breach your walls. They just need to wait for your men to die of plague, and then they will raise your own soldiers against you."
General Thorne's face turned purple. He was a proud man, a veteran of border skirmishes, but he had never fought a true, apocalyptic war.
"How dare you insult the Royal Army!" Thorne bellowed. He drew his ceremonial longsword. The steel rang loudly in the quiet room. "I have studied the northern terrain for twenty years! You are a boy wearing a stolen badge! I should run you through for treason!"
Elara immediately reached for her spear.
Lucifer raised a hand, stopping her. He looked at Thorne.
"You want to duel me for command of the Vanguard?" Lucifer asked, his void-swirling eyes locking onto the General.
Thorne hesitated for a fraction of a second, unnerved by Lucifer's eyes, but his pride overrode his instinct. "I challenge you! If you are so confident in your tactical genius, draw your weapon, upstart!"
Lucifer did not reach for his sword.
He opened his Dimensional Vault. The dark spatial rift tore open in the air above the wyrmwood table.
Lucifer reached into the Void. He did not pull out a weapon. He pulled out a massive, heavy iron pole. A brilliant, pure white banner hung from the iron, completely untarnished by the dirt or blood of war.
A massive, blazing sunburst was woven into the fabric with actual threads of concentrated holy magic.
It was the Banner of the Dawn.
It was a Mythic Relic, held by the Church for a thousand years. It was only meant to be carried by the High Pope during a holy crusade. Lucifer had bought it from the Cathedral vault for fifty million Contribution Points.
Lucifer lifted the heavy iron pole with one hand.
He slammed the spiked base of the Banner directly into the center of the magical map on the wyrmwood table.
CRACK.
The solid, petrified wood splintered violently. The physical force of Lucifer's Warlord strength drove the iron spike two feet deep into the table, locking it in place.
A shockwave of absolute, blinding holy light erupted from the fabric of the banner.
It was not a wave of physical force. It was pure, overwhelming divine pressure. The light washed over the entire War Room, instantly neutralizing every magical enchantment in the chamber. The glowing map on the table shorted out, plunging into darkness.
The ten Royal Generals gasped simultaneously.
The holy pressure radiating from the Mythic Relic was incomprehensible to mortal men. It was designed to suppress demonic armies and break the will of heretics. The sheer purity of the light physically pressed down on their souls.
General Thorne dropped his sword. The blade clattered uselessly to the floor. His knees buckled. He fell to the ground, his heavy armor completely failing to protect him from the divine aura.
Lord Vorian choked, grasping his throat. He staggered backward, his eyes wide with absolute terror. He hit the obsidian wall and slid down to the floor, completely paralyzed by the blinding light.
Within seconds, all ten generals were on their knees, groveling before the Banner of the Dawn. They were seasoned military men, but they were entirely powerless against a Mythic artifact.
[System: Intimidation Check Passed.]
[Targets: Royal Generals (Level 35-40) - Status: Suppressed.]
[Aura Active: Banner of the Dawn (Mythic)]
[Effect: All allied units within a 5-mile radius gain +300% Morale, +100% Health Regeneration, and immunity to Fear.]
Only King Carlos remained seated. The heavy gold crown on his head slipped slightly. He stared at the blazing white banner driven through his war table, his jaw hanging open.
He felt the immense power radiating from it, but he also felt the terrifying, dark Warlord aura of the man holding it.
Lucifer stood at the head of the table. He rested his heavy gauntlet on the iron pole of the banner. He looked down at the kneeling generals.
"You do not need a static wall," Lucifer declared. His voice was a low, resonant hum that carried effortlessly over the groaning of the suppressed commanders. "You do not need localized militias. You need a crusade."
He looked directly at King Carlos.
"Your men will break in the Scourgelands. They will choke on the necrotic fog, and they will run," Lucifer stated coldly. "My men do not breathe. My angels do not fear. And my Vanguard does not retreat."
Lucifer pointed to the black stain on the ruined map.
"I am marching on the Lich Lords. I am taking the Scourgelands," Lucifer commanded. He did not ask for permission. "I require the absolute authority to mobilize every mercenary, every adventurer, and every able-bodied fighter in this kingdom under my banner. I will command the expedition."
The King swallowed hard. His hands shook on the armrests of his throne. He looked at his elite generals, weeping and paralyzed on the floor. He looked at the Dawn Saintess, who stood firmly behind Lucifer.
Carlos knew he had no choice. Lucifer had the wealth of the Church, an army of monsters, and the absolute power of the Light. If the King refused, Lucifer would simply take the city and march anyway.
"You..." King Carlos wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. "You have the authority. You are named Supreme Commander of the Scourgelands Expedition."
"Good," Lucifer said.
He ripped the Banner of the Dawn out of the petrified wood table with a single, sharp pull.
The blinding holy light vanished. The crushing divine pressure lifted from the room.
The generals gasped for air, collapsing fully onto the floor in exhausted heaps. General Thorne lay flat on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling, his pride completely shattered.
Lord Vorian struggled to his hands and knees, glaring at Lucifer with pure, venomous hatred, but he did not dare speak.
Lucifer stored the Mythic Relic back into his Dimensional Vault.
He turned away from the table.
"Saintess Lyra. Elara," Lucifer said smoothly. "We are leaving."
He walked out of the Royal War Room without a backward glance. The heavy oak doors swung shut behind him, leaving the highest military commanders of the kingdom broken and humiliated on the floor of their own sanctum.
Lucifer had exactly what he came for. Absolute legal control of the coming war. Now, he needed numbers