CHAPTER 816: DIRECT ATTACK

Unlike the calm and calculated atmosphere reigning in the command center of the Xaos Kingdom, the Zanis military headquarters had been in a state of absolute chaos and disarray for the last couple of days, due to the massive loss they just received from the Dome. However, shouts and accusations of blame had faded into silence, leaving only a cold, oppressive tension hanging in the air. Orfry and the remaining generals stood motionless, their eyes locked on Augustus, the scion of the Zanis Family, before nervously glancing toward the mangled, headless bodies lying in the corner of the room.

Augustus had not taken the loss of millions of foot soldiers and hundreds of thousands of elite forces lightly. All had perished under the effects of the Dome unleashed by the Xaos Kingdom—a trap no one had anticipated. He held his commanders fully responsible for the failure to foresee such a tactic. And to ensure they understood the cost of failure, he made a brutal demonstration under their very eyes.

Without hesitation, Augustus had executed four generals, beating their skulls into pulp with his bare hands. The floor was still slick with their blood, the air heavy with the iron scent of violence.

At first glance, his actions might have seemed like a violent outburst—an unhinged tyrant venting his rage. But there was a deeper rationale behind the brutality. Augustus had carefully chosen the five least productive generals, eliminating weak links while sending a chilling message to the rest: failure would not be tolerated. It was a calculated method of instilling fear, one that would drive his officers to push themselves far beyond their limits.

Now, standing before the silent, shaken assembly, Augustus shifted his gaze toward the large virtual screen at the center of the command room. His eyes narrowed sharply.

Though the Zanis family could no longer send troops into the Asaris Continent, they still maintained a network of high-altitude scouting drones. These were capable of scanning troop movements from above, and while they were ineffective against Reapers—who moved underground—they could still track standard human forces.

As the display updated, Augustus gestured for his generals to gather around. Their bodies responded instinctively, drawn to his command by discipline and fear.

The screen revealed a mass movement of Xaos forces. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers were marching out of the Dome. But instead of heading east—toward the core of Exilon’s military might and the heartland of Zanis control—they were moving west, toward regions so inhospitable that no civilization had ever taken root there.

Frowns spread across the faces of the generals as the realization sank in. The soldiers were heading for the wastelands where few dared to tread. Militarily, they were almost worthless. There were no strongholds, no tactical chokepoints, and no major resources the Zanis family had ever considered valuable.

The movement made no sense.

Losing control over those areas would not significantly impact Zanis dominance on Exilon. More importantly, time was on their side. Sooner or later, the Zanis Homeworld would grow suspicious. The longer Augustus failed to report back, the greater the concern would grow. Eventually, reinforcements would be dispatched to investigate. When the full might of the Zanis home fleet arrived, the invaders would be exposed—and overwhelmed.

The Xaos forces surely understood this. Given their cunning and military sophistication, they must have anticipated such a response. Which made their current maneuver even more perplexing.

"Ideas?" Augustus asked coolly, his voice a low growl that snapped everyone out of their thoughts.

The tension in the room grew heavier. The pressure to deliver insight was crushing. Every mind in the room went into overdrive, fueled not by ambition—but by fear.

"There’s something we’re not seeing," said a firm voice.

It was Orfry. Though his reputation had taken a devastating blow after losing millions of troops to the Dome, he was not ready to surrender his career—or his life. If anything, the recent humiliation had hardened him. This was his chance to prove his worth again.

"It’s clear there is a reason behind this movement," Orfry continued. "They’re counting on our confusion. They want us to hesitate. To fear their strength. And to second-guess our every move."

Augustus studied the young man closely. Around him, the other generals nodded slowly, grudgingly accepting the logic in Orfry’s words.

"There’s a strong chance your hypothesis is correct," Augustus said at last. "But what should our next move be? Should we send forces to intercept them before they arrive at their destination?"

Orfry shook his head subtly and allowed a faint, confident smile to play across his lips as he saw he had the attention of all the present. However, immediately, his face returned to a solemn expression.

"I don’t believe that’s feasible. We’re too far away from those continents to beat them there. Even if we attempted to deploy, our Champion-ranked soldiers would struggle to navigate those treacherous environments. The terrain alone would disrupt our formations. And trying to use our suicide soldiers in such conditions would be a logistical nightmare. The Xaos troops could simply use the landscape to keep a safe distance from them."

Augustus gestured for him to continue.

"We may not be able to stop them from doing whatever they’re planning," Orfry said, voice steadying. "But we can prepare for their return. Let them carry out their mission—whatever it is. Then, we strike on their way back to the Asaris Continent."

The room grew still again. Orfry’s eyes gleamed with focus.

"We can position elite units to tail them—small squads trained for tracking and ambush tactics. When the Xaos forces complete their objective and begin the return journey, we’ll be waiting. On their path back, we’ll have millions of standard troops prepared for a massive pincer strike."

He stepped forward, his voice rising in intensity.

"The suicide soldiers will form the vanguard, charging in and detonating amidst their ranks to cause chaos. Meanwhile, our elite squads will strike from behind during the confusion. We turn their precision into panic. Their discipline into disarray."

For a long moment, Augustus said nothing. Then, slowly, a malicious grin stretched across his face. A dangerous, satisfied light gleamed in his eyes—the light of a predator sensing opportunity.

"Good, very good," he said, savoring the idea. "Let them march into the wastelands. Let them think we’re blind to their moves. When they return... they’ll meet their end between our jaws."

Just as wide smiles were beginning to spread across the Zanis Command Center—hopeful grins born from the belief that they had finally found a way to regain control of the battlefield and strike back at the enemy—it happened.

"RIIIIINNNNNGGGGG!"

The shrill sound of alarms blared across the stronghold, cutting through the atmosphere like a blade. In the very next instant, the entire structure trembled violently as a deafening explosion echoed from outside—an eruption so massive, so raw, it sounded as if a bolt of lightning infused with the power of multiple nuclear detonations had slammed into the stronghold itself.

Augustus’s eyes widened in disbelief. Without hesitation, his body vanished in a blur of motion, moving at speeds that bent space itself. In less than a heartbeat, he had exited the command center and appeared above the stronghold, suspended in the air like a phantom of wrath.

His gaze swept the area with calculating sharpness, quickly locking onto the massive force field that encased the stronghold. It was covered in jagged, spiderweb-like cracks—fractures that glowed with unstable energy. Gargantuan arcs of lightning swirled and struck the dome with relentless fury, each bolt radiating more power than a thousand war machines.

He clenched his fists as the ground beneath him trembled, his teeth grinding together in frustration. If that blast had landed inside the base rather than against the force field, tens of thousands of his troops would have been incinerated in an instant.

Augustus’s attention snapped to the center of the storm, where the air shimmered like shattered glass, and from within that light emerged a figure.

A young man stood tall amidst the storm. Spirals of red and blue energy coiled around his body, clashing and converging in a mesmerizing dance of destruction and harmony. His muscles were sculpted and taut with power, each movement radiating raw energy. Glowing veins of electric-blue lightning pulsed across his skin like a living circuit, his entire form alive with elemental wrath.

His hair was gleaming silver-white, as if charged by divine storms. Twin golden antlers jutted from his forehead, crackling with celestial electricity that danced between their gleaming tips. From his back stretched immense wings and a massive tail coiled behind him, laced with ethereal light and elemental force.

He was a storm given form.

And Augustus recognized him instantly.

"You!" he snarled, his voice a mix of rage and disbelief.

The appearance may have changed—the antlers, the aura, the wings—but Augustus could never forget that face. That presence. That soul.

Vlad.

It was clear to the Zanis scion that the leader of the enemy’s army had come in person. Not to negotiate. Not to threaten. But to declare his dominance with cosmic fury.