Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points! - Chapter 83

Chapter 83: It’s Gotten Complicated Part Two
“What kind of creature?” Lady Morwen interjected, her fan snapping shut as she leaned forward.

“A fallen angel,” Cedric whispered, his voice barely audible. The words sent a chill through the room, and several nobles exchanged uneasy glances.

“A fallen angel?” Calder croaked, his face pale. “Surely—”

“I know what I saw!” Cedric snapped, his voice rising in panic. His trembling hands gripped the table tighter.

“This wasn’t some illusion or trickery. It was real. It toyed with them, Your Grace. I watched through my scrying crystal as it descended, its wings black as midnight and its eyes burning with unholy light. My men—” He stopped, his voice cracking, before forcing himself to continue. “It spoke to them, though I couldn’t hear the words. And then… they turned on each other.”

“Turned on each other?” Herald asked, his tone sharp.

Cedric nodded, his entire body shaking now. “Yes. Whatever it said to them… it was enough to drive them mad. They began slaughtering one another, their swords flashing, their screams filling the air. It was chaos, absolute chaos. And when only a handful of them remained…”

His voice dropped to a whisper, his gaze distant and hollow. “It descended. It finished the rest itself. Efficiently. Cruelly. It didn’t even struggle—and that smile it had… it enjoyed it.”

The room fell deathly silent, the weight of Cedric’s words pressing down on everyone present. Morwen’s fan slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the table. Calder looked as though he might faint, his hand clutching his chest. Velmont’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of his chair.

Herald’s piercing blue eyes locked onto Cedric, his expression grim. “Are you certain of what you saw?”

“Beyond a shadow of a doubt,” Cedric rasped, his voice barely more than a breath. “This was no ordinary foe, Your Grace. If the emperor has such a creature under his command, then we face an enemy that defies reason itself.”

Herald’s fingers drummed slowly against the table as he leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was palpable, each noble and knight commander grappling with the implications of Cedric’s story.

“It seems,” Herald said at last, his voice cold and calculated, “that the emperor’s arsenal is more formidable than we anticipated… I thought he had sided with the goddess of Justice and Purity? Why dose he have an angel working with him… A fallen at that. It doesn’t make any sense.”

He paused for a moment, taking a breath to calm himself.

“But we will not falter. We will find a way to get rid of the threat of this… abomination.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Morwen asked, her voice unusually hesitant.

Herald leaned forward as his foxlike smile appeared on his face again.

He spoke with pride and confidence as he addressed the trembling Grand Vizier.

“For now lay us keep that matter aside and focus on our preparation, you all need not worry, you can rest assured that I have a plan in mind.”

The room was suddenly filled with an immense aura of skepticism. Most glanced at Herald as if the man had gone mad.

But a part of them did not rule out the possibility outright. After all, humans had accomplished such feats several times in history, so they chose to entertain the thought.

“You must go on, don’t leave us hanging like this, Herald. I am very curious how a man who knows more of politics would know anything remotely close to rivaling the divine.” A deep, gravelly voice suddenly spoke—it was Dagon, the Iron Colossus.

Dagon was a mountain of a man, his muscular frame barely contained by the steel-gray armor he wore.

His long, unkempt black hair fell past his shoulders, streaked with faint strands of silver. With piercing green eyes, his face was filled with scars, proof of his years spent on the battlefield.

Once a celebrated hero of the empire, Dagon had earned his title as a level 500…

10-star swordsman grandmaster, a rank few in history had achieved.

His mastery of the blade was legendary, his strikes said to be as powerful as an avalanche.

Though stripped of his former station, he carried himself with pride, the weight of his past glories and his intense thirst for worthy combat visible in every movement he made.

Resting a hand on the pommel of the massive greatsword propped beside his chair, Dagon’s lips curved into a faint smirk.

“If you’ve got a plan, Herald, I’d like to hear it. After all, if it involves me crossing blades with that thing, I’d prefer to be properly prepared.”

Herald’s smile widened, his gaze locking with Dagon’s. “Oh, rest assured, Iron Colossus, when the time comes, you’ll be more than ready. But for now, let us focus on what I mentioned earlier.”

BAM!

Jareth’s fist slammed onto the table with enough force to rattle the crystal goblets.

The sharp sound cut through the tense atmosphere, making more than a few attendees flinch.

His face frowned in irritation, his piercing eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Herald.

“Enough with the theatrics, Herald,” he growled, his voice low and brimming with frustration.

“You always do this—downplay the severity of a situation, stringing us along without offering any specifics. Stop dancing around the issue and tell us what you actually have in mind, or are we to sit here and trust blindly?”

“You may think this a game, but I do not, I am only willing to follow as long as the present me the guaranteed path to victory that you promised.”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Herald. The duke’s foxlike smile lingered on his face, but a small trace of irritation passed through his sharp blue eyes.

Before he could respond, Jareth turned to Cedric, his finger still pointed, though now it aimed at the trembling Grand Vizier.

“You,” Jareth barked, “you said it was a fallen angel. How many wings did it have?”

Cedric froze, his yellow eyes wide and darting around the room as if seeking an escape.

His trembling hands gripped the table tighter, and he hesitated, his mouth opening and closing silently. Finally, he spoke.

“Six… It had six wings,” Cedric said with a touch of despair.