Lord of the Truth - Chapter 1064

Chapter 1064: The first in the Empire

“Don’t worry, everyone! It’s just an oversized balloon— puff without the weight! Hold your positions!!”

One of the generals who had previously fought Amon led the last three formations of the army into a defensive stance, firmly rejecting the idea that the same opponent he had overwhelmed earlier could have transformed into a creature from hell in mere minutes.

Amon, towering like an apocalyptic nightmare, raised his arms high—so high that his fingers nearly disappeared from view—before bringing them down with all the force he could muster.

RUMBLE!

The sheer size and overwhelming strength of Amon’s fists compressed the air violently, causing it to explode outward as if trying to escape his descent.

“BRACE FOR IMPAC—!!!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

Amon’s colossal fists obliterated hundreds of soldiers instantly, crushing the general like insect before he could even finish his command.

CRACK—CRACK!

“HELP!”

“SCATTER! SCATTER!!”

The devastating blow shattered the ground beneath them, sending cracks spidering across the earth. The soldiers scrambled over one another, trampling their comrades in a desperate attempt to escape the collapsing terrain.

The once-organized army, known for its iron discipline, was now reduced to a panicked mob.

GRIND

With great effort, Amon pulled his massive arm from the rubble, his monstrous frame lurching forward once more.

The demons’ power grew in a simple yet horrific way—by consuming the flesh and drinking the blood of intelligent races. Their bodies absorbed the essence of their victims, transforming and strengthening with every meal.

Amon, in his relentless pursuit of strength, had forced his blood to destroy and rebuild his body over and over again, effectively pushing himself into a higher state of existence through sheer brutality.

Not only had he gained unprecedented power, but his body still held a vast reservoir of untamed blood—a sea of raw energy surging within him, flowing with every step he took.

Whoever dared to stand against him now…

Raw power was no longer an option.

“CRUSH THEM ALL!!!”

Behind Amon, 200,000 frenzied demons charged forward, their bloodstained weapons raised, their snarling faces twisted in manic glee.

“Your Highness! We need reinforcements—!”

One of the imperial generals shouted toward the elite royal guards, desperate for aid.

But what he saw in that direction drained all hope from his heart.

The battlefield was already a nightmare.

The Silver Marshal’s clones Lonta and Snite— had cut down several of the imperial guards. Elsewhere, soul creatures and silver demon emperors overwhelmed their opponents, tipping the balance of battle in their favor.

How can they ask the 77th prince to save them? The prince himself needed saving!

Desperate, the general turned his gaze toward another battle zone, where the remaining imperial guards clashed with the warlords of the enemy forces.

The sight was no better.

Many guards had been pulled away to fight off the soul creatures, granting the warlords a chance to catch their breath—enough to mount a vicious counterattack!

“Oh no…”

The general whispered in dread, his grip tightening around his weapon.

BAAAAAM!!!

Another quake erupted beneath their feet…

Doom was marching toward them.

———–

“…Amon?!”

Sakaar couldn’t believe the cries of the demon army at first, but after scanning the towering figure over and over, he finally realized— “I can’t believe it, it really is Amon!!”

“You guys can reach that size? This is incredible!” Caesar widened his eyes in astonishment. Having such a colossal force on their side was definitely cause for celebration.

“I didn’t know it was possible either,” Sakar replied quickly, his expression serious. “But… he certainly didn’t pay a cheap price for it.”

Of course, Sakaar understood what Amon had done. He himself had experienced the agonizing struggle of controlling a blood sea in the early days of his experiments—his organs had exploded several times before he finally mastered the art of blood compression.

And he wasn’t the only one. Every demon who ascended to the rank of Demon Emperor attempted to push their limits by consuming vast amounts of blood and devouring excessive food. Yet, most of them stopped when their bodies began to crack, and some who didn’t… perished from the pain.

But somehow, Amon succeeded.

And that power—

“…?!”

Sakaar’s eyes widened in shock as he watched Amon crush the enemy general with a single blow, squashing him like an insect. At that moment, Amon’s true strength was laid bare for all to see.

“Level fifty… hoo~” A rare smile crept onto Sakaar’s face.

“It seems we don’t have to worry about that front for now.” He turned his back to his main battlefield against the 300 high level marshal emperors. “Care to join me? With your help, we can deal with those fools faster.”

“Haha! With pleasure!” Caesar’s high spirits made him temporarily forget his pale face and shattered bones.

—————

…From afar, Holak watched the chaos unfold, scratching his head in frustration.

“Man… this is bad, so bad!!”

BANG!

Holak slammed his fist against a pile of rubble, reducing it to dust.

“That son of a bitch did it before me… A filthy demon who was rolling in the mud half a century ago reached level 50 before me!”

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Holak kept his eyes on Amon’s rampage, calculating whether he could take on that behemoth in a fight.

Sure, Amon was slow, and he looked like he was in constant agony with every step— but if he took even a single hit from those massive fists, he’d need that damned Richard to put him back together again!

“Another one I’ll have to think twice before killing…” Holak clenched his fists tightly.

Ever since he learned of the True Beginning Empire, he’d been encountering monsters like these left and right.

First, that arrogant, filthy, holier-than-thou bastard named Robin Burton.

Then there was Sakaar and Richard—each one a beast in their own right.

And Caesar? Holak wasn’t sure who’d come out alive if they fought, but he knew it would cost him at least half his life even if he won.

And now… a fourth monster joins the ranks.

Clicking his tongue in irritation, Holak leaned against the ruins and muttered to himself:

“Tsk~ You had it easy, didn’t you? That old Pythor stayed at the top for ten thousand years, and you remained the second strongest. Every time a marshal got close to surpassing you, you’d just take another dose of Durger’s blood and pull ahead again.”

He gave a half-smile, dripping with sarcasm.

“Even your master is no different. The aura his body gives off is more beast than human, your whole strength and identity are clinging on a f*cking beast… such a simple life.”

Silence.

Holak glanced down at his right arm, resting against the severed head of Marshal Celebus.

“…But where do I go when I want to get stronger, huh?” His voice grew sharper. “That damn tattoo works on its own, and it looks like I’ll have to wait another thousand years before I get to the same level as that damn demon.”

His frustration boiled over, his voice rising to a shout. “Tell me… why did those four bastards surpass me, Holak?!”

Catching himself mid-outburst, Holak exhaled, glancing at Celebus’s lifeless eyes. “…Oh, my bad, I didn’t mean to make it difficult for you. Carry on dying.”

Turning his gaze back to the battlefield, he surveyed the carnage.

“…Should I step in again?”