Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1582: Reaching an understanding

”General Basil’s plan is bold, daring, and meticulously crafted, yet it lacks one essential element—the certainty of survival after execution.” The Marshal gestured toward his subordinates without even glancing at them, his voice carrying the weight of authority. Then he continued, his tone steady but sharp, ”The plan must be executed, yes, but we must also ensure that the cost in lives is not catastrophic. Reducing casualties is paramount.”

”How do we achieve such a thing, Marshal?” another General asked, his voice edged with both respect and concern. ”Even under the most optimistic scenario, they will lose nearly half their numbers during the desperate charge across almost a thousand kilometers of enemy lines just to reach the artillery zone. And those who remain will likely be annihilated once communication is cut and entire armies close in around them. This is, without question, a suicide mission. At best, only two or three will stagger back alive.”

”Our greatest challenge has always been defending the line while simultaneously replenishing the endless losses tearing through our rear ranks.” The Marshal extended a finger toward the shallow region marked on the map spread before them. ”But now we have new reinforcements, and they demonstrated immense defensive power—power none of us expected.”

”...If we coordinate with them properly, they can shield us from the devastating artillery fire. This will free us to commit more troops to the front, pressing the Allied Army until they falter and retreat. And at the same time, we can funnel additional soldiers under General Basil’s command to spearhead the offensive thrust. In this way, the mission remains intact, but the danger will be drastically diminished.”

The place fell silent. The generals and advisors exchanged long, heavy glances, as though the air itself weighed upon their shoulders, before one finally broke the silence. ”Marshal, it is clear the newcomers possess great strength, but not to the extent you describe. It is almost certain they were ambushed the moment they emerged. Panicked, they unleashed their strongest defensive gear in a single desperate strike. That is not a sustainable level of power to factor into our war plans, and I highly doubt they will commit such artifacts again merely for the sake of someone else’s strategy.”

”We are at war,” the Marshal declared, his voice ringing like iron against stone. ”Since they have come as reinforcements, then it is their duty to contribute to the survival of this campaign. All that is required of them is to hold off the artillery two or three times. By that point, General Basil will have pierced into enemy territory, and the flames of battle will already be consuming the heart of their lands.” He lifted his chin slightly, his gaze sweeping across the gathered officers. ”Are there any further questions?”

”No, Marshal.” The answer came in unison. One by one, they straightened and offered crisp salutes, then vaulted from the platform, each man and woman heading out to prepare for their appointed role in the immense operation to come.

”Commence execution.” The Marshal clasped his hands behind his back, then pivoted sharply toward one figure in particular. ”Basil, among all of us you are the strongest general when it comes to offensive maneuvers. I grant you full authority to pull any forces you deem fit from the ranks. You have half an hour to make ready.”

”Understood.” General Basil returned the salute with solemn gravity, then turned and leapt from the platform as well, his mind already racing with possibilities—calculating how to assemble a strike force capable of plunging into the jaws of death and yet wresting victory with the fewest possible losses.

Step

The Marshal descended from his seat of command, each footfall echoing until he reached the edge of the platform. There, his eyes narrowed. Something unusual caught his attention. ”Hm?”

Below, movements stirred—yet not those of his disciplined generals carrying out orders. It was something else entirely... the newcomers. They had spread chaotically across the grounds, scattered in no discernible formation.

Their strange bodies and distinctive armor made them easily visible, but there was no pattern, no sign of coordination, no indication they were moving under any planned directive.

Baaam!

Behind him thundered the heavy impact of a landing. The general who had been dispatched to fetch the officer in charge of the reinforcements had returned. His voice rang clear and respectful, ”Marshal, I have brought the officer responsible for the support, as you commanded.”

Whoosh

Beside him, Sakaar descended. Unlike the general, he landed without a sound. He had not leapt but rather descended under his own strange power—vaporized blood coiling beneath his legs, pushing him down gently like invisible wings. Once his feet touched the platform, the crimson mist drew back into his body as though it had never been. He looked forward, his voice calm yet unsettling as he spoke a single word: ”Greetings.”

”Could you, perhaps, explain to me in detail what exactly is going on with your men down there?” Marshal Darvion did not even bother to return the greeting. His voice was sharp and his expression twisted with annoyance as he gestured downward toward the battlefield. ”As an officer, have you not been taught the discipline of asking your commanding superiors for permission before unleashing and scattering your troops as you see fit?”

”There is no need for that,” Sakaar replied in a calm but firm tone, his eyes sweeping over the unfolding chaos of the battlefield below. ”I have no superior here. I am not a mere officer bound by such rules. I am also a Marshal, equal in rank. I take no orders but my own.”

”It matters little whether you claim to be a Marshal where you came from, or even if you were the Celestial Emperor himself,” Marshal Darvion snapped as he turned to face him directly, his displeasure carved clearly into every line of his face. ”This is my theater of war and my homeland. As long as you set foot here, you will act under my command, and you will coordinate with me before you dare make any decision that affects my armies. Do I make myself clear?”

”That is not what was said to me. I did not come here to serve under anyone’s banner.” Sakaar’s gaze never even shifted toward Darvion; instead, he fixed his attention upon a certain distant point on the battlefield, as though listening to a rhythm only he could hear. ”My mission is simple and absolute: to defend Planet Verilion until it ascends to the Meddle Belt, or until I receive a direct order to withdraw. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Bam!

Darvion’s fist slammed down hard against the edge of a nearby table, making the surface shudder under the force. His voice rose with barely contained fury. ”What is this insolence—this baseless arrogance!? I do not even know what sort of pact His Highness Lord Hedrick forced us into that made us delay our strategies just to await your arrival! And now, after all this waiting, what do I receive? A man who knows nothing of alliance, who has no understanding of what it means to fight in a real war!” He jabbed his finger toward the towering gate in the distance, his face dark with anger. ”If this is the way you intend to respond to my commands, then you are not needed here at all. Go back to the abyss you crawled from!”

”I will remain,” Sakaar answered with an unsettling tranquility, his voice carrying no tremor of doubt. ”I will stay and fulfill my mission—to guard planet Verilion until it has advanced to the Meddle Belt or until I am given the explicit order to withdraw.” He finally turned, his presence heavy and unshakable, and faced Darvion head-on. ”Perhaps we began our acquaintance on the wrong step. Why don’t you tell me plainly what it is that troubles you, hm?”

”What troubles me?” Darvion barked, his face flushing with anger. ”What troubles me is that I had crafted a flawless plan—one where your people would serve in defense, holding the lines firmly, while my men pressed forward on the offensive to strike at the gunners’ territory. It was a plan carefully calculated, one where I was prepared to sacrifice my best soldiers and even my most trusted generals if it meant securing the strait and maintaining the integrity of our lines! And yet you—” his voice cracked with exasperation—”you acted on your own, without so much as a word, scattering your forces like ants swarming across the battlefield! You are tearing apart everything I have built!”

”....”

Sakaar did not answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward slowly, closing the distance until he stood directly before Marshal Darvion. His voice was calm, almost unnervingly so, when he finally spoke. ”I understand your anger. Truly, I do. If I’m a local commander, I would be enraged as well if someone came and disrupted the plan I had labored to craft. And, conversely, if you had forced us into your plan without so much as a request for consent, then it would be my right to feel insulted and outraged as well. But never mind that...” His tone softened as he raised a hand and firmly patted Darvion’s back, the gesture heavy yet oddly reassuring.

Then, with a faint motion of his chin, he pointed toward the distance. ”...There is no longer any need for strife between us—for there is no longer a battle left here for you to be troubled over.”