Chapter 1191: Internal Affairs

Chapter 1191: Internal Affairs

"You didn't have to come, you know."

"And miss the chance to see what kind of environment could nurture such weaponized paranoia?"

Ogras scoffed, glancing at his hooded companion. "Don't act like it hasn't served you well over the years. Who knows what kind of mess you'd found yourself in without at least one voice of caution reining you in."

"I know, I know," Zac laughed while looking around. "It's nice. I see where Azh'Rodum got its inspiration."

Ogras took in the familiar sights of living homes, noting how little differences two decades of absence made. It almost felt like Azh'Rezak had been trapped in a Temporal Chamber during his absence. It was the same, yet different, after being observed through the lens of experience.

The capital's grand buildings and unmatched energy density had felt like the peak of civilization, proof of his noble birth. He could still remember the envy he felt over the main branch monopolizing such benefits, and the schemes he'd weaved to extract just a sliver without attracting unwanted attention.

Azh'Rezak, the glistening pearl of his childhood memories, was barely fit to be called a hovel. A rational part of his mind had already been aware of this fact, but it was only after his arduous journey home he'd fully understood it.

He'd passed through over two dozen kingdoms, big and small. He'd seen true grandeur on continents holding greater populations than all of Zecia, where being a Hegemon didn't even award high enough status to fly through the air. Even the remote worlds Ogras visited when tracking down his targets blew anything he'd seen in Zecia out of the waters.

The Azh'Rezak treasury wasn't even worth the space it would take up in his Spatial Rings today. That bastard had stayed true to his word, claiming the bounties in his name. Thankfully, Ponel wasn't completely heartless, leaving their treasuries intact. Most of the heretics were dirt-poor, which was an important reason why they relied on such sinister methods of progression in the first place.

A few had gained sizable fortunes through pillaging, though. Sinister traps always guarded the hoards, but few defenses could withstand K'Rav's manipulations. While far from the 1,474 C-grade Nexus Coin bounties, he should have accumulated over 50 C-grade Nexus Coins in treasures and materials. Perhaps even more, provided the potential buyers hadn't already emptied their coffers. It was a real risk if this was the state of affairs across Zecia.

While the city's bones remained the same, there were clear signs of clan Azh'Rezak's current predicament. Few walked the streets, and those they passed shared one of two common traits. Either they were missing any hint of spirituality, making them the lowest rung of mortals, or they carried grievous wounds from battle. The occasional child peered out from windows or tree crowns, but the bustle was all but gone.

All capable hands had been drafted into the clan's failing war machine. The clan had initially fared relatively well, according to Zac's accounts, but two years of constant struggle had left its mark. Azh'Rezak wasn't the Atwood Empire. They lacked resources and foundations, which meant victories were hard-won and paid for in blood.

The gains from accruing contributions couldn't outweigh the constant drain on manpower, and replacing veteran clan members with hastily trained civilians only weakened the armies. It had finally reached a breaking point where Clan Azh'Rezak could endure no longer.

You could say he'd appeared just in time. But to do what? Ogras still didn't know.

"And you're sure you didn't hear anything?" Zac asked, saving Ogras from facing that nagging question.

"No, there were no signs of your little wife where your backroom deal sent me," Ogras sent with a roll of his eyes. "I'm sure she's fine. Maybe she'll even be back by the time we're done here."

"Let's hope so. We're running out of time," Zac muttered.

Ogras grunted in agreement. He couldn't believe how bad things were after just a few years. War seldom was this cut-and-dry. The Horde had fought against its mortal enemies for eons without either side gaining an edge. The same could be said about the Undead Empire's eternal war against the living.

Was it even possible to get his hands on the final piece of his seal? It seemed as though the window had closed for seizing opportunities. It wasn't that he was dissatisfied with what he gained instead, but what kind of fool would be content with their lot? Well, Zac mentioned he had a plan to deal with this mess. He and the rest of Zecia could only pray that the Deviant Asura could pull off another miracle.

"So how do you reckon she'll react to suddenly having two men in her life?" Ogras grinned. "Actually, I did find an interesting dual cultivation technique involving clones during my travels. Want to take a look? Or are you half-single now? Is that fiery beauty back?"

"Alright, alright," Zac laughed. "I have no idea, honestly. I haven't thought that far. And no, Iz isn't here yet. I'm also waiting for word on Kruta too. Oh, he's the"

"I remember," Ogras said, getting a surprised look from Zac. "I don't know. A lot of the details from the Perennial Vastness just became clear after I saw you and your new Deity. It's like your special deal spread to me."

"Interesting. Let's hope that doesn't extend to my enemies."

"Well, most of them are your children now," Ogras said. "I toured the island while waiting for you to come back. I saw some of them in the academy. Little monsters."

"They're growing up so fast. I'm not sure whether I should be relieved or regretful they're too young to participate in the war. It would have been a huge opportunity for them," Zac said before stopping. "So, decided what you wanted to do?"

Ogras sighed as he turned to the Ancestral Gate towering before them. It was crafted from the [Deeparc Steel] their founding patriarch collected during his travels and held the outer core of their Clan Protection Array. An array that currently wasn't running, further proof of the clan's strained situation.

"I guess I'll just have a talk with the old goats and take it from there," Ogras said, releasing the obscuring shroud around the two.

"Halt, who goes there!"

"A ghost from the past," Ogras smiled and activated [Gloaming Tide].

"The Main Branch is the same as ever," Ogras lazily said as a calm glance passed between the elders. "I hoped some setbacks would have been enough to temper your attitudes."

"Child, no matter what you've been through, your roots are with Clan Azh'Rezak. If you have grievances to address, we are willing to listen."

"You want to talk?" Ogras said with a raised brow. "Can conversation bring back my siblings? I think it's better to send you all on your way so you apologize in person."

"Your siblings?" the patriarch said with a confused expression utterly incapable of fooling Ogras. Some of the elders were even worse, sharing worried looks full of guilt.

"Oggy, the clan has treated us well, and we're facing a crisis. Why don't we all take a step back?" his grandfather urged.

"Grandpa, I'm not you. I can't suppress these matters," Ogras gently said, turning back to the main branch elders. "I've always felt uncertain about what I should do if I returned. Well, seeing you all today finally gave me my answer."

"Oggy, don't"

"I can't erase the shadows of the past," Ogras continued as the sky darkened, shrouding the manor in the gloom of his wrath. "But I can make them mine by killing all those who cast them."

"Yyou! The council has officially met with the Lords of Erz'Kerus and accepted their gracious invitation!" the second elder shrieked as shadows began to climb up his legs. "The Lords will not tolerate this!"

His words were soon proven right. The three powerful auras who'd been content observing from a distance until now were finally on the move.

"Kick the dog, and the masters appear," Ogras grinned.

"I did not know Clan Azh'Rezak had given birth to such an excellent descendant. Impressive, impressive!" the elder in the middle smiled as a fiery aura rebuffed the shadows around them. "Though I have to inform the young master that you are wrong on one point. Clan Erz'Kerus has raised the banner, sincerely inviting friends across the region to band together. The proud warriors of Azh'Kir'Khat can only survive this tribulation if we fight as one."

"Save the recruitment speech," Ogras snorted. "I've no interest in becoming a warslave for some local tyrant."

The Heavens were ruthless, and those beneath it were no different. 'Banding together' was just a nice way of saying 'recruiting cannon fodder while robbing their heritages.' Erz'Kerus was only one of thousands of established clans doing the same. Most factions were pushed to the limits after two years of fighting, and the battlefronts didn't relent.

Many saw no other way to survive than to disband their clan and sell themselves to a stronger faction that still had energy left to spare. Of course, these factions would only take the useful ones, leaving the rest to fend for themselves. The battlefronts would be split between the new and old factions. And since most of the population would be left behind, the abandoned would also have to carry most of the weight.

Ogras hadn't expected a Late Hegemon to appear in their little fiefdom, but he guessed they weren't specifically here for Azh'Rezak. They were making the rounds, snatching all Hegemons and talents across the planet. It was an easy sales pitch, considering the world would be teeming with cultists soon enough.

"Young man, we're sincerely extending an olive branch," the Middle D-grade accompanying the elder frowned. "We're happy to hear you out, but any further disrespect will"

"Will what?"

It was Zac, and his question was punctuated by an explosion of monstrous killing intent, which even made Ogras's hair stand on end. It roiled through the mansion, forcing thousands of hardened warriors to their knees. Not even the elders could fully withstand it, paling before the onslaught. The awe-inspiring display accomplished its goal, yet it only left Ogras hollow. Just how much slaughter had his friend been forced to endure over the past years to keep the ship afloat?

"YouWho are you?!" the Erz'Kerus elder exclaimed while contracting his defensive domain to shield only himself and his two companions.

"Zachary Atwood of the Atwood Empire," Zac said, removing his hood. "The one who's been selling Cosmic Vessels to your bosses."

The old man froze for a moment before his eyes grew into saucers. "Lord Atwood, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. It's a great honor to meet the Star of Zecia! Can I ask what brought you here today?"

"Ask my friend."

"I want the fourth and seventh branches," Ogras calmly said when the attention was back on him. "Every man, woman, and child. As for what happens to the rest of Clan Azh'Rezak, I don't care. But the Main Branch has conspired against me and my family, so I'm not comfortable leaving such a threat behind. Even if they join Erz'Kerus."

"My lord!" Azh'Rezak's patriarch exclaimed with horror. "The resources"

"Ai, this old man has made a fool of himself, interfering in the internal matters of others," the envoy cut the frantic patriarch off, taking out a shimmering token. "We have many more clans to meet, so we will not intrude on Emperor Atwood any longer. Should the young lords ever find themselves in this area again, we would be honored to host a banquet in your honor."

"Mh," Zac noncommittally said.

Ogras inwardly snickered when the trio escaped with all the speed they could muster. A proper display of strength could really solve anything. He turned to the horrified elders, darkness swirling in his eyes.

"Now, where were we?"