Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1580: Support

A few minutes earlier — on the eastern side

”Prepare—” A figure in black-and-red military uniform, his eyes set in five-angled slits and his mouth forming a tight round, raised his hand as high as he could and then slammed it down. ”Fire!”

Bambambam

Hundreds of colossal cannons before him discharged in perfect, terrifying unison. Each gun towered over fifty meters tall, its muzzle a yawning void and its base bolted into the ground with pins like stakes meant to anchor mountains. Enormous conduits fed each piece, pumping liquid energy-essence in monstrous quantities — to charge a single one of these engines for a single salvo required as much essence as would power a warship for an entire year.

Each of those guns looked like a dreadful, living edifice, a fortress of metal and hunger.

The artillery commander brought a strangely-shaped spyglass to his eye and fixed it on the exact drop point — the landing site for the volley. As the shells arced and the impact spread across the target zone, he began to laugh, a coarse, triumphant sound, watching bodies and wreckage scatter. ”Karkarkar — the victory of this war will be earned by our hands! His Majesty will reward me handsomely!!” he crowed, almost delirious with bloodlust.

The distance between the battery and the strait was enormous — essentially another province — and yet the strike precision was brutally perfect. The projectiles found their marks with a terrible accuracy.

Bzzzt

”Hmm?” The man with the spyglass frowned as a gate on the opposite side flickered open and a number of soldiers from the Shattering Meteor Empire spilled out; they were clearly wounded survivors, fleeing from some other battlefield.

”Kirkir — hit them! Hit them, hurry up!!” He jabbed a finger toward the newcomers and barked orders, ”Ten units left and three up — strike them before they can merge with the standing army!!”

”Understood, Marshal!!”

Rrrr

The guns adjusted their elevation and azimuth with precise, grinding motion. Their muzzles glowed and then — bambambam — they unleashed.

From discharge to impact took no more than three heartbeats. The freshly arrived support contingent was shredded to ribbons: flesh and armor were flung in all directions, formations dissolved into gore, the earth itself cracked where the shells struck. The scene that followed was one of instant, absolute ruin.

”Kerrrkarkar!” The Marshal — the man commanding the Falling-Star Empire’s artillery — laughed aloud, stomping the ground with brute force. He cupped his hands over his ears for a moment as if trying to savor the dying screams of the newcomers: ”....” Then he flung his hands open, eyes glittering, and kicked a colossal rock nearby in childish fury. ”Damn them — they should invent binoculars for the ears as well!”

”Tsk~ You spoilt my mood; this calls for punishment!” The Marshal waved his arm theatrically and then shouted to the crews, ”Take your time — charge the guns to maximum. In the next wave we will obliterate every newcomer along with their logistics hubs and field hospitals. They just came from the planet Farkat-5, which the Allies lost; they are broken, exhausted, unable to maneuver. This is the perfect moment to crush them before they can recoup.”

”Understood, Marshal!”

The artillery officers opened the energy conduits to their limits. Not only did the muzzles glow; the bodies of the guns themselves began to pulse and light up, veins of power crawling along their frames. The radiance intensified with each passing minute, the whole battery seeming to breathe with a dreadful hunger.

”Hmm~ hmm~~” The Marshal watched the gate area intently, calculating the optimal strike point the instant charging completed. Minutes crawled by; roughly six thousand soldiers had poured through the gate before it snapped shut — a scrambling, chaotic mass. They pushed and shoved in a pitiable rush, paying no heed even to the comrades who had gone out before them and been shredded; each man burst through the portal only to frantically search for a soldier-array to shelter inside.

”Karkarkar — not today, my dears,” the Marshal chortled, feeling the charge in the air prickle every hair on his skin. When he sensed the guns had reached peak charge, when the static in the atmosphere hummed like a living thing, he raised his hand. ”Prepare—”

Bzzzt

”Hmm? The gate’s active again?” For a fleeting moment the Marshal looked surprised, then amusement curled into a cruel grin. ”Karkarkar — two units to the right and three units upward; crush the space portal and everyone streaming through it.” After issuing the final order he slammed his hand down with thunderous force. ”...Fire!”

---------

Bzzzt

StepStep

The colossal space gate came alive with a thunderous vibration, its surface rippling with arcs of light, and from within, something began to emerge. No... not someone—something.

They were massive, each towering well over three meters in height. Above every head curved a pair of horns, each spanning more than a full meter, black and jagged like weapons carved from the abyss itself. Their bodies were encased in fearsome crimson armor, every plate swollen with artificial veins that pulsed faintly with a metallic glow, as though blood was circulating within the steel.

Their faces were completely concealed beneath featureless, smooth masks that erased every sign of identity—even *the eyes* were hidden, replaced by blank surfaces that reflected only dread.

And their aura... it was impossible to discern whether they were men, monsters, or lifeless statues animated by some profane power. No trace of living essence radiated from them, nothing resembling the natural presence of souls or breath. There was only one thing that bled from their existence—an overwhelming scent of blood, and a hunger for more of it.

”Wh-what is this?!” The portal’s guards recoiled at once, terror flooding their hearts. What had stepped forth was nothing like the silver-armored soldiers of the Empire they were accustomed to. ”Identify yourselves! Stay where you are! Halt immediately!”

Step.

The first figure crossed the threshold and, after a deliberate pause, slowly turned his head from side to side, scanning the desolate world around him.

Carnage. Death. The sky above was burning red, the shallow waters of the battlefield beneath were already dyed the shade of gore, while the air itself shimmered with the choking vapor of blood.

Corpses piled upon corpses in grotesque mounds, dragged toward the towering ridges that encircled the field of slaughter. Every detail was horror made manifest—a massacre, the ending of a world, the very embodiment of despair.

And to him, it was nothing less than the perfect image of...

”...Paradise.”

Sakaar tilted his head back slowly, savoring the grotesque vista, his chest heaving with an intoxicating thrill. His very flesh quivered with unrestrained fervor, and his body shuddered with the uncontrollable craving for more.

Behind him, more like him came out, sharing the same state—had their masks not concealed their faces, the mere sight of their twisted expressions would have already shattered the soul of every portal keepers standing watch.

But their presence alone was terror enough. The captain of the guards forced himself to step forward, raising his spear with trembling hands, swallowing hard as his throat locked in fear. ”Identify yourselves! To which army do you belong? How did you acquire the coordinates and the secret access codes for this portal? You—”

”Oh?” Sakaar cut him off entirely, ignoring the man’s words, and instead lifted his gaze toward the skies. ”So, a welcoming committee is already waiting for us?”

”What nonsense are you—” The captain followed his line of sight, and at once, his eyes constricted in sheer dread. His grip collapsed, the spear clattering from his fingers. ”Falling stars! Falling stars are falling toward the portal! Evacuate! Evacuate the entire perimeter immediately!!”

”Fall back!!”

The remaining guards, along with the reinforcements that had only just arrived, scattered in all directions. Even the quartermasters, medics, and overseers stationed in the rear abandoned their posts in panicked retreat. No one dared remain.

The artillery fire descending from above was unstoppable—unstoppable even to all but the rarest of warriors, those at the peak of the Combat Emperor Realm, who might barely repel a single strike. But against this relentless downpour, no soul would endure. If the gate itself did not collapse outright, it would still suffer catastrophic damage beyond repair. The outcome was sealed. At that moment, survival was their only possible prayer.

”Boss, should I crush those shiny things out of the sky?” one of the armored giants asked, his voice heavy like grinding stone.

”I’ll burn them to ash.”

”I’ll freeze them solid.”

”Silence.” Amon’s voice cut across them, sharp and commanding. ”We have orders to conceal our true power, stopping this artillery shots isn’t something Martial Emperors can do!”

”Wait, Amon.” Sakaar raised his left hand calmly, his tone laced with cruel amusement. ”Wouldn’t it be rather unbecoming of us —our first act upon arrival— to run away like frightened prey?”

Then, his lips curved upward in a grin beneath the mask. He extended his right hand, a subtle flick of his wrist releasing a surge of power.

Whoooosh!