The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

On the far side of the jungle, the Twilight Empire’s retreating army regrouped at its temporary camp, a sprawling encampment deep within the wilderness that extended for dozens of miles.

This time, however, they numbered far more than five thousand.

Nearly twenty thousand fully armored Rassasian warriors stood throughout the camp alongside catapults, mobile siege towers, and black, rhinoceros-like monsters that towered up to ten meters high, each bearing a horn nearly four meters long.

It was a sight capable of striking terror into any human border camp unfortunate enough to witness it.

As dawn broke with the brilliant moon still hanging in the sky, the company commander who had faced Karius from the opposing rise finally arrived.

The moment he reached the camp, he ran toward the largest beast in the black herd, dropped to one knee, and lowered his head respectfully while placing one hand over his chest in a military salute.

”Greetings, esteemed Battalion Commander and revered Deacon of the Desire Cult!” the company commander shouted with the utmost reverence to the figure standing atop the herd’s leader—a beast that towered over its kin at nearly fifteen meters in height.

The man standing upon the enormous rhinoceros-like monster was nearly two meters tall himself, with broad shoulders and a back as straight as a spear. His skin bore the same gray hue as that of the other Rassasians, yet there was far greater dignity and gravitas about him, while his face more closely resembled that of a human—specifically, a human noble.

His features were somewhat handsome, and his long black hair cascaded freely down his back until it nearly reached his thighs. A cold, deadly expression dominated his face as he looked down at the company commander kneeling submissively on the ground below.

The man wore a black cultist robe marked with white bands, while a leather coat as dark as the night sky rested across his shoulders and streamed behind him like silk with every movement and passing breeze.

All the soldiers around him kept their heads bowed in reverence, and not one dared to raise their gaze in his presence.

Unlike the other Rassasians, the man’s eyes were not entirely black. His irises were gray, while the whites of his eyes were naturally white. He possessed a nose as straight as an arrow and finely shaped purple lips pressed into a firm, uncompromising line.

Then those cold lips parted.

”How many humans did you find there?”

”Approximately two thousand fighters, my lord,” the company commander answered without raising his head. ”Karius Dmitri led them personally, accompanied by only Frank and Caesar of the five faction commanders currently stationed at the City of Light’s border camp.”

The Deacon of the Desire Cult showed no change in expression.

”Did Thorvin Valhalla appear?”

”No, my lord. We did not see him, and it appears he never left the border camp. We witnessed no trace of his power on the battlefield.”

”And what of that Death Squad’s elites, the red-haired girl, and that damned old man’s daughter?”

The company commander hesitated for a moment before answering.

”Of them, only Darius appeared alongside their leader, Malrik. The other four were not among the forces sent to intercept us.”

The deacon’s gray eyes remained fixed upon him for several seconds.

”How long did it take them to assemble those two thousand fighters and reach the plain?”

”Less time than we anticipated, my lord. Their scouts discovered us before we could establish our positions, and their vanguard arrived shortly afterward. Their formations remained cohesive despite our numerical superiority, while their cavalry managed to sweep around our flank twice because we lacked sufficient mounted forces of our own.”

Silence descended for several seconds, each of which felt longer than the Rassasian company commander’s entire life, before the man atop the monstrous rhinoceros continued.

”And the losses?”

The company commander lowered his head even further.

”We lost a large number of half-Rassasians, along with several hundred pure-bloods. One of our faction commanders was gravely wounded and may not survive, while our Eighth-Rank fighter lost his right arm to the leader of the Death Squad named in our reports—the man called Malrik.”

Neither anger nor regret appeared on the Desire Cult deacon’s face.

”Half-Rassasians are not considered losses.”

He spoke as though stating an indisputable military fact, despite the thousands of half-Rassasians gathered below him, and he did not appear to care about them in the slightest.

The company commander did not dare display any reaction.

”And Karius,” the deacon continued, his deep voice reverberating through the chest of everyone present. ”What did Karius do when you gave the order to retreat?”

”He prevented his forces from pursuing us beyond the plain. He never moved from the rise throughout the battle, even when our two faction commanders challenged him publicly in an attempt to draw him onto the battlefield.”

The deacon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

”So he truly is as the rumors described.”

”No, my lord,” the company commander replied without hesitation this time. ”The rumors failed to do him justice. Even from several hundred meters away, his mere presence sent chills down my spine.”

”He also revealed how quickly his forces could respond, how many fighters he could deploy from the camp and keep under complete control without Thorvin personally moving, and which faction commanders are currently stationed at the border.”

The company commander cautiously raised his eyes, though he did not dare lift his head completely.

”Was that the purpose of the battle, my lord?”

The deacon’s cold gaze shifted toward him.

The company commander’s entire body instantly froze, and he hurriedly lowered his eyes to the ground once more.

”I beg your forgiveness, Revered Deacon.”

A heavy silence lingered for several moments, broken only by the breathing of the enormous black rhinoceros beneath the deacon, each exhalation from its nostrils sending a hot cloud of air and dust surging forward.

Then the deacon asked without looking at anyone in particular, ”What about the other mission?”

A gray-robed Rassasian emerged from behind the rhinoceros’s hind legs and knelt beside the company commander.

”It began the moment Viera’s forces departed their camp, Revered Deacon. The group passed through the southern route before the humans doubled their patrols, and not a single scout detected them.”

For the first time, the deacon’s purple lips curved.

It was not a complete smile, merely a faint, cold arc that vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.

”Good.”

He then raised his gaze toward the Viera Empire’s border beyond the dense jungle.

And suddenly...

His gray irises flickered with another color before returning to normal.