Published at 19th of May 2026 6:35 am

Chapter 2155 The bull's successive surprises

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The past few years had not been easy on Marshal Aro and his fleet, and they were certainly not easy on the Sorcerer Behemoth and his followers.

Trillions of creatures had been wiped out, entire civilizations erased without a trace, hundreds of planets had fallen one after another, and vast regions of space had been turned into graveyards. The fleet itself had been pushed to the brink of annihilation more than once, and even Law Dominators, beings who had stood unshaken for millions of years, had suffered injuries severe enough to leave them bedridden... all of this because of a single, reckless, unilateral decision made by the mad bull, Aro.

Exactly five years ago, the entire universe was shaken when the fleet that Aro had been holding at the borders of Mid Sector 98 broke through the boundary and entered the buffer zone directly. It was a move so bold, so irrational, that even his allies were stunned into silence. Everyone understood the implication immediately... once that line was crossed, there was no turning back.

He would emerge on the other side within a few years at most... and he would emerge in the very sector that had been ruled by the Sorcerer Behemoth for millions upon millions of years.

This also meant that Marshal Aro would remain sealed inside his vessels with his followers for the entire duration of the journey, cut off from external support, isolated within a moving battlefield of his own making. Supplies, morale, internal conflicts... everything would be tested during that time.

In that strange situation and even stranger decision, everyone observing the unfolding events found themselves waiting for the reactions of two key sides: The first was the response of the forces within Mid Sector 99 itself, especially the Millennial Empire of Vast Ice and the Millennial Empire of Endless Chaos. After all, the marshal who had spent years tormenting them, besieging them, and restricting their expansion had suddenly left their borders. Not only that, but his absence was guaranteed for at least three full years, with no possibility of issuing commands or interfering, as he had taken with him a massive fleet composed of 200 Note-4 warships.

Such an opportunity was unprecedented.

Would this not be the perfect moment for revenge?

An opportunity to strike back, to dismantle the Crumbled Tomb Empire piece by piece, to erase its influence before Aro could return?

Or even more boldly... to uproot it entirely from existence?

Many believed that if those powers truly acted together, the Crumbled Tomb Empire would not survive long enough to see Aro's return.

The second awaited reaction, of course, belonged to the Sorcerer Behemoth Zargol himself, who was already in a position that could only be described as disastrous.

Before the news of Aro's movement toward Mid Sector 98 had even fully spread, another report had already circulated: the Sorcerer Behemoth had withdrawn what remained of his core forces and his sons toward Mid Sector

96.

The goal had been clear.

He wanted to halt the advance of the Temporal Behemoth and the local forces, to demonstrate overwhelming strength, to stabilize the situation in one region before it spiraled completely out of control.

But that decision came at a cost.

It meant that his main forces were now traveling between Mid Sectors 97 and 98, stretched across vast distances of space, completely unaware of the danger now heading directly toward their heartlands, toward their families, toward everything they had built over millions of years.

The Sorcerer Behemoth had been confident, perhaps even arrogant, in his judgment.

He believed that Aro would never dare to take any real action against him.

To him, Aro was nothing more than a loud, reckless figure... a clown whose role was to create pressure, to delay, to interfere, but never to truly threaten him.

And that belief was not without reason.

The Grave Empire did not possess Law Dominators, nor royal soul masters of seven stars or above who could directly challenge a Behemoth-level force. Moreover, the empire had only recently declared war on the Millennial Empire of Vast Ice, placing itself in a precarious position already.

Logically speaking, connecting these facts together, it should have been impossible for Aro to make any significant move.

He should have been restrained by circumstance, bound by the limits of his own strength and resources.

But Aro had never been a man bound by logic.

For him, the impossible was merely a suggestion, and reason itself was something to be discarded if it stood in his way.

And so... it happened.

The Sorcerer Behemoth was struck with a level of fear that defied imagination when the news finally reached him.

Not fear of Aro's strength alone... but fear of what kind of madness he was truly

facing.

And there was a very clear reason for that fear.

The reinforcements that had been dispatched to support him could not simply

turn back.

Even if they immediately changed course, it would take them roughly three

years to complete their current trajectory, and another three years to return to

their original position.

Six years in total.

Six years during which Aro would be free to roam, free to destroy, free to tear apart everything within reach.

By the time those reinforcements could arrive... there might be nothing left worth saving.

With no better options, the Sorcerer Behemoth was forced to rely on the

forces he still had within Mid Sector 97.

Forces that were already under pressure.

Forces that were already losing ground, being pushed back step by step, as local powers had aligned themselves with the Temporal Behemoth's forces, turning the battlefield into a relentless struggle.

Sending them away would weaken his position further... yet leaving them where they were would mean abandoning his core territories to Aro's rampage.

It was a dilemma with no correct answer.

And just as he was about to make his decision...

Another piece of information reached him.

A piece of information so devastating, so unexpected, that for the first time in

countless ages...

Even the Sorcerer Behemoth felt his mind tremble.

There were thirty royal soul masters ranging from one to three stars, accompanied by thirty Nexus State experts, who appeared within Mid Sector 98... His sector... and they had already begun attacking his interests there. They did not approach the galaxy itself, nor did they recklessly challenge its core defenses, but instead moved with calculated precision, striking every planet of value to him beyond its borders. Every planetary or spatial outpost outside the artificial galaxy's limits was targeted without hesitation, and any families or minor factions that strongly supported Zargol were systematically hunted down and eliminated.

It soon became clear, beyond any doubt, that Aro had sent these soul masters through a massive space portal ahead of time, deploying them as vanguards to prepare the battlefield before his own arrival. They were not here to win... they were here to weaken, to destabilize, to ensure that when he came, there would be nothing left in a stable state.

Once this truth surfaced, there was no longer any room for prolonged

deliberation.

If Zargol withdrew only part of his forces, the remaining ones would be heavily

struck by the local powers and the Temporal Behemoth, who were already pressuring them relentlessly. And if he chose to keep all his forces in place while he and his sons alone returned to defend the galaxy, the same disaster would unfold, with his scattered armies isolated and crushed one by one. There was no winning move... only the choice of which loss to accept. Zargol immediately ordered the complete withdrawal of all his forces toward Mid Sector 98, fully abandoning Mid Sector 97 and the war there. He did not formally declare surrender, but there was no need to... his retreat alone was a silent admission of defeat in that front.

As for him and his sons, they used a massive space portal to return directly toward Mid Sector 97, driven by fury, humiliation, and an unwillingness to let their territories fall without resistance.

However, the interstellar communication network between Nexus State experts and royal soul masters allowed for rapid coordination and movement, making evasion far easier than before. This was further strengthened by the presence of a large number of Shadow Swords, secretly deployed from the Young Sector 98, who acted as unseen guides and disruptors across the battlefield.

Thus, Zargol's return with his sons did not bring the decisive reversal he had hoped for. They failed to capture anyone... their enemies slipping through their grasp again and again. But at the very least, they managed to reduce the daily damage being inflicted upon their forces and territories.

Afterward, Zargol sat upon his throne, consumed by rage and hatred, his mind racing with countless scenarios... yet every path led to the same conclusion.

He had no immediate solution.

So he waited.

In just under three years, the forces of that damned bull would arrive, and

shortly after, his own reinforcements traveling from Mid Sector 98 would

finally reach him.

Three years.

Three years of waiting, of enduring, of watching his domain be chipped away

piece by piece.

It was a suffocating wait, a humiliating wait... a wait that no being burning with

such rage could endure calmly.

Zargol suddenly rose from his throne, his decision made in an instant, and sent one of his sons through a massive space portal toward Mid Sector 99... specifically toward the Millennial Empire of Vast Ice.

He carried a message: Aro is no longer present, his forces have been cut in half,

strike the Crumbled Tomb Empire and destroy it. We will provide all the talismans and spells you may need. We will supply enough pearls to sustain your fleets and enough resources to compensate for any losses you may suffer

in the war.

...Zargol's hatred made him forget his usual caution and stinginess.

For a being like him, who guarded his resources with obsessive care, this was

nothing short of madness.

His anger blinded him to the point that he willingly sacrificed a portion of his treasury, opening reserves that had remained untouched for ages. And indeed, the Millennial Empire of Vast Ice accepted. Their fleets began mobilizing almost immediately, vast armadas moving with

clear hostile intent, their preparations visible even from distant observation points. At the same time, the remaining fleets of the Crumbled Tomb Empire began to gather, their wings aligning themselves for what seemed to be an inevitable clash... yet there was hesitation, a visible unease in their movements, a lack of confidence in the absence of their Marshal. Spatial rings and storage artifacts began streaming endlessly from Zargol's

Sorcerer Galaxy toward the Empire of Vast Ice, forming a continuous convoy that operated without pause through the massive space portal. The sight alone was enough to unsettle the entire region.

All forces paying attention to the unfolding situation watched these movements

with growing fear, analyzing every shipment, every fluctuation, every sign of escalation.

Everyone reached the same conclusion.

This sheer volume of spells, pearls, and resources was more than enough for

the Empire of Vast Ice to conquer the entire sector without doubt... especially

with Marshal Aro and his top commanders absent.

The balance of power had clearly shifted. And so, the entire sector held its breath.

They waited for the war to erupt. They waited for the first strike.

They waited for the inevitable collapse.

Yet, strangely... despite all the tension, despite all the preparation, despite the

overwhelming signs pointing toward conflict...

The expected war never came.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

Then months.

The convoys continued, the resources kept flowing, the armies remained

mobilized... but no attack was launched.

Confusion began to spread.

Speculation turned into unease, and unease into silent dread.

Something was wrong.

Something unseen was happening beneath the surface.

Then, after several months of continuous aid shipments, the Millennial Empire

of Vast Ice made an announcement that shook the entire region.

It had become a wing of the Grave Empire.

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