Published at 24th of October 2026 9:24 am

Chapter 3224 First Thunder

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Time passed.

Time passed as the world moved along the predictable path.

The gods were distant; the people were mortal.

The Empire of War continued to grow, poised to devour all mortal realms one day. And what would happen next?

Nobody knew.

Some believed that the endless conquest would end, ushering in an era of harmony and peace — on that day, the Empire of War would become the Empire of Life.

Most, however, held a different belief.

They believed that once all mortal realms were conquered, the Dragon would lead his triumphant warriors as they ascended to the heavens to wage a glorious war of conquest against the Divine Realms as well.

But no one truly knew, since no one could know the future.

Except for those who could.

There were prophets among mortal men. Some, like the sybils, heard the voices of the gods. Some were sensitive to the torrents of fate. Some had gleaned the secrets of the world, and could therefore predict the movements of its parts.

The most famous of the seers was rumored to be the Oracle of Theta, who ruled a distant realm. The peculiar people of that peaceful realm did not bow to the gods — instead, they worshipped fate itself. The Oracle was shrouded in mystery, since they had only ever spoken to the supplicants through the mouths of their three disciples, the priestesses of fate.

So, many believed that the Oracle did not exist and was a mere myth.

If the Oracle did exist, though...

They would have known that even if nobody had realized it yet, the winds of change were already blowing across the mortal realms, and a terrible storm was brewing. The first thunderclap of the calamitous storm was ready to shake the world.

On a day like any other, two messengers arrived beneath two thrones.

One of them had crossed the great bridge and knelt in front of the pristine white gates of the Jade Palace, enduring the bitter cold in silence. Soon, the gates opened, and he was invited into the beautiful depths of the Queen's court.

After receiving the hospitality of the Jade Court, washing himself in a crystal pool, and enjoying a lavish meal, he was ushered into a great hall. There, a white throne towered above the floor, illuminated by torrents of light that poured through the translucent walls.

A young woman sat on the throne, her mesmerizing features caught between adolescence and adulthood. She wore a simple tunic of white silk, and her eyes were like two radiant pools of molten gold, glistening with mischievous sparks. Despite her breathtaking beauty and young age, something about her was eerily inhuman, deeply sinister, making the man shiver and lower his gaze.

Noticing his trepidation, she smiled. The twist of her crimson lips was indescribably alluring, and her golden eyes were full of mirth.

Standing up from the throne, the woman walked down the steps barefoot and stopped in front of the man. He did not dare to look at her — in fact, he shut his eyes tightly, terrified to catch a glimpse of her tunic's hem.

“Well? I was told you have a message for me."

The sound of her voice was enchanting. The man drew a deep breath, then nodded carefully.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The young woman — the gorgeous monster, Jade Queen — seemed to have run out of patience.

“Let's hear it then!"

The man lowered his head and exhaled slowly.

“The message is this, my lady..."

He fell silent, as if gathering his courage. Eventually, he bit his lip and shouted:

"It's time! Pay up."

After that, there were a few gasps, and then a long silence.

The maids and the courtiers of the Jade Palace froze, shocked by the sacrilege. Their faces turned pale, and they threw frightened gazes at their queen.

The man did not see their reactions, though, since he still had his eyes closed. He tensed, feeling cold sweat rolling down his face.

The Jade Queen did not say anything, either.

After a few seconds, however, she suddenly exploded with laughter.

Her laughter was pure and melodious like the sweetest of songs.

Eventually, she forced out a few words through laughter:

“Ah, that heartless woman... did she finally remember that I exist? After ignoring me for centuries. Took her long enough!"

Turning away, she climbed the steps and sat back on her throne.

Looking at the trembling man with a fond smile, she hesitated a little, then said generously:

"I've decided not to eat you."

Then, she leaned forward a little.

"What else did she say?"

...On the same day, the capital of the War Empire was shaken by a tremor. It was a vast city that sprawled under the azure sky, climbing the slopes of seven tall hills. At the heart of it, an imposing tower soared into the air, its tip almost touching the clouds. The Dragon was said to rest on the top of the tower, observing his empire from its great height.

The tower itself was the Temple of War, and in front of its empty throne, a young man was sitting on the stone steps, looking down at the prayer hall with a heavy gaze. The man was handsome and broad-shouldered, his face seemingly chiseled from the finest marble. If anyone were to sculpt the ideal of masculine beauty, they would fail to create a statue more striking than this man — his features were clean and severe, and his scarlet eyes were full of cold will.

Most of all, he possessed a chilling presence. A presence that was ferocious like a beast and cold like forged steel, full of both triumph and bitterness, inevitable and insurmountable, impossible to overcome. If not for the fact that the man was suppressing it, everyone who faced him would have been crushed or driven to their knees.

It was as if he was surrounded by a ghostly song of war horns and the clangor of countless blades, by the inescapable scent of blood and deafening wails of sorrow... But also by the essence of pride, courage, and unbreakable willpower.

He was the Son of the Dragon, the Child of War, the most heroic warrior of the Empire and the commander of its endless legions. He was the Spirit of Victory.

A moment ago, the Spirit of Victory watched as the gates of the Temple were thrown open, and an uninvited guest entered the prayer hall.

The guest was a Transcendent knight wearing lustrous armor, his gaze clear and undaunted, utterly devoid of fear or reverence.

As if he was not bothered by the fact that he was standing in front of a god.

The priests in the hall — all seasoned warriors and veterans of myriad campaigns — glanced at the intruder with deadly animosity. If not for the Child of War, who silently commanded them to stand down, they would have already torn the intruder apart.

After all, no one had ever dared to act so brazenly in the Temple.

But the Spirit of Victory wanted to hear what the man had to say.

More than that, he had sensed a subtle strangeness about this unexpected visitor. He knew that the knight was not what he seemed.

Stopping beneath the throne, the knight bowed slightly.

“l am Gilead, the Summer Knight. I bring a message to the rulers of the Empire."

The Spirit of Victory studied him silently. He felt a deep history etched into the spirit of this knight. countless battles, myriad triumphs — far more than any of the Transcendent champions of the Empire could boast of... and very few defeats. Which should have been impossible.

There were simply not enough battles in the world that the Empire was not involved in, and a warrior of such storied excellence would not have remained unknown.

The Spirit of Victory felt an emotion he had long forgotten.

Was it confusion? Was it excitement?

He was not sure, but he wanted to find out.

“Who sent the message?"

His voice resounded in the prayer hall like the call for battle.

The knight who had called himself Gilead lingered for a moment, then answered calmly:

"It was sent by the Oracle of Theta."

Theta...

The Spirit of Victory knew of that realm, of course, just like he knew of all other realms. It was a distant land, a peaceful land... and insignificant land. A land that lacked strong warriors, but was known for its art, culture, philosophy, and learned people.

Despite its remoteness and weakness, goods from Theta were popular in the Empire, as were its people — the nobles competed for who could hire a Thetian tutor for their children, while Thetian courtesans, while few, were famed for their beauty and artistic skill.

That feeble realm had not been conquered yet, but its fall into the hands of the Empire was only a matter of time. The campaign would not be long or difficult, either — while it could offer the warriors of the Empire riches, it could not offer them glory. Theta remained independent, for now, only because it was so remote.

Well, and of course... there was the Oracle. There were very few Supremes who had not bowed to the Empire left in the world, and the Oracle was one of the few.

Even if her kingdom was weak and feeble, she still deserved some respect.

The Spirit of Victory nodded.

"I will receive the message."

The man who had called himself Gilead bowed again, and then pulled a sealed scroll from his armor. An attendant took the scroll and ascended the steps of the altar, offering it respectfully to his god.

The Spirit of Victory broke the seal and unfurled the scroll, reading its contents quietly.

Then, his face was suddenly split by a smile. Throwing his head back, he laughed.

The priests were startled by the sound, since they had never heard him laugh before — even though some of them had served the Child of War for centuries. There was only one sentence on the scroll, written in the runes of an ancient language. The runes read:

“The Kingdom of Theta declares war on the Empire."

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