Because of D3's reply, Chiron understood it was an ergency.
He lifted a single hand.
The air before him folded inward, layers of space peeling apart like wet parchnt. A portal blood open—deep crimson at its edges, black at its heart—its surface rippling as if made from liquid shadow and bloodlight intertwined.
He stepped through without hesitation.
The world inverted for a breath—
—and then stabilized.
He erged onto solid ground bathed in a strange, reverent stillness.
Waiting for him was the land spirit of his precious land.
The orc with three heads.
D3.
Her massive form knelt imdiately. Three tusked faces lowered in unison, her enormous fra bowing with a reverence that carried genuine devotion rather than fear. The earth beneath her knees humd faintly, acknowledging both master and spirit.
Chiron inclined his head once.
That was all.
D3 rose with a low, rumbling groan and stepped aside as Chiron walked forward.
The castle greeted him next.
From the last ti he had stood here, the change was profound.
No longer did it resemble the crude, jagged stronghold of piled stone and bone that orcish hands had first raised.
Now it stood very refined with vast walls of dark stone reinforced with glowing runic seams, towers sculpted with symtry and intent, battlents crowned with sigils that breathed faintly in rhythm with the land itself.
This was no longer an orc's fort.
This was a true castle.
Behind it, separated by layered wards and blood-seals, lay Chiron's blood pool—a vast basin of roiling crimson essence, thick with tallic scent and pulsing vitality. It was there that the lustbloods were trained.
Savage ever lustful beasts.
Monsters forged of hunger, blood, and a lack of discipline unless it was Chiron's words.
Their distant roars echoed faintly even now, vibrating through the stone like a heartbeat beneath the earth.
Beyond that, at different places far ahead, scattered across the precious land, the other orc tribes thrived. Camps, forges, ritual grounds—each oriented toward the castle like pilgrims around a holy site. Smoke rose in thin columns. Drums beat in slow, reverent rhythms.
Worship flowed constantly.
Faith poured into him like an unseen river.
But then—
The sky changed.
Clouds thickened overhead with unnatural speed, spiraling inward as if drawn by a colossal unseen hand. Thunder rolled—not the blunt sound of weather, but sothing deeper, layered, carrying judgnt within its echo.
Lightning split the heavens.
Not white.
Not blue.
But streaked with faint gold and violet, veins of divine wrath crawling across the clouds. The air grew heavy, saturated with spiritual pressure so dense it pressed against the lungs and skin alike.
The wind howled.
It carried sparks of raw spiritual energy, sharp enough to sting, tearing loose banners and whipping cloaks violently. The land itself trembled in response, as if bracing.
Chiron stopped.
He looked up.
The Heavenly Tribulation was finally coming.
They had delayed it far longer than should have been possible. He had used rituals, sacrifices, even new tricks like faith manipulation, land concealnt. Every thod had been stretched to its limit.
There would be no further delay.
Unless—
Unless he were already a god.
But he wasn't.
Not yet.
He had hoped that he would have gotten the Guardian Totem from the Cardinal Forbidden Zone of Pride so that he could use it.
But now, that would be used for other things.
Chiron turned his head slightly toward D3.
"Did you prepare what I asked for?" he said calmly.
All three of her mouths opened as one, releasing a gravelly, layered voice.
"Prepared," she groaned. "The gifts from the elven lands…werd used well. Very well."
Chiron nodded.
Satisfied.
It was weird to see all three heads agree on a subject but Chiron had requested it and they obeyed.
"Then," he said softly, "let us see what Heaven has in store for us."
He felt no fear.
Only calculation.
He had read many of those ancient records. Studied the patterns.
And gotten an Understanding ofHeaven's cruelty and its monotony.
So of the punishnts were
Pools of blood summoned from nothingness, ant to drown and corrupt.
Heaven-core beasts born directly from divine essence, immune to mortal logic and ans. So that way defeating them was nearly impossible.
Armies of the undead dragged down from forgotten battlefields.
Soul-lightning ant to erase cultivation foundations.
Judgnt winds that flayed flesh and spirit alike.
False visions designed to fracture the mind.
He had planned for all of it.
Because this land—
This precious land—
Was his primary source of faith.
He had gone so far as to bring ordinary people from the outside world here, sheltering them, letting them live, letting them believe.
Faith was being harvested carefully, and constantly.
The heavens rumbled again.
Deeper this ti.
The clouds twisted into an enormous spiral, and for a brief mont, it felt as if sothing looked back.
As if eyes opened within the storm.
The ground shook.
Castle walls vibrated, ancient stone groaning under pressure. Runes embedded within the walls flared to life one after another—crimson, erald, gold—responding instinctively to the approaching judgnt. Defensive arrays activated, wind barriers forming, blood-seals locking into place.
The storm winds scread past the towers, carrying divine pressure mixed with wild spiritual currents that made the very air shimr.
The land braced.
The castle stood defiant.
And Chiron remained unmoving beneath the roiling heavens, cloak snapping violently behind him, eyes calm and calculating as the first true sign of Heaven's wrath began to descend.
But what ca was not what Chiron expected. In fact, in all the books he had read, there was only one ti ntion that such a thing happened.
However, for him that had a blessed land that was thousands of years old, it happened.
But still, it shouldn't have.
Then again, Chiron believed that this result was because he owned the place.
This was Fate attacking him.
He gave a bitter smirk. "So that's how you want to play. What a very ssed up move."
He stepped forward to et the Challenger...
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