The network is burning.

Repeatedly, it was burning—the creation of the Emperor, the Mechanicals, with so much blood and sweat, was burning and crumbling in the wake of the Om Messiah. Years of hard work and countless expectations are now in ashes.

And all of this is in full view.

The tribune's fists clenched slowly, and the hellish light of fire illuminated his armor. He stood in front of the huge gray-white entrance door of the network with his twin swords, and did not say a word.

There are warning lights flashing overhead, noisy, but it should also be noisy. The rumbling tens of thousands of machines in the hall are gradually overloaded, and the towering, solid cliff-like walls are now being ravaged by electric arcs.

The white marble inevitably left scorched marks, and there was one pit after another, and the flag still fluttered, but for how long?

Ra looked up at the dome of the throne room, where a bright incandescent light was slowly falling, making her mouth dry and her blades trembling. He turned his head back to look at the trembling machines, and easily found the cause of their collapse.

The energy delivery pipes and converters could not carry the power gushing out of the network, so they turned their backs on their duties. But no one would blame them, not the priests, not the workers, neither would Ra.

At this moment, they are carrying some power that they cannot withstand, not psionic energy, but another power, another terrifying power far more cruel than psionic power.

As designers, his sovereign did not design this duty for them. One might ask why the emperor couldn't see this, but Ra said that no one could see everything in their entirety.

Not even his sovereign.

Predicting the future is like climbing a cliff with your bare hands, and every rock you step on looks very stable, but if you want to know the outcome, you can only test it by stepping on it with your whole body weight.

Ra silently raised his twin swords, ready for battle. The fire was getting stronger, and he knew what it meant, and the result was not surprising.

In just a few tens of seconds, a hot mist turned into a red stream by the flames poured out of the entrance of the net, drowning the loyalists in an instant.

The entire sacred throne was filled with the roar of the beast and the whispers of the devil at the moment. Before today, they knew fear, but now they do.

Normally, a creature has only one of two reactions to fear, one is to run away, and the other is to resist. While still in the tunnel, Ra saw the first, and he and the others now had to face the second.

It's funny, but the demons are trying to get a chance at it for themselves.

Ra's mind tingled at the thoughts, which he did not consider worthy of the noble word 'life,' and the anger that followed in his heart made him roar in the same way.

The fog continued to hit like a tsunami, wave after wave, but the Titan's roar rose again, as if some kind of omen. The Firebee Legion is not far from here, and none of the mechs want to stay away from this battlefield at this moment.

They began to do so, and the heavy firepower that the Mechonists had laid out in advance began to destruct at this moment, like a sacred but cruel ballad.

Explosive cannons, ion cannons, Seiko Avenger bombs - with the best and most reliable friend or foe identification system, they accurately hit the beasts trying to break out of the throne.

The rain of fire fell wildly, resounding in the mist, and even the darkness that should have obscured the light faded a lot, and most demons could not resist the fire, and one by one they died, annihilated, and the corpses did not dissipate as they did in the tunnels.

The rotten and foul-smelling aetheric flesh began to boil on the ground, and the killing had only just been carried out when a sea of blood was created in the throne room. But this was just the beginning, and more beasts were rising from the sea of blood.

With a hideous posture, armor and a sharp blade, it looks like another army. Along with their appearance, a wave of bloodthirsty desire also began to spread in everyone.

Even if it is just an insignificant slave laborer, at this moment, it blurs its set responsibilities in the chaos of data that comes out of nowhere. Instead of feeding ammunition to the artillery, they charged forward, raising their iron arms towards the enemy.

Ra saw it clearly at the forefront, as if he had seen a terrifying spiral from which no one could escape. Its intensity is gradually increasing, and its range is constantly expanding. A cold thought rushed into his mind, and it was an explanation, from Makado, the Palm Sealer.

+ The forces of chaos are non-discriminatory, pull. We turned Terra into an altar to summon a god, and that's the price we pay. +

+ What about support? +

The tribune asked coldly, and received an answer that was not too much for him to expect.

+ Stick with it. + Said the Palm Print.

+ We will fight to the last man. + Pull replied firmly.

+ There is no need to be so pessimistic, Your Majesty is fighting side by side with the gods, and the number of demons who can get away with it is not too many, and the power they can use is limited.+

There was a terrible calm in Makado's words, and his voice gradually subsided after these words. The coldness dissipated, and Ra returned to the blood-soaked reality.

Suppressing the killing desire in his chest, he began to issue orders for the army to assemble. He knew in his heart that the 'not too much' in the Palm Seal's words did not mean that the battle would be easy—he understood it, but there weren't too many people who could answer the order.

Precisely, it's not that they don't want to respond, but they can't.

The so-called 'not too many' demons have flooded every corner of the throne, and every second there are loyalists or demons dying silently. Everywhere there is a terrible battle, they are reefs, being washed away by the sea of demons.

Tighten your grip on your twin swords and start your active support. He's not going to sit still—but there's another question swirling in his mind.

Why is Konstantin Valdo nowhere to be seen?

The first to be helped by Ra and joined him was an army of cathars. There were only hundreds of people, covered in bruises, the supposed indestructible mechanical structure had been worn out, and biochemical fluids were oozing from the implants and the only remaining physical connections.

However, this did not prevent them from continuing to fight. Ra didn't ask about their status, he knew they didn't need such insults.

No member of the Mechonist could tolerate the glory of the Om Messiah being tarnished before their eyes. Ra did the same, with the same hatred in his heart as they did.

The throne is a testament to his sovereign ambitions and ideals, and it should be a great cause that can sustain humanity towards the light, even if the machinery within it has now collapsed, how can the demons be allowed to wreak havoc here?

He slashed coldly and sensibly, his bloodthirsty desire never rising again, once suppressed, as if someone was helping. Ra knew who was helping, and he thanked him, but he didn't know if the man could still hear him.

He wanted him to hear it.

With this in mind, he drew the twin swords in his hand, and the cruel weapons made for slaughter once again honorably fulfilled their forged mission, and their owners firmly plunged the twin swords into the head of a demon.

That thing should be dead—at least in Ra's considerations. It wasn't the first time he had killed these inanimate, and he knew that even they would die by decapitation. But this thing didn't, or rather, didn't die immediately.

It was still staring at Ra with those scarlet eyes, and there was nothing but madness and bloodlust in its pinpoint-like pupils, and there was no fear at all.

It should be scary.

Ra stared into its eyes, but there was a strange burst of crazy laughter full of bloodthirsty desire.

The tribune gritted his teeth, and a deeper hatred began to swell—it was you, and it was you, the ugly beings who claimed to be gods

He spun his wrists and pulled the twin swords, brutally causing them to cut off the demon's head. Its flesh fell to the ground and began to add to the boundless sea of blood.

Pulling the horizontal sword and looking around, everyone in the eye was churning in the sea of blood, especially his siblings, the forbidden army in golden armor was rightfully at the forefront, so he faced the demon army that stood up from the sea of blood.

As he stared at them, Ra's gaze felt a tingling sensation that spread to the back of his head, as if two men were trying to cut his brain with cold, rust-strewn hand saws.

In the midst of the pain, his mind was able to leap to a higher realm—and that was not a good thing, for he saw a mad eye floating in the middle of this sea of blood, gazing at all the battles in the throne room.

Ra looked at it, and it seemed to notice it, and stared back with a focused gaze. The tribune's eyes widened, and the bloodthirsty desire that had been suppressed in his chest suddenly jumped up at this moment, breaking free from his shackles.

Ben was held tightly in his hands, and the twin swords that were peacefully waiting for the next killing began to tremble at this moment - it was not just thirsting for demonic blood.

No, this must not be allowed to happen, grit his teeth, start trying to restrain that desire, start a brutal tug-of-war, and he is by no means alone.

A thunderous sword roared from behind him, with supreme anger in it. A sword slashed across Ra's side face and emerged from the void faster than anything else—it glowed, piercing deep into the eye.

The sea of blood was stagnant for a short moment. Then, as if the end of the world light erupted from the sword, the sea of blood roared, and the waves were raised.

Ra heard the owner's voice unmistakably in the eye, but the echo of the roar still made him vomit a mouthful of blood.

In the trance of his injury, he actually felt someone gently pat him on the shoulder, with comfort, but also with supreme majesty and calm.

The tribune jerked back, but he saw only Konstantin Waldo.

The marshal of the Forbidden Army held a spear in his left hand, but his right hand was empty, and green smoke was emitting. The armor melted and turned into a charcoal-like blackening along with his arm itself.

Konstantin nodded at him.

"He's done." said the marshal of the forbidden army. "Let's start winning for him."

Pulled the helmet behind a loud laugh.

There is one more chapter.

(End of chapter)