Chapter 781: Goal: Invasion
Freya was speechless.
The Viking Empress had faced the same dilemma now confronting the Graecian Emperor. Yet while the old ruler of the north had been paralyzed by uncertainty, unable to find a clear solution, Emperor Alexandro—the White Death—had already envisioned a brutal but decisive path forward.
It was merciless. Uncompromising. A course of action that would undoubtedly result in countless innocent lives being lost. But it was also efficient and effective. It would ensure that whatever foreign power was attempting to sink its claws into Graecia would fail—permanently.
Unfortunately, Freya understood that this path was not available to just anyone.
The Viking Empress, for all her might, lacked the military authority, political structure, and sheer power to do what Alexandro could. This wasn’t simply a matter of determination—it was one of capability. Only a supreme powerhouse at the height of his dominance, like the White Death, could execute such a plan.
With a quiet sigh, Freya shook her head and exhaled slowly. She pushed aside the thoughts of her homeland, no longer allowing memories of Valhalla to cloud her focus. That Chapter of her life was closed.
She was no longer a Viking Princess.
She was now the Queen of the Xaos Kingdom—an independent dominion under the Graecian Empire—and it was her solemn duty to treat this land as her home. She would defend it, protect it, and shape its future with fire and steel.
Alexandro nodded almost imperceptibly, as though acknowledging the internal resolution she had made. Then his gaze shifted from Freya to Vlad.
"Step forward," he commanded.
Vlad—the True Depravita of Wrath—stepped ahead and bowed deeply, adopting a solemn demeanor. He knew he was about to be entrusted with vital knowledge, and perhaps a mission that could change the fate of entire worlds.
"With Maximo, we had decided that if you returned safely from Valhalla, you would join our core war council," Alexandro said. "But your accomplishments in the realm of the Vikings have far exceeded our expectations. You achieved a level of power equivalent to a Half-Step Lord—an extraordinary feat, worthy of myth."
Vlad lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment but did not remain silent.
"Emperor, I thank you for your words," he said. "However, I must clarify something important."
Alexandro raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as Vlad continued.
"I can reach an extreme Superior Legend battle level by fusing with another member of my kind. It puts immense stress on my soul, but it’s a risk I can manage—at least in times of war."
Vlad paused briefly, ensuring he had the Emperor’s full attention, then went on.
"But to attain Half-Step Lord might, I must fuse with three of them. That drastically affects the overall strength of my army, and the toll on my soul is so great that I would likely fall into a coma for weeks—perhaps even longer."
It was a rare act of transparency—but a necessary one. Allowing enemies to believe you were invincible was strategy. Deceiving your allies during war preparations was foolish. Especially when those allies were about to fight alongside you in a conflict of galactic scale.
Marshal Maximo smiled as he listened. The young man spoke with wisdom far beyond his years. He wasn’t just a warrior—he was a strategist, a general in the making. He was already thinking about long-term consequences, resource efficiency, and operational readiness, even while discussing power that most cultivators could only dream of achieving.
The Marshal glanced at the Emperor, his eyes glowing with something meaningful.
The White Death understood the signal. He nodded slightly and addressed Vlad directly.
"You’ve shown not only strength, but clarity and foresight—traits fitting of a true general," Alexandro said. "I understand your limitations. That’s why I’ve prepared something to help."
He paused for effect, then added:
"In my personal armory, there are Divine Treasures—ones specifically crafted to enhance and protect the soul. With them, your fusions will become smoother... and far less dangerous."
Vlad’s eyes widened.
Divine Treasures came in many forms, with a wide range of abilities. But treasures capable of fortifying the soul—of stabilizing spiritual energy—were almost unheard of. So rare, in fact, that Vlad hadn’t even been sure they existed outside of myth.
Yet if the White Death truly possessed such a relic... it would change everything. With that kind of artifact, Vlad could call upon his most powerful form without fear of collapse. He could lead battles personally, at full strength, without sacrificing weeks of recovery.
Still, he did not allow his excitement to cloud his focus. A gift of this magnitude would surely come with a responsibility just as great.
Alexandro gave him that exact moment of reflection. And when he saw determination burning once again in Vlad’s eyes, he continued.
"Our goal is simple," the Emperor said coldly. "The death of Pompeyo. The eradication of the Zanis Family. The destruction of their homeworld. And the complete disintegration of the Zanis Association."
The room seemed to darken at the weight of those words.
"This will not be a quick strike," he continued. "It will be an interstellar war—one that will unfold in stages."
The Depravitas listened closely. They had fought in great wars, seen entire continents burn, and survived trials beyond reason. But an interstellar war was a different beast altogether. It required strategy, patience, and coordination across multiple planets, systems, and possibly even dimensions.
"Our first move," Alexandro said, "is to lay siege to the Zanis homeworld. But this won’t be a traditional siege. What we’ll actually do is take over the surrounding systems—worlds under Zanis control that serve as defense lines and resource hubs. Once those fall, we isolate the core."
He turned to Vlad.
"You will be in charge of one of those invasions."
Vlad clenched his fists—not in fear, but focus. Conquering an entire planet was no small task. He had done it once before, but taking a world already fortified and held by an enemy was an entirely different challenge. Still, his resolve was unshakable. A hundred plans were already forming in his mind.
"Your first move," Marshal Maximo began, his tone as sharp as a blade, "will be to cut all communications between the target world and the Zanis homeworld. Simultaneously, you must disable every active teleportation formation on the planet."
He paused, giving Vlad time to process the weight of the mission before continuing.
"Of course, this won’t prevent Legends from escaping the planet entirely. Some may still attempt to flee through the Void Between Worlds. But reaching the nearest stronghold through the Void will take them several weeks, even at top speed. By then, secrecy will no longer matter. We’ll be in a state of full-scale war."
Vlad nodded slowly, eyes narrowing in concentration. He could already see the logistics forming in his mind—cutting supply lines, choking command structures, shutting down energy grids. This was not a battle—it was a precision strike to dismantle a planet’s defenses from within.
Maximo stepped forward slightly, his voice dropping to a confidential tone.
"We’ll supply you with everything you need to succeed. That includes the equipment necessary to sever communication systems and, more importantly, intelligence on the locations of every known teleportation formation. However—execution will fall entirely on you. No reinforcements. No backup. The success of this phase hinges on your team alone."
Vlad turned toward the Marshal, offering a firm nod. The plan was growing clearer with every word. But his focus then shifted to Emperor Alexandro, whose imposing presence seemed to anchor the room itself.
"It will be an honor to lead this invasion in the name of Graecia," Vlad said, his tone calm but filled with fire. "And I will do everything in my power to ensure success. That said—my confidence hinges on one critical factor."
He paused for just a heartbeat.
"I speak, of course, under the assumption that I will not be facing Pompeyo himself."
His words might have sounded cautious—perhaps even fearful—to someone unfamiliar with war. But both Alexandro and Maximo immediately recognized the wisdom behind them. Rather than posturing with false bravado, Vlad was showing the level-headed awareness of a seasoned commander.
Overconfidence would be disastrous.
And admitting one’s limits, especially when facing a Lord-class opponent, was not weakness—it was prudence.
A glint of approval flashed in Alexandro’s eyes.
"You don’t have to worry about Pompeyo," the Emperor said, voice low and absolute. "I will personally monitor his movements. If he dares to leave the Zanis homeworld—if he takes even one step toward interfering with your mission—I will end him myself. His death will mark the beginning of our war in earnest."
A small smile formed at the corner of Vlad’s lips.
Only a Lord could face another Lord—and from the quiet certainty in the White Death’s voice, Vlad had no doubt that Alexandro was fully capable of ending the Zanis Patriarch. That assurance, more than any resource or strategy, was what allowed the plan to solidify in Vlad’s mind.
He gave a final nod, his eyes locked on both the Emperor and Marshal.
"I understand. I am ready."