Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode-Chapter 465: Agreement

Hearing Clyde’s cold declaration, the chamber thickened with tension as if the very walls held their breath. The seven high council members stirred like stirred embers before a storm.

Vernik stood first. His aura flaring violently crimson, sharp like blades.

Madri followed, her energy rippling in golden arcs, furious and raw.

The bearded elf in the center —the one Clyde still didn’t know by name — rose slowly, and when he did, his face had changed. No longer calm but now carved into hard expression.

"You dare," he said, voice low and shaking, not with fear but with fury. "You dare walk in here and declare things as if you rule this hall?"

Maethion, from the third seat, only sighed, rubbing his temple with a weariness that suggested he had expected this.

Clyde chuckled softly, the sound like gravel underfoot. He stood unmoved as power bristled from all corners of the chamber.

"Oops," he said without sincerity, "looks like I misspoke."

The others bristled further, but he held up a single hand.

"What I meant," he continued, "is that many of the Celestials’ followers will be homeless soon. Their domains will collapse with their masters died. If you’re serious about opposing the higher beings, then we’ll need them. We shelter them."

But no one heard.

They weren’t listening. Rage had already clouded their minds. The insult had taken root too deep.

From the far right, a large figure in plated armor rose with thunderous intent.

He was old, broad-shouldered, with a silver beard tied in a warrior’s knot and scars etched into every exposed inch of skin. His heavy boots clanged against the stone as he strode forward.

"Hey! Galmur!" Maethion called out from his seat, voice urgent. "Stand down!"

But Galmur didn’t listen.

He loomed in front of Clyde, towering above him. His eyes burned with righteous anger.

"You dare speak like that in front of the High Council?" Galmur growled. "You come back from your little divine massacre and threaten us?"

Clyde didn’t flinch. He just sighed.

"I don’t want to cause more trouble," he said. "And I’m sorry for what I said. But I can’t tell you where I got this power. Not yet."

"Sorry?" Galmur growled deeper, drawing the massive sword from his back with one brutal motion. "Then I’ll take your arm for that, and we’ll call it even."

Clyde shook his head helplessly. "I knew this wouldn’t be easy."

With a snarl, Galmur raised the blade and swung with a war cry that shook the chandeliers above.

But Clyde didn’t move.

A black mist surged from beneath his cloak, writhing like sentient smoke, and caught the blade mid-air, stopping it with an unnatural hiss.

The air split with force.

"Not worth it," Clyde said coldly. "Back off, old man."

Galmur’s eyes widened in disbelief. But only for a second. Rage drowned out sense.

He raised his aura higher, magic crackling around his body like a storm about to detonate.

But he never got the chance to unleash it.

Clyde moved, just once a step forward and send a punch to the shoulder. It was precise and clean... and also destructive.

The sound was like a tree splitting.

CRACK.

Galmur’s right arm exploded in pain. Bone shattered. Muscle tore. The sword clanged to the floor as the man dropped to one knee, roaring in agony.

The council chamber erupted in chaos. Vernik surged forward, but Maethion leapt from his seat with a cry.

"Enough!" Maethion roared, casting a burst of blue light between the two. "Wr don’t need anymore of this!"

Clyde stood above Galmur’s broken form, his fist still smoking with residual power. His eyes were as cold and unmoved as winter stone.

"I warned you," he said.

Then he turned to the council, gaze sweeping each of them again with sharp and merciless look.

"If any of you think violence is the answer here, then I’m done talking," Clyde said.

And just like that, the silence returned. Taut, smothering, and uncertain.

Maethion knew he had to speak before the chamber shattered further under its own fury.

He stepped forward, placing himself between Clyde and the wounded Galmur.

His blue aura flared briefly, not as a threat but as a calming wave.

"Eorgen," Maethion said, turning his gaze to the bearded elf at the center. "Why don’t we at least listen to his suggestion?"

Eorgen’s face, still locked in its hard expression, didn’t shift. But his eyes flicked toward Maethion with a glint of hesitation.

"It’s not a loss," Maethion continued, his voice even but firm. "In fact, it might be a gain. We would gain warriors, people who’ve survived under the dominion of Celestials. They’re not weak. They’ve adapted and able to endured all this time."

He paused, sweeping his gaze across the others.

"They know how to survive in worlds built to crush them in Selectipn Stage. That’s the kind of strength we need."

Eorgen’s jaw tightened. Pride battled with reason behind his eyes. He had no desire to yield to Clyde, not after being challenged so openly.

But he also wasn’t blind. He had seen what Clyde did. Felt the weight of his presence.

The Fortress needed power and they didn’t have the luxury of turning away potential allies.

But still... he couldn’t just agree. Not directly at least.

So he turned to the rest of the council, his voice clipped. "What do the others say?"

One by one, the council members who had flared with power now dimmed. The pressure eased.

A white-robed woman with glowing eyes nodded. "If this is a strategic gain, I will not object."

Another who cloaked in deep green, spoke next. "So long as they are monitored and their allegiance tested, I have no worry."

Even Vernik remained silent, his eyes fixed on Clyde. No sneer now only calculation. Quietly, he folded his arms and looked away, as if that alone was his agreement.

Madri didn’t speak either, but she inclined her head slightly, golden sparks fading from her fingertips.

Eorgen exhaled through his nose and finally looked back to Clyde.

"This will be considered a unanimous decision," he said coldly. "But any threat from these refugees, and you will answer for it." ƒrēenovelkiss.com

Clyde grinned, not smug, but satisfied. "That’s fair."

He stepped back, cloak swaying behind him.

"Good. Then I’ll bring them in soon. We don’t have much time."

Without waiting for another word, he turned and strode from the chamber. The double doors groaned as they closed behind him.

The echoes of his departure faded, but the silence that followed still heavy.

Eorgen sat down slowly, the hardness in his features remaining. "This is going to change everything."

"His presence alone already changed everything," Maethion said.

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