Global Lords: Building the Strongest Civilization with SSS Rank Talent-Chapter 107: EMERGENCY CONTINENTAL SUMMIT

Before the terrifying reality of the deletion wave could fully settle, a heavy, gold-trimmed notification aggressively overwrote Red’s secondary monitor.

[ SYSTEM OVERRIDE: EMERGENCY CONTINENTAL SUMMIT ]

[ NEXUS OF TRUCE: VIRTUAL LOBBY GENERATED ]

[ INVITATION FORWARDED BY: SYLARA (RANK 17) ]

Red stared at the flashing prompt in absolute disbelief. He let out a harsh, exhausted breath.

"Are you kidding me?" Red grumbled, aggressively tapping his fingers against the console. "The entire continent is actively dissolving into base code, and you are still too introverted to answer a video call. Unbelievable. You literally rule a telepathic hive-mind, Sylara. Just talk to them."

He shook his head, thoroughly annoyed that the highest-ranking entity in the region had casually dumped the massive political burden entirely onto his terminal just to avoid making small talk.

"Fine," Red sighed, slamming the execution key to accept the transfer. "Let’s see how badly the heavyweights are panicking."

The dark void of his command center dissolved. Red’s interface projected a massive, circular digital amphitheater. A dozen colossal avatars hovered around the perimeter of the virtual space, representing the dominant alliances of the Western, Northern, and Southern territories.

Most of the projections took the form of blazing elemental phenomena or imposing, heavily armored titans, all proudly displaying high-tier Rank 11 and Rank 12 System markers.

Red entered the lobby using his standard, unassuming crimson-violet spiral as his avatar. His Rank 7 tag materialized cleanly above the floating symbol.

A heavy, grating voice echoed through the shared audio channel, belonging to a massive avatar composed of jagged glacial ice. "The Mycelium Queen refuses to answer the summons during a continental collapse? The East sends a Rank Seven proxy to a survival summit?"

"It is an insult," another voice sneered, this one originating from a shifting cloud of toxic yellow vapor. "We are losing entire mountain ranges by the hour. We need raw processing power and God-Tier miracles to stall the Glitch. A Rank Seven barely possesses the DP generation to maintain a bronze-age militia."

Red kept his audio feed muted. He rested his chin in his hand, staring at the glowing projections with a look of pure exhaustion.

’Bronze-age militia. Right. Tell that to the star-iron foundries currently pumping out heavy artillery.’

The glacial avatar shifted, bringing up a massive, shared projection of the continental map. The entire northern border was bleeding heavily into the magenta static of the Void-Eater.

"The structural integrity of the upper latitudes is failing rapidly," the glacial deity stated, tracing a heavy digital line downward across the map. "My southern borders will be compromised within the week. The Western territories are already experiencing severe code degradation. However, the Eastern hemisphere remains completely untouched by the anomaly."

The cloud of yellow vapor pulsed brightly. "The East is geographically isolated. It is also clearly undefended. If their supreme entity refuses to participate in a global defense strategy, they forfeit their territorial rights."

"Exactly," a third representative chimed in, their avatar taking the shape of a multi-armed mechanical construct. "We are wasting resources attempting to fight a software deletion. We need to initiate a mass migration. We can forcefully relocate our surviving populations and infrastructure into the Eastern ash plains. The local deities are mathematically inferior. A Rank Seven proxy cannot stall a combined invasion fleet."

The conference erupted into a calculated murmur of agreement. The powerful warlords were actively drafting a blueprint to invade his territory, blindly assuming the eastern lands were populated by weak, disorganized minor gods ripe for subjugation.

A cold, dark smile crept across Red’s face. They had absolutely no idea they were looking at a unified, heavily industrialized super-state backed by a continental radar network and an immortal, regenerating army.

"Please," Red whispered to himself in the empty command center. "March your starving populations right into my kill-zones. I could use the fertilizer."

Red watched the projected map as the high-tier warlords casually carved up his territory with digital markers. A full-scale invasion from three different hemispheres simultaneously would shatter his newly established supply lines and completely overwhelm his terraforming projects. He needed to break their morale and shatter their assumptions before a single troop transport crossed the border.

He tapped the console, unmuting his primary microphone.

Red’s crimson spiral avatar flared brightly, forcefully overriding the primary audio channel and drowning out the murmuring assembly.

"Please," Red said, his voice echoing through the lobby with a flat, chilling sincerity. "Initiate the mass migration. I highly encourage it."

The towering glacial avatar shifted, his massive ice-plates grinding together in visible confusion. "You dare mock a continental assembly, proxy?"

"A combined invasion fleet," Red said, his voice echoing through the lobby with absolute, chilling calm. "You are looking at a colored map and calculating the mathematics of a standard war. You assume the East is an empty sanctuary waiting to be colonized by desperate refugees."

The glacial avatar scoffed. "You speak out of turn, proxy."

"I am submitting a formal request for raw materials," Red replied, leaning closer to his terminal. He tapped his console, turning their own projected invasion arrows blood-red. "My automated sweepers are operating at a slight deficit this month. My subterranean chemical digesters require thousands of tons of fresh biomass. Marching your panicked, starving populations across my borders completely saves my harvesters the logistical headache of hunting you down."

A heavy, suffocating silence gripped the virtual lobby. The Rank 12 entities were entirely accustomed to glorious declarations of war and divine posturing, leaving them with absolutely no framework to process a deity who casually invited an invasion just to meet a mysterious manufacturing quota.

Red let his unblinking crimson spiral hover directly in the center of the amphitheater.

"The last deity who confidently marched an army into my territory was the Golden King, Aurelius. He possessed a Rank Nine core and a massive legion of heavily armored demigods. He no longer exists, and his belongings currently serve as the foundational gravel for my new highway system. His followers are currently providing the manual labor for my expansion, and his capital city is currently being dismantled to build my plumbing network." Red mixed some lies in truth and exaggerated.

The toxic yellow cloud flickered erratically. The name Aurelius carried massive weight across the server. They knew the Sun King was gone, but they didn’t know it was Red’s doing.