Global Lords: Building the Strongest Civilization with SSS Rank Talent-Chapter 115: The Continental War (3) | Giving an Ultimatum to the Gods

Red dismissed the combat telemetry from the northern mountains and dragged the primary communication matrix to the center of his console.

He pulled up the archived footage from the western border. The video feed rendered in perfect clarity, showing the thousands of armored centaurs and enchanted infantry crossing the newly deployed steel bridges.

They cast their swords and shields into the corrosive mud, bowing their heads as they marched past the Kobold garrisons and into the safety of the Eastern Alliance.

He clipped the file and attached a live stream of the bioluminescent teal water rushing through the Continental Moat. The hyper-cellular regeneration properties of the Aegis Spores glowed brightly against the barren landscape, showcasing the impenetrable nature of his borders.

Opening the server-wide [ FORUM ] tab, Red bypassed the regional chat rooms and initiated a global, high-priority broadcast thread. The flashing cursor waited for his input. He rested his fingers over the obsidian keys, calculating the exact psychological pressure required to break the remaining mid-tier factions.

The encroaching glass-ash storms of the Void-Eater were already consuming the northern and western edges of the map, deleting entire civilizations from the game engine. The remaining deities were rapidly running out of time and territory.

He began typing, letting the clack of the keys echo through his isolated domain.

[ To the surviving pantheons of the Seventeenth Continent. The anomaly you call the Glitch is expanding. Your standard magical defenses cannot stop a server wipe, and your traditional armies cannot breach my borders. I control the only industrialized safe zone left on this map. ]

Red embedded the video file of the surrendering western vanguard directly below the text. The visual evidence of rival gods bending the knee and disarming their elite forces played on an infinite loop.

[ The Vanguard of the Western Marches crossed my bridges today. They surrendered their arms, signed the Vassalage Contract, and secured a future for their populations within the Aegis-Moat Defense Matrix. They will live. ]

He pulled up a script editor, coded a custom countdown timer widget, and linked it directly to the server’s master clock. He attached the widget to the bottom of the forum post.

[ I am offering a single opportunity for total assimilation. You have exactly one hour to submit your formal surrender and accept the Eastern Alliance Vassalage Contract. A thirty percent tax on raw materials and a ten percent Faith share is the price of survival.

Once the timer reaches zero, the steel bridges will retract permanently. Any faction caught outside my walls will be left to the glass-ash storms, and any force that attempts to cross the water will be processed into biological fuel for my foundries.

Remember, if any of you try to attack me, and then surrender because you are losing, there will be no mercy. Your time starts now! Choose carefully. ]

Red struck the execution key. The broadcast finalized, blasting a blaring crimson notification to every single active deity logged into the Void. The live timer appeared in the top corner of his primary monitor, ticking down from sixty minutes.

Leaning back on his throne, he steepled his fingers and watched the global chat feed instantly erupt into pure chaos. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

The timer hit fifty-two minutes. The global chat dissolved into pure panic as the first wave of minor gods broke under the psychological pressure and submitted to the Eastern Alliance Vassalage Contract.

Red watched the system screen update in real-time across his primary monitor. Forty-two separate pantheons folded in the span of three minutes. The population counter on his master console skyrocketed, adding one point two million new citizens to his empire.

Down at the western border, the steel bridges groaned under the extreme weight of the stampede. Thousands of refugees, armored infantry, and domesticated beasts shoved against each other to escape the encroaching glass-ash storms.

"Process them," Red commanded.

Elian and his human laborers formed a brutal gauntlet along the crossing. They wielded massive iron tongs and heavy sledgehammers, operating with absolute mechanical efficiency.

As the newly conquered soldiers crossed the bridge, the laborers ripped enchanted breastplates from their chests and confiscated glowing broadswords. The surrendered gear was thrown directly into mechanized transport carts heading for the Ash-Forge Crucible. Any soldier who resisted the confiscation received a shattered kneecap from a sledgehammer and was dragged across the border by their hair.

The empire required raw materials as the population kept increasing, and the thirty percent tax applied the second their boots hit the Leviathan-asphalt.

A localized transmission request flashed on Red’s console. The mid-tier sky gods who had launched the aerial armada just thirty minutes prior begged for entry. They offered their remaining vaults and surviving civilian populations in exchange for a pardon.

Red stared at the flashing text. He tapped the microphone icon. "You launched your strike. You lost. The penalty for failing to kill me is total biological processing."

He paused, letting the silence stretch across the audio feed.

"However, since your attack occurred before I established the current parameters, I will accept your surrender. March your surviving populations to the northern gates and submit to the Crucible’s intake protocols."

He cut the feed. The population counter on his master console spiked again, integrating another two hundred thousand civilians and their resource vaults into his total. The thirty percent tax immediately siphoned millions of units of stone, iron, and magical crystal directly into his storage matrix.

Red shifted his attention back to the primary monitor. The subterranean Omni-Web Radar Grid flared with a cluster of erratic white blips. A syndicate of assassin-gods had decided to test his territorial integrity. They deployed a strike team of elite Shadow-Weavers, attempting to tunnel deep beneath the moat to sabotage the Siphon-Locks from the inside.

The assassins relied on conventional stealth magic to hide their auras. They remained completely unaware that the fiber-optic roots of the Omni-Web tracked physical displacement and subterranean vibrations.

Red opened a new server-wide broadcast window. He captured the visual feed from the underground root network and projected it directly into the [ FORUM ].

"A lesson in border security," Red typed into the global chat box. "Watch the shadows."

Red’s territory, or rather, the entire eastern hemisphere was secured and covered by Red in such a way that any attempt to pass through it, by any means, were met with total failure.

He had spent an enormous amount of his DP and months perfecting everything, and now, it was time for the results.