Global Lords: Building the Strongest Civilization with SSS Rank Talent-Chapter 134: Into the Whispering Canyons, Soul Erosion

Iron-Scale marched into the western plains.

Hundreds of thousands of defeated soldiers huddled in sprawling, disorganized camps across the cratered landscape. Cybernetically enhanced dwarves sat beside pale blood-cultists and shivering avian-hybrids. The massive horde parted, clearing a path as the Inquisitor approached the center of the encampment.

The Lizard-men fanned out behind Iron-Scale, gripping their Star-Iron spears. A towering cyber-dwarf elder stepped forward from the masses and bowed his head respectfully.

"The Ka-Lam-Tee claims this workforce," Iron-Scale hissed, his pneumatic respirator clicking. "You will be categorized by your biological and mechanical utility. The Spiral wastes no potential."

Iron-Scale pointed a metal claw at Fin-bar to carry out the rest of the things. "I don’t want to be the one to mess this up."

Fin-Bar looked at the kneeling cyber-dwarves. "Your metal flesh resists extreme heat. You will report to the Bastion foundries and extract Star-Iron from the deep veins." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

He pivoted toward the robed blood-cultists. "You understand flesh and organic manipulation. You will manage the bio-vats and process the alchemical runoff."

Finally, he turned his visor toward the avian-hybrids. "You possess aerial mobility. You will act as couriers and scouts across the newly conquered grid."

The dwarf elder nodded, his mechanical joints whirring. "We accept our functions."

"There is a secondary objective," Iron-Scale added, tapping his spear against the bedrock. "The Spiral seeks ancient artifacts. Slabs of dark stone that eat light, covered in chaotic runes. You lived in these lands for centuries. Share your historical archives."

The dwarf elder shifted his weight. He glanced at the surrounding cultists before looking back at the Kobold. "You speak of the Black Juju," the dwarf ground out through a rusted vocal processor. "The old texts mention a cursed rock. It rests in the Whispering Canyons near the dead border. The scribes say it rots the mind of anyone who looks upon it."

Iron-Scale pulled a roll of parchment from his belt and tossed it into the mud. "Mark the exact coordinates on the map."

"Great." Red rubbed his hands in excitement. "If it turns out to be another fragment, I will have four. So hypothetically, I only need to find the last one. And hopefully, it’s in the north and Gorak finds leads about it."

Far to the north, Gorak and his armored Troglodytes entered the freezing northern ridges. The barbarian elders knelt and offered the Warlord frozen pelts and weapon trophies. Gorak tossed the tribute aside.

To show them the true nature of the Ka-Lam-Tee’s power, Gorak grabbed a massive pickaxe and shattered their central true-ice monument in a single swing.

The barbarians shielded their faces from the flying ice shards. Gorak dropped the pickaxe and pointed a bone-plated finger at the massive, fur-clad warriors.

"Your bodies resist the frost," Gorak growled. "You possess the strength to break mountains. You will carve the northern bedrock. You will lay the stone foundations for the Ka-Lam-Tee’s iron paths. Anyone who refuses becomes fuel for the Bastion’s furnaces."

The barbarian elder bowed his head until his forehead touched the freezing mud. "We will dig for the Spiral."

Gorak stepped closer, looming over the kneeling elder. "The Lord searches for a stone. Blacker than the night sky. Covered in scratched marks. Some call it juju rock. Tell me where it hides."

The elder blinked, his brow furrowing as he looked at the other elders. They all shook their heads.

"We know of no such stone, Warlord," the elder rasped. "The frozen wastes hold only ice and dead beasts. There are no black rocks with marks in our histories."

Gorak snorted, a plume of white steam venting from his massive jaws.

He cracked his knuckles.

"Then grab your tools," Gorak commanded. "The digging starts now."

Red let out a disappointed sigh.

"Well, even the Crag-Goliath didn’t know about the fossilized leviathan or the ??? fragment inside its body. I guess, I will focus entirely on the northern frontier and inspect it thoroughly."

Iron-Scale marched at the head of the strike team into the Whispering Canyons. The towering stone walls cast long shadows over the cracked earth. The dwarf elder led the way, flanked by four elite Lizard-men gripping heavy Star-Iron spears. As they ventured deeper into the gorge, the natural rock gave way to a terrifying visual maze.

Chaotic, spiraling runes scarred every inch of the canyon walls. Ancient explorers had clawed the marks deep into the stone before completely losing their minds, and the sheer volume of the carvings turned the environment into a psychological trap.

The psychic radiation of the dark stone leaked heavily into the canyon. The dwarf elder stumbled and gripped his thick skull with both hands, his mind struggling against the invisible pressure. The Lizard-men dropped to their knees, hissing and scratching wildly at their own scaly heads.

Up in the Void, Red watched the expedition’s telemetry plummet on his primary screen.

[ STATUS DEBUFF: SOUL EROSION DETECTED. ]

[ ALL ORGANIC UNITS SUFFERING -70% STRENGTH, -90% INTELLIGENCE. ]

Iron-Scale possessed almost no organic empathy. His fanatical devotion to the Spiral shielded his mind from the worst of the psychic interference.

The Kobold Inquisitor ignored the mounting pressure entirely. He adjusted his heavy Star-Iron helmet and dug his scaly claws into the dwarf’s shoulder, physically forcing the towering guide forward.

"Keep walking," Iron-Scale hissed.

They reached the end of the canyon and entered a massive central cavern paved entirely in fused glass. A colossal web of hardened alchemical resin stretched across the vaulted ceiling. The slab of dark stone rested in the center of the web, actively absorbing all ambient light.

Suddenly, the shadows shifted violently above the fragment.

A Pre-Calamity Deep-Earth Arachnid detached itself from the resin and plummeted to the floor.

The guardian was completely feral. It possessed no living organs or functioning biology, and its thick carapace was split open to leak a viscous black sludge.

The fragment’s psychic radiation had supercharged the dead husk over millennia, turning the ancient spider into a rotting puppet driven entirely by aggressive static.

"A zombie spider filled with radiation, great. How do you kill an already dead being?" Red asked himself in the void.

"The answer is to beat it until nothing remains."