Global Lords: Building the Strongest Civilization with SSS Rank Talent-Chapter 160: The Strongest vs The Supreme
Iron-Scale approached the towering gates of the City of Spiral while his new beast-kin recruits trailed nervously behind him. His reputation was well known across every corner of the Seventeenth Continent.
While Gorak held the title of the absolute strongest physical entity in the Vanguard, Iron-Scale, however, commanded a flawless success rate in battle through sheer, calculating ruthlessness.
Most citizens only knew him through terrifying rumors told around campfires. Those who actually recognized his interlocking metallic scales immediately dropped to their knees to show respect.
The guards at the gate slammed their fists over their hearts and hastily cleared a wide path for the supreme military commander.
He handed his newly acquired fighters over to the quartermasters and proceeded directly toward the inner palace to register themselves and start their training.
Iron-Scale navigated the sprawling stone corridors until he reached the open-air central training grounds, where a massive crowd of soldiers surrounded the sunken fighting pit.
Warlord Gorak stood in the center, currently engaged in a brutal sparring match with the Vanguard’s most skilled human champion.
The human swung a heavy broadsword with lethal speed. Gorak simply caught the bare blade with his Star-Iron gauntlet. He shattered the weapon with a casual squeeze and backhanded the champion across the arena into the dirt.
The crowd erupted into cheers for the unstoppable juggernaut as he won yet another spar.
Suddenly, Iron-Scale stepped to the edge of the viewing balcony above the pit. He vaulted over the stone railing and dropped directly into the arena. He landed silently in the dust opposite the massive warlord.
The surrounding soldiers instantly fell completely quiet as the predatory aura of the Kobold washed over the training grounds.
"Oh, look who is back for some beating!" Gorak cracked his armored neck while letting out a deep, rumbling laugh. "The supreme commander finally returns to the capital. I suspected the western beast-kin might have swallowed you whole."
Iron-Scale drew his sleek sword and dropped into a low crouch. "The western frontier is perfectly secure. I only hope your comfortable domestic life has not dulled your reflexes, Warlord."
Gorak charged forward with terrifying speed for his massive size, bringing his heavy Star-Iron gauntlet down in a crushing overhead strike. Iron-Scale simply stepped out of the impact zone while firing a clockwork spool into the arena wall.
The high-tensile wire zipped him away just as the Troglodyte’s fist pulverized the stone floor.
"Your moves are entirely predictable," Iron-Scale noted calmly from his elevated position. He kicked off the wall and launched himself directly at the giant.
His blade became a blur of motion as he aimed precise strikes at the microscopic gaps between Gorak’s bone plates. Sparks flew constantly while the agile Kobold danced around the heavy warlord.
Gorak swung devastating hooks to crush the smaller fighter. However, he only managed to graze the Kobold’s hardened metallic scales due to Iron-Scale’s relentless speed.
"Your tiny blade barely scratches my armor," Gorak grunted. He stomped his massive foot into the dirt to create a violent shockwave across the entire arena.
The sudden tremor threw Iron-Scale off balance for a fraction of a second. Gorak seized the opening and lunged forward to grab the Kobold in his massive grip.
Fortunately, Iron-Scale twisted in mid-air to fire his second spool directly onto Gorak’s incoming gauntlet. The retracting wire pulled the Kobold smoothly over the Troglodyte’s head. Iron-Scale pressed the flat of his blade directly against the back of Gorak’s exposed neck upon landing softly on the ground.
"Speed dictates the absolute flow of battle," Iron-Scale whispered near the Warlord’s ear.
Gorak chuckled and raised his heavy hand in concession. "I yield the point. The Vanguard remains razor sharp."
Suddenly, a human militiaman sprinted into the arena to bow deeply before the two commanders.
"Forgive the intrusion," the breathless soldier announced loudly. "Prophet Elian requests your presence in the throne chamber immediately. The diplomatic vessel from the Second Continent has crossed our outer perimeter."
Iron-Scale sheathed his sword while retracting his grappling wire. He shared a brief, calculating look with Gorak. The one-month deadline had officially expired, and the global server had finally arrived at their shores.
Iron-Scale and Gorak marched into the grand throne chamber. The sprawling room was a masterpiece of architecture, built with heavy stone pillars and lined with the banners of the Vanguard. It was changed completely to how it originally was. In fact, the entire city of the Spiral had no resemblance to the Sun Spire it was years ago.
At the far end of the hall sat the empty, towering obsidian throne.
Prophet Elian stood near a massive tactical map table set up in the center of the chamber. He wore his heavy combat armor and gripped his Star-Iron holy symbol tightly. Old-Shell, the Elder Iron-Back Tortoise, already occupied the western corner of the room, his massive calcified dome scraping the ceiling.
"The perimeter sensors confirmed the vessel’s arrival," Elian stated immediately. He pointed a finger at the map’s eastern coastline. "They navigated the Continental Moat exactly as instructed. They are currently pulling into the eastern docks."
"How many on board?" Iron-Scale asked. He leaned against the table and casually inspected the map.
"A skeleton crew," Elian answered. "The manifest indicates a High Envoy, a pair of tactical advisors, and a minimal honor guard. They brought massive crates of high-tier materials as the promised tribute. The Iron Arbiter intends to buy our war machine with pure wealth."
Gorak crossed his massive arms. "Wealth is useless if the transaction makes us look desperate. The Sovereign requires this alliance to cross the ocean, but we cannot hand them the Vanguard simply because they offer gold."
"The Sovereign’s will is absolute," Elian agreed. His voice dropped to a steady, commanding tone. The hesitation from the agricultural district was entirely gone. "He desires the legal naval route to the Fourth Continent. However, he also desires absolute dominance over this transaction. We are not a mercenary company for hire. We are the immovable force of the Seventeenth Continent."
Elian looked directly at his commanders.
"When we walk down to those docks, we do not negotiate from a position of equality. We project overwhelming superiority," Elian ordered. "They are begging for our artillery to save their eastern front. Make them understand exactly what kind of apex predators they are dealing with. Do not bow. Do not flinch. Let the Vanguard’s physical presence dictate the terms of this alliance."
Iron-Scale let out a low, metallic chuckle. "I will ensure the High Envoy understands the precise sharpness of our hospitality."
"Good," Elian said. He clipped the holy symbol back onto his belt and turned toward the massive double doors of the chamber. "The world thinks they are walking into a deadland. Let us welcome them to the Spiral."
