Rising god-Chapter 144: Iron Brotherhood I

The Iron Brotherhood captive’s defiance crumbled under Baines’ torture. His screams faded as he decided to reveal their plan.

The 7th Division’s healers, their golden light fading, had cleaned the blood, feces, and vomit, rendering the cavern’s grim scene bearable.

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, wondering where Baines’s cruelty stemmed from. However, if they were on the Last front, this would be small. An average nomand had their genitals filled with maggots, and body fluids from ages ago. One couldn’t even get to their mouth. When one said lustful, they fully embodied it.

"Where is the branch?" Rakel Voss demanded, a bit of skepticism in his green eyes.

"W-We planned to reside in the Blightroot estate, using them as hostages," the man rasped, his voice broken. freewebnσvel.cѳm

The division’s eyes widened.

This had really been a pure deception. The enemy was behind them, in the heart of the clan they’d infiltrated. If they had killed him, they would have kept wandering into the forest without knowing their goal was behind them, and before they realized it, it would’ve been too late.

Rakel raised his sword, but Baines interjected, "The Brotherhood has been silent for years. Why come out now?"

Surprise flickered in the man’s bloodshot eyes. "W-We received a revelation."

"What did it say?"

"War."

It was as simple as that, and at the same time not. Normally, the division members would’ve scoffed at his words; however, with the current state of the empire, it wasn’t far off, and with this person saying it, it confirmed something: a war was going to happen in the empire.

One didn’t need to ask why the adamant order was active after that. Didn’t they thrive in war?

"Kill me," the man pleaded, shame consuming him. He had betrayed his brothers, but he felt that if it happened to any other brother, they would’ve also revealed the information.

Baines released his blood vessels, letting life drain away in a crimson pool until the man slumped, lifeless.

"We have to hurry," Rakel said, urgency sharpening his tone as they raced back to the well’s entrance. They couldn’t be too late.

***

Minutes after the 7th Division reached the abandoned farm, the Blightroot estate was visited once more. This time, the occupants didn’t mock them or insult them because it was different. They were under siege.

Over five hundred Iron Brotherhood warriors, their armor fused to flesh, had suddenly stormed their territory, and no battle or argument erupted.

The clan was weak. Once they saw ten sixth-stars, they surrendered without a fight.

"Round them up," Brock, a towering sixth-star with molten armor, barked. His men herded the clans servants, knights, butlers, and descendants, into the estate’s grand hall, its gilded arches and marble floors that mocked their defeat.

Three sixth-stars encircled Gilbert, the blightroot patrairch seated in a jewel-encrusted chair.

"Will you tell us what we want to know?" Brock asked, his voice a low growl.

"Yes we will answer, please don’t hurt my family," Gilbert pleaded, his youthful face belying his despair. Just like his family members, the family head looked extravagant. The jewels on his body could almost buy a castle.

"Hmm," Brock studied the blightroot patriarch and nodded. The man wasn’t going to struggle. "How often do imperial forces pass through?" He demanded.

"About a six-month interval, but considering the current problems, I don’t expect them to send anytime soon."

Brock nodded. ’Looks like our work would be easy.’

Another 6th star approached him, "How’s it looking?"

"We will be able to settle and avoid their eyes," Brock answered.

They planned to set up their branch just right under the empire’s nose. What was better than taking one of their subordinate hostages at their estate?

After speaking to each other for a while, Brock asked the final question, "Has anyone entered the family as of late?"

"Yes, we recently employed some farmers to work far south."

"Farmers?" Brock’s brow furrowed, but he dismissed it.

Still, he sent men to retrieve them.

Minutes later, the hall brimmed with trembling Blightroots clan members. When it seemed everyone had gathered, Brock stepped forward, grinning savagely.

"We are the Iron Brotherhood, and as of this moment, we are taking over the clan." He grinned wildly while the hostages trembled in fear. They had seen the armor, but they hadn’t linked it because no fight occurred, but this was really the Iron Brotherhood.

"We just want you to act like you have been, but we will be living with you as of now. If you try anything like wanting to be a hero," He snapped his fingers. Thud. Heads rolled outside, blood pooling on marble. The hostages froze, not daring to look, fear chaining them.

"Understood?" Brock roared.

The hostages meekly nodded. One wrong move and they could be like them.

Gilbert sighed, his heart heavy. At the moment, it was like he could feel the gazes of all his family members. ’I thought reaching the 6th star would change something, but we are still the same,’ He looked around. Even if he could fight back, what of his wife, children, brothers, sisters, and loyal servants?

’If we had the abilities of any of the powers in the empire, we would be able to do something, but all we have is aging.’ He shook his head in regret. This was how his family would end during his reign.

After regret he showed rage, ’Damn ancestor, you left us with nothing, now look at us. Look at our state. I hope we meet in the afterlife.’ He cursed the ancestor who gave them their legacy.

The truth was, he didn’t even know the new ’farmers’ he employed were the Red Sun. That was how the elite of the empire moved. No one needed to know.

Likewise, the Iron Brotherhood would’ve never expected their enemy to be present, and currently approaching their location, they also would’ve never expected the person who spilled information to be one of them.

...

In the southern fields, the 7th Division faced Brock’s retrieval squad—a dozen Brotherhood warriors, their strongest were fifth-stars sent to round up the "farmers." The barren farmland, littered with crumbling barns and storm-scarred earth, became a slaughterhouse. Rakel signaled, and the division struck with merciless precision, their ragged disguises belying their elite skill.

Baines led, his aura flaring, sword drawn. ’Heaven Arc.’ An arc of energy, sharp as a guillotine, sliced through the air. Two fifth-stars raised his fused armor, glowing molten red, but the arc cleaved them in two, blood and molten metal spraying, his scream cut short.

Crunch.

Bones shattered as another warrior’s chest caved under a Red Sun blade, ribs piercing lungs, blood frothing from his mouth. Archers loosed arrows, their tips infused with aura, punching through skulls with wet thunks, brains splattering on the dirt. A Brotherhood warrior swung a warhammer, only for a division sword to sever his arm, the limb spinning away, blood arcing like a fountain.

The strongest, a fifth-star, charged, his armor pulsing, and Baines met him, his blade flashing.

Destructive Technique: Black Cross.

A black cross, ringed in circular aura, exploded from his sword, tearing through the warrior’s chest. BOOM. Flesh shredded, armor fragments flew, and the man’s torso split, organs spilling onto the blood-soaked ground. His dying wail echoed, drowned by the crunch of boots on broken bones.

Another tried to flee, but an arrow pierced his spine, his body jerking before collapsing, face smashed into the dirt.

The division moved like specters, swords and arrows reaping lives. A warrior’s head was lopped off, rolling with a dull thud, eyes frozen in terror. Another’s legs were slashed, tendons snapping, his scream choking as a blade pierced his throat. Blood painted the fields, mixing with churned mud, the air thick with iron and death.

Within moments, the squad was annihilated. Broken, torn bodies littered the land, armor cracked, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, faces unrecognizable.

"Let’s move," Rakel said, his voice steady despite the carnage.

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