Soul God Dominates the Mortal World-Chapter 89: I Don’t Need Permission!

"No matter what happens, don’t enter the dungeon," Deus said softly, as though he’d read her mind again. "Whether it’s you alone or the Souler Army... let them break out first. Don’t worry—with me here, nothing can go wrong."

Ivana turned, surprised.

"But... wouldn’t the best course of action be to enter and clear it before it overflows?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Do you trust me, Ivana?" Deus asked.

"Yes... I do," she said, her voice steady, her nod unwavering. She was confused, but her faith in him had never wavered. After everything he had done—after the strength he had gifted her—she’d be a fool to question him now.

Still, a thought coursed through her mind. How do I answer to the public? The people will pressure me to act... to lead the army...

"Don’t worry about what they think," Deus said with a gentle smile. "Let those who court death enter another god’s domain. Let the beasts break out. I will protect the inhabitants of Earth... and I’ll handle the other god myself."

Ivana’s heart swelled with newfound confidence.

The fact that he could read her thoughts again? It surprised her—but she didn’t question it. Not anymore.

With that, she stepped out of the chamber, her armored figure shining like a comet trailing ice. Her expression now calm, collected... and dangerous.

After she left, Deus sat cross-legged in the center of the room. The divine glow intensified around him.

His heart was calm.

But his senses now extended across the entire planet.

*****

In the heart of the Great Dame Empire, nestled amidst ancient spires and blackstone streets that echoed with centuries of imperial legacy, stood the capital.

Near the Imperial Palace, a place where regal silence often reigned, a chaotic energy now filled the air.

Crimson flags bearing the emblem of the Dame—a coiled black dragon with glimmering red eyes—fluttered violently in the wind, as if even the very symbols of the Empire sensed the brewing storm.

Just a short distance from the Emperor and Empress’s personal residence, the earth trembled slightly under the collective pressure of thousands.

An entire division of the Souler Army stood, fully armored and glowing—each soldier enveloped in the raw, primal power of the beast souls they had merged with. The air around them shimmered with energy. Tamed feral roars occasionally escaped some of the more savage souls, hinting at their deadly potential.

Nine figures stood in the center, surrounded. Outnumbered. Outflanked.

But not outmatched.

Despite having the overwhelming advantage in numbers, the expressions on the soldiers’ faces betrayed their unease. Some shifted on their feet, others subtly tightened their grips on their weapons.

Their eyes remained locked on the eight in front of them, each a living legend within the Empire.

Beads of sweat trickled down the brows of even the most experienced. Their instincts screamed at them like the howls of dying beasts in battle—they were the ones surrounded. Not those nine.

And leading the front of the eight was Lancelot—the exiled emperor, returned from the ashes of the outlands. Cloaked in a deep black battle cape that shimmered with the mark of a merged mythical beast, he radiated power. His very presence demanded submission, respect... and stirred fear.

Beside him stood a woman whose once warm presence had turned fierce and untamed. The Empress. His wife.

Those who had seen her before could barely reconcile the person before them with the soft-spoken beauty that once graced the palace gardens.

She was a storm now.

Her eyes burned with rage, her fists clenched, the air around her crackling with sparks of thunder-element essence.

’What is he doing back so soon...?’

’How... how the hell did he return with them...’

’Aren’t those the top bounty hunters of the Empire? They were the ones tasked with bringing his head back on a silver spear!’

’Why are they... standing with him?!’

’What the fuck is going on...?’

Thoughts raced like thunderbolts across every mind in the Souler Army.

And then—stepping forward with a terrifying calm—came a divine figure wrapped in heavenly essence. His black hair floated slightly.

Lancelot’s demeanor was nothing like how he was when with Deus, he was now acting like the Emperor he was. His demeanor and charisma shook the heart of all watching. ƒгeewebnovёl_com

Even the land beneath his feet seemed to bow in reverence.

Just as the soldiers began to whisper in panic, a voice rang out from behind them, cutting through the rising tension like a sharp blade.

"Don’t move a step forward, Sir Lancelot."

The tone was calm. But behind that calmness lay layers of tension and command.

It was General Bran Cutter, the current head of the Souler Army.

He rode a drake-like beast, his armor glowing a pale jade from the earth-element Souler bonded to him.

"I have great respect for you, as the former emperor of this Empire..." he continued, voice sharp. "But I am bound by duty. We are under orders. I cannot allow a coup to unfold under my watch."

Lancelot halted, slowly lifting his head.

A cold smile touched his lips.

His heart thumped—not with fear, but rage. Pure, searing rage.

He took a step forward, the ground beneath cracking faintly.

"You..." he muttered, eyes narrowing at Bran Cutter. "I gave you that position... all of you..."

His voice echoed, calm but layered with centuries of pain.

"You wear those badges because of me. You swore your blades to me. And yet—when I was betrayed by my brother and left for dead—you bowed your head... not in grief, not in outrage... but in acceptance."

He looked around, meeting the eyes of soldiers who once cheered his name. "I bled for this Empire. I built this Empire. And now you all stand against me like I’m some invading beast?"

He pointed to the very heart of Damesreach behind them.

"That throne is mine by blood, by right, by will. You think I returned to ask for permission?"

He exhaled, voice turning to ice.

****

A/N:

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