As the day of the council drew near, tension grew in Tinaver.
The decisive meeting would take place in the War Hall, a reinforced and expanded space to accommodate a considerable number of participants.
More than thirty members would be present, many of them representing the most powerful among the warriors and leaders of the current combat force of the Iron Legion.
Among those summoned, there was an impressive diversity. Some were warriors of the Doldia tribes; others, representatives of the various tribes of the Great Forest.
Also present were some talented former slaves who had risen to command after joining the Legion.
In greater number were those without a specific origin: humans, demons, nobles, mages, swordsmen... all sharing one thing in common: they held considerable political or military power within the organization.
This was the third time this group had gathered in a formal council. The two previous meetings had taken place at the beginning of the conflict with the Holy Country.
Since then, the constant pressure from Milis had left no room for in-person gatherings, forcing the commands to operate through letters and encrypted messages.
It was only thanks to the brilliant strategic mind of Verdia Solarion that they had managed to hold firm until then.
She was capable of predicting battlefield movements just by observing reports and dispositions.
Her reading of situations was precise and timely, and if Milis did not have Pope Lucios, who was said to have the literal ability to see the future, perhaps their victories could have been even more resounding.
But now, at last, everyone was together again, and the War Hall of the Stone Fortress thrummed with voices of reunions and exchanges of information among the commanders.
Some had arrived a few days ago, others weeks earlier.
Many had never seen Rygar in person, the Beast God, but all had heard reports of his deeds.
Those who had seen him in action on the battlefield spoke of his emergence like a living storm, with blades of light and lightning destroying entire ranks of enemies.
The mere mention of his name stirred emotion and inspiration even among the most powerful warriors.
It was at that moment that the doors of the hall opened again, and an unusual figure entered.
He appeared to be an elven child, with green hair, purple eyes, and black armor fitted to his small frame.
Apparently, a mixed race.
However, not a single voice rose. The entire hall fell silent at the sight of him. This was a North Emperor, the Dragon Hunter: Ornthorn.
Some even said that, apart from Rygar himself, no one could face him on equal terms.
His physical strength was astonishing, and on several fronts he had become the salvation of the Legion, being the only one who could oppose Galgard without losing ground.
Ornthorn did not carry his three-meter golden sword this time, but his presence was enough.
Serious and introspective, he answered greetings briefly and made his way to his chair, custom-built due to his peculiar height.
Some dwarves and hobbits also had adapted seats.
Shortly thereafter, the hall received an even more imposing presence.
An extremely tall woman—she stood around two and a half meters— with ashen skin, striking demonic features, and a body covered in defined muscles, strode through the room.
Her long, dark-purple hair was carefully braided, and an onyx horn emerged from the center of her forehead, curving backward.
Her blue eyes swept the hall with intensity and resolve.
She was Demon King Gretta.
One of the most powerful figures of the demon continent, now setting foot in Milis after accepting the call of her old friend: Verdia Solarion.
Gretta wore only a white cloak, barely fitted to her body.
A simple fabric that barely covered her curves, emphasizing not only her sensuality and sculpted physique but also intimidating many of the men around her with her colossal stature and commanding presence.
A Demon King leaving the Demon Continent these days was a rare occasion; many had various theories as to why she had come to join the war.
Many believed that, being involved in a war that was not hers, she would make little effort, or only mark a symbolic presence.
But all who thought that were thoroughly mistaken.
Gretta fought every battle as if her life depended on it, and at times it truly did.
She possessed no remarkable regenerative ability like some other Demon Kings, but she compensated with monstrous physical strength.
Her combat style was direct, brutal, and, in a way, old-fashioned.
She wielded a long halberd, a polearm weapon that was practically extinct in modern times due to prejudice against the Superd tribe of the Demon Continent.
Because of atrocities committed by the tribe four hundred years ago, any long polearm was frowned upon by society.
But this did not affect Gretta in the slightest, for she had used the weapon for over eight hundred years, since long before the Laplace War.
To her, prejudice was irrelevant.
Within the Iron Legion, a group that valued strength over any tradition or prejudice, her choice of weapon was never truly questioned.
And if anyone thought to criticize, her battlefield victories soon silenced any voice.
Initially, Gretta operated alongside Verdia on the front lines, but over time, she earned the trust of the other commanders and began leading troops alone—something she assumed with the natural authority and mastery befitting a Demon King.
As soon as Gretta entered the hall, everyone took notice. Her presence seemed to double the pressure in the air inside the place.
Ornthorn, the North Emperor, who until then had maintained his customary intimidating aura and serious posture, shifted uncomfortably in his chair upon seeing her enter.
The change in his behavior was subtle but perceptible.
Gretta walked to her chair as if no one else were there. A few greeted her—with nods or brief words—and she returned the courtesy without much ceremony.
Once seated, she flopped into the tall chair built especially for her stature and soon propped her feet on the large war table.
A bold gesture, but no one dared reprimand her.
Ornthorn finally mustered the courage and spoke:
"Hello, Gretta!"
She scanned the room, then downward, until she found the small warrior.
"Huh? Who's...? Ah! You're the brat who beat me a few months ago!"
Ornthorn coughed, trying to disguise his embarrassment. It was true.
When he had arrived in Milis months before, few knew his true strength. At that moment, Galgard needed to be contained, and Gretta had volunteered to go.
But Ornthorn had insisted he would handle the situation himself. To convince everyone, he had suggested they fight—and he won, after a grueling battle.
But it was also on that day that Demon King Gretta stole the heart of the North Emperor.
A powerful woman, very tall, who couldn't have cared less about his hair color, unlike most.
"Ahh... sorry about that. It's been a while since we've seen each other. How have you been?" he asked, making a visible effort to sound casual.
Gretta smiled.
"You know. Same as always. Wars, blood, entrails, and things like that..."
Ornthorn had to summon all his willpower not to swear out loud.
Inside, he screamed: 'Right? What was I thinking? Idiot! We're in the middle of a war!'
He tried to compose himself:
"Right... who did you find most challenging to fight?"
Others around watched the interaction, some discreetly amused.
Those who knew Ornthorn well had already noticed his strange behavior.
Gretta thought for a moment and replied:
"I had the opportunity to encounter the Pope on the battlefield once. He arrived with reinforcements and interrupted our offensive. But... he wasn't the one who gave me trouble."
She glanced at the Emperor with a grin and added:
"It was that White Knight who protects him. I think he uses that Water God Style... Well! I couldn't even get close before he cut my arm off! Hahahahaha!"
She said it laughingly, as if telling a funny story. But few in the hall laughed.
The strength of the White Knight was known to almost everyone in the Iron Legion.
"I believe he is the only Water Emperor in Milis..." said Ornthorn, in a curious tone. "He's very powerful, but I don't think I would lose in a fight."
"Right! Well, if I hadn't dodged a bit, it could have been my head rolling on the floor that time, hahahaha!"
After that, the small green-haired man finally managed to engage the powerful demon woman in a more natural conversation.
As they exchanged battle impressions, other leaders were arriving at the War Hall.
Among the newly arrived was a knight wearing black armor—the direct representative of the allied troops of the Dragon King's Realm.
Another was the current leader of a demon tribe that had allied with the Iron Legion in recent years.
Several renowned warriors, veteran commanders, and representatives of diverse factions filled the space, but all had their attention abruptly diverted when a specific group entered the hall.
Taes, the former Supreme Commander of the Legion before Rygar's return, walked at the front.
Beside him, his wife, Lisa, with a calm and determined posture.
Just behind them was Kilian, walking with a serious demeanor, and accompanying him were Linia and Pursena.
This group included two of the strongest and most respected commanders of the Iron Legion.
And also two young warrior women with enormous potential, the Legion's Beast Princesses, although they were there more to observe than to participate actively.
It was part of their training as future leaders.
Lisa, though only an Intermediate-level swordswoman, held the position of vice-commander of the Tenth Division of the Iron Legion—the division responsible for Administration and Human Resources, encompassing beastmen, demons, elves, dwarves, and other races.
The titular commander, Daruk, was currently on a mission in the Great Forest and could not attend, leaving Lisa as his representative.
Despite having recently faced limitations due to pregnancy, her child was already strong and healthy, and she had returned to her duties with vigor.
The group commanded absolute respect, regardless of titles or combat strength. Some of those present at the council were loyal exclusively to them.
Once the group took their positions, Ornthorn raised his voice and said:
"Hey, Kilian! Where did Lerov get to?"
Ornthorn had been trying, for some time, to convince the demon of the Jinkan tribe to join the North Style dojo.
Since they had dueled, he believed Lerov had talent and a style compatible with his school's teachings.
It was also because of this that he had named Lerov a North King.
Kilian responded, with a serious expression, his posture firm and erect:
"He should be arriving. But he may not make it in time. He was tasked with escorting Godbard here from the Dwarf Territory."
At that moment, a new voice cut through the hall, cold and serene:
"Lerov arrived with the Ore God just a moment ago."
All eyes turned to the entrance.
The one who had spoken was a young beast-woman with short gray hair and dog-like ears, her eyes a pale red.
She wore a bluish mage's mantle, and her presence conveyed an air of calm authority.
Lisena Adoldia, a Wind King-level mage and Saint in other schools.
She continued:
"They will be here any moment."
Kilian and Taes greeted her with familiarity, and she soon approached Lisa, Linia, and Pursena to speak.
Gradually, small groups began to form throughout the hall.
Ornthorn, for his part, was still trying to maintain some minimally coherent conversation with the imposing Gretta.
Taes and Kilian exchanged words with leaders of the Great Forest tribes. Lisena gathered almost all the women present around her.
Soon after, Lerov finally arrived, accompanied by Godbard, the Ore God, and Rufus.
As they entered, most of those present rose in a gesture of respect. Godbard may not have been a field warrior, but his reputation was indisputable.
He was the only one there to officially bear the title of God—and that was enough.
The truth was that, after so many years of intense battles, most of the weapons used by the strongest elites of the Iron Legion had been forged by his hands.
This included the majority of the commanders present in that hall.
Another dwarf who arrived shortly afterward was Rainfall, perhaps the most powerful dwarf warrior still in the field, responsible for an entire battle front.
The conversations intensified, revolving around strategies, past battles, logistical updates, and growing political tension.
Everyone knew the importance of that moment to get fully updated on the state of the war.
The only name absent until then was Verdia. And, of course, the Beast God himself.
It was then that Taes straightened up abruptly, his keen hearing picking up something beyond the reach of the others. He raised his voice:
"He is arriving. Return to your seats."
At that instant, the entire hall tensed. Expressions grew serious. Each leader returned to their chair. Everyone knew what that meant.
The Beast God was arriving.
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