Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill Chapter 544:The Defectors

A venerable Beastman emerged from the gathered crowd.

His demeanor was tranquil yet carried a palpable weight, and his appearance caused a subtle shift in the surrounding tension.

"Let us put an end to this charade," the elder stated, his voice even as his gaze swept across both factions.

"Since they managed to escape, the plan has already been compromised."

His simple words resonated with consequence, causing even Lucien to pause momentarily in his listening.

The old Beastman continued his directive.

"Now, you must take the initiative and disseminate the false accounts."

Lucien's teeth ground together, frustration evident on his features.

This outcome deviated significantly from his initial strategy.

His original scheme had been straightforward, allowing for easy deflection of blame, but Hale's escape had irrevocably altered the situation.

Should Hale return and reveal the truth, the entire scheme would unravel, turning against him. His position would not only be forfeited.

He would face utter ruin.

Lucien's expression grew grimmer as these dire thoughts consumed him.

His freedom to act was now heavily constrained, with every subsequent move fraught with danger.

The old Beastman observed him intently, as if perceiving his inner turmoil, and offered a slight inclination of his head.

"Proceed with haste," he advised calmly.

"Transmit the message."

"Control the narrative before their reappearance."

Lucien's hands balled into fists for a fleeting moment before he slowly released his breath.

"Very well," he conceded, his voice barely above a whisper.

Though low, his tone conveyed reluctant compliance. He turned slightly, casting a frigid glance at his subordinates.

"Disseminate the information," he commanded.

"Spread the word that Hale and Han committed treason, abandoning the army during the ambush."

"Emphasize their culpability in the collapse."

A brief hesitation flickered among his subordinates, but under his piercing stare, they promptly moved to execute the order.

Lucien then redirected his attention to the Beastmen, his eyes hardening with resolve.

"And that individual…" he began deliberately.

"Locate him."

"Scour every conceivable path."

"Hunt him down and ensure his demise, by any means necessary."

The old Beastman acquiesced with a subtle nod, his expression unchanging.

"It shall be done," he affirmed.

In their vicinity, the battlefield remained a tableau of carnage and devastation, strewn with the remnants of the human forces.

Yet, far from concluding, the conflict had merely deepened its roots.

It had transformed from a mere contest of might into a treacherous game of deceit.

....

Several days later, the news swept through the entirety of the Arcadia Empire like a tempest, profoundly unsettling everyone before they could fully process the implications.

The Human Vanguard, previously achieving continuous victories against the Demon forces, had inexplicably disintegrated.

It was not merely a defeat.

They had been utterly annihilated.

The official report meticulously detailed the events, its words weighing heavily as they circulated among the populace.

The vanguard had fallen victim to a catastrophic ambush, their formations shattered by multi-pronged assaults, with surviving soldiers either scattered or slain during their attempted retreat.

This was more than a mere loss; it was an unmitigated catastrophe.

Cities that had revelled in triumph mere weeks prior now lay in hushed silence.

Streets once echoing with triumphant cheers now pulsed with anxious murmurs.

"How could such a thing occur?"

"They were on the verge of winning…"

"Hadn't they secured the borders?"

Questions proliferated, yet answers remained elusive.

Accompanying the brutal report was another document:

A roster.

A list detailing a litany of failures.

It chronicled the commanders' inadequate strategic assessments, their dismissal of impending enemy movements amidst an aggressive advance, and their neglect of precautionary measures despite numerous warnings.

Each entry cast blame upon them, assigning culpability for the oversight of the higher echelons who failed to diligently manage the unfolding situation.

Names were clearly inscribed, placing heavy responsibility upon those who commanded the vanguard.

Some names were listed as deceased. Others as missing. And some were designated as accountable.

The Empire reeled from the impact of this devastating report.

Concurrently, far removed from the battlefield's grim spectacle, life within the Blank household proceeded with relative tranquility.

Ethan's conscription had cast a subtle shadow of anxiety over the family, yet they maintained their composure, sustained by the robust framework he had meticulously established.

Rathlos served as the linchpin of this structure.

He managed the estate with unwavering calm, delegating responsibilities with astute precision, ensuring absolute order prevailed.

Amber and Julia assumed command of the household's defensive forces, meticulously overseeing security and training while upholding stringent discipline among the guards.

Administration duties fell to Riya and Sophia. Although Sophia initially hesitated, she ultimately embraced the responsibility with seriousness, aiming to allow Ethan to focus on the battlefield without any distractions.

The estate remained undisturbed.

Peaceful.

Structured.

However, this tranquility was short-lived.

Within a private chamber, Rathlos was seated at an expansive table, his keen gaze fixed upon a document he held. His fingers tapped a rhythmic beat against the polished surface.

A man with long black hair and glasses stood adjacent, observing intently.

Then—

The ambiance in the room shifted perceptibly. A shadowy mass materialized in a corner, swirling and coalescing until it took on a distinct form.

Hall emerged.

His presence seemed somewhat volatile, and a palpable weight on his expression immediately drew Rathlos's notice.

Rathlos's brow furrowed slightly as he shifted back in his seat.

"What transpired, Hall? You appear troubled," he inquired, his tone placid yet underscored by a current of vigilance.

Hall offered no immediate reply.

Instead, he advanced silently and presented a document, placing it upon the table.

Rathlos glanced at it briefly before retrieving the paper. The instant his eyes absorbed the details, his demeanor transformed.

A potent aura erupted from him, instantly imbuing the room with a heavy atmosphere as pressure radiated outwards.

"...Is this some kind of jest?" he uttered slowly.

His voice, though subdued, vibrated with undisguised fury.

The document in his grasp trembled almost imperceptibly.

...

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