Chapter 947, The Black Witch King

Chapter 947, The Black Witch King
Viktor's withered fingers unconsciously caressed the textured steel throne, the cold touch unable to quell the burning rage within him.

The council chamber was thick with fear and the stench of decay; the air was still. The torture stakes hanging from the dome swayed like ghostly shadows under the lights.

“…Three more outer node ports have been captured by those apes,” the messenger’s metallic scraping sound cut through the silence, his hunched figure shrouded in a black cloak. “The ‘Twilight Fang’ family’s beast tamer team was completely annihilated before they could even hold out for two days…the average casualty ratio…97 to 1.” The last number was like a drop of concentrated acid falling into a frying pan.

"Ninety-seven to one?!" A sharp roar pierced the deathly silence as Malakai, the governor of the Shadow Eater family, abruptly stood up. "The Comoros have never suffered such humiliation! Those trash from the Twilight Fangs should be fed to low-ranking demons! Victor! How much longer do you want us to hide like frightened reptiles in a burrow? Let them in! Overwhelm them with the labyrinth! Tear them apart with a sea of ​​people! My pet rats are more than happy to undertake this task!"

"Let it in?" A colder sneer came from the other side.

Isara, the Duskfang Clan's chieftain, who had been called "something to be fed to low-ranking demons," sneered, "Malaka, your fear has eroded what little wisdom you have left. Have you been with your rats for too long, making you so stupid? Look at the numbers! The ape army is still growing exponentially! Trying to delay them with your 'maze'? Your rats are both weak and incompetent, only wasting resources and handing over precious land!"

Before the other could answer, Isara's pale, slender fingers traced across the air, conjuring a shrinking crimson marker. "Our outposts in the real universe are being systematically wiped out. The attacks of those primitive creatures aren't limited to the Comoros. Every outpost that disappears means a precious plundering route is severed, meaning we can bring back less pain and souls from the Comoros in the future! Continuing to bleed in this quagmire isn't fighting; it's a slow, collective suicide!"

The two families' governors were arguing fiercely, while the other governors from dozens of other influential families in Comoros remained silent, watching them argue.

These two companies have been rivals for the past three hundred years. They argue whenever they have a meeting, and if they can find fault with the other side, they will launch into a fierce attack, never missing any opportunity to cause trouble for the other.

only……

We used to just argue and let it go.

at the moment?

For thousands of years, Comoros has never faced such a great crisis, especially one directly invaded by the current cosmic overlord.

What caused this?
The immediate cause was His Excellency the Black Witch King's 'brilliant' plan to 'invite' Robert in.

They absolutely have to come.

Along with that, the alliance also came.

Then, the situation became uncontrollable and evolved into what it is today.

Indeed, to be fair, Viktor's plan was discussed and approved within a small group of high-ranking officials; it was not his own decision, but rather a collective decision.

However, collective decision-making, which sounds nice as pooling wisdom and strength, can't be expected to be shared responsibility when a plan fails, especially when it is a huge failure like this.

That's too idealistic.

Shifting blame is more in line with human nature.

The Dark Eldar are not human, but they are better at these kinds of things than humans.

It was Viktor who proposed the plan, Viktor who organized the meetings, and Viktor who mobilized the forces to execute it.

This Black Witch King wielded power in the Comoros that surpassed all families, associations, merchant groups, and organizations; he was the undisputed leader and king of the Comoros. His power stemmed from the fear instilled by force and the prestige that brought benefits to everyone.

Now, both of these points are facing enormous challenges due to the current disaster.

According to human time, half a year has passed. The Comoros invasion crisis has not only failed to be resolved, but has instead intensified.

The original issue was a prophecy. Although there was a general consensus within the Eldar race, from top to bottom, that the prophecy about the Eldar race's future was true, they simply interpreted it differently.

But after all, if we don't pay attention to it, even if the end of the world really comes, it will be a long time from now.

Now, ironically, after paying attention to that prophecy, the end times are just around the corner.

As a result, Victor neither solved the problem of the prophecy nor had the military force to suppress the human invasion, causing almost all the forces in Comoros to suffer losses and his prestige to plummet...

In this situation, can the Black Witch King, a 'leader' whose legitimacy is based entirely on personal prestige and is not derived from blood ties or elections, still suppress the various ambitious and ideologically divided forces?
The two sworn enemies, as if they had made a pact, started arguing deliberately at the meeting again, even arguing over important issues, as if it were some kind of test.

The other consuls, observing with detached indifference, pondered the thoughts of the Black Witch King sitting on the Iron Throne, wondering if this ruler still had enough strength to suppress everything.

As it turns out, the Black Witch King still retains some prestige.

Before he could speak, the aged and eerie voice of Zalas, the representative of the Bloodwalkers Association, rang out: "Malakai and Isara, your argument is pointless and will not solve the difficulties we are currently facing."

At this point, his cloudy eyes turned to the throne, and he bowed, saying, "Lord Victor, please allow the Association to send out a Reaper squad. Let others stall for time; we need fresh... research material. Those they call 'Space Marines'... and those psionicists who wield blue flames..."

"Research materials?!" Malakai's anger instantly shifted, perhaps out of rage that someone dared to step forward and share the burden at this critical moment. He roared, "Zaras! Comoros is burning! Those apes' artillery fire is bombarding our cities every day! And you're still thinking about your freakish organ?!"

Zalas's aged and eerie voice didn't sound like a living being at all, and it was devoid of any emotion: "My research is our hope for victory. I've done some research on special species among humans before, but the past data isn't rich enough. Now, if we have more fresh data, we might be able to come up with some methods to deal with them, which can greatly alleviate the pressure."

Isara, no longer antagonizing Malakai, turned her fire on Zalas: "Humanity's new fleets keep coming, they're even erecting larger veiled gates on the ruins! They're not fighting, they're here to... conquer! To cleanse! They don't need slaves, they don't need the art of torment, they just want to wipe us out! They don't have time for your slow genetic research. In a life-or-death situation, there are no valuable hunters to distract the enemy. Anyway, we, the Twilight Fang family, don't do such pointless things!"

The sounds of arguing resumed, like crows scattering from their nest, sharp accusations and insults echoing under the dome.

The armrests of Victor's steel throne groaned softly in his palms, as if they were about to be crushed. His eyes, deep as a pool, burned with a cold, furious rage as he surveyed the group of consuls who, at this critical juncture, were only concerned with their own self-interest and bickered endlessly.

"enough."

Just two words. The voice wasn't loud, but it carried the vacuum storm of the Comoros's deep, frigid void, instantly freezing all other sounds.

It wasn't just a subjective feeling; this chilling, freezing wind also objectively blew through the conference hall. The officials felt as if they had been choked, and even the most agitated Malakai froze in place, meeting those unfathomable black eyes in fear.

The Black Witch King is still the Black Witch King. They have no doubt that if the Black Witch King wanted to, this freezing wind that freezes sound could also freeze their hearts.

Viktor slowly rose from the throne, his figure like an extremely oppressive shadow.

“Malaka, the Shadow Eater.” His gaze first fixed on the enraged governor. “Since you crave battle, then the ‘Blood Rose’ labyrinth node is yours. There are seven backup fast-teleport routes there. Gather all the hunters, mercenaries, and your supposedly endless rats you can muster, and defend this place. If you fail, don’t come back to me; the Soul Erosion Punishment will give you a good taste of its effects.”

Malakay's lips moved silently, and finally, under Victor's deathly gaze, he gave a stiff, twisted salute of obedience with a livid face.

“Isara, the Fang of Twilight.” Her gaze shifted to the pale, aloof female governor. “I will assign you multiple ports and veiled portals to the real universe and Alliance territories, all under your control. Find the true origin coordinates of these human fleets, locate the lair in the real universe that continuously supplies these apes with troops, supplies, and warships. Find one, destroy it. Inflict tenfold, a hundredfold, the suffering our homeland has inflicted upon these apes' homes, and wage a war of terror throughout the real universe. If you cannot do this, then go to the lowest depths of the Eternal Arena, the flesh-grinding mill, and train our Stitched Beasts.”

Isara's face was as white as fresh snow. She bowed slightly, a hint of panic flashing in her eyes as if she had been seen through, but she had no courage to argue.

“Zarath.” Viktor’s gaze finally settled on the Bloodling representative. “The ‘samples’ you want will soon be subject to a fierce battle on the flank of the ‘Spirit of Pain’ defensive node. My ‘Undertaker’ and ‘Nightmare Squad’ will create chaos and hunt down the targets. The Association will also send out the Reaper forces to participate in the assault. No matter the cost, I will ensure you bring back at least 200 intact Space Marine and Psyker bodies.”

The Black Witch King tapped his finger lightly on the throne, silently, yet causing Zalas's writhing tentacles to suddenly stiffen and freeze: "I will also grant the Association priority access to the 'Library of Eternal Pain.' Your research progress must be guaranteed to me within a certain timeframe, or at least show some progress. If I find that your research is just a useless waste, then the Bloodling Association's very existence will be questionable."

……

The air was deathly silent.

Viktor's cold commands carried more weight than any roar.

Victor's instructions weren't limited to the three who had spoken during the earlier argument. Without exception, all the other consuls were also given tasks and assignments.

And they had no choice but to accept it.

Perhaps, if everyone present were to unite immediately and rebel against the Black Witch King, they might succeed.

However, the first ten people to step forward are likely doomed to die.

And if things go wrong, after these ten people die, the remaining people will become even more obsequious to the Black Witch King, then grieve and drink the blood of the dead, devour their power, and then use it to serve the Black Witch King.

Nobody wants to be that kind of fool.

No one dared to make a sound; the argument was as if it had never happened.

“Go and carry it out.” Victor’s voice was flat, yet it felt like heavy shackles binding everyone’s soul.

The consuls, as if granted a pardon or heading to their execution, silently and swiftly withdrew from the oppressive domed hall.

The heavy, ornate doors closed behind them, separating the inside from the outside into two completely different worlds—the turmoil and fear outside, and the deathly silence of the trial court inside.

When the last sound of footsteps completely disappeared, Victor sat back on his throne.

“Old woman.” His voice was filled with deep weariness, unlike the imposing tone he had when facing the many officials.

As Victor called out, a strange, slender figure silently emerged from the deep shadows cast by the massive stone pillars of the council chamber. It was the old woman, leader of the Witch Spirit Cult.

She did not wear the dark gold bone battle dress and thorned crown that symbolized power in the past. Instead, she was wrapped in a dark, raven-feather-like fitted robe, and her face was covered with a blank silver-white mask, revealing only a pair of deep, ancient well-like eyes.

Like a ghost emerging from the deepest darkness of the Comoros, she quietly stopped below the steps of Victor's Throne, bowing slightly in a respectful manner.

Facing her, Viktor let out a deep sigh.

He said, "As I climbed my way up from the bottom in Comoros to where I am today, I told myself every step of the way that no one is trustworthy and no one is inviolable."

“But you alone, wise old woman, daughter of the Blood God Mensha, I believe that everything you have done is for the resurgence of our great race. I acknowledge your prophecy and will respond positively.”

"But how have you repaid me?"

His withered finger made a light stroke in the air.

A three-dimensional projection instantly unfolded in front of the throne.

The background of the scene is the interior of the Queen Rose Harbor Reception Building, littered with rubble. Flames and figures flicker intermittently from the explosion.

However, the focus was exceptionally clear: several high-speed, ever-changing, and crackling blue arcs of pure energy lifeforms. They moved through the ruins, precisely avoiding artillery fire, and even intentionally or unintentionally creating cover for the charging human soldiers.

The image suddenly zooms in and freezes.

The shell of a storm energy creature rippled and twisted like the surface of water. When it stabilized, it revealed a resolute human male in the uniform of a colonel in the Alliance Army and Imperial Astral Army! He was saluting humanity, his standard, even rigid, Eagle Union salute was so glaring.

The old woman's expression remained unchanged: "I can explain."

Victor crossed his arms in front of him: "Okay, I can hear your explanation."

(End of this chapter)