"As expected of the monarch who wields the chessboard, this move of killing two birds with one stone is masterfully played." Phaethon remarked coolly. "It appears to accommodate our demands—using the ownership to one Coreflame to stabilize us. While simultaneously advances her long-planned strategic objective to cleanse the earth's corruption and fundamentally alleviate the Holy City's defensive pressure."
He nodded, but immediately raised a more pointed question: "Even if discussion is needed, why must a banquet come first? Couldn't orders simply be issued to summon them for a meeting? It can't be because someone is particularly fond of feasting and revelry that such elaborate affairs are constantly necessary, right?" His gaze swept subtly over Hysilens.
Hysilens felt implicitly referenced, but had no concrete evidence. She could only maintain a proper expression and explain:
"This banquet is not a matter of personal preference. The reality is that with the rampant spread of Black Tide creations and difficulties in communication across regions, the various states that were previously integrated by force under Her Majesty the imperator have lately, due to survival pressures, developed undercurrents of discontent and many improper ideas."
"Hosting a banquet invitation is to create a relatively 'relaxed' environment, to better observe the true reactions and private maneuvers of the state representatives when their guard is down, or even after they've drunk their fill. This allows for an assessment of their loyalty and potential threats."
"It concerns the smooth implementation of the subsequent campaign plan and internal stability. After all, knowing yourself and your enemy is the key to victory in a hundred battles."
Phaethon's brow furrowed deeper. What he was calculating internally was how to subjugate the Earth Titan at the fastest possible speed and use this monumental feat to rapidly accumulate the prestige and influence of the "Deliverer."
Only with sufficient renown could he more conveniently use this identity as a cover to weave his Plot and attempt to reignite the extinguished Dawn Device.
He understood Cerydra's plan—first gather intelligence through gentle means, ascertain the true situation, then carry out precise purges.
Those who need sinking in the lake get sunk, those who need burning to ash get burned. It was classic, efficient chess-master thinking.
But Phaethon believed Cerydra wasn't acting fast enough, and worse, not ruthless enough!
Today, a banquet for observation and probing; tomorrow, a substantive congress could be convened.
After the congress, Cerydra would need time to clean up, suppress those representatives with divided loyalties and the forces behind them based on the intelligence.
By the time they could truly dispatch troops to campaign against the Earth Titan, it would likely be the day after tomorrow, or even later.
And that was assuming everything went smoothly, with no accidents or complications along the way.
If any link in the chain failed, or if those representatives proved more cunning and troublesome than expected, it was doubtful they would even see the shadow of the Earth Titan by the day after tomorrow.
Time waits for no one, so… Phaethon instantly reached a decision in his heart.
He hesitated no longer, speaking directly to Hysilens: "Hysilens 1, no need for such trouble. Go convey to the imperator that there's no need for a banquet. Convene a full citizens' assembly directly. Those who should come will come."
He paused, then added: "Say it's my suggestion. What we need is efficiency. She's being somewhat indecisive."
Upon hearing this, Hysilens glanced at Phaethon with slight surprise, quickly confirming he was serious and not joking.
She offered no questioning or dissuasion, immediately and crisply nodding in assent. "Understood. I shall report to Her Majesty at once."
She knew her place—a loyal vassal. Her primary duty was to execute orders efficiently, not to rashly interject when two decision-makers' plans diverged.
It was clear Phaethon and Cerydra's plans now differed. For her to question Phaethon here would be meaningless and might instead place Her Majesty in an awkward position.
Quietly and swiftly conveying the message, allowing Her Majesty to decide personally, was her most proper and wisest choice.
...
High above, Phaethon's figure hung alone amidst the cloud layers high up in the sky.
His robes flapped fiercely in the fierce winds, like war banners roaring for a sacred crusade.
His gaze was like a torch, piercing through the clouds, looking down upon the ever-writhing, expanding Black Tide below—like a festering, bleeding wound on the cheek of the earth, defiling the entire landscape.
He could feel it—a deep, ancient lamentation trembling from the depths of the planet's core.
It wasn't a sound, but a vibration, the silent wail of the Earth Titan under the Black Tide's corruption.
"I will bring you release." Phaethon murmured to himself. It was not just a promise, but a vow sworn.
The moment his words fell—
Threefold Authorities, gathered upon one body!
Law twisted reality; vectors bowed to his will, laws made way;
Sky answered his call; the atmosphere parted, resistance dissolved, a vacuum became his passage;
Earth responded to his plea; gravity like a suit of armor draped over him, transforming him into a baleful star of the mortal realm—
*BOOM!!!*
A deafening sonic boom erupted in the high sky. Phaethon dove downward, like a meteorite tearing through the firmament, piercing cloud layers.
Where he passed, the atmosphere wailed, cloud vortices shattered, the vacuum sealed behind him as if the sky itself had been ripped open, leaving a scar that closed in an instant.
And then, he stomped down.
This was no ordinary step, but a blow condensed of Authority and will.
The entire continent seemed cleaved by a divine blade. A fissure spanning several kilometers suddenly bloomed. Rock collapsed, ley lines fractured, yet this destructive force did not spread wildly.
Instead, it compressed and reshaped the shattered earth anew—like an invisible, giant hand piously and decisively molding clay.
At the deepest part of that newborn abyss, a colossal entity was finally revealed.
An earth dragon? No—it was the Earth Titan.
Its body was like slumbering mountain ranges, its surface covered in crystallized rock layers millennia old, glittering like diamond.
But beneath that magnificent crystal, the inky Black Tide writhed and corroded, like billions of maggots, turning the immortal Titan into a prisoner of agony and despair.
It had not even fully awakened yet.
Phaethon's stomp, carrying the momentum of a falling sky and the weight of the earth, already crashed down upon the Titan's head!
The canyon convulsed madly once more. Billions of rocks cascaded like inverted rain. Dust surged skyward, forming a dusky curtain connecting heaven and earth.
Not a moment's pause.
A long spear materialized in Phaethon's hand—its shaft wreathed in violent kinetic energy, the glorious legacy of the Daythunder Knight;
Its tip shimmered with the pure white radiance of the "Oath of Light's Healing," a mercy that held both cure and conclusion.
One thrust, straight as a white rainbow piercing the sun, aimed at the Titan's tightly shut eyelid!
However a Titan is, after all, a Titan.
Even under the dual torment of Black Tide corruption and a savage surprise attack, its instinct to protect itself remained terrifying.
At the last possible moment, countless rock crystals materialized out of thin air, layering upon themselves to block before the spear, like absolute shields birthed by the earth itself.
Phaethon's spear tip pierced three inches deep, and could advance no further.