Chapter 482: Nova’s Ambition

“They’ve chosen their side,” Kate muttered, her face tight with disgust. Her voice shook not with fear, but rage.

Aurelia clenched her fists. “The cowards were waiting for Drevon to survive… and now that he has, they’ve bent their knee.”

King Magnar’s voice rumbled low, like a thundercloud before the strike. “So they’ve all decided… to sell the continent to the Monarch.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Elarion. Magnar,” Nova sneered, his tone laced with contempt as he floated above his surrounding forces, eyes narrowing at the furious leaders who now stood between Max and Drevon. “You chose the wrong side, not me. You clung to sentiment. To ideals. You’re backing a child with raw talent over a king who already rules half the continent. I simply chose the path with a future.”

The coldness in his voice made the air feel sharper. “You can’t defeat him. You can’t kill him. Drevon is inevitable. He will unite the Valora Continent and the Lost Continent beneath one banner. That is stability. That is progress. And whether you agree with it or not—that’s a good thing for everyone.”

King Magnar’s voice cracked through the battlefield, a roar of outrage and disbelief. “He slaughters cities! He burns villages to the ground! Men, women, children—he doesn’t spare anyone! That’s not an emperor. That’s a monster in a crown!”

Nova’s response was chilling in its calmness. He simply shrugged. “Greatness isn’t handed to you on a silver platter. If you want to shape the world, you need to take it in your own hands. With fire if you must. If the people refuse to understand what’s best for them, if they resist progress, then sometimes—” he paused, spreading his arms wide as his army tightened its grip on the encircled leaders, “—you have to break them before you rebuild.”

Elarion’s face turned dark with fury, his voice low and bitter. “So you’d sell your soul for a place in his empire.”

Nova smiled faintly. “I’d rather be alive to shape the world than die for a dream that’s already broken.”

Nova turned his gaze toward King Magnar, his smile sharp and cold as steel. “There are two ways to build an empire,” he said, voice calm, matter-of-fact, like he was giving a lecture rather than justifying betrayal. “One… is by winning the hearts of the people. Earning their trust. Leading with vision. That’s what you did, right, Magnar? You united the scattered families and provinces of the West, not with fear, but with loyalty. And you built the Kingdom of the West—your kingdom—on that foundation.”

He paused for a moment, then tilted his head slightly, tone deepening with something darker. “But the other way… is through blood. Sometimes, to shape the world, you must break it first. You burn cities, you crush resistance, and you slaughter the thousands—not out of hatred, but to send a message. To let the world know there’s only one will that matters now. One ruler. One crown. And that’s exactly what Drevon is doing. He’s not just building a kingdom—he’s birthing a new era for the Lower Domain. A new order.”

His words lingered in the air like smoke over a battlefield.

Silence followed. But it wasn’t the quiet of agreement—it was a stunned, heavy silence. Some soldiers from the human ranks looked visibly disturbed, their jaws clenched, fists tight.

Even among the demons, several shifted uneasily. Across the ranks of the elves and the remaining free humans, rage boiled beneath the surface—disgust, disbelief, and betrayal thick in the air.

“You…” Marcel, the leader of the Moon Faction, stepped forward, his voice low but trembling with anger. “Nova, I never knew you were this twisted.”

Nova didn’t flinch. He didn’t deny it. He simply said, “Then you never truly understood what it takes to rule a world that refuses to change.”

“Hehe… Nova,” Kome, the Demon Lord with jagged horns and sickly gray skin, sneered with amusement, his voice sharp like a blade sliding over bone. “I never thought a human would possess such a level of thinking. But I like it.” His lips curled into a wicked grin as his crimson eyes gleamed. “We can make up for the differences in our races by butchering the elves together.” He chuckled darkly, the kind of laugh that made weaker warriors flinch. “Let their forests burn, let their pride rot.”

Nova turned slightly, casting a glance at Kome and offering a small, polite nod—a look of acknowledgment, even approval. But behind the smile, behind the steady eyes, his mind whispered with contempt. ‘Foul creature… don’t think for a second this alliance is real. You’re a tool. Temporary.’

He detested demons to his very core. Their stench, their twisted pleasures in carnage, the pride they took in suffering. The only reason he shared a sky with them now was because they served Drevon. If they hadn’t… he would have razed their entire race with fire and poison without blinking.

Before another word could be said, a voice broke through the tense stillness—Drevon’s voice, calm but cold, and full of authority. “I appreciate you all,” he said, his tone neither grateful nor warm, but dominant—like a king humoring his subjects before war. “But before I take my first step toward creating my empire… I want to shed the first blood.”

His eyes turned toward Max, who was barely standing, his body trembling from the sheer loss of mana, and surrounded on all sides.

Drevon’s lips curled upward in a cruel, calculating smile. “The blood of the strongest genius,” he said, voice dripping with mock admiration. “After all, the history books must record some challenge in my rise. Otherwise…” he laughed softly, lifting a hand as blue flames ignited around his body, licking his skin and armor with a strange celestial blaze, “it would all be far too easy for me.”

The battlefield seemed to tense at once, the sky darkening as the flames rose higher, and the scent of impending doom spread like smoke on the wind.

Drevon’s smile deepened as his eyes scanned the battlefield, clearly enjoying the tension gripping everyone—especially the leaders who stood like an unbreakable wall around Max. Their faces were tight with resolve, their auras pulsing defensively, but it only amused him.

“You can’t stop me,” he said softly, almost like a whisper to the wind, but the words cut through the air with finality.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay