Father,” Leo said, his voice trembling as he sat stifly in his gleaming prince’s armor.
His knuckles were white against the hilt of his sword as he stared at the giant across from him.
“Valerius has 100,000 men.
Even with your power…
shouldn’t we have brought the Southern Generals?” Jee-shahn didn’t even open his eyes, slumped against the velvet cushions while the Azure Lizard on his head snored in a rhythmic, irritating whistle.
“More people meansmore talking, Leo,” he rumbled lazily.
“More talking means more noise.
I’m going there to finish a chore, not to host a parade.” Sora, sitting beside the terrified prince, tried to ofer comfort with a sharp, toothy grin.
“Don’t worry, Prince,” he chirped, though his eyes were busy scanning the horizon for anything gold.
Beside them, Jee-shahn remained a motionless mountain of indiference, looking more like a nap-enthusiast than an Emperor.
The Architect and the Beast As the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks of the Iron Canyons, the horizon turned a bruised, sickly purple.
The pass was choked with the dust of a massive encampment where 100,000 torches flickered like a sea of angry, starving stars.
At the center stood Sparta, the legendary bronze-scaled Lizardman, and beside him, Valerius.
Valerius, dressed in “perfect” silver armor, swirled a golden goblet.
“The wind speed is perfect for our archers, General Sparta,” he bragged, intoxicated by his own logic.
“Faeloria has sent a single carriage.
A pathetic gesture of surrender.” The obsidian carriage stopped exactly three hundred yards from the front line.
The doors didn’t open—they were kicked off their hinges with a thunderous bang.
The Master of Noise-Control Jee-shahn stepped out, his 7-foot frame unfolding as his joints popped like thunderclaps.
In his wrinkled traveling clothes, he looked like a man who had been dragged out of bed by his hair.
Leo followed, trying to maintain a brave face, while Sora emerged carefully holding a chilled mug of beer.
“Is that him?” Valerius’s voice, amplified by magic, screeched across the canyon.
“The black-haired vagrant my wife replaced me with?” Jee-shahn winced, rubbing his ear in genuine pain.
“Sora…
is the Pervert Wolf always this loud?
His voice sounds like a fork scratching a plate.” “He’s a talker!
But he’s more handsome than you, Master!” Sora shouted back.
Jee-shahn’s voice turned cold and sharp, a sudden frost in the desert air.
“You’re getting noisy too, Sora.” Sora instantly broke into a cold sweat, bowing frantically.
“No, Master!
You’re the most handsome!
Truly!” “Good,” Jee-shahn muttered, turning his gaze back to the canyon.
Valerius was still monologuing about being the “Architect of the South” when Jee-shahn simply flicked his fingers.
Snap.
The world buckled.
Every soldier in the 100,000-man army was slammed to their knees as if the sky itself had turned to lead.
Only Sparta remained standing, his bronze body trembling under the cosmic weight.
“Interesting,” Jee-shahn rumbled, his voice carrying efortlessly across the gorge.
“I’m here for two things, Wolf.
First: My wife told me to kill you, and she’s much scarier than you are.
Second: I’m thirsty, and you’re standing in front of the good well.” He pointed a lazy finger at the struggling Lizardman.
“You.
You look like you know how to be quiet.
Why work for a man who talks this much?
It must be exhausting for your scales.” Sparta let out a guttural hiss, his hand reaching for the massive Spear on his back.
“I follow strength, human.
Not words.””Good,” Jee-shahn smirked, his azure eyes beginning to glow with a terrifying, ancient light.
“Then let’s see if your strength is worth a job ofer.
Leo, stay behind me.
Sora…
hold my beer.
This shouldn’t take long.
VOTE for me!