Chapter 461: Five Commandments of Monarch

King Magnar’s expression turned grim as he studied the approaching figures. He stepped slightly ahead of the others and spoke, his voice clear and steady so everyone could hear. “Be very careful,” he warned, his golden armor glowing faintly under the pressure. “These three… are among the Five Commandments of the Monarch.”

He pointed subtly as he introduced them one by one. “The one leading at the front, with long untamed hair and a battle-crazed aura, is Garil—the Commandment of Wild. He thrives on close combat. Avoid fighting him head-on. If you let him drag you into close range, you will die.”

He shifted his gaze slightly. “Behind him, the one with the crazed expression and golden hair crackling with sparks, is Loxus—the Commandment of Lightning. He’s the strongest lightning user in the entire Valora Continent. His speed and destructive power are unparalleled. Be extremely cautious around him.”

Finally, his eyes landed on the calm figure moving with chilling steadiness. “And the one in the back, with black hair and an icy demeanor, is Reiner—the Commandment of Spear. His spear can penetrate any defense. No shield, no barrier can block him once he strikes. Stay vigilant.”

As King Magnar spoke, the atmosphere among the leaders of the Valora Continent grew visibly heavier. Even the most battle-hardened among them couldn’t hide their frowns and tense postures.

The name Commandments wasn’t something thrown around lightly. Beside Drevon, there were five individuals—his Five Commandments—who were said to stand at the same level as, or even beyond, the strongest leaders of the Valora Continent. Together, they had earned a bloody reputation across the lands.

They had razed cities to the ground, slaughtered entire countries, annihilated small empires without mercy, leaving behind fields of corpses and rivers of blood. Wherever they went, they brought ruin—and all of it had been done under the name of the Monarch. Their names alone were enough to make the high-ranking powers of the Valora Continent shudder.

It was because of because of them that even though, Drevon had been in retreat trying to level up to Master Rank, nobody ever dared to attack on the Monarch.

And now, three of them had appeared here… to personally bury anyone who stood between Drevon and his prey.

Amid this chaos, King Magnar’s voice rang out with grim authority, cutting through the storm of death. “Kate, Aurelia, Ralph, and Garrison—you four will handle the three Commandments,” he commanded solemnly, his eyes never leaving the approaching threats. “If possible,” he added, his voice hardening into ruthless steel, “do not hesitate to deliver the killing blow.”

There was no need for lengthy words or hesitation. The four nodded sharply and, without another word, launched themselves forward, cutting through the air with explosive force. Like comets streaking across the sky, they flew straight towards the three Commandments of the Monarch, intercepting them before they could reach the heart of their forces.

The sky shuddered as their auras collided violently, the shockwaves ripping apart clouds and creating flashes of wild energy as peak Experts prepared to clash in a battle that could reshape the battlefield itself.

King Magnar, meanwhile, turned his sharp, penetrating gaze toward the humans of the Lost Continent who had remained curiously silent throughout the chaos.

Their armies stood back, swords unsheathed but unstained by blood, watching the war unfold as if it had nothing to do with them. Not a single soldier had moved to assist the elves, not a single attack had been launched against the advancing army of Drevon. Their passivity was deafening.

“Nova, Marcel,” King Magnar called out, his voice cold and biting, “are you only planning to watch?” His eyes locked onto the two key figures of the Saint Human Alliance—Nova, the leader of the Sun Faction, a man of radiant energy and blinding strength, and Marcel, the leader of the Moon Faction, calm and smiling like a fox under moonlight.

“Actually…” Marcel spoke first, flashing a shameless grin that made even the tense soldiers behind him twitch with exasperation. “I was just about to send my army,” he said lightly, as if discussing sending a few servants rather than warriors into a bloodbath.

Then, casually glancing back at the human army lined up behind him, Marcel raised his hand and pointed. “Go ahead. Assist the elves. And if you have to kill the humans from the other side…” His smile sharpened like a blade. “Don’t hesitate. Just because they share your race doesn’t mean they’re your allies.”

“As you command!” the army roared in unison, without even a sliver of doubt or reluctance.

The battlefield was already a bloody nightmare, a scene torn straight from the darkest corners of a war god’s dreams. Humans from the army of Monarch clashed violently against the elves of the Lost Continent, their swords gleaming with blood, their skills and techniques exploding with terrifying force.

Shouts, screams, the metallic clang of weapons, and the thunderous roars of powerful techniques filled the air in a never-ending chorus of chaos. Bodies fell from the skies like rain, blood misting the wind, staining the ground below in deep, dark crimson.

Skills collided midair, bursting into brilliant, deadly fireworks that tore apart anyone caught within their radius. Blades shimmered as they severed limbs and lives with merciless precision. It wasn’t a battle anymore. It was pure, undiluted slaughter.

And soon the humans from the Moon Faction joined the battlefield.

With a deafening war cry, the soldiers under Marcel’s command finally moved, surging into the skies like a tidal wave, their weapons gleaming ominously under the broken light of the battlefield.

They flew straight into the bloody maelstrom where elves and invading humans were locked in desperate, brutal combat. Attacks detonated in midair as the new forces clashed, adding another layer of carnage to the already monstrous battlefield.

The ground shook. The air was filled with the screams of the dying. Blood sprayed in arcs through the skies. And at the heart of it all, Max stood silently, his expression grim as he witnessed the true horror of war—where loyalty, race, and alliances were meaningless, and survival was bought with rivers of blood.

“Don’t think that we’re fighting this war just because of you,” a deep, steady voice suddenly reached Max’s ears, cutting through the roar of battle. Max turned to see Elarion, the golden-haired King of the Elves, standing nearby, his emerald eyes gleaming with fierce determination.

“The Monarch has always been a problem for both our continents,” Elarion continued, his voice calm yet firm, carrying a weight that came from centuries of leadership and countless battles fought. “Magnar, I, and the humans of the Lost Continent have long prepared measures against him. This isn’t a fight we joined today or yesterday—it’s a struggle that’s been brewing for years.”

He looked out over the chaotic battlefield where skills, blood, and steel collided endlessly, then returned his gaze to Max. “If we lose here—if we lose the Lost Continent—then we have no chance of defeating him in his stronghold, in the Valora Continent. This battle, this war… it’s not just about protecting you. It’s about protecting our home, our very future.”

Max nodded silently, his heart steady. He understood that better than anyone. This war wasn’t about him anymore. It never truly was. His existence had only accelerated the inevitable. If they lost here, if the Lost Continent fell, then the entire world would slowly fall under Drevon’s rule.

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