Last Ruler Of The Empty Throne-Chapter 157: Four Days

The dust settled over the ravaged battlefield, the air thick with the acrid scent of scorched earth and sea salt. Jon stood at the forefront, his divine web spear still humming with residual energy, its runes glowing faintly under the fading rainbow moon.

The weapon felt different this time—more controlled, its power tempered by the dream essence he’d infused into it. Unlike the chaotic releases of past battles, this attack had been precise, a testament to his growing mastery. Yet, his body screamed in protest, each step a battle against the exhaustion threatening to drag him under.

Cynthia stood resolute beside him, the only one who hadn’t fled when the spear ignited. She’d heard tales of Jon’s devastating attacks, but witnessing it firsthand left her breathless. Her eyes flicked to him, a mix of awe and concern as he tapped his rod against the ground, the rhythmic sound a stark contrast to the chaos moments before.

"Now, I want you to say what you said again," Jon said, his voice low and dangerous as he advanced toward the sea princess. The surviving sea creatures, meant to guard her, shrank back, their instincts overriding loyalty. Their scales glistened with sweat and fear, their tridents trembling in their grasp.

"I-I’m sorry about my brother," the princess stammered, retreating a step. Her blue robe billowed in the ocean breeze, and her trident wavered, the water swirling around it faltering. Her eyes darted to the decimated ranks behind her, the bodies of shark men, tritons, and jellyfish scattered like broken toys.

Jon nodded, his expression unreadable. "Consider your brother dead. And I assume you came here to compensate us for his actions. Look around, half the camp is in ruins." He gestured to the shattered tents, the churned earth, and the distant glint of abandoned weapons.

With a sigh, he released the principles of inscription, the rainbow moon dissolving into the sky. His knees buckled slightly, a fleeting sign of the toll his power took. ’I won’t last much longer,’ he thought, fighting to stay upright.

"Honestly, I want to kill you too," he continued, his gaze piercing the princess’s. "I wouldn’t hesitate to wipe out every sea creature if I had to. But at what cost?" His voice softened, not out of mercy, but pragmatism. "That cost is exactly what your brother brought upon us. Touch anything close to me, and I’ll destroy you all, no exceptions. Now, what do you propose?"

The princess faltered, her composure cracking. She glanced at her diminished army, bitterness flashing in her eyes before she met Jon’s stare. "H-How about I help you cross to the other side?" she offered, her voice tentative but gaining strength.

Jon and Cynthia exchanged a glance, their eyes widening. They were in Gordon’s Bay, a coastal stronghold now reduced to rubble. The next destination was Cape Town. It was closer to home than anything.

Sensing their interest, the princess pressed on. "There’s a human settlement there, away from the sea. They’re numerous, well-defended. I can guide you there."

Jon’s mind raced. Telepathically, he sent a message to Cynthia,

-We’d gain seafood, cores, orbs, more than we lost, no matter how you look at it.

She nodded subtly, her practical nature aligning with his. The losses were devastating, but survival demanded that they look forward.

"Give us four days," Jon said, his tone final. "Come back then. Now, get out."

The command hit the princess like a physical blow.

She nodded frantically, her army scrambling to retreat, their footsteps splashing through the shallow waves. The white flag, now tattered, trailed behind them like a ghost.

"Do you think they’ll attack again?" Cynthia asked, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea creatures vanished.

"I dare them," Jon replied, a spark of defiance in his voice. He turned to her, noting the tension in her shoulders. "You look stressed."

She offered a faint smile, exhaustion etched into her features. "Just keeping things together."

"At the next stop, we’ll take a break," Jon promised. "No more conquering camps. We’ll settle in this one and rebuild." His voice was soft, a rare moment of vulnerability.

Cynthia chuckled, though it was tinged with weariness. "I hope you mean that."

Jon chuckled, "I’m sorry, but I’m going to collapse one last time." His strength gave out, and he slumped forward. Cynthia caught him, her arms steady as she bore his weight.

’A break, huh,’ she thought, glancing at the horizon. With a deep breath, she carried him back to the camp, where the evolvers awaited her orders.

...

With Jon and Jenny unconscious, Cynthia assumed command once more.

In a way, Jon was their spiritual leader, a figure of awe and power, but Cynthia was the camp’s backbone, her presence grounding the survivors and evolvers alike.

With a threat and a deal well received, they had loads of work to do.

In the end, Nancy didn’t report the losses in the war and focused on the more pressing matters

On the first day, a grand burial was held.

The camp gathered on a cliff overlooking the sea, where pyres burned for the fallen. Evolvers and non-evolvers alike mourned, their grief mingling with the crash of waves below.

The day was dedicated to healing, medics tended to the wounded, while the fatigued were ordered to rest. Non-evolvers, shaken by the existential terror of the sea creatures’ assault, were given space to process the situation.

It had been a while since the non-evolvers faced an existential crisis like this, and they had a day to understand, let go, and accept the world again.

The second day dawned with urgency.

A call for workers, promising protection and generous payment in orbs and cores.

Volunteers flooded in, including survivors from Jon’s original camp, who moved with a practiced efficiency that steadied the shaken residents of Gordon’s Bay.

Teams were organized: one to harvest orbs, cores, and bodies from the fallen sea creatures; another to scale and process the creatures’ tough hides; and a cooking crew to prepare meals from the abundant fish.

The remaining half of Gordon’s Bay was looted systematically, tents, weapons, and supplies were salvaged, as the camp had no intention of staying. Despite the progress, the sheer volume of sea creatures remained overwhelming to them.

Like that, almost everyone found something to do. Whether it was building something, scaling something, or looting something. Three armies’ worth of corpses couldn’t be processed in a day.

By the third day, Jon and Jenny awoke, their recovery a spark of hope.

Jon convened a meeting with Cynthia, Alexa, Laura, and Nancy, the air in the command tent thick with relief. To bolster their defenses, Jon guided the women through accessing their Mind World. That would shield them from psychic attacks like the one that had once incapacitated Cynthia.

The camp buzzed with renewed energy. Evolver teams were dispatched to clear the bay’s trees, their axes and skills reducing the forest to stumps.

Nancy assembled a crew of builders and crafters, a strategic move planned long ago to ensure quick access to skilled labor. Their task: construct a ship.

The ship was Jon’s vision, the means to cross the sea to Cape Town.

Thanks to the tsunami that the sea princess had brought, which flooded half the camp and rendered it irreparable, which then brought the shoreline dangerously close.

Volunteers with engineering skills and evolver strength joined the effort, their hammers and saws echoing through the bay.

The ship was beginning to take shape.

On the fourth day, work intensified.

By noon, the ship was complete, then its deck was loaded with food, cores, orbs, clothes, and salvaged supplies. The camp worked feverishly, stripping Gordon’s Bay bare.

The once-lush landscape was now a desolate expanse of stumps and churned earth, its beauty lost forever.

Mayor Jul, once a proud general, stood alone on the cliff, tears streaming down his face.

From a general to a lumberman, wasn’t that the worst kind of degradation a man could get. When he found out those leading were still in their twenties, shame almost physically attacked him.

Children younger than his own children were doing better than he was.

Yet, he clung to the hope of a new start in Cape Town.

By evening, the camp was a ghost town. Non-evolvers boarded the ship, settling into cramped quarters to sleep while the evolvers stood watch, their eyes scanning the dark waters.

Finally, at dawn, the sea princess returned, her silhouette framed by the rising sun.

A massive whale, larger than the ship, swam beneath the vessel, its presence both a guide and a subtle threat.

After a curt acknowledgment, she raised her trident, and the water surged, carrying the ship toward Cape Town.