Before long, nearly all of the reserve vessels had been forcibly activated—only to be wiped out by the combined assault of the two strike teams.
Seven or eight greater demons, scattered at the far corners of the cavern, slipped away unnoticed into pre-dug tunnels, fleeing at full speed toward the surface.
"Damn it! Where did this reckless upstart come from, to so brazenly provoke such a vast projection of my divine spirit?!"
"This loss is catastrophic… I've been forced to abandon tens of thousands of years of accumulation. That whelp is intolerable!"
"When I finish reforging my divine body, I'll annihilate your entire race. Blood will pay for blood!"
Gnashing their teeth in fury, the fleeing demons cursed Roya again and again as they fled, steering far from the wreckage of the ship and the tribesmen gathered nearby.
But Roya's mind operated on many fronts at once. While keeping the demon lord's warp-projection firmly bound, he was also monitoring the material battlefield. Through psychic sight, he had already located every escaping demon.
"Warriors of the tribes—your time for vengeance has come!"
With a pulse of psychic transmission, he marked the fleeing demons' locations directly into the minds of the two tribal chieftains.
The two men froze for a heartbeat—then realized: this was the blessing and the trial of their god.
With howls, they relayed commands down the lines.
From the ranks of their armies, bands of wolf-riders broke off, swift cavalry splitting into seven or eight groups, each racing toward one of the escaping demons.
Though each squad had only five or six riders, their towering war-wolves ran with astonishing speed, easily fast enough to overtake the demons stumbling in retreat.
All they needed to do was hold them down. The main force would arrive soon after, and the tribes would at last avenge their blood-deep hatred with a final extermination.
Alone, a single tribesman was no match for a greater demon. But they were fearless of death, throwing themselves forward one after another, willing to pile their corpses high if it meant dragging the monsters down.
Meanwhile, above, the transport flotilla was descending.
As Kaido and the others had anticipated, Im had no intention of leaving the corpses of these blood-sucking demons behind.
Nor even the derelict ship itself, which had lain abandoned for over ten millennia.
The pacifist units traveling with the fleet had been fully refitted by the science division into engineering machines. They flew out in squadrons from the transports, swarming into the wreckage, beginning systematic dismantling and recovery.
The demon corpses, the strange blood-matter left in brood chambers, intact ship components, hull alloys—every resource of value was stripped and ferried back to the Hades.
At the same time, scientists and engineers from the Hades deployed directly into the two tribal settlements.
By then, more than twenty thousand warriors had already slain the last of the greater demons, hauling the carcasses back to the villages.
Both tribes now knew: under the radiance of their god, the monstrous nest that had loomed over them for countless generations would finally be razed to the ground.
Their reverence for Roya grew ever deeper. His envoys—the teams stationed among them—were honored as divine messengers, their words obeyed without question.
With the support of the science crews, advanced tools for labor and daily life spread rapidly through the tribes.
The tribes' ability to endure their harsh environment soared, laying a foundation for an explosion of population.
Nuwa and her companions wasted no time. They began psychic aptitude tests on the adult population, recruiting on the spot. Those who passed were drafted directly into the psychic legions.
These warriors, tempered by brutal survival and constant strife, had combat skills and tenacity no less than naval elites.
And genetically, they were naturally superior—far beyond the peoples of Pirate Star or Oceanus Star, brimming with potential.
Such exceptional recruits attracted not only Nuwa's keen interest but also the envy of Kaido, Whitebeard, and the other legions.
Though Nuwa held supreme priority in conscription, even those who failed the psychic tests were treasures—ideal soldiers for other legions.
In less than half a day, over twenty thousand men and women had been claimed, each legion scrambling to secure their share.
To win over the tribesmen, they offered equipment and tools swapped out from their own stores.
To these primitive people, bereft of technology, such gifts were divine artifacts—treasures they cherished beyond measure.
Thus the bonds between the tribes and the Hades grew ever closer, their lives and futures weaving rapidly into one.
The tribes' craftsmen even carved a ten-meter-tall statue of Roya, erected between the two merged settlements, a sacred idol for all to venerate.
Everything was unfolding toward the best of all envisioned outcomes.
Yet suddenly, Roya's spirit trembled. From the distant stars, he felt malevolent gazes, locked upon him through some uncanny means.
"Three of them! Their essence feels akin to the Star Dragon's spirit… the Star Gods."
Most of Roya's awareness was still consumed with breaking down and absorbing the demon lord's projection. But sensing this hostile scrutiny, he quickly split off a strand of consciousness, returning to his astral projection in the Warp.
And as expected—on the far edge of that space, three immense spirits lurked, eyes fixed hungrily on him.
From left to right, their forms resembled a maned lion, a mammoth, and a great roc—each half-human in shape, moving through the Warp with terrible ease.
"To move so freely in the Warp… indeed, that is the gift of the Star God lineage. With it, they hold an immense advantage."
Roya studied them with caution.
"The integrity of these spirits, their energy levels—each one surpasses the Star Dragon I fought. Three together… troublesome foes."
"But there's something strange—a force binding their spirits to the material world. Their movements are not as fluid as even the dying Star Dragon's."
"If that's true, then by exploiting my own ability to traverse the Warp unhindered, perhaps I can strike them where they least expect it."
A dark certainty stirred within him: these three Star Gods were connected directly to the Silent King.
Leaving a thread of consciousness to keep them under watch, Roya steadied himself.
The fact that they had not yet attacked meant they were wary—or constrained.
And time—time was exactly what Roya needed most.
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