The Eastern Alliance
If they resisted here too? Then there'd be no choice. I'd have to wipe them all out for real. Personally, I hoped it wouldn't come to that. The gods expected the Giant God Tribe to come intact into my fold, but if I couldn't sway them, it would be better to just slaughter every last one. Those so-called warriors' race. Back when I was writing the novel, I'd set it up so they treated promises like divine oaths, but who knew if it'd hold true here.
Chief Carlton was the first to drop to his knees.
"My lord, grant us the right to hail you as our Great Chieftain!"
"Great Chieftain?"
"The king of all Giant God Tribes, the one we must obey without question. Please accept the title of Great Chieftain and use us like oxen and horses—I beg you!"
The thunder ceased. At the Earth Spirit King's command, the massive crater filled in rapidly. I descended slowly from the sky toward them. Every warrior knelt. Then, from the hills all around, the Giant God Tribes watching the scene knelt as well.
"Can the Great Chieftain hold other positions too?"
"Of course, my lord! But it requires a ritual endorsed by us chieftains."
"Does that involve the gods?"
"No, sir. It relies on the Creator God's authority. Report it to the Creator God and ascend to the throne!"
"Then no problem there."
Creator God, huh. If there'd truly been a supreme Creator God from the start, the gods of this world wouldn't be squabbling like that. Meaning, per the setting, the Creator God was dead—which led to countless deities rising up. Reporting to a nonexistent god? Easy enough. The gods tended to revere the Creator God anyway.
The gods were pleased. That meant they'd approved my ascension to Great Chieftain of the Giant God Tribe. If they hadn't? Things might've gotten messy.
"I shall report to the Creator God and take the throne of Great Chieftain. What do you offer me in return?"
"We pledge absolute loyalty!"
"Loyalty unto death!"
Their voices boomed across the plains like thunder. That sealed it. The Giant God Tribe would heed my commands now. No need to kill the central administrator either.
"But know this: as my people, you'll follow the laws here. You've scraped by on plunder till now, but no more. Farm, work, earn coin. You can thrive without raiding."
"We forswear plunder, my lord. If we can live without it, there's no need."
"Except in war, of course."
Their eyes lit up at my words. They were incorrigible battle maniacs. They saw dying in combat as the highest honor—easy to imagine their bloodlust.
"Starting tomorrow, you'll work the fields and develop the territory. Earn wages and live honorably."
"As the Great Chieftain commands!"
Perfect. With the Giant God Tribe in hand, the territory would boom even faster.
After handling them, I returned to the barony. I'd already secured 50,000 Giant God warriors. Battle-crazed as they were, itching for war, I folded them straight into the army. I also ordered 50,000 more recruits. Veterans from their ranks would fill them out—minimal training, and they'd be elite soldiers.
The warriors were individually superb but weak in formation tactics. I'd drill them in imperial standards, training, and maneuvers. A month of crash course, and they'd be top-tier troops.
Troop buildup complete. With this force, it was time to gear up for war. First, the groundwork. I summoned Amon.
He was half my vassal already. He'd seen my potential and knew how to maximize his gains. Amon knelt before me like a lord's subject.
"I've awaited your summons, my lord."
"Swearing fealty, are you?"
"Isn't your will already known across the realm?"
"Clever old fox, cutting to the chase."
"I too wish to be used like an ox or horse."
"I don't take just anyone as a vassal. Especially not key ones."
"What do you desire of this humble servant?"
Obviously. This was his trial by fire.
"Over 100,000 troops ready in a month. The territory's developing at breakneck speed, food's plentiful. We seize the eastern empire before the emperor reacts. With the Spirit King, one strike claims a third. Then erect massive walls and build a nation."
"……!"
Amon trembled slightly. Conventional wisdom said don't share this with the untrusted. But leaks from me wouldn't matter much. And if Amon leaked it? He'd face hell—he knew that. "Top Three Merchant Guilds" wasn't just talk.
"You mean……."
"Your test: craft a pretext to sweep the eastern lords. Scour every speck of dirt for justification. That's how we win hearts."
"And the imperial center?"
"The center? We're splitting the empire north-south while grabbing the east—that's civil war territory. Public justification for the people is enough."
"As you command—I’ll dig up every last mote of dust!"
"Good. Dismissed."
"Yes, sire!"
Amon rose on creaky legs and left. The framework was set. Devour a third of the empire before winter, and the emperor would panic.
I'd originally planned to take just the east and declare independence. But plans changed. With 100,000 from the Giant God Tribe, we'd absorb enemy forces mid-conquest—200,000 easy. Swallowing a third? Doable. My skyrocketing power enabled such audacity.
Time passed. Late summer now. We'd harvested once, reseeded in early summer. Crops grew insanely fast—another harvest by fall. Massive planting this round.
1.5 million Giant God Tribesfolk. All sturdy, working age except the frail—near a million laborers plowing, sowing, building everywhere. Walls, canals, rails done.
Amon poured his fortune into the territory; grain prices soared, fueling growth. Dwarves mined mithril and iron nonstop. We'd filled 100,000 warrior slots. Army from 5,000 to 110,000, three knight orders complete. Elites knighted, mana-users too.
Cities near-finished; war refugees could slot right in. Insane pace—we'd built this empire before imperial inspectors arrived. By the time the emperor heard, a third would be gone.
Prep smooth. Cheat-race dwarves, Aria's workshops mass-producing gear—full kit for 110,000. Plus 100 monowing bombers from endless molten metal.
One month's miracles.
Shruk.
I reviewed progress reports. Kainus oversaw development.
"My lord, Amon's funds poured in, spurring huge growth—but eastern whispers say we're prepping war."
"And?"
"Rumors they're banding together."
"Rumors are just that. Summon Amon."
Amon arrived soon. He'd hustled every angle on his mission. Without him, raw materials would've stalled—impossible to outfit 100,000 in a month. Not all new; swords reforged from theirs, armor and shields upgraded. Faster than from-scratch. Dwarven touch made 'em near-new.
Giant God warriors already shouldering up, war-feverish. Visit their city, feel the heat—they awaited marching orders. Merit meant promotion. Any kid knew I'd break from the empire soon. Internal buzz, but outsiders barred. 1.8 million pop sustained internal economy; cities thrived. A year? Fine in tight quarters. After? Limits hit. Swallow the third before then.
"Hail! Your humble servant greets the lord!"
"Amon, their moves?"
"Rumors true, my lord. They've formed the Eastern Imperial Alliance against you!"
"Oh ho, really now?"
"East's barren, but lords aplenty. Fifteen joined, mustering over 70,000—rumored to 100,000 soon."
"More than expected. Pretext ready?"
Amon grinned wolfishly.
"Pretext? Troop buildup means fleecing the people. Vivian Church bans it by canon law……."
"Meaning we can slap 'em with the ultimate charge: heretics?"
"Brilliant as ever, my lord!"