The Fall of the Chief

As Diyu followed the capital leader through the gates of Noxeer, he found himself studying the city more closely than he expected.

The capital was nothing like his village. His people had lived in huts, worked with simple tools, and relied on memory, hunting paths, and the wisdom of elders. Noxeer had streets. Walls. Reinforced gates. Tall buildings shaped from stone and mortar. Structures that suggested planning, labor, and resources far beyond anything Diyu had known growing up.

There were conveniences here his village had never possessed, and signs of technologies still in progress. Diyu recognized some things only because of what the Anunnaki had taught him. Before their lessons, he might have mistaken mortar for carved stone, or metalwork for strange decoration. Now he saw the function. He saw structure. He saw the difference between a village that survived and a capital that had learned to gather power around itself.

The citizens stared as he passed.

Some backed away from the road. Others froze in doorways. Children hid behind their mothers, peeking from around their legs and walls. The fear in their eyes was unmistakable. They looked at his metallic body, at the dried blood still caught in the seams of his transformed skin, and saw a monster walking through their streets.

Good, Diyu thought.

They should be afraid.

The thought brought him more pleasure than it should have.

At last, they arrived at a large fortified structure near the center of the city. From a distance, it seemed carved from a single mass of stone, but as Diyu drew nearer, he recognized the use of mortar and fitted blocks. The building was lavish compared to those around it. Its entryway was framed by heavy doors, and decorative carvings ran along the lintel like a display of wealth meant to remind visitors who held authority inside these walls.

The capital leader opened the doors and gestured for Diyu to follow.

Inside, Diyu found a grand room with a long wooden table and numerous chairs arranged around it. The chairs were carved with intricate patterns, each one shaped with more care than any seat in Diyu’s village. There were plants in the room as well, placed in clay vessels near the walls and windows. Diyu did not understand the purpose. Plants belonged outside in soil and rain, not trapped indoors as ornaments.

Tapestries hung from the walls in colors more vibrant than any Diyu had seen before. Deep reds. Rich blues. Gold thread catching the light. This was not merely a place of leadership. It was a place of comfort.

This chief lived lavishly.

That pleased Diyu.

Comfort made leaders soft. Luxury dulled hunger. A ruler surrounded by decoration and ceremony might know how to hold a title, but Diyu doubted he knew how to survive true hardship. If this man had grown comfortable in peace, then Diyu could use that softness against him.

The capital leader turned and spread his arms slightly.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Chief Yorlee. It has been my duty to lead Noxeer for the last fifteen years. The previous chief met with an unfortunate accident, which led me to stand before you now.”

Yorlee’s gaze sharpened with the faintest hint of amusement.

“Now, great warrior, what is your name?”

Diyu caught the undertone immediately.

Unfortunate accident.

There had been no accident. Diyu could hear the meaning beneath the words. Yorlee was not merely introducing himself. He was warning Diyu that leadership in Noxeer could change suddenly, and not always by open challenge. Perhaps he was even suggesting that Diyu might meet a similar fate if he failed to understand where he stood.

He clearly did not know who stood before him.

“My name is Lord Diyu,” Diyu said. “You may continue calling yourself chief in my presence, so long as you understand that I stand above you as a god stands above flesh.”

Yorlee’s expression did not change, but something in his eyes tightened.

Diyu stepped closer.

“Now listen to my message before I lose patience.”

Yorlee opened his arms wider, wearing a careful smile.

“Proceed, oh great lord.”

The mockery was slight. Controlled. Cautious. Yorlee was testing the edge of danger without yet stepping fully into it. He was measuring Diyu, trying to determine whether the reports from the gate had been exaggerated.

Diyu let him wonder.

“My message is simple,” Diyu said. “Hadawon is doomed. In less than a century, this planet will be swallowed by the consequences of its dying sun. I possess knowledge that can lead our people away from this world before that happens. Kneel before me, and under my rule, you and your people will have a future. Resist me, and you, your followers, and your capital will burn.”

Yorlee looked around the room as if considering the matter. Then he lowered himself to one knee.

Before Diyu could speak, Yorlee stood again.

Then he knelt once more.

Then stood.

Then repeated the motion several times, faster each time, until the gesture became almost insulting.

“You see?” Yorlee said. “I am kneeling before you. Yet nothing changes. There are thousands of Kreegans beyond these walls who think for themselves and follow whom they choose, not whom I command them to follow.”

He stopped the mockery and faced Diyu fully.

“So while you are clearly a powerful fighter, and your destructive strength may indeed be unmatched, the question remains. Can raw power alone make a worthy leader?”

Diyu’s jaw tightened.

He was not certain whether Yorlee was questioning his strength or his intelligence. Either insult deserved punishment, but he held himself still. Yorlee was not refusing him outright. He was circling, probing, looking for a weakness.

“My power speaks for itself,” Diyu said. “The capital needs a leader who can command respect through strength and bring order through chaos.”

“Strength, yes,” Yorlee replied. “But true leadership requires more than brute force. A leader must inspire. Strategize. Unite. Think of what waits outside this room. If you can convince the citizens of this capital to follow you willingly, you will gain far more than obedience born from fear.”

Yorlee’s voice remained calm and almost friendly.

“Let us put your strength to a greater test.”

Diyu studied him.

Behind Yorlee’s careful expression, calculation moved like a hidden blade. The chief was appealing to Diyu’s pride, and he was skilled enough to do it without making the manipulation too obvious. That alone made him dangerous.

Still, curiosity stirred inside Diyu.

A part of him wanted to know the limits of what he had become.

“What test do you propose?” Diyu asked.

Yorlee’s smile deepened slightly.

“The capital houses a mythic beast known as the Caustic Levin. It is feared by all who know its name. The creature was gifted to us by the Ophidian Clan when the great peace began. It is said that their chief, Vakusi, captured the beast himself.”

Yorlee paused, watching for Diyu’s reaction.

Diyu gave him none.

Yorlee continued.

“We keep it in the pit beneath the coliseum. It serves as entertainment for the people, though no one has ever defeated it. In truth, many consider being sent against the Levin a death sentence. If you were to overcome it, however, it would prove more than strength. It would prove your ability to protect, command, and survive what no other has survived.”

Diyu could feel Yorlee pouring honey over poison.

“The Caustic Levin,” Diyu said. “How would defeating a beast prove my ability to lead?”

He sensed there was more to the creature than Yorlee had revealed. The chief’s confidence was too smooth. Still, Diyu had no reason to fear a beast kept in a pit.

Yorlee clasped his hands behind his back.

“The test is simple. You and three of your men will enter the pit. If you emerge with all three alive, the capital will witness not only your power but your cunning. The Caustic Levin is not merely a physical challenge. It requires a keen mind to overcome its attacks. To face such a beast is to stand inside a nightmare.”

The more Yorlee spoke, the more Diyu understood his intent.

Yorlee wanted him dead.

But the idea excited Diyu more than it should have. To face a beast that had never been defeated, to conquer it before the people of Noxeer, to turn Yorlee’s trap into proof of divine authority—there was power in that.

“You make a compelling argument,” Diyu said. “Conquering the Caustic Levin would prove my worth before the capital. But why should I accept this challenge instead of seizing power here and now?”

For the first time, Yorlee looked slightly vulnerable.

Only for a breath.

Then he recovered.

“Because the answer lies in the hearts of the people,” Yorlee said. “Leadership is not granted by force alone. It is earned through respect and admiration. If you willingly confront this monstrous threat, you demonstrate that you are not merely a destructive force. You show that you are willing to protect and fight for those you intend to lead.”

Diyu considered the possible outcome.

If he defeated the creature and won the people’s admiration, then his path through the capital would become easier. Yorlee would lose control of the story. The citizens would see Diyu not as a monster at their gates, but as a savior capable of destroying what terrified them.

Perhaps this was not Yorlee’s trap.

Perhaps this was destiny presenting itself through Yorlee’s arrogance.

“Yorlee,” Diyu said, “I accept your challenge. If I am to lead this clan, I will prove my strength by facing the Caustic Levin.”

Yorlee bowed his head slightly.

“Excellent, Diyu. Your decision shows wisdom and a willingness to rise above mere power. Together, we shall prepare for your encounter with the Levin, and the capital will bear witness to your true potential as a leader.”

He hid his satisfaction well.

But not perfectly.

Diyu saw enough.

Both of them rose from their seats.

“Which of your men should I summon?” Yorlee asked.

“Inform my trusted general, Emo,” Diyu said. “Tell him to send two skilled archers. That will be sufficient.”

Yorlee nodded and led Diyu to a side room where he was to wait while the coliseum filled.

As soon as Diyu was gone from public view, Yorlee wasted no time shaping the city’s story. He sent word through Noxeer that the self-proclaimed god who had killed citizens at the gate had been sentenced to face the Caustic Levin. The message spread quickly. Fear became curiosity. Curiosity became hunger. By the time the crowd began gathering, it was one of the largest audiences the coliseum had seen in years.

Before long, Diyu’s chosen men arrived.

They were not men he knew well, but they were hunters from his village, both mature and capable, each standing close to eight feet tall. They carried bows and kept their faces steady, though Diyu could see the tension beneath their discipline.

He addressed them sternly.

“If you wish to preserve your lives, listen carefully. Follow my instructions without question. I will handle everything else.”

The two hunters placed closed fists over their hearts.

“Your will be done, my lord,” they said together.

Two capital guards arrived shortly after and instructed Diyu and his hunters to follow. They led them down a set of stone steps and into a dank, dusty dungeon beneath the coliseum. The air below was damp and sour, thick with old fear. Their footsteps echoed through the dim hallway as they passed rows of cells holding frail and desolate prisoners.

One inmate caught Diyu’s attention.

The prisoner was gaunt, his face pressed close to the bars, eyes wide with terror. He rocked in place and repeated the same warning over and over again.

“It’s out there,” he whispered at first. Then louder. “Things are not what they seem. It’s out there. Things are not what they seem.”

Diyu and the hunters continued walking.

The prisoner’s voice followed them down the hall.

“It’s out there!”

None of them answered.

The guards led them deeper until the passage ended at a heavy metal door secured by a massive locking device. A guard released the mechanism with a resounding clank. The lock dropped. The door groaned open, and blinding light flooded the darkness.

Beyond the doorway waited a swamp.

Diyu stepped forward into murky water that reached his knees. The pit stretched wide before him, larger than his village’s central grounds. Towering stone walls rose more than seventy feet high, enclosing the arena on every side. Above, spectators crowded behind barriers and viewing rails, their voices echoing down into the pit.

There was only one way out.

Behind him.

Diyu surveyed the battleground. The air hung heavy and stagnant. Dark water spread across the pit, almost black beneath the light. Floating debris drifted lazily across the surface. Submerged plant matter brushed against Diyu’s legs. On either side of a large mound stood two dead trees, skeletal and twisted, their branches like claws reaching toward the spectators above. Metal spikes protruded from the mound and surrounding ground, half-swallowed by mud and moss.

The uneven swamp floor shifted beneath Diyu’s heavy body. Submerged hills and sudden depressions hid beneath the water, threatening to trap a careless step. Diyu motioned for his companions to spread out behind him, one to each side, so they could gain better angles once the beast revealed itself.

Then he looked around again.

There were no other gates.

No hidden openings.

No place from which the creature could be released.

A realization settled over him.

The beast was already inside.

Diyu’s awareness sharpened. He scanned the water, the dead trees, the mound, the ripples around his own legs. The silence below was broken only by distant croaks from unseen creatures and the occasional soft movement of swamp water against stone.

Above them, Yorlee’s voice rang out across the coliseum.

“You have all heard of this man’s deeds. You have heard of the citizens slain at our gate. Now witness his fate as the legendary Caustic Levin delivers your revenge!”

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Diyu looked up toward them with displeasure. They wanted his death. Every shout, every raised fist, every hungry face leaning over the rails carried the same desire. They had come to watch him be torn apart.

Soon, they would cheer for a different reason.

The noise slowly faded as anticipation thickened. Diyu remained still, careful not to disturb the water more than necessary. If the creature sensed vibration, he would not give it needless warning.

Then came a sound from beneath the swamp.

A low, muffled clank.

Ripples spread from the center of the pit. Concentric rings widened across the dark surface, passing around Diyu’s legs and out toward the walls. One of the hunters drew in a sharp breath.

The mound moved.

At first, Diyu thought the water was draining away from it. Then he realized the mound was growing. More spikes rose from the mud. More of the shape emerged. Two eyes opened in what had looked like earth, focusing on Diyu before narrowing with animal intelligence.

The swamp exploded upward.

A massive form rose from the water.

The creature stood thirty feet tall, ape-like in build but armored in reptilian scales. Metal spikes covered its body in jagged clusters, protruding from its shoulders, back, arms, and skull. It let out a roar so powerful that it reverberated through the pit and shook water from the dead trees. The air around it crackled faintly, charged with danger.

The Caustic Levin had awakened.

For a moment, Diyu stood in awe.

He had never seen anything like it. Even he felt doubt stir as the creature loomed above him. The spikes along its body shimmered with faint electricity, releasing occasional sparks that leapt from iron point to iron point. The name Caustic Levin now made sense. The beast’s blood or body must possess an acidic quality, and the reaction between that acid and the iron embedded in its flesh seemed to generate electrical force, not unlike the principles the Anunnaki had taught him.

It was a living weapon.

The Levin slammed its massive fists into the swamp.

Electricity surged across the water.

Light rippled outward in violent green flashes, dancing over the murky surface. The current struck Diyu and locked his body in place. His limbs stiffened. His jaw clenched. For a moment, he could not move at all.

His archers suffered worse.

At the edge of his vision, both men collapsed into the shallow water, stunned unconscious by the jolt.

The crowd roared as the beast landed its first blow.

Gradually, the grip of the electricity loosened from Diyu’s body. It had hurt, but not as much as he expected. His new form had protected him from the worst of it. Anger burned through the lingering numbness.

He charged.

The Caustic Levin swatted him aside with one massive hand.

Diyu flew through the air and slammed into the stone wall with tremendous force. Pain rang through him, sharp and bright, but it only fed the rage rising inside him. Clarity began to slip. His thoughts narrowed. Vengeance, destruction, and the desire to dominate filled the space where caution had been.

He tore himself away from the wall and ran toward one of the dead trees.

With a violent heave, Diyu ripped it from the swamp floor, roots and all. Mud and black water sprayed in every direction. He swung the tree like a club, roaring as he brought it around with wild force.

The blow struck the Levin.

The dead tree exploded on impact, splintering into fragments. The beast staggered, and from the shattered trunk, a rusty sword spun into the air. It must have been buried inside the dead wood, lost there by some fighter who had died in the pit long before.

Diyu did not lose a step.

He leapt toward the Levin, using the creature’s massive head as a springboard. The beast swung at him, still dazed from the blow, but its strike passed wide. Diyu climbed higher into the air and caught the spinning sword.

Then he fell.

He struck the swamp with a great splash and a thunderous impact, sword in hand, rising from the muck like a thing born from violence.

Now he could properly duel the beast.

Diyu charged again, changing direction several times as the Levins’ enormous arms slapped and smashed toward him. The creature was fast for its size, but Diyu moved faster. He dodged beneath one strike, cut across another angle, then slipped away as a fist crashed into the water behind him.

But the Levin held an advantage in the swamp.

Its massive body moved through the treacherous ground with ease, while Diyu’s heavier metal form had to fight the mud beneath every step. The creature recognized this and slammed both arms into the water again.

Electricity surged.

Diyu was locked in place for the second time.

The Levin brought both fists down in a devastating smash. The blow drove Diyu face-first into the swamp, burying half his body in muck and peat beneath the water.

For most beings, such a moment would have brought panic.

For Diyu, it brought only rage.

Destruction.

He exploded upward from the murky water with unnatural speed, tearing free from the suctioning mud as if the swamp itself had offended him. He darted between electrified patches, narrowly avoiding currents that could freeze him in place again. With each swing of the rusty sword, he targeted vulnerable points—the eyes, the exposed joints, the softer spaces between scales.

The Levin struck again.

Diyu reacted without fully thinking and sliced across one of the creature’s hands. Green blood sprayed over the blade. The Levin recoiled, and Diyu retreated to create distance.

A faint sizzling sound caught his attention.

He looked down at the sword.

Where the creature’s green blood stained the metal, smoke curled upward. The acid was eating into the blade. Diyu stared at it, understanding now that any wound he dealt would create another danger. The Levins’ blood was corrosive, capable of burning through metal and flesh alike.

This creature was more than large.

It was perilous in every part.

Diyu knew he had to finish the fight quickly. The longer it dragged on, the slimmer his chances became. He tightened his grip on the sword and rushed toward the Levin’s underbelly, aiming for the softer flesh beneath its armored chest.

The creature caught him with a sudden backhand.

Diyu crashed through the second dead tree and landed in a shallow pool of water. Agony tore through his shoulder. He looked down and saw acid burning through his metal skin, corroding into the strange raw material beneath. Instinctively, he submerged the wound, forcing his shoulder and half his body beneath the water.

Steam rose.

The pain faded slowly.

Rage remained.

The Levin moved to crush him.

This time, Diyu did not dodge.

He launched himself from the water in an explosive burst and drove his shoulder directly into the creature’s knee. The impact rang through the pit like stone splitting. Bone cracked. The Levin’s leg buckled beneath its own weight.

The beast roared in agony and collapsed forward onto its stomach, writhing in the swamp.

The crowd gasped.

Then silence fell.

The Caustic Levin had never tasted defeat. The people of Noxeer had never expected to see it on the ground.

Diyu rose before the fallen beast.

“I will end you!” he bellowed.

He leapt into the air, fist clenched high above his head. Every ounce of strength in his transformed body gathered into one descending strike.

His fist came down like a colossal hammer.

The impact crushed the Levins ’ skulls.

Blood, teeth, and fragments of brain burst outward, splattering across the swamp in violent lime-green sprays. The water around the beast stained bright and unnatural. Drops of acidic blood struck the metal walls of the coliseum and sizzled loudly.

The creature’s ruined head sank half-submerged into the mixture of its own blood and the dark swamp water.

For several suspended seconds, the crowd remained silent.

They did not understand what they had witnessed.

Then the coliseum erupted.

Cheers thundered from every side. The sound rolled down the stone walls in waves of astonishment and awe. The same spectators who had come to watch Diyu die now stood and shouted his name, their voices blending into a roar of fear, admiration, and disbelief.

Diyu looked up at them.

Now they understood.

High above the pit, Yorlee began to sweat.

His clever mind searched for a way out of the disaster he had created. His plan had been simple. The Levin would kill Diyu, the crowd would celebrate justice, and Yorlee would remain chief. Instead, the people had witnessed a force that demanded reverence. He could not condemn Diyu now. Not openly. Not after this.

Yorlee stepped forward, raising his voice over the crowd.

“You may not hold the title of clan lord,” he proclaimed, “but you have proven yourself as a lord nonetheless. Perhaps even a Lord of Destruction.”

Yorlee did not know how true his words were.

A heavy clank echoed across the coliseum floor as the metal door opened. Its rusty hinges groaned. Two guards stood in the doorway, their faces caught between fear and curiosity as they waited for Diyu and his now-conscious archers to leave the pit.

Yorlee’s voice carried down again, now threaded with reluctant respect.

“Come. Let us get you cleaned up. We have unfinished business to discuss.”

Diyu sensed the falseness in Yorlee’s tone, but he also knew the chief had been forced to swallow his own scheme. With a slight nod, Diyu turned to his men and motioned them toward the door.

They followed.

The cheers of the crowd echoed behind them as they passed back through the dungeon hall. The prisoners no longer shouted. Even the gaunt inmate who had warned them before was silent now, pressed against the bars and staring as Diyu walked past with acidic blood staining his body.

Eventually, they returned to the grand hall where Diyu and Yorlee had first spoken.

Yorlee waited there, looking far less certain than before.

“I am unsure what to do with you,” Yorlee admitted. “You have the strength of a god. Many lost their lives fighting that beast. It is said to have killed an entire Ophidian village before Vakusi himself captured it. I never thought I would see someone kill it alone.”

Diyu stepped closer.

“I have proven my words true. I am the chosen one, destined to lead our people away from this forsaken rock before it is destroyed by the sun.”

Yorlee rubbed his chin, thinking quickly.

“So,” he said, “you are not here merely to kill me and take my position. You are here to help us if we follow you.”

Diyu understood what Yorlee was doing. The chief was buying time, saving his own skin before all else. But survival made creatures useful when guided correctly.

“I am here to lead my people,” Diyu said. “But time is limited. We must act quickly.”

“Will you be taking over all responsibilities of the city and clan politics?” Yorlee asked.

He stroked his chin as he spoke, and Diyu could see the mind behind the words already scheming.

Diyu looked at him and realized a truth he disliked.

He knew nothing about running a city.

He could conquer. He could inspire fear. He could break beasts and soldiers. But Noxeer was vast, filled with systems he did not yet understand. Food. Labor. Trade. Records. Disputes. Training. Public order. Yorlee was dangerous, but he also knew how the capital functioned.

“Here is how this will work,” Diyu said. “You may remain the face of leadership among your people. But when I call, you will answer.”

Concern flickered across Yorlee’s face.

“What exactly would you call me to do?”

“I will raise an army,” Diyu said. “Then I will invade the neighboring clans and convince their leaders to follow or die by my hand. Their lands hold resources critical to building the advanced craft that will carry us away from this world.”

Yorlee’s expression grew more serious.

“No other clan leader will openly submit to anyone,” he said. “The only reason your display worked here is that we no longer have a true military. Our soldiers were reclassified into other professions after the peace. Their sons have taken over those trades, but they have never been soldiers.”

Diyu considered that.

“Then we will make them soldiers.”

Yorlee said nothing.

“Fetch my men,” Diyu continued. “We have much work to do.”

The two hunters left to retrieve the others. When they were gone, Diyu looked back at Yorlee. The chief’s face suggested there was something else he wanted to say.

“Speak, Yorlee. We are not enemies. We now share the same goal.”

“Yes,” Yorlee said carefully. “Of course. Perhaps it is better if I show you. Follow me.”

Diyu followed him from the gathering room and out into the main street. The city had changed since his walk to the chief’s hall. Word of the pit had spread. Some children cheered when they saw him. Others ran away screaming. Adults bowed their heads or stepped aside. No one looked at him as merely a monster now.

Some looked at him as something worse.

Something powerful.

He and Yorlee continued toward the outskirts of the city, where a large wooden gate led into an older section of Noxeer. The area beyond appeared abandoned, though not ruined beyond use. Open yards are spread between long buildings. Training posts stood weathered but intact. Storage sheds leaned beneath age and neglect. Dust lay thick across grounds once meant for movement, discipline, and command.

Yorlee stopped in the center of the empty yard.

“This used to be our military barracks,” he said. “Before the peace treaty forced us to decommission it.”

He looked around with an expression Diyu found difficult to read.

“I always found it strange that we had to disband our forces while the other clans did not. Perhaps it was because the Anoxe used to raid often and successfully. Either way, it left the door wide open for someone like you to walk in and reignite the flames.”

Yorlee turned back to Diyu.

“Maybe there is something to this destiny you keep speaking of. I am interested to see what comes of you and this endeavor.”

Diyu heard the lie beneath the words.

Yorlee did not care about destiny. He cared about surviving Diyu long enough for someone else to end the danger for him. Perhaps he hoped the Ophidian Clan, or another enemy, would succeed where the Caustic Levin had failed.

Diyu kept his expression still.

He would have to watch Yorlee closely.

The chief was crafty.

And craft, if controlled, could be useful.

They returned to the gathering hall, where Emo and the rest of Diyu’s men waited outside. Diyu signaled for Emo to come closer so they could speak privately.

“My lord,” Emo said, lowering his voice, “I see negotiations went well. The citizens are terrified as we walk through the streets. What happened?”

He paused, reconsidering.

“No. Never mind. I do not want to know. What are your orders?”

Diyu almost smiled at Emo’s reaction, but there was work to be done.

“There are old barracks and training facilities on the edge of the city,” Diyu said. “Move the Guardsmen there and begin restoring them. I want the place to be functional as quickly as possible.”

Emo nodded.

Diyu stepped closer and lowered his voice further.

“Send three men back to the village. They are to bring my mother and the rest of our people here. We will all live in the barracks now.”

Emo’s eyes shifted briefly, but he did not question the command.

“Your will be done.”

He left to carry out the orders.

Diyu returned to Yorlee.

“How many able-bodied citizens live in this capital?” Diyu asked.

“Our last count listed three hundred thousand able-bodied Kreegans,” Yorlee said. “That includes both males and females.”

Diyu considered the number.

Yorlee tilted his head. “Is there a reason you asked first of men?”

“No,” Diyu said. “Only an old habit. All will die equally if nothing is done, so all will help where they can.”

Yorlee absorbed the answer.

“Plan a large gathering,” Diyu continued. “I will address the population.”

“That will take some time to arrange,” Yorlee said. “Give me a week, and you will have your audience.”

Diyu knew that was likely a lie. Yorlee wanted time to maneuver, time to think, perhaps time to warn others or strengthen his position.

Diyu nodded anyway.

“Make it happen.”

Yorlee seemed eager to leave and tend to his own matters. Diyu watched him go, understanding more clearly now that the fight with the Caustic Levin had been a ploy to kill him without making it appear as murder.

Yorlee was clever indeed.

Diyu would harness that cleverness for his own benefit.

A week passed, and Yorlee did as he had been commanded.

A massive crowd gathered outside the meeting hall. An elevated platform had been built, and a podium stood at its center. Citizens filled the streets and open spaces beyond, packed tightly together, whispering among themselves while guards and officials struggled to keep order.

Yorlee stepped forward first and raised his hands. Slowly, the crowd quieted.

Then he introduced Diyu.

Diyu walked calmly to the podium and took command of it without waiting for Yorlee to finish lingering beside him. He looked out over the multitude of Kreegans and felt a strange certainty settle over him.

They needed him.

Even if they did not know it yet.

“I have grave news to share with you,” Diyu declared, his voice carrying across the assembled crowd. “Take my words with the utmost seriousness. In less than a century, Hadawon will no longer be capable of sustaining life. Our dying sun will eventually consume this world.”

The crowd erupted into whispers and scattered shouts.

“How can we believe such claims?” someone cried.

“We have no proof!” another shouted. “No reason to trust you!”

Diyu raised one hand.

“Do not rely solely on my words.”

He gestured toward a group of Kreegan hunters and fishermen approaching the platform. As they stepped forward, Diyu caught a confused flicker in Yorlee’s expression. The chief had not expected this.

Good.

Diyu turned toward the witnesses.

“Tell your fellow citizens what you have seen in the fields and oceans.”

The first fisherman stepped to the front and waited for the crowd to quiet.

“What Lord Diyu says is true,” he said. “Our waters are yielding less with each passing day.”

A voice from the crowd shouted back. “We have had shortages before. That is nothing new.”

The fisherman did not retreat.

“If this were a temporary shortage, it would be the worst we have ever known,” he said. “But it is not passing. It worsens day by day. Soon, the fish markets will empty completely, and famine will come for us all.”

Another hunter stepped forward.

“I can speak to the same,” he said. “We are finding more dead Anoxe in the plains than ever before. The herds are weakening. The land is giving warnings.”

The crowd grew restless. Panic moved through them like wind through dry grass.

Diyu stepped forward again before the fear could scatter in too many directions.

“Now that I have your attention, believe me when I say Hadawon has forsaken us. We must escape its grip. Follow me, and you and your families will find salvation.”

The crowd seemed nearly convinced.

Then a voice shouted, “And what are we supposed to do until then? Survive on wishes and dreams?”

Restlessness spread quickly.

Diyu lifted both hands, waiting until the noise settled enough for him to be heard.

“I am working with Yorlee to address the food crisis,” he said. “However, as a leader, I find it shameful that he was unaware of the severity of the danger facing his own people.”

The words struck exactly where Diyu intended.

Heads turned toward Yorlee.

Yorlee’s face tightened. He turned sharply and withdrew into the meeting hall.

Diyu watched him go.

In that moment, he knew he had taken something from the chief that could not be easily reclaimed. The crowd’s trust had shifted. Not completely, not permanently, but enough. The turning point had come.

Now he needed to give the people motivation to join his cause.

And what better motivation existed than a starving belly waiting to be fed?

Diyu left the platform and walked back into the meeting hall.

Yorlee was waiting inside, furious.

“You poison my name before my own people,” Yorlee snapped. “Who do you think you are?”

Diyu crossed the distance between them in an instant.

His hand closed around Yorlee’s throat, and he lifted the chief off the ground. Yorlee’s feet kicked once, then dangled. Diyu brought him close enough that the chief could hear every word through the choking pressure.

“I am your lord and savior,” Diyu said. “If you ever try to cross me again as you did with the pit, I will feed your entrails to your starving people.”

Rage surged inside him.

His grip tightened.

For one moment, Diyu wanted to squeeze harder. He imagined crushing Yorlee’s throat, tearing him open, ending the scheming mind before it became a larger problem. The voice of reason inside him, once loud and clear, had become faint. Barely more than a whisper beneath the storm.

But it was still there.

Diyu listened to it.

He released Yorlee.

The chief collapsed to the floor, coughing and clawing for breath. His confidence had vanished. The conspiracy he had spun around Diyu had failed, and now he understood the cost of one wrong move.

Through ragged coughs, Yorlee managed to speak.

“Yes, my lord.”

Diyu left him on the floor.

Then he walked toward the barracks, his mind already turning toward the food crisis waiting at the capital’s doorstep.