Divine Beast Ascension

Chapter 627 - 627 Leader Rokkal Prodson

627 Leader Rokkal Prodson

Captain Khas replied with a half nod, “Master Rofar, I’m unaware of the specific details regarding the assaults on Iccad and Dobbar. But even General Ocker didn’t want to believe the scout at first. Not until we sensed and noticed the battle at the cliffside camp.”

“Either way,” Rofar stated, “if what you say is true, then the Iron-Forell army will likely reach the city by tomorrow at the latest… And with at least five mid-perennials?

“... Thank you, Captain Khas. Please, accept a room here in the palace for the night to rest.”

Khas briefly squinted. But Khas quickly understood the situation and accepted the offer. “Thank you, Master Rofar. I’ll gladly accept any room. I’m a bit worn out from rushing here at top speed.”

Rofar got up and led the way to the door. “Come, I’ll personally show you the room.”

Without delay, Khas followed the young master through the palace halls. They slowly walked for over ten minutes as they went deeper into the building. And Rofar occasionally nodded to guards to gather them as well.

Once there were four guards at Rofar’s side, they finally stopped at a room near the center of the palace.

“Here you are, Captain,” Rofar stated with a respectful head bow. One guard opened the door, revealing a well-kept guest room with a private bath, no windows, and no exits apart from the single door. “This is where you’ll be staying for the night. I’ll make sure lunch and dinner are delivered promptly.”

Khas bowed and entered without a fuss. “Might I ask for a light breakfast as well? It would help me replenish my strength after my rushed journey.”

.....

“Of course. We’ll have something brought to you immediately. Now, until we have further commands for you, Captain, please remain in this room. It would be difficult to find you, otherwise,” Rofar stated before closing the door and locking it from the outside.

Rofar glanced at the four guards. “Take shifts. I need at least two of you guarding this door at all times. We need to make sure our tired guest is secure and goes nowhere, for the time being.”

“Yes, Master Rofar,” the replied in unison.

Leaving the guards behind, Rofar walked toward the throne room at the dead center of the palace. It wasn’t too far away but Rofar was still dejected and irked as he took every step.

Rofar soon reached his destination. He bowed to the two guards at the double doors, who immediately began to open the one door just enough for Rofar to squeeze into the room.

Clang-ang-ang!

“BLAST! Those no-good assassins, ruining everything!”

The moment Rofar stepped into the well-lit throne room, he also entered the room’s silent formation. Rofar sighed and massaged the sides of his eyes while listening to his father’s tantrum.

At the center of the room, a man with a small wine belly was standing in rage.

Near that man, there were two women. One was holding a pitcher of wine and the other held a bowl of exotic fruit.

“Hurry!” shouted the fuming madman. “More wine!”

Without a word, the woman carrying the pitcher rushed to the side of the room. She grabbed another gold cup, filled it to near the brim, and quickly but carefully brought it to the man.

“Finally!” the man barked, ignoring his approaching son.

The woman hurried back to where she was previously with a masking smile to cover the true worry she felt.

Gulp, gulp… “Ahh! At least the beasts know how to make good liquor!”

Clang-ang!

As soon as the man drained his cup of alcohol, he threw it aside. And the scurrying servant woman narrowly evaded the powerful throw.

“Another!”

Sighing and sharpening his gaze, Rofar stepped between his father and the servant woman. “I think that’s enough, Father.”

“Father? That’s Leader Rokkal Prodson to you, boy!” barked the man, who barely looked a few years older than Rofar with his medium-length black hair.

Rofar didn’t retort. Instead, Rofar glanced at the servant woman. “You two, step outside until I exit. I must speak with Leader Prodson in private.”

“Yes, Master Rofar!” With deep bows and quick steps, both women rushed out the door to take a break from their leader’s unstoppable fits and threats.

Sensing the seriousness in his son’s eyes, Rokkal seemingly calmed down. “What is it this time? Have our armies fallen already?”

Rofar put on a smile. He dropped to one knee and bowed before his father. “Leader Rokkal, I’ve come to inform you of a sudden report given by Captain Khas from the front lines.

“Just spit it out already…” Rokkal barked while sauntering over to his throne.

Raising his head but staying on one knee, Rokkal stated, “According to Captain Khas, Iron has sent a beast army with over one dozen gorillas and at least five mid-perennials through Forell. All led by Hurman ‘Grim Tempo’ Practor, who is reportedly also a mid-perennial at this time.”

“So the Grim Tempo is truly a perennial? And a mid-perennial at that…” Rokkal shared a solemn expression while leaning back into his throne. “That would explain why Iron was willing to send an army without either of their peak-perennials present. Then, if the armies were already under attack, they have likely fallen already. I doubt even Ocker or you can stand up to a man like Hurman…”

Rofar was astounded to hear those words from his father of all people. But Rofar refused to break decorum, given his father’s temper and the growing stress of their situation.

“You would rate Old Practor so highly?” Rofar asked.

Rokkal nodded with a scoff, “Of course I would! I only slandered the man because he failed to ascend from mortality for decades, and it seemed he would never become a thorn in our side.

“But if he’s truly become a mid-perennial after all this time, only a talented high-perennial or a peak-perennial can stop him.”

Offended, Rofar said, “Then, why wouldn’t I be able to bring him down–”

“Because you’re not talented!” Rokkal barked, nearly leaping out of his throne in fury as lingering rage oozed back into the conversation. “Sure, you’re capable. But you were merely a regional candidate that never made it out of the prefecture qualifier.

“Hurman is called the Grim Tempo because he not only made it to the quadrant finals, but to the second half of the quadrant finals! While you exited the Mortal Championship as a nobody to the world, the Grim Tempo was dubbed the twenty-first strongest mortal of his decade!”