Global lord: Million times Multiplier System-Chapter 22: A threat to the balance

Zhao's gaze swept over his lieutenants, his voice steady and commanding as he issued the final order, cutting through the evening stillness with the precision of a honed blade. "We strike now—300 Ironclaw Beasts in the caves ahead, Diamond-tier, slow but brutal. Valorn, lead the Knights with ten dragons—sweep from the east. Acel, take five dragons—flank from the west. Balor, position two War Fortresses at the main exits—block their escape. Lyra, Archers above—rain arrows on any that emerge. Elara, bring the egg closer—let it feed on the fight. Marcus, set leather traps at the rear—catch stragglers. Kael, Veyra—stand by with gear and elixirs. Move!"

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

The team sprang into action, their movements swift and synchronized, a testament to their training and Zhao's unyielding leadership. Valorn bellowed commands, his deep voice rallying the Eternal Knights as they mounted ten dragons, their Solfare weapons flashing with Vac fire as the beasts took flight, their wings beating with a thunderous rhythm that shook the clearing. Acel whistled sharply, leading five dragons westward, their scales shimmering into stealth mode—vanishing from lesser eyes, a mythic ability that cloaked them from all but the most perceptive—as they flanked the caves. Balor directed two Portable War Fortresses, their divine-tier steel plating glowing with Kael's runes, rolling into position at the main cave mouths with a low, mechanical hum, their bulk sealing off escape routes. Lyra's Archers scaled the trees, their Ancient Wave Panoply gleaming as they nocked poison-tipped arrows, their Solfare bows humming with energy, poised to unleash a deadly rain. Elara cradled the pet egg, moving it closer to the cave entrances, its pulsing light intensifying with each step, while Marcus and his workers strung leather traps at the rear, their hands deft as they worked under torchlight. Kael and Veyra stood ready, their divine-tier gear and celestial elixirs prepared for distribution, watching the unfolding assault with sharp eyes.

Zhao advanced at the forefront, his cloak billowing faintly, the scythe a dark silhouette against the twilight sky, the ring's crimson gem pulsing in rhythm with his steady heartbeat. The hideout loomed ahead—a dozen cave openings nestled into the hillside, framed by gnarled Ironwood trees, their dark maws quiet save for the faint growls of the Ironclaw Beasts within, their Diamond-tier rank marking them as formidable foes, above Bronze but below Platinum, their armored hides a challenge to any lesser force. His team fanned out around him, their positions set, their breaths held as they awaited his signal to strike.

He took a deep breath, the air cool against his skin, and stepped forward, his boot crossing the threshold of the hideout's perimeter, the boundary marked by a faint shift in the earth—loose dirt giving way to packed stone. The moment his foot touched the ground, a surge of necrotic energy erupted from him, an invisible wave of death unleashed by his "Lord of Death" class, amplified by the title "God of Death" and the equipments now bonded to his being. The air darkened, shadows lengthening unnaturally as the Cloak of the Nether pulsed, its golden veins flaring with necrotic power, the Reaper's Scythe humming with a low, menacing note, the Ring of Mortal Bonds glowing crimson as its runes activated.

Before anyone could react—before the dragons could dive, the Knights could charge, or the Archers could loose their arrows—a deafening silence fell, followed by a chorus of guttural gasps and thuds echoing from the caves. The 300 Ironclaw Beasts—hulking, armored brutes with razor-sharp claws and hides like forged steel—dropped dead instantly, their massive forms collapsing into lifeless heaps within the tunnels, their silver-flecked fur (adjusted to Silver-tier for narrative escalation) matting with the dirt as their growls ceased mid-breath. The wave of death had swept through them, a necrotic force so potent that it snuffed out their lives before they could even sense the threat, their Diamond-tier resilience—high-ranked but not invincible—rendered meaningless against the Lord of Death's dominion.

Zhao froze, his foot still planted on the stone, the scythe's glow dimming slightly as he stared at the cave mouths, his sharp eyes widening in shock. The silence was absolute, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant drip of water within the caves—no roars, no clashing steel, no cries of battle. The Ironclaw Beasts—600, he realized, doubling Acel's initial count as the caves held more than expected—lay dead, their silver scales dulling in the twilight, their bodies sprawled in grotesque stillness. He'd expected a fight, a test of his new class, not... this. The sheer power of his entry had annihilated them, a testament to "Death's Dominion" and the "God of Death" title's necrotic might, unleashed without conscious intent.

He turned, his cloak swirling faintly, and met the gazes of his subjects—Valorn's jaw slack, his Solfare lowered mid-step; Balor's eyes wide, the War Fortresses humming idly; Lyra's Archers frozen mid-draw, arrows nocked but unloosed; Acel gripping his spear, his golden eyes dilated; Elara clutching the egg, her breath caught; Marcus and the workers staring, tools slipping from their hands; Kael and Veyra motionless, their divine works paused. They looked at him not with awe, but with something akin to fear—a primal, hushed reverence tinged with disbelief, as if he were no longer their lord but a monster clad in human form, a being who'd turned a battlefield into a graveyard with a single step.

"By the gods..." Valorn muttered, his voice barely a whisper, his hand trembling faintly on his sword, "what... what are you, my lord?"

Zhao's smirk faltered, his own shock mirroring theirs as he processed the scene—the caves silent, the air heavy with the scent of decay, the weight of 600 Silver-tier monsters' deaths settling into him like a sudden burden. He'd felt it—the surge of experience points flooding into him, a torrent of power from the slain beasts, their essence absorbed by his class's necrotic dominion. The system chimed softly, its voice a quiet counterpoint to the stunned silence.

(Attention: 600 Silver-tier Ironclaw Beasts defeated)

(Experience absorbed: Zhao has reached the peak of Bronze Tier 5-star)

(Rank ascension pending further requirements)

The influx pushed him to the peak of his rank, the edge of Bronze Tier 3-star, his body tingling faintly as the power settled, his senses sharpening, his Supreme God Devouring Omniversal Physique humming with the absorbed energy. Yet, the shock lingered—he'd intended to test his class, not end the fight before it began.

In an unknown place, far beyond the Ironwood Hills, a figure cloaked in light observed through a shimmering veil—a being once known as Halo, now taken a human-like form, its radiant halo dimmed into a faint crown of luminescence atop a head of flowing silver hair. Its eyes, glowing with an otherworldly sheen, narrowed as it watched Zhao, its gaze piercing the distance to witness the moment his foot touched the hideout's ground. The instant death of 600 Silver-tier monsters unfolded before it, their collapse a silent testament to a power it hadn't anticipated. A sense of utter disdain crept into Halo's ethereal features—disdain not just for the ease of the slaughter, but for the being who wielded such power without effort, a mortal cloaked in death's mantle who defied the natural order. "This... this is no mere lord," it murmured, its voice a melodic whisper laced with unease, "but a harbinger... a threat to the balance."

Back in the clearing, Zhao shook off his shock, his smirk returning as he adjusted to the weight of his class's power, the Cloak of the Nether billowing faintly, the Reaper's Scythe steady in his grip, the Ring of Mortal Bonds pulsing with necrotic intent. "Collect the corpses—extract everything," he ordered, his voice cutting through the stunned silence, snapping his subjects back to action. "Ores, hides, cores—take it all. We've got loot to harvest."

The team moved, their initial fear giving way to disciplined efficiency, though their glances lingered on Zhao with a mix of reverence and unease—Valorn leading the Knights into the caves, their Solfare weapons cutting through the beasts' thick hides; Balor and Marcus hauling corpses to the clearing, their workers sorting ores and leather; Lyra's Archers scanning for stragglers; Acel overseeing the extraction, his spear poised; Kael and Veyra preparing to process the haul. The dragons lumbered forward, their massive claws dragging the dead, their roars a low rumble as they aided their god.

Zhao stepped among the corpses, the scythe's glow dimming as he surveyed the carnage, his mind shifting to the pet egg—its growth tied to combat energy, now ripe with potential from this slaughter. He turned to Elara, who held the egg near the pile, its crystalline surface pulsing wildly. "Bring it closer—let it feed on this," he instructed, his voice steady as he gestured to the corpses.

Elara obeyed, setting the egg atop a fallen Ironclaw, its silver scales dull beneath the pulsing artifact. The moment it touched the corpse, a massive surge of golden light erupted from the dead beasts—an outpouring of combat energy and soul essence, drawn by the egg's hunger and Zhao's necrotic dominion. The light swirled upward, a torrent of radiant power that bathed the clearing in a blinding glow, flowing into the egg with a force that made the ground tremble faintly, the air thickening with its intensity.

Before the energy could fully settle, the system chimed, its voice cutting through the radiance with a tone of sudden activation, a familiar resonance that Zhao recognized from the Million Times Multiplier System.

(Ding... Million Times Multiplier System activated)

(Combat energy absorption multiplied by 1,000,000)

(Unknown Ranked Pet Egg power increased exponentially)

The golden light exploded outward, intensifying a millionfold, a blinding cascade that swallowed the clearing, its radiance piercing the evening sky and bathing the dragons, Knights, and workers in a glow that seemed to hum with divine power. The egg pulsed violently, its crystalline surface cracking faintly as it absorbed the multiplied energy, its golden light now streaked with shadows and flecks of crimson—echoes of Zhao's Lord of Death class and God of Death title. The sheer force of it staggered Zhao, his smirk fading into awe as he realized the egg was on the verge of hatching, its power now a million times beyond what it had been moments ago, a vessel of unimaginable potential awakened by the slaughter and the system's intervention.

The light steadied, the egg trembling as cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, its pulsing growing erratic, poised to unleash whatever lay within—a creature forged by death, multiplied by divine power, ready to emerge under the gaze of the Lord of Death.