Following Darian's order, his almost two hundred soldiers surrounded those hundreds of figures, all noticeably powerful. They stared coldly at the disciples — they'd never felt so insulted before.

Without any hesitation, the two hundred inflated their powers to the max. Even facing three times as many enemies, all level nine, the soldiers stayed fearless.

"Courting death!"

Patriarch Aegli roared furiously. He'd been humiliated; now that group of level-seven people dared attack him? His anger overflowed.

"DIE!"

Aegli's full power burst out. He wasn't foolish enough to underestimate them; he released elemental runes through the system that fused with his attack. His blade surged forward, accompanied by furious lightning and wind.

*BOOM!*

A wave of elemental energy sent the nearly two hundred soldiers flying backward.

What shocked everyone was that the patriarch himself was also thrown back... and coughed up some blood.

"What?!"

Everyone was incredulous. You had to know his silver aura had terrifying elemental defenses and resistance.

Then...

"Chromaraic Cataclysm!"

Suddenly the two hundred roared in unison and the world changed color.

A multicolored aura flowed from them; the space around cracked and vibrated under that power.

A solid, lethal pressure hit all those powerful figures. Their eyes widened. What the hell was this?

The two hundred stabilized instantly and counterattacked, surrounding Patriarch Aegli with their blades, ready to...

"Stop!" Darian yelled suddenly.

Aegli stared at him, shocked and furious. Just as he was about to strike again, Darian ordered the soldiers to halt — and they all returned to his side immediately.

The power around them dimmed, making them look like ordinary disciples again, as if nothing had happened. Still, their gazes stayed fixed on the patriarch, as if they wanted to finish him.

In the end, everyone looked to Darian.

"Old man, you asked how long I could act wildly. Just so you know — if I really were acting wild, you'd already be buried. I wouldn't even bother putting you in your place, so I planned for my soldiers to handle it gently. But... I changed my mind: they're the future pillars of the sect, heroes who'll be remembered in history. I don't want them remembered as people who bullied a frail old man. Fine, that's it. There's nothing left for you here. Get out."

Darian waved apathetically, verbally and physically telling him to piss off. Then he turned to the other clan leaders:

"You saw the power of my frontline soldiers. I had only one year to train them, and now I plan to increase their numbers endlessly. Over time, we'll gather thousands of soldiers at a similar level. Now tell me: do you still think my sect is acting foolishly?"

Hearing that, everyone's hearts raced.

Even though the nearly two hundred hadn't launched a real attack, they were able to block the patriarch's full power and strike back. Everyone felt that their force alone would leave anyone half-dead at minimum. It was more than enough to show how terrifying those disciples were.

At the same time, they realized Darian had used the patriarch as a whetstone to show everyone a taste of his soldiers' power.

Aegli's expression grew uglier, but also shocked. What method did the Divine Seven-Star Sect use to create such terrifying warriors?

They were all level seven in the second realm, yet could rival old level-nines—this was madness.

Silence fell. Darian said calmly, "The Divine Seven-Star Sect doesn't want to fight the clans. But we were betrayed once, and when we start acting for real, anyone who isn't an ally will be a potential enemy."

"I don't have time to waste. Don't you realize that over time our enemies grow stronger and our opportunities in this war shrink? They pressure us quietly, sowing internal discord, infiltrating traitors, undermining us from within. Over time, the chances of victory only drop. I trust none of you are foolish enough to ignore that."

Darian spoke slowly, looking each person in the eye.

"The Divine Seven-Star Sect is willing to lead this war and help trustworthy allies grow stronger. If you want to join us, you're welcome. If you don't join... you'll become our enemies, and we have only one approach to enemies: we'll massacre them to the end."

Darian's serious expression sent a chill down everyone's spine, especially after his last words. There was a bloody, grim edge to them.

"Those who join us will get the secret chaos-assimilation technique and the Chromaraic Cataclysm, handed over for free. Whether you can learn them or not depends on your ability," Darian added.

"The Chromaraic Cataclysm? That's what those disciples used just now?" the leader of a clan exclaimed.

"Right," Darian nodded.

An uproar broke out among them. Then they looked at the nearly two hundred disciples in disbelief. The disciples, for their part, were swelling with pride to be watched by such important figures. They'd gone from cast-off disciples—considered garbage—to people who could move the masters of the top clans.

"Vice-Leader Darian, you're really going to share all that for free? From what I know, the secret chaos-assimilation technique… it's sect property and shouldn't be taught to outsiders," another elder asked seriously.

Before, he'd been one of those shouting and mocking arrogantly, but now he treated Darian with extreme politeness. His whole attitude had changed—like everyone else's.

"My words are the sect's words. All allies can learn, no matter clan, family, status, rank, gender, or origin. Time's too precious—I want to train many real soldiers as fast as possible. As for the Chromaraic Cataclysm, that's a legacy from the God Chromaraic, so obviously it's exclusive to this race," Darian said calmly.

Those words moved the clan leaders again. A technique left by the God Chromaraic?

They couldn't believe it, but they'd seen the power with their own eyes. Everyone was deeply tempted by that immense power.

"In the past… all Chromaraics were one family. We should never have split. Whoever has the power to lead should lead—there's no point fighting over it. My Silver Blow clan won't oppose you. We'll fight on the sect's side," declared the patriarch Aegli—something nobody expected.

"Eh? That old bastard suddenly wants to kiss the Boss's ass?" Remira mocked.

He sighed dryly: "Time changes a man. I've aged—I can't judge people as sharply anymore. A defeat is a defeat. There's nothing else to say. He deserves to lead us in this war; I trust we can win."

Those words moved a lot of people. They'd thought this old man was hot-headed and stubborn; they didn't expect him to reflect after that humiliation. It was something few could do.

Even Darian was surprised. From the first time he'd seen Aegli, he'd known him to be short-tempered and someone unlikely to change his mind, even if beaten to death.

"I have no reason to reject anyone," Darian said lightly, clearly reading the old man's common karma. He'd also sensed that many leaders shared a similar karma, so he wouldn't refuse anyone.

Everyone nodded, euphoric. One by one they declared full alliance with the sect, and Darian's leadership became absolute.

Now… a new, huge step toward victory had been taken.

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