(Planet Ixtal, Cult Camp, Council Tent)

Silence hung inside the command tent long after Leo finished speaking, heavy and unmoving, as the glowing projections of the war map slowly dimmed and faded, leaving the five Cult Monarchs standing around the table with nothing but their own thoughts for company.

For several heartbeats, no one spoke.

Su Pei was the first to lift his gaze, looking toward Darnell Nuna, only to find the man already staring back at him, his expression tight and unreadable.

Across from them, Anderson Silva pinched the bridge of his nose slowly, while Mickey James leaned back against one of the tent's support pillars, arms folded across his chest, jaw clenched as if grinding his teeth would somehow make the plan less insane.

Dupravel Nuna remained still, eyes fixed on the table where the projections had been moments ago.

While, at the far end of the tent, Dumpy sat cross-legged on the ground, broad back straight, arms folded comfortably, eyes half-lidded, a faint, confident smirk etched permanently onto his wide green face.

'Is it too late to run away yet?'

The thought surfaced quietly, almost shyly, in more than one mind.

'Can we not take part in this war?'

No one said it out loud.

But as their gazes met, briefly and then again, they all recognized the same unease being reflected back at them, the other man having the same doubts as themselves.

'The Lord's plan is insane….'

They all thought at once, as they realized that the plan demanded perfection.

There were no redundancies.

No safety nets.

No room for heroics or improvisation.

If one of them failed, the rest would not simply suffer for it, but rather collapse because of it, which meant that the plan had literally no room for error.

*Sigh*

Eventually, Dupravel exhaled slowly and straightened, breaking the silence through sheer force of will.

"The terrifying part about the Lord's plan is that none of us are acting independently. We are all individual links in a single chain, and that chain is only as strong as its weakest link. It is not enough that four out of five of us hold our ground. Every front has to succeed, because the moment even one collapses, the rest of us will fall like a deck of cards."

The words lingered in the tent.

Mickey James dragged a hand down his face and let out a slow breath.

"This is the most dangerous plan I've ever heard in my life."

Anderson Silva nodded once.

"Dangerous feels like an understatement."

Su Pei, who had been quiet until now, finally let out a short, breathy laugh as he rolled his shoulders and straightened.

"Well, I won't pretend like I'm not scared. But at the same time, I kind of get it. This is how legends are made. Either I die as nothing, or I become Su Pei of the Cult, a name remembered for a thousand years."

His words hung in the air.

Mickey snorted softly and shrugged.

"When you put it like that, it's hard to say no."

Anderson chuckled under his breath.

"A shot at eternal glory does sound tempting."

Darnell Nuna finally spoke, his voice steady despite the tension coiling through the tent.

"If the Lord believes this is our best chance, then I'll see it through."

One by one, their gazes drifted toward the last presence in the tent.

Dumpy remained seated, unmoving, his expression unchanged.

Then his smirk widened just a fraction.

Confident.

Relaxed.

As if this war was already decided.

And for reasons none of them could quite explain, that confidence alone made the crushing weight in their chests ease ever so slightly.

"Since I was born as a small toad, I haven't yet seen Lord Father's plan fail even once.

Him and Chaosbringer, when those two make a plan, victory is all but inevitable."

Dumpy assured, as his words immediately suppressed some of the tension in the room, allowing everyone else to stand straighter.

"I guess the lives of myself and my men depend on each and every one of you in this room. So don't you dare fuck up…"

Dupravel warned, as the weight behind those words settled heavily over the council tent, no longer abstract or strategic, but painfully personal.

For a brief moment, no one responded.

Then Darnell Nuna stepped forward slightly, planting his feet with quiet resolve as his gaze moved from Dupravel to the others.

"We won't," he said simply, the certainty in his voice unforced. "If the chain breaks, it surely won't be on my end."

Anderson Silva followed, straightening from where he stood, his earlier tension replaced by a sharp, focused calm.

"My front will hold as well," he said. "Whatever the Righteous throw at us, I'll make sure it doesn't reach anyone else."

Mickey James pushed himself off the pillar and rolled his shoulders once, the sound of armor shifting softly in the tent.

"This is light work for me," he added. "No Righteous Warrior will plow through my unit. If the signal comes, we move exactly as planned."

Su Pei exhaled slowly, then nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips, not of confidence, but acceptance.

"Well," he said, "looks like we're all in too deep to flinch now."

Their eyes met again, not searching this time, but affirming, as something subtle but important changed in the air, fear giving way to commitment, doubt giving way to purpose.

At the far end of the tent, Dumpy finally unfolded his arms and rose to his feet, towering slightly as he looked around the room with an expression that bordered on amused.

"If any of you make a mistake, or find yourselves in trouble…. then I'll just smash your enemies and rescue you like a princess."

He declared, as the simplicity of the statement drew a short, incredulous laugh from Mickey, while even Anderson's stern expression softened slightly.

That was enough.

Not reassurance.

Not certainty.

But momentum.

Dupravel nodded once, slow and deliberate, as he decided to not look back now.

"We either win together, or we fall together."

He declared, as no one argued.

Outside the tent, the distant sounds of four billion soldiers continued unabated, drills running, formations shifting, weapons being checked and rechecked, as the machinery of war moved forward with relentless precision.

Inside, five Commanders and one frog stood aligned beneath the weight of a plan that demanded perfection.

And for the first time since Leo had finished speaking, none of them wondered whether they could run.

They only wondered whether they would be worthy of what came next.

And whether this could be the war that made them legends.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.