The roars of the kings thundered against the golden walls.

"Come out of your hole, coward!" the Lion King bellowed, his claws gleaming under the sun.

"Jax! Worthless god! You don't even have the courage to show your face!" Carlos III spat, his face twisted with rage.

"Your disciples won't save you!" one of the high elves sneered, raising his voice with disdain.

But the eight disciples were there, standing on the walls. Smiling. Their eyes burned like embers, calmly watching the gathered armies.

Behind them, the walls were crowded with believers. Men, women, children, the elderly. Not soldiers, not nobles—just common people. Yet the pressure in the air was suffocating.

The faith of millions had given them power. Every believer was a soldier.

And beyond the gates, countless armies of humans, beasts, and monsters waited, all united under Jax's name.

The Titan King growled, raising a fist the size of a tower.

"Stupid human! Do you really think peasants and fanatics can stop us?"

The Lion roared again, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

"This isn't war, it's suicide! When we march in, your cities will burn to ashes!"

Carlos III raised his sword, pointing it at the disciples.

"Tell your master his reign ends today! I'll drag him out of his throne with my own hands!"

The kings hurled insult after insult, curses and mockery filling the air.

But the disciples only smiled. Silent. Those eerie smiles fanned the flames of the sovereigns' anger.

From the shadows, the Undead Demon King spoke, his hollow voice echoing like a death knell:

"A paper god. His temples are gold, his armies illusions. All of this will crumble…"

The crowd on the walls roared like a sea, their fervor shaking the heavens in response to the insult.

Still, the disciples remained silent, tilting their heads slightly, as if entertained by the scene.

"Speak, damn witches!" one of the elven kings shouted. "Or are you too afraid?"

Finally, one of them stepped forward. Her smile widened, and her voice soft yet sharp as steel rose above the chaos.

"Before you keep barking… why don't you look behind you?"

The kings frowned. Carlos III was the first to turn.

And then they saw them.

A hundred statues.

All golden.

All smiling.

But those weren't lifeless carvings.

No. Those were living smiles, mocking grins, eyes that seemed to follow them, laughing silently at their arrogance.

The air grew heavy. Unease rippled through the armies of kings.

The statues, unmoving, looked as if they could step forward at any second.

The Lion King roared in defiance, trying to shatter the pressure.

"Cheap tricks! None of this will save your god!"

Yet even he couldn't stop glancing back at those grins—grins that stretched wider and wider with every passing moment.

The Lion King's roar split the air like thunder.

His pride couldn't endure those golden faces looking down on him with such disdain.

"They're just statues! Useless gold! Nothing but shiny rocks! I'll crush them with my own hands! And when I'm done, I'll turn you into a toilet to shit on!"

Behind him, a colossal lion manifested in the sky, jaws open, fangs like spears. The crushing aura of a Level 97 Beast King swept across the battlefield. The earth shook, the walls groaned, and even the air grew heavy under his power.

For the first time, the disciples' smiles faltered. Their fists clenched.

That power was real. It had been too long since the kings had personally moved, but the truth was clear these rulers hadn't inherited their thrones. They had carved them out with mountains of corpses. Their strength was no joke.

The Lion King was above them. Not by a little but so far that even if four of them joined forces, they couldn't withstand his strike. And this… this might not even be his full power.

According to gathered intelligence, the Lion King ranked 18th among all kings of the continent.

If he already surpassed them… then at least seventeen beings even stronger still existed.

For the first time, unease crept into their hearts.

The Lion King roared again, leaping forward with his fist blazing in crimson flames.

"DIE!"

His strike descended, carrying the power to annihilate a mountain.

The statue moved. Slowly. Its massive golden hand stretched out, matching the lion's colossal size.

The concentrated power of a king clashed against divine gold.

The sound was deafening, brutal like two worlds colliding.

And then came the impossible.

The statue didn't budge. Not even an inch.

The Lion King's full - force punch… had been stopped effortlessly.

A wider grin carved itself onto the golden face. A mocking smile, alive, gazing down at him as if he were an insect.

The Lion King's eyes went wide. His muscles trembled. The aura of his beast cracked and shattered like brittle glass.

"N-no way…" he stammered, lips trembling. "This… this has to be a dream… a fucking nightmare…"

The other kings looked on, their expressions caught between disbelief and fear.

"What…?" Carlos III whispered, unable to comprehend.

"That strike… could have pulverized a mountain," muttered one of the high elves, his voice shaking. "And it stopped it… like nothing."

The Titan King's eyes burned as his voice rumbled like thunder:

"This… is no longer a game."

The Undead Demon King grinned in silence, blackened teeth glinting in the dark.

"Heh… interesting. Very interesting…"

The golden walls quaked with the roar of millions of believers, their voices rising as one, shaking the very sky.

The disciples, their smiles returned, simply stood and watched.

The Lion King, panting, his fist still locked in the statue's golden grip, couldn't accept the truth.

He had unleashed everything.

And yet… the statue hadn't even bothered to move.

What broke him the most was that grin mocking, silent, screaming at him without words.

You are nothing... You aré weak... You're trash… you're even less than garbage.

His pride… began to crack.

Without the enemy even speaking a single word.

With just a smile.

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