I Can Assimilate Everything-Chapter 242: Thrones of Thorns and Chains of Shame I

Across the high skies of the Cenotaph Wild Lands, a streak of gold and violet flame parted the clouds like a sword of judgment.

Achilles' Primordial Avatar flew alone.

Or so it seemed.

Behind him, like a storm given shape, surged a growing tide of Draconic Hybrids- once Evolutius Beasts, now wholly consumed by the infectious miracle of Draconian Pathogenicity V.

Spores trailed from his wake like mist, invisible tendrils of domination that curled into the wind, drifted downward, and bloomed across the Wild Lands.

Where they touched, change followed.

One by one, grotesque and wild Evolutius Beasts jerked, shuddered, then fell still. Their bodies contorted, scales reordering into ridged plates, wings forming from bone and tendrils, horns reshaping to match his brand of Assimilations. Their cries warped into roars of devotion.

They rose not as prey.

But as soldiers.

As his Draconic Hybrids!

He did not glance back, but he felt them-hundreds, then thousands- spiraling up to fly behind him, their formation instinctive, synchronized with the will of the Adrastia Emperor King.

Still, even in this unstoppable momentum, Achilles was quiet within.

The wind roared past. The lands blurred beneath.

But in his mind… a name echoed.

Adrastia.

He had spoken it aloud.

And though it had felt like unshackling a mountain from his chest, it had also felt reckless. Dangerous. Foolish, perhaps.

That name… it was known. Not in this Plane.

Out there, in the Star Seas, it had once meant sovereignty, wrath, and unyielding pride.

And destruction.

Always in destruction as Generations of Adrastia Emperor Kings were killed.

If his enemies, those ancient powers who had once conspired to annihilate the Adrastia Lineage, heard that the Ninth King had risen and declared himself...

Even though it was now an impossibility as this Plane seemed isolated.

No influence of anything outside of it.

But still!

And yet…

"If I can't even say my name," he whispered into the wind, "Do I have the right to claim a throne or call myself an Emperor King?"

WAA!

He felt the truth of it settle deep, anchoring into something older than fear.

He had dimmed himself before- quieted his light, cloaked his strength, all to avoid notice.

But not anymore.

He was Adrastia.

The last scion of that broken imperial lineage that was killed generation after generation!

So even if his choice might be considered stemming from pride and not the smarted, he made it while measuring the possible risks. He hoped there would not be a price to pay for it. But even if there was, he would pay it. So that he would not live in fear of the glorious Adrastia name! Imagine living every day and being scared to even utter your name!

"…"

The skies churned with stormlight as his wings of gold-blue fire flared wider, spores flinging in wider arcs.

Another horde of Evolutius Beasts below, too many to count, convulsed and fell silent as the Pathogenicity overtook them. In moments, they too had wings.

They too had scales.

And they too followed.

A King without a Kingdom had become a Monarch of the Skies.

He neared his destination from the directions Dr. Shaw had given him.

The Colony Capital of Thorns, the beating heart of the Thornveil Dynasty, now violated and held in thrall by Ancient Ones of unspeakable power.

The winds changed.

The air darkened.

Lightning flashed violet in the far distance as the horizon revealed it, spires of twisted green and black jutting upward, vine-covered buildings in ruin, obsidian altars pulsing like exposed organs.

His sharp eyes caught it all.

Falling towers. Broken defenses. Dead warriors lying still on the ground.

And at the center…

A rising city.

A Holy Land, blooming like rot from the corpse of Thornveil's legacy.

Achilles narrowed his gaze. His violet-gold pupils constricted as his heartbeat calmed.

He had not come to weep for what was lost.

He had come to take it back.

The swarm behind him roared.

And the Adrastia Emperor King flew forward!

—

Achilles hovered high and far above the corrupted grandeur of the Colony Capital of Thorns, his gaze solemn, his body radiating a cold, furious calm.

Far behind him, a swarm of Draconic Hybrids approached.

Then…

He closed his eyes.

And let Ecological Empathy IV bloom.

The ability did not spread outward like ordinary senses. It unfolded, breathed, as if the world itself were letting him borrow its awareness.

Tendrils of perception spread in all directions, a lattice of information forming as the landscape opened like a scroll.

He didn't see the city.

He felt it.

Every breath. Every tremble. Every cry.

Every broken root and decayed vine once filled with Evolutius vitality, now leeched dry.

His perception threaded down through the living canopy, into the ruined streets and shattered thorns, through bloodstained homes and desecrated temples of nature.

And what he felt…

Was utterly horrific.

Humans…chained.

Not metaphorically. Not spiritually.

Literally.

Men and women dragged behind Ancient Ones in collars of thorns and metallic vines, the collars humming with circuitry that fed from their life force.

Some humans stumbled as they pulled mobile thrones or levitating crystal palanquins behind them, their hands blistered raw from guiding the paths of their masters.

Their…Masters.

Children with glimmering eyes and bloodied knees knelt by street corners, cleaning the trails of these Titannlike invaders with soaked cloths. Their tears were silent.

Achilles' grip tightened.

Deeper into the city, near its once-glorious central plaza, the true horror took shape.

What had once been the Council Grove, the heart of Thornveil's self-governing court, had been warped into a Feasting Garden.

Dharma Manifestation women- some of whom Achilles recognized from prior diplomatic reports shown to him by Dr. Shaw, were now draped in silken thorns, forced to kneel beside massive obsidian skinned Ancient Ones.

Their blood oozed with starlight, and they lounged like emperors reborn.

Astral Core Ascension entities!

Multiple!

One monstrous being reclined upon a throne formed from warped, weeping trees. His body was plated in glimmering green-crimson scales, his serpentine tail coiled around a dozen women forced to feed him fruits, meats, and fermented nectar from the Thornveil Rootcellars.

They did so with blank, dazed expressions. Some under mind-control. Others merely broken.

A woman in a blue battle robe- a Dharma Manifestation Commander, was held above one such Ancient One, suspended in air by cruel energy tendrils. Every time she blinked or twitched, her tormentor snapped his fingers, forcing her muscles to dance like a puppet's.

She laughed under the influence of his power, the sound hollow. Like her soul had been chewed and spat back out.

Achilles' teeth ground together as his eyes opened wide, the image of Rose briefly flashing as if to remind him if he failed…something like this was what waited!

Further still, he saw a few Astral Core Ascension Ancient Ones moving through the city not as conquerors, but as kings. Each of them bore celestial insignias across their bodies- burning Living Scripts that shifted constantly.

One towered above the Thornveil Assembly Hall, a crocodilian horror with golden orbs floating behind him.

Another, clad in spiraling armor of pale white gold, lay on a massive throne carried by enslaved Ethereal Physiology practitioners, each one forced to sing as they marched.

But it was the obsidian titanic woman that halted Achilles' breath.

She reclined like a Queen.

Her skin was obsidian-pink, wrapped in endless golden silk. Spirals of flaming Primordial Energy wrapped lazily around her limbs.

And beside her- kneeling, hands bound…was none other than Thorn King…

…Thorndike the Protector himself!

His regal armor was cracked.

His crown shattered.

He was feeding her grapes.

A King.

A Throne.

Feeding an Ancient One grapes!

Broken.

Not in chains, but in something worse.

Willing submission.

Achilles felt a cold weight crush his lungs.

So this was how far they had fallen?

The Dharma Manifestation men and women who had once been Advanced- Transcendant Humans filled with glory… were now concubines, slaves, or puppets.

He swept his perception outward again.

And that's when he felt it.

A pulse of gravity. Of meaning.

From the heart of the capital, beneath the once-sacred Throne Tree of Thornveil came a pressure unlike anything he had known.

Celestbone.

It was not a realm.

It was a state.

A level of mastery where even the bones held constellations. Where the blood shimmered with vibrant star light.

From the roots of the capital, rising into the open air above a throne forged of obsidian thornwood and golden fossil-light, stood…the Ancient One with the most dreadful Aura.

He was…

A titan.

Ten meters tall.

His skin was voidstone- obsidian laced with veins of molten gold. Every motion exuded sovereignty, like physics yielded to his decisions.

But it was his crown that shook Achilles' composure.

A floating ring of blood, spinning slowly above his head.

Not metaphorical blood. Living, cycling blood, coalesced into a circle of perfect suffering. It whispered curses and memories in languages long forgotten.

His chest bore a sunken seal- etched in fractured celestial wonders where stars flickered inside his ribcage.

His gaze…oh, his gaze!

Golden. Piercing. Unblinking!

And he looked up at this moment.

As if he had known Achilles was watching all along.

He did not scowl. Did not rise.

He merely smiled.

A slow, regal, terrifying smile that stretched across his monstrous features like a man welcoming an old friend to a funeral.

Achilles' breath froze.

Their eyes met.

Across distance. Across kingdoms.

Across ideologies.

And for that brief, agonizing instant, all of existence shrank to a corridor between two rulers.

One, crowned in hope.

The other, crowned in conquest.

And both knew…

Their war was inevitable!