The Conquerors Path Chapter 982 - 980-General Of A LifeTime.

While the exterior world and the girls who had marked the area were spiraling into a frenzy of speculation—many wishing they could simply storm inside to assess the situation—the interior was far from peaceful or rested. A short time later, the tension broke as news began to circulate. Max Lionheart had made his entrance, arriving with his personal legion, and the academy found itself utterly powerless to obstruct him.

He appeared at the head of his private army, a force characterized by rigorous training and absolute devotion to him. Above all else, his status as the presiding patriarch and Austin’s grandfather granted him the undeniable right to visit. Furthermore, his authority to lead such an army was tied to the unique markings he possessed as a general and leader, a distinction that is exceedingly rare in this world.

Only a select few within the realm are aware of his hidden identity: Max Lionheart is the general commanding the force tasked with hunting down corrupted beings. This army operates in the shadows, battling a clandestine gathering of entities attempting to breach a specific seal—corrupted beings originating from a level of existence that defies human comprehension.

The reality is that Max serves as the commander and general who has held this tide of darkness at bay for ages. Though he is not the sole general in existence, the immense respect he commands affords him a unique status and significant influence, along with various privileges throughout the world.

While the public legends surrounding him already make him an idol for many, there are deeper, classified legends that remain unspoken due to the sensitive nature of his work. These are secrets known only to those at the absolute pinnacle of power, truths that would make any of his foes collapse in sheer terror.

The situation began when Max was appointed to lead this legion, with the war councils providing the manpower—ranging from the powerful and talented to war-hardened criminals. At one point, the council had merely used the unit as a dumping ground for the "worst of the worst" and the useless, viewing them as expendable during an era when the threat of corruption was largely ignored.

However, no soldier who entered that army ever returned as the same person. Every single one of them emerged with a loyalty dedicated solely to Max Lionheart. They had bled, died, and been mutilated for him. Ultimately, even if they were left without limbs, they would find some way to drag themselves back to the front lines if Max simply called their names.

Their devotion bordered on religious worship. At one stage, the war council grew so suspicious they investigated whether Max was employing forbidden magic or brainwashing techniques. Even though such things were nearly unheard of, they were so baffled that they entertained the most ridiculous theories, only to discover that their loyalty was forged in genuine truth.

The survivors of that hellish environment evolved. They grew in strength until they became the most formidable army in existence. The war council attempted to bribe the man, offering vast riches or trying to undermine his position so they could replace him with someone more "manageable," but every effort failed.

The more they pressured him, the more he resisted and excelled. His power and influence grew until he became one of the most revered generals and power-brokers in the region. Max’s only real "mistake" was his refusal to play the game of political factions. Since he already possessed everything he desired, he felt no need to struggle for more authority.

In truth—a fact only Austin truly perceives—Max doesn't even have a strong desire to continue living. His only motivation for surviving and fighting is the protection of his family. He yearns for his deceased wife and longs to be reunited with her in the afterlife. Because his focus was entirely on his army and the war, he realized too late that he needed to cultivate political influence.

By the time that realization dawned, he had already suffered far too many losses.

Nevertheless, he still wields massive military authority and maintains numerous alliances within the army and the war council. This is the primary reason the council hesitated to act aggressively against Austin or attempt to manipulate him.

Why else would they have shown such restraint?

Had it been anyone else, the moment they discovered Austin’s capabilities, they would have seized control of him. Instead, they remained in the shadows, offering empty praise. They knew that while they might win a direct confrontation, the cost would be staggering. Moving too forcefully during such an unstable period was simply not a viable strategy.

Consequently, they limited themselves to minor provocations—enough to be annoying, but not enough to cross the line. However, the situation has now spiraled out of control. Everything has gone wrong in a truly spectacular fashion.

The day Max Lionheart arrived at the academy was a spectacle for all to witness.

He brought only 1,000 of his elite soldiers into the grounds. Given his authority over matters of corruption and his various titles, the academy had no grounds to deny him entry.

The thousand men arrived in perfect formation. They stood in disciplined silence, spears gripped tightly, radiating a bloodthirsty aura so thick and crimson it felt as though corruption itself was swirling around them. Indeed, a trace of that dark power seemed to cling to them.

The gates shimmered and swirled, and Max Lionheart finally stepped through. He looked as formidable as ever, his eyes gleaming with the wisdom and power of his years, his aura seemingly consuming everything in his vicinity. The thousand warriors began to strike the ground with the butts of their spears.

The taps were light, but the collective intent, worship, and reverence behind them were enough to warp the very atmosphere. To an observer, it looked like the announcement of a descending god. Nearby, Mira stood watching, maintaining her usual composure, flanked by elders and teachers. Though many of these high-level figures possessed power equal to or greater than Max Lionheart’s, they all felt inexplicably weak in his presence.

They could see ripples of red, mana-like energy twisting around Max. His gaze was fixed straight ahead. In their vision, the air began to distort like a rising cyclone. It was more of a psychic illusion than a physical fact—the aura around him, forged from everything he had endured and witnessed, seemed to darken and bend the world around them.

Max advanced with steady, rhythmic steps that echoed through the area.

The soldiers continued to tap the ground, their rhythm perfectly synchronized with his heartbeat, shaking the very foundation of the academy as Max approached Mira.

"Dad."

Mira’s voice broke as she called out, her eyes rimmed with red. Seeing this, Max pulled his daughter into a gentle embrace and kissed her forehead softly.

"Don’t worry, everything’s alright," he spoke.

When he said those words, they carried the weight of absolute truth. To Mira, it was the ultimate comfort—the protection of the man who had always been her pillar of strength. To the onlookers, however, his voice sounded like a demon crawling out of the abyss. They perceived a dark, shadowy shift in his form, as if Death itself were walking among them.

To say Max Lionheart was "angry" would be a massive understatement. At this point, he has only one child left—his daughter, who perfectly resembles his late wife. Seeing her in tears and knowing the state of his grandson filled Max with a fury for which no words yet exist.

And so, Max marched forward with Mira to reunite with what remained of his family, whom he protected with a terrifying, iron-clad will.

"Let’s go," Max said, patting his daughter’s head as he led her away. Not once did he acknowledge or speak to the gathered elders and teachers, and none of them dared to utter a single word in protest. The two of them simply departed for their home.

Within that home lay Austin. He remained in a deep, peaceful sleep, having not stirred for an entire week. Three beautiful women sat around him, their eyes filled with profound anxiety.

Grace’s eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion. Nora wore an expression of fear held in check by a simmering, suppressed rage. Elda looked utterly broken and weighed down by guilt, sitting at the edge of the bed while clutching Austin’s hand.

"Big brother, please wake up..." she whispered, her heart practically in her throat. And hidden within the shadows of the room, another woman watched over them in silence, her presence undetected even by an Imperial.