"Great Celestial Thunderstorm!!!"
BOOM!!!!!!!!
The instant Morax's shield shattered, a colossal bolt of lightning tore down from the heavens.
Prepared for this, the five Yaksha immediately broke away from Morax's position. The blinding storm illuminated the entire battlefield, turning darkness into day.
Everyone squinted toward the light. There stood Morax, spear in hand, a faint smirk curling his lips as he held his ground against the raging thunder.
BOOM!!
With a single sweep of his spear, he dispersed the storm entirely. Bosacius spun several times through the air before landing lightly on his feet.
"Your strength is commendable," Morax said, pointing his spear toward them. "That coordinated attack could have crippled a high-ranking god."
He smiled as he spoke, his tone full of approval—a clear sign of how satisfied he was with their performance.
The Adepti and Ganyu, however, were stunned. Their eyes widened in disbelief as they stared at the five Yaksha.
That attack... could cripple a High Archon? If it had struck an ordinary god, wouldn't they have been reduced to dust? Were these five truly this strong!?
"Your Majesty flatters us," Bosacius said respectfully, bowing with all four hands clasped together.
"Now," Morax said, his voice calm but firm, "it's my turn to attack."
The words had barely fallen when Morax vanished from sight.
The Yaksha instantly tensed, scanning their surroundings in alarm.
While the others searched frantically for any sign of him, Bosacius was the first to act—charging straight toward the faint ripple in the air.
BOOM!!!
The void itself trembled.
Bosacius's sudden strike interrupted Morax's initial assault. Originally, Morax had been aiming to eliminate the nearby Menogias first—but Bosacius's intervention forced him to shift targets mid-motion, redirecting his spear toward him.
Thunder crackled along Morax's arms as lightning surged through all four of his hands. With storm-like ferocity, he unleashed a flurry of blows like a torrential downpour.
Bosacius met him head-on, his four fists clashing against the spear in rapid succession. Sparks of lightning burst with every impact. Morax parried with precision, then found an opening amid Bosacius's assault.
BANG!
A dull thud echoed as Morax's spear struck Bosacius square in the abdomen, sending him hurtling backward like a missile across the field.
Only then did the other four Yaksha finally catch sight of Morax's form. They converged at once, attacking from all sides.
Elemental power surged violently, each strike swift and perfectly synchronized. Their teamwork was impeccable—but before Morax's overwhelming might, it was all for naught.
After twelve fierce exchanges, the five Yaksha were finally forced to yield.
Still, lasting twelve moves against Morax at full strength was an achievement to be proud of.
"You are all formidable," Morax said with genuine admiration. "Stronger than most followers of the gods I've encountered."
Smiling, he patted each of their shoulders in turn.
Then, a trace of puzzlement appeared in his expression. "With such power, how did you end up controlled by another god?"
The Yaksha froze. Their faces darkened instantly.
That was the darkest chapter of their lives—one they wished they could forget. Even now, recalling it sent a chill down their spines.
"That being... could manipulate dreams," Bosacius said quietly. "And peer into them. Every subordinate under him was nothing but a puppet."
When united, the five Yaksha were strong—strong enough to slay the Dream God outright.
But that strength existed only when they stood together. Alone, none of them could hope to win.
The Dream God would repeatedly force them into sleep, implanting within their dreams visions of what would happen if they ever dared resist—nightmares of capture and torment.
In those dreams, every Yaksha was the Archon's puppet, untrustworthy and hollow. None could be trusted; none could unite.
Day after day, each Yaksha was tormented by these illusions, their will eroded over time until the idea of escape or rebellion faded completely.
Each of them was confined to a solitary cell, forbidden from contact with the others, deepening their isolation and suspicion.
The only time they ever saw one another was in battle.
Alatus, Bosacius, Indarias, Bonanus, and Menogias—these five were the strongest among the Dream God's servants.
They fought side by side countless times, and through that, learned to fight in perfect harmony. Perhaps, in time, they even developed a faint bond.
But that small spark of camaraderie was never enough to forge true trust—or to inspire rebellion. The punishment for failure was too horrifying to imagine.
Listening to this, Morax furrowed his brow slightly.
"Brother," he asked, turning toward Elliot, "did you deal with that Dream God?"
"No," Elliot replied, shaking his head.
"I see…" Morax murmured. "Then, may I?"
"You may."
"He's to the west—"
Elliot suddenly froze mid-sentence, his entire body shuddering violently.
His pupils dilated, his expression going blank.
[We've finally caught that creature.]
[The Abyss… ah, the Abyss—how long we've searched for you…]
[Who would've thought an unformed Abyss could be so powerful? Devouring it will be exquisite.]
[At last, we can claim this vessel. We've waited so long for this day…]
[I can't wait to see this continent burn!]
[Let us make this world tremble!]
[All living things are but ants before us!]
[We shall seize control of everything!]