Fifty minutes.
Draven's internal count continued automatically. Ten minutes remaining until protocol completion. Ten minutes until Malvorn's honor satisfied. Until calling for assistance became strategic coordination rather than admission of inadequacy.
The battlefield had transformed into something beyond comprehension. Stone Legion—two hundred earth titans controlled simultaneously through Malvorn's will—swarmed across corrupted ground. Each construct three meters tall. Each wielding crystalline weapons. Each moving with coordinated precision impossible for independent fighters.
Against them, three Azuraths. Echo Mirage projections splitting pseudo-Overlord's presence. Left projection aggressive, diving and striking. Right projection defensive, blocking and evading. Center—true body—calculating. Directing. Commanding wind duplicates through corrupted consciousness that somehow maintained tactical coherence despite soullessness.
Through shared vision, Draven watched the clash from multiple perspectives simultaneously. Genesis Codex allowing bearer to process information that would overwhelm normal human cognition. Seeing through Malvorn's earth-sense. Through Velnar's root network extending underground. Through Feyra's empathic awareness of life signatures across battlefield.
Stone titans shattered. Reformed. Shattered again in endless cycle. Malvorn replacing casualties instantly. Earth unlimited resource when Overlord commanded it. Crystal and stone flowing upward continuously. Army never depleting. Never exhausting. Never stopping.
But Echo Mirages fought beautifully. Wind projections dancing between attacks. Dodging crystalline spears. Deflecting granite shields. Each moving independently yet coordinated. Each strike precisely timed to exploit openings. Corrupted but tactical. Mindless but effective.
Neither side winning. Stone Legion couldn't land decisive blow on aerial targets too mobile. Echo Mirages couldn't destroy legion faster than Malvorn manifested replacements. Stalemate through perfect counter. Through matching specializations that negated each other.
"He's learning your construction patterns," Draven observed through bond. Voice steady despite exhaustion creeping into limbs. Coordinator role demanding constant focus. Constant analysis. "Left projection targets weak points in titan formation before warriors fully solidify. He's predicting emergence locations."
"Noted." Malvorn's rumble carrying no frustration. Just professional acknowledgment. "Adjusting manifestation variance. Randomizing emergence patterns."
Stone titans began appearing unpredictably. Not in formation lines. Not in predictable waves. Scattered. Chaotic. Forcing Echo Mirages to react rather than predict. Forcing adaptation rather than exploitation.
Left projection struck by crystalline spear emerging directly beneath flight path. Wind duplicate destabilizing. Dissipating partially before reforming. Damaged but not destroyed. Projection recovering but slower. Weaker.
Azurath's center body—true form—repositioned. Compensating for weakened duplicate. Right projection moving to cover left's compromised position. Tactics adjusting. Strategy adapting. Pseudo-Overlord demonstrating intelligence that defied corruption's mindless reputation.
Through Genesis Codex analysis, Draven recognized signature forming. Energy pattern concentrating inside Azurath's true body. Not sonic. Not vacuum. Not spatial distortion. Something different. Something that made instinct scream danger.
"Anomaly Drain activating!" he called urgently. "He's absorbing zone corruption! Getting stronger mid-combat! Graviton Lock—trap him! Isolate him from mana source!"
Malvorn responded without hesitation. Trust absolute. When bearer warned, Overlord acted.
Graviton Lock deployed. Not trapping attack. Trapping Azurath himself. Gravity well forming around corrupted Storm Roc's center body. Invisible prison. Inescapable cage. Space-time curved so intensely nothing entered or exited without Overlord permission. Complete isolation. Perfect containment.
Purple-white mist—corruption saturating zone's atmosphere—flowed toward Azurath. Responding to Anomaly Drain's pull. Feeding pseudo-Overlord. Strengthening abilities. Enhancing already devastating power through consumption of ambient mana.
Then mist reached gravity well boundary.
Stopped. Couldn't penetrate. Couldn't enter. Couldn't feed trapped combatant. Graviton Lock functioning as dimensional barrier between Azurath and power source. Between corruption and consumer. Between threat and enhancement.
Anomaly Drain interrupted. Severed. Azurath trapped inside gravity prison unable to absorb. Unable to strengthen. Unable to escalate beyond current capability.
Through shared vision, Sylvara's relieved voice. "Absorption stopped. Mutation arrested. He's contained at current power level. Excellent coordination."
But Azurath fought the prison. Thrashing. Struggling. Wings beating against invisible walls. Pseudo-Overlord power enormous. Graviton Lock straining under assault. Holding. Containing. But requiring Malvorn's constant attention. Magnitude-three sustained specifically for maintaining trap. Energy invested defensively rather than offensively.
Trade-off. Strategic choice. Keep Azurath weak by preventing absorption? Or release lock and attack while opponent isolated from power source? Which more valuable?
Draven assessed rapidly. Weighed options. Decided. "Maintain lock for thirty seconds. Prevent enhancement. Then release and attack while he's separated from mana flow. Brief window but critical."
"Understood."
Seconds ticked past. Draven counted mentally. Watched Azurath struggle futilely against gravity prison. Watched Echo Mirages falter without center body's coordination. Watched Stone Legion press advantage against weakened duplicates.
Twenty seconds. Twenty-five. Thirty.
"Release. Attack now."
Graviton Lock collapsed. Azurath exploding outward. Not literally. Metaphorically. Freed from containment. But separated from corruption source for crucial moments. Window opened. Opportunity created.
Stone Legion surged. Two hundred titans coordinating. Attacking simultaneously. Overwhelming assault capitalizing on momentary advantage. Crystalline weapons striking. Granite fists pounding. Obsidian spears thrusting. Army executing perfectly synchronized offensive.
Azurath's center body took hits. Multiple impacts. Corrupted feathers cracking. Wind-element defenses compromised. Pseudo-Overlord damaged—not critically, not decisively—but hurt. Actually hurt. First time since battle began that either combatant sustained visible injury.
Through bond, Draven felt Malvorn's grim satisfaction. Not joy. Not pleasure. Just professional acknowledgment of effective tactics. Of coordination working. Of strategic thinking producing results.
But Azurath recovered quickly. Too quickly. Corruption already repairing damage. Feathers reforming. Defenses restoring. Pseudo-Overlord's mutation-granted regeneration activating. Healing injuries that would cripple normal Lord-tier beasts. Demonstrating why corruption made him Overlord-equivalent despite lacking legitimate ascension.
Echo Mirages rejoined true body. Three becoming one. Azurath whole again. Unified. Projections no longer needed when direct assault more efficient. When duplicates couldn't match center body's durability.
The battlefield stabilized. Both sides recovering. Neither gaining permanent advantage. Just another exchange. Just another demonstration of perfect matching. Of equal power producing endless stalemate.
Fifty-three minutes elapsed. Seven remaining.
Draven's legs trembled. Not from tremors—those continued constantly, magnitude-two earthquakes every time Malvorn adjusted position—but from exhaustion. Coordinator role demanding. Chainbreaker's Link usage depleting stamina. Constant tactical analysis straining mental resources.
But couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Malvorn needed guidance. Needed coordination. Needed bearer maintaining clarity when Overlord's attention focused entirely on combat.
Through Genesis Codex, Adhivar's presence stirred. Not speaking. Not intervening. Just observing. Ancient dragon consciousness monitoring bearer's condition. Ready to protect if exhaustion became critical. If human limitations threatened coordinator's survival.
Azurath launched again. Different attack. Different strategy. False Overlord Aura deploying. Corrupted resonance signature broadcasting across battlefield. Mimicking true Overlord presence. Claiming authority through imitation rather than legitimate power.
Stone Legion faltered. Constructs not living but connected to Malvorn's will through earth manipulation. Overlord Aura—even false version—imposing hierarchical pressure. Resonance declaring dominance. Warriors slowing. Weakening. Responding instinctively to authority signal despite being extensions of actual Overlord.
"He's disrupting your constructs!" Draven warned. "False claim triggering instinctive response! Reassert actual dominance! Show him who Theia recognizes!"
Malvorn answered. Not with words. Not with aura broadcast. With action. With undeniable truth.
Cataclysm Stride. Single step. Magnitude-four briefly. Just instant. Just moment. Just enough. Gravity pulse releasing. Not attacking Azurath. Attacking reality around battlefield. Declaring through planetary connection—through earth communion—through fundamental authority as recognized anchor—who actually ruled here.
Planet responded.
Theia acknowledging Malvorn. Rejecting Azurath's fraudulent claim. Resonance signature collapsing under weight of genuine authority. False Overlord Aura dismissed. Exposed as corruption-granted mimicry rather than legitimate recognition.
Stone Legion recovered. Warriors resuming coordination. Constructs obeying true creator rather than pretender. Overlord authority reasserted through planetary blessing. Through world's acknowledgment that Malvorn belonged. That Azurath didn't. That corruption could grant power but never legitimacy.
Even exchange. Azurath attempted dominance. Malvorn demonstrated reality. Neither damaged. Neither weakened. Just continuation.
Fifty-five minutes.
Five remaining.
The pace intensified. Both combatants recognizing time limitation approaching. Protocol nearing completion. Window for solo victory closing rapidly. Final opportunities for decisive strikes before strategic coordination became acceptable.
Azurath escalated. Featherstorm deploying maximum capacity. Not thousands. Not millions. Billions. Every feather detaching. Launching. Sky darkening with razor blades. Anti-resonant energy saturating atmosphere. Apocalyptic hail covering fifty square kilometers. Inescapable. Overwhelming. Civilization-ending saturation attack.
Draven's breath caught. Even five kilometers distant, feathers reached. Death descending. Would shred ridge. Would kill bearer. Would end coordination.
Critical moment.
But Malvorn responded instantly. Stone Legion reforming. Not warriors. Barriers. Walls. Shields. Two hundred constructs merging. Combining. Creating dome. Massive hemisphere covering battlefield. Covering Malvorn. Extending protection to observation ridge. To coordinator. To bearer. To family.
Feathers struck stone dome. Billions impacting simultaneously. Anti-resonant energy disrupting. But stone not resonance-dependent. Stone just matter. Just physical. Just durable. Defense-type Overlord's ultimate application. Tank withstanding assault that would erase cities.
Dome cracked. Fractured. But held. Malvorn's earth manipulation maintaining integrity. Repairing damage continuously faster than Featherstorm accumulated destruction. Overlord specialization perfect counter to saturation attack.
Featherstorm exhausted. Azurath's body temporarily depleted. Feathers reforming slowly. Malvorn's dome crumbling—purpose served. Both sides spent momentarily. Both recovering. Neither critically damaged.
Just continuation.
Fifty-seven minutes.
Three remaining.
The final exchange approached. Ultimate abilities. Maximum output. Proof attempted before protocol completion. Before coordination became strategic necessity rather than prideful avoidance.
Through bond, Draven felt Malvorn's intention forming. Understood immediately. "Do it. Show him why you're planetary anchor. Why corruption insufficient against legitimate authority."
Azurath prepared simultaneously. Hollow Cyclone forming. Largest yet. Fifty meters diameter. Vacuum sphere so perfect light bent around edges. Temperature approaching absolute zero inside absence. Collapse would erase mountain. Delete city. Remove geography permanently.
Ultimate attack. Pseudo-Overlord's strongest offensive ability deploying maximum capacity.
Malvorn answered. Graviton Core unleashing. Not containment. Pure offensive application. Gravity manipulation maximized. Magnitude-four sustained. Not brief pulse. Continuous output. Gravity well deeper than stellar core. Stronger than black hole's event horizon. Absolute. Ultimate. Overlord's full element demonstrated without restraint.
Two fundamental forces prepared collision.
Absence versus Presence. Vacuum versus Gravity. Nothing versus Everything.
Hollow Cyclone launched. Vacuum sphere collapsing. Supersonic shockwave releasing. Annihilation spreading.
Meeting Graviton Core's absolute gravity. Ultimate offense versus ultimate offense. Neither defense. Just pure destructive power exchanged directly.
Reality screamed.
Space-time warping. Physics protesting. Mathematics breaking. Impossible interaction between attacks that shouldn't coexist. Shouldn't survive mutual contact. Shouldn't resolve peacefully.
Through Genesis Codex, Adhivar's presence surged. Worldroot Dragon recognizing cosmic-level threat. Ancient consciousness preparing intervention if reality collapse threatened bearer's survival. If battle transcended planetary scale into dimensional catastrophe.
But Theia's fundamental stability—planet's inherent resistance to apocalyptic damage—forced resolution. Forced equilibrium. Forced both attacks neutralizing rather than compounding. World protecting itself from combat threatening existence. Planetary survival instinct manifesting as physical law preventing mutual annihilation.
Both attacks dissipated. Canceled. Neutralized.
Malvorn unharmed. Azurath unharmed. Ultimate exchange. Even result. Perfect demonstration proving conclusively—solo victory possible but time-intensive. Proving coordination wise. Proving assistance strategic rather than necessary but valuable.
Fifty-nine minutes. Sixty.
Hour complete.
Protocol fulfilled. Malvorn demonstrated personal capability. Proved attempted victory independently. Showed strength. Showed skill. Showed determination. Overlord pride satisfied. Ancient tradition honored. Personal honor maintained.
Through telepathic bond, Malvorn's voice carried relief. Gratitude. Professional assessment. "Hour complete. I've proven capability. Demonstrated I can win eventually. Days perhaps. Weeks possibly. But win regardless."
Draven understood immediately. Recognized decision forming. Supported completely. "However, days or weeks destroys Theia. Millions dead from collateral damage. Raziel's assistance minimizes planetary suffering. Ends fight in minutes. Smart tactics."
"Exactly." Malvorn's rumble carrying no shame. No weakness. Just strategic thinking. "I call Raziel not because losing. Because winning slowly unacceptable when winning quickly possible through coordination. Two Overlords versus pseudo-Overlord? Overwhelming advantage. Best outcome for everyone except Azurath—who dies regardless but faster."
Through shared vision, pack responded. Support absolute. Family understanding.
Velnar's ancient wisdom. "Coordination multiplies strength beyond simple addition. Smart strategy, Overlord. Honor satisfied. Now efficiency prioritized."
Sylvara's gentle approval. "You demonstrated capability. Proved strength. Now demonstrate wisdom. Choose minimal harm over maximum pride."
Feyra's loving voice. "We support you completely. Family helps family. Overlords coordinate. Call Raziel."
Zor simply. "Call him. I want to see Magma Drake fight."
Draven last. Warmth flooding bond. "This is smart. This is professional. Call Raziel. Let's end this together."
Malvorn decided. Accepted. Agreed.
Overlord network activating. Consciousness expanding. Not physically. Metaphysically. Telepathically. Connection linking all planetary anchors across Theia. Rare usage. Reserved for continental threats. For apocalyptic dangers. This qualified absolutely.
Message formed. Precise. Professional. Urgent but controlled. Everything Raziel needed knowing compressed into single telepathic transmission broadcasting globally.
"Overlord network—Malvorn reporting. Pseudo-Overlord engagement confirmed. Southern Wild storm territories, cyclonic valleys. Corrupted Lord-tier Storm Roc achieved Overlord-equivalent power. Wind-sonic-corrupted elements. Aerial specialist. Hour engagement completed—victory achievable solo but time-intensive. Request Raziel specifically—fire-element aerial advantage optimal. Coordinates transmitted. Bearer Draven present. Continental threat requires coordinated response. Acknowledge."
Message sent. Broadcasting. Reaching across Theia. Touching Frostina in frozen north—acknowledging, observing, trusting. Touching Naelvorn in eastern ocean—confirming awareness, offering support if needed.
Touching Raziel in volcanic northwest—
Responding immediately.
Ancient presence flooding network. Not words. Impression. Personality transmitted telepathically. Confident. Amused somehow despite crisis. Strongest Overlord never doubted. Never feared. Never hesitated.
"Understood, Malvorn. Pseudo-Overlord confirmed. I'm ideal counter. Hold position. Maintain engagement. Prevent escape. I'm coming. Eight hundred kilometers—twelve minutes arrival. Don't let him run before I arrive. Would be disappointing. See you shortly, young Overlord. Raziel out."
Twelve minutes. Just twelve minutes. Raziel crossing eight hundred kilometers in twelve minutes. Continental distance trivial. Geography irrelevant. Overlord speed devastating.
Help confirmed. Strongest Overlord coming. Victory guaranteed.
Through bond, Draven felt Malvorn's relief. Not weakness. Strategic satisfaction. Coordination achieved. Protocol honored. Efficiency prioritized. Everything proper. Everything professional.
"He's coming," Malvorn rumbled to Azurath—who couldn't understand, who possessed no consciousness processing language, who just fought endlessly. "Twelve minutes. Then you face two Overlords. Then you die properly."
Azurath didn't respond. Couldn't respond. Just circled. Just prepared. Just continued combat because that was all corruption left him capable of doing.
Twelve minutes passed. Combat continuing. Malvorn defending. Azurath attacking. Neither winning. Neither losing. Neither knowing—yet—that balance about to shatter. That stalemate about to break. That reinforcement arriving.
Then sky ignited.
Not metaphorically. Literally. Atmosphere catching fire. Clouds burning. Air combusting. Temperature spiking across entire region. Everything above battlefield spontaneously achieving ignition temperature because something approached. Someone approached.
Fire-element Overlord traveling at speed that friction alone weaponized trajectory. That heat generation created visible trail. That Raziel's mere movement transformed flight path into inferno.
Draven looked up. Shielding eyes against brilliance. Against heat. Against impossible sight of Overlord descending like meteor. Like volcanic eruption given wings. Like planetary core breaching surface and taking flight.
Raziel—The Primordial Flame, The Continental Forge, Strongest Overlord—arrived.
Magma Drake. Thirty-story height. Wingspan hundred meters. Body wreathed in perpetual fire. Scales glowing orange-white with internal heat. Eyes burning gold. Presence overwhelming. Power absolute.
Ancient beyond Malvorn. Stronger beyond Azurath. Proto-Epic tier approaching next evolution. Peak Overlord capability. Maximum planetary power. Living apocalypse choosing restraint. Catastrophe contained through wisdom. Devastation leashed through purpose.
Landing opposite Malvorn. Flanking Azurath. Two Overlords. One pseudo-Overlord. Battlefield repositioned. Balance shattered. Overwhelming advantage established. Victory inevitable.
Raziel's voice boomed across zone. Not hostile. Almost cheerful. Combat elder greeting junior. Ancient greeting young. Strongest greeting capable. "Hello, Malvorn. Glad you called. This looks fun. Let's kill corrupted Storm Roc quickly, efficiently, with minimal property damage, then discuss why you waited full hour before requesting assistance. Stubborn young Overlord. But admirable."
Malvorn's deep rumble responding. Relief. Gratitude. Respect. "Appreciated, Raziel."
"Now—shall we begin? Two Overlords coordinating against single corrupted opponent? This should be brief." Raziel's golden eyes fixed on Azurath. Assessing. Calculating. Combat experience measuring threat. "On three?"
"On three."
Draven watched from observation ridge. Awe overwhelming. Witnessing two Overlords preparing coordinated assault. Witnessing power that could reshape Theia casually preparing to erase pseudo-Overlord efficiently. Witnessing family. Witnessing coordination. Witnessing everything worth fighting for.
Two Overlords. One target. Three seconds until apocalypse unleashed properly.
"One," Raziel counted. Fire building around body. Temperature rising exponentially. Magma flowing across scales like living armor. Heat sufficient melting stone from ten kilometers distant.
"Two," Malvorn continued. Gravity intensifying around form. Earth responding to Overlord's call. Magnitude climbing steadily. Planet acknowledging anchor's authority.
Draven held breath. Pack watched through shared vision. Genesis Codex pulsed steady rhythm. Adhivar observing. Ancient dragon consciousness witnessing coordination between Overlords. Witnessing family transcending species. Transcending power differences. Transcending everything except fundamental truth—together always stronger than alone.
"Three."
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