The roar of the Kaios Desert's hot wind, which usually howled endlessly, was now absolutely drowned out by the thunder of a hundred thousand armored footsteps.
The sea of flesh and metal moved forward in unison. They cleaved through the ocean of sand toward the northeast with a deadly rhythm. High in the sky, the blazing Kaios sun could barely pierce the thick dust storm kicked up by the march of Warusa's heavy cavalry and infantry ranks. This was a parade of absolute military aggression, the sledgehammer of a military monarchy that survived by swallowing the lives, resources, and territories of other nations.
At the very front of the giant formation, standing tall upon an armored desert chariot pulled by resilient beasts, was Warusa's Supreme General, Gouza. The war veteran's face looked vigilant from behind the reins of his heavy weaponry.
As a commander leading the entire armed forces in this arid and cruel country, Gouza's stature was exceptionally upright, solid, and muscular, like a walking fortress. He was an ordinary human with a face darkened and hardened by exposure to the extreme desert weather—a tangible testament to his status as a formidable war veteran. His eagle-sharp eyes constantly scanned the surrounding desert landscape with utmost vigilance.
Gouza was a disciple of absolute rationality on the battlefield. He measured strength by the solidity of formations, logistical efficiency, and troop discipline. He didn't believe in miracles or fairy tales; he only believed in steel and numbers. Therefore, his expression was always tinged with heavy suspicion and intense dislike whenever he had to glance at his temporary ally riding a desert monster beside him.
That person was Seale, the captain of the Resheph Familia.
Seale's appearance was highly contrasting and conspicuous among the armored Warusa soldiers. Seale was a tall, lanky, and slender Elf. He wore only a piece of dark, worn-out cloak that covered one shoulder, leaving his bare chest openly exposed to the sting of the desert sun. His long black hair fluttered messily in the wind, revealing mysterious tattoos resembling war paint that coiled all over his face, down his neck, and covering his arms.
Seale exuded a terrifying aura that made anyone near him sick to their stomach. A constant arrogant smile never left his lips. He was extremely confident in the power of his mental illusion curse. In Seale's eyes, swords and arrows were children's toys. As long as his opponents were humans who harbored fear, regret, and trauma in their subconscious, he was an invincible existence.
Deep in the rear lines of the war machine parade, separated from the heat, dust, and smell of sweat of the vanguard soldiers, was a convoy of luxurious command chariots. The chariots were pulled slowly by resilient desert beasts and guarded by a special elite battalion. It was there that the immortal entities sponsoring this invasion resided: the Gods Resheph, Set, Sobek, Osiris, and the main architect of this bloody conspiracy, Erebus.
The God of Darkness sat leaning back very casually on his chariot's cushions. He simply stared at the desert expanse outside with a crisp, casual smile, waiting with full anticipation for the purgatory stage he had designed to test the limits of sanity of Orario's succeeding generation.
However, the unstoppable march of the hundred-thousand-strong army suddenly faltered. The vanguard slowly decelerated until it finally came to a complete halt as they crested the final sand dune formation and looked directly into the border basin of the Gazoob Desert.
Gouza pulled the reins of his chariot firmly, squinting to ward off the sun's glare. In the distance, the military formation of Shalzard—the oasis country that was their target—was indeed on standby behind the natural protection of Gazoob's rocky cliffs. Tens of thousands of soldiers from that kingdom stood stiffly, forming a solid defensive wall with their shields and weapons.
However, it wasn't the presence of the Shalzard army that made Gouza's forehead crease deeply. The military general's attention was completely captivated by what stood far in front of the enemy's defensive line.
There, in the open expanse of sand separating the two giant armies, were only four shadowy figures.
Four Elves.
They stood side-by-side calmly, without a single supporting soldier behind their backs. Their cloaks fluttered gently in the arid desert wind. Without any cover from boulders or sand dunes, they seemed to deliberately stand there to challenge the sea of a hundred thousand Warusa soldiers alone.
"Hey, Seale," Gouza's baritone voice cut through the howling wind, turning to the elf captain beside him with a harsh, demanding glare. "Your eyes are sharper than mine. Do you know those four Elves standing in front of the Shalzard army? Are they the elite members of the Loki or Freya Familia your gods are always fussing about?"
Seale scoffed dismissively, treating the general's concern as a joke. His eyes scanned the four figures standing very far down in the sandy valley basin. His demeanor was incredibly relaxed, not feeling threatened in the slightest by the presence of the four elves who looked tiny from a distance.
"Don't joke with me, General," Seale sneered with a crooked smile that bared his teeth. "I've lived for years as a mercenary in the outer regions, and I know exactly which bastards have a reputation. As far as I know, the only Elf in the Loki Familia worth watching out for in this entire world is Riveria Ljos Alf. And those four elves down there are definitely not her. They must just be some nameless, stupid mercenaries Shalzard hired to die first."
However, as Seale sharpened his focus to see more clearly, the arrogant smile on his face faded. His eyes locked onto the physical details of the four Elves.
The Resheph Familia captain's face, which had been covered in haughtiness, suddenly tensed hard. His mouth fell slightly open without a sound. Cold sweat instantly seeped from his forehead, dripping quickly past the war paint tattoos on his cheeks. His eyes widened immensely.
Down there, he saw two pairs of Elves who were absolutely impossible to be on the same side. On the right, stood two male figures—a White Elf with skin as white as snow alongside a pitch-black Dark Elf. Meanwhile, on the left, stood two women who—despite having skin colors at opposite poles like day and night—appeared to be standing side-by-side peacefully. Witnessing two races whose history dictated they should be slaughtering each other now working together completely shattered all common sense in Seale's mind.
"I-Impossible..." Seale pulled the reins of his desert monster mount reflexively, causing the beast to step back a few paces. His voice caught in his throat.
"What's wrong with you, Seale?!" Gouza snapped, noticing the drastic change in his suddenly pale ally. "Do you recognize them?!"
"Gouza, this is completely beyond reason," Seale grunted sharply, his eyes remaining glued to the formation below. "How could the White Elf and Dark Elf races possibly be on the same side? On the right are two men, and on the left are two women from two opposing races. History dictates their races only live to slaughter each other, but now they are actually working together without hesitation."
"To hell with your racial conflict fairy tales! If those Orario brats haven't arrived here yet, then we won't waste a single second waiting!" Gouza cursed harshly, feeling thoroughly fed up with his ally's hysteria.
Gouza drew his greatsword from its scabbard. The thick steel blade reflected the sunlight, raised high as an absolute signal for annihilation.
"All vanguard forces, advance! Slaughter those four elves, then crush Shalzard to the ground!"
Signal arrows whistled as they were instantly fired into the desert sky, leaving thin trails of smoke in the air, followed by the rapid beating of war drums whose low rumble began to echo through the sandy surface.
"UWOOOOOOHHHHH!"
Twenty thousand frontline Warusa infantry roared with bloodlust, responding to their general's command. The first wave of the armored forces began moving down the sand dune like a tsunami of steel, followed by the stiff marching of the logistics camel battalion in the support lines, shaking the ground beneath them, ready to swallow the four tiny figures below.
Meanwhile, in the middle of the Gazoob sand expanse that would soon become a sea of blood, Hedin Selland, Hogni Ragnar, Dina, and Vena stood with absolute composure.
In the distance, the Shalzard formation behind them instead looked pale and held their breath. Not a single one of the oasis troops dared to take a step forward. Their hands trembled as they gripped their weapons, completely obedient to the message brought by the God from Orario: You only need to stand and bear witness.
Venti's command, which rang in the ears of the four Elves before they set out, was incredibly simple: Destroy the enemy forces, and fight their general along with that Seale.
"Blindly deploying vanguard soldiers relying solely on the momentum of numbers and a barbaric charging formation..." Hedin spoke in a cold tone, his eyes glaring sharply at the approaching wave of steel. His hand slowly pushed up the frame of his glasses, which glinted, reflecting the light. "Their leader is truly a primate completely lacking any tactical aesthetics."
"Poor souls... they gather here only to perish by my blade," Hogni muttered softly with an empty gaze, while his hand slowly gripped the hilt of his weapon.
His irises began to shrink, while the redness in his pupils expanded rapidly as his Dark In personality completely seized his sanity. An incredibly dense, dark, and suffocating murderous aura emanated from the Dark Elf's body.
Dina and Vena, who stood slightly in front, merely glanced at each other for a moment. A faint, sincere, and serene smile was etched on the sisters' faces.
Dis Resonance.
Without needing to chant a single lyric of magic, their twin soul bond resonated with one another on a spiritual level. A bluish-green luminescence enveloped both of their bodies. That exclusive passive magic instantly broke through the limits of the Falna they possessed, skyrocketing their agility, combat reflexes, oxygen circulation, and mind capacity to a level far beyond their actual status.
"Let us clear the path and welcome these rude guests," Dina and Vena spoke simultaneously, their voices blending into one beautiful harmony.
Utilizing the power of the Anemo-Calyx pulsing within their chests, the two sisters stepped forward to meet the twenty thousand troops now only dozens of meters away. Dina raised both her hands forward, summoning Ventus Canticum, while Vena compounded the storm using her lightning-fast movements.
WHOOOSH!
The air in Gazoob seemed to explode. Without a single verse of an incantation uttered as a warning, a giant-scale rotational storm manifested instantly from the point where Dina stood. That absolute wall of wind was not merely fast, but possessed the density of a steel plate. The storm expanded at a speed that cleaved the air, sweeping forward like a raging atmospheric tsunami.
The storm wave slammed into the frontline of the Warusa infantry with bone-crushing kinetic force.
The vanguard troops sprinting down the hill were suddenly blasted into the air like dry leaves caught in a typhoon. Their proud, thick armor dented inward, then was sliced to pieces by thousands of razor-sharp microscopic wind vortices spinning wildly within the storm.
However, it wasn't just physical destruction awaiting them. Within the sound waves of the storm, Dina had slipped in the Curse of Attraction.
The moment the fierce wind hit their faces, the senses of the Warusa soldiers were instantly thrown into disarray. Their balance shattered, their vision spun like someone severely intoxicated, and their combat instincts were dulled to absolute zero. Thousands of soldiers were blown backward and tumbled across the sandy expanse, causing Warusa's once-solid frontline formation to instantly collapse in absolute confusion without having the chance to swing a single weapon.
Five thousand frontline Warusa soldiers were decimated in just a single sweep of the wind's breath.
Seeing the enemy formation torn apart like children's toys, Hedin scoffed elegantly.
"Your turn, Hogni," Hedin stated flatly, letting his comrade unleash his murderous intent.
"Hahahaha! Everything burns! Everything will be smashed to pieces!" Hogni's laugh echoed with a horrifying tone.
Hogni lunged into the heart of the enemy lines that were just trying to get up from Dina's storm strike. Every time he spun his body, the black fire sword cleaved through iron shields as if parting water, scorching and snapping the enemies' spear shafts in a single slash. His speed was so absolute that the tens of thousands of weapons surrounding him only struck empty air—not a single ordinary soldier could catch his movements, let alone touch the hem of his cloak.
His dense combat instincts made the smile on Hogni's face widen, displaying a feral grin as the effects of Dark In seized his consciousness. Wasting no time, he swung his sword in a massive arc, triggering the Cruor Calyx's ability which instantly made his black Pyro-Darkness flames surge gigantically like a tidal wave ready to devour the rest of the enemy forces before him.
Without chanting any song, Hogni unleashed the Ignis Tenebris magic triggered by the overflow of his dense combat instincts.
FWOOOSH!
A sea of pitch-black fire—a horrifying fusion of the Pyro element and pure darkness—exploded from Hogni's body in the form of a massive shockwave. That cursed fire did not spread like ordinary fire, but crept rapidly, swallowing everything in its path. The black flames cleanly swept away the Warusa soldiers as well as the rows of desert war vehicles trying to surround him within a radius of dozens of meters.
Wooden war chariots were instantly smashed to pieces, consumed by the flames, throwing their drivers onto the sand. The black fire continued to erode lives and melt the iron armor of the Warusa soldiers, sticking tightly like burning slime. The more they tried to extinguish it by rolling on the sand, the more the fire blazed, feeding off their remaining energy. Hogni continued to move nimbly amidst the blaze of his black fire, rampaging unrivaled like a storm of absolute destruction.
Watching his Dark Elf comrade take over the stage of slaughter, Hedin crossed his slender arms.
Hedin raised his right hand forward, his palm open. He did not chant the required long magic verses at all. He immediately unleashed the Caelus Hildr magic instantly without chanting.
BZZZZT! CRACK!
The sound of air split by electricity thundered above their heads. Extremely bright purple lightning sparks exploded around the White Elf's body. In the blink of an eye, hundreds of purple lightning needles and spears manifested from thin air, hovering behind Hedin's back. Those energy needles crackled wildly, radiating the destructive power of the Caelus Hildr magic that had perfectly merged with the Electro element.
With a cold glare, Hedin snapped his fingers forward.
ZAAAP! KRAK! BOOM!
The hundreds of purple lightning projectiles shot forward in unison, piercing the battlefield like a deadly rain of laser beams. Hedin did not fire randomly; he aimed at Warusa's middle ranks, impaling platoon commanders, standard-bearers, and military officers with absolute precision.
The lightning needles pierced the soldiers' armor with the utmost ease. Every time a projectile hit a target, the electrical energy exploded and sparked violently, striking other soldiers standing closely around them. Thousands of Warusa infantry were instantly paralyzed, convulsing as they were thrown onto the sand, collapsing their entire middle-line command structure in the blink of an eye.
From atop the command hill, that sight made the blood flow in General Gouza's body literally come to a complete stop.
The greatsword he had raised high with full conviction now slowly slid down, the tip of the blade touching the sand because his hand no longer had the strength to hold it. The General's heart raced brutally.
"What... what the hell are they?!" Gouza yelled hoarsely, his eyes wide open, staring at the destruction of his troop ranks in disbelief. "Are they monsters in the form of Elves?! If so, why hasn't a single verse of an incantation been heard throughout this battle?! Mass-scale lethal elemental magic without chanting?! That's impossible! Power like that violates all common sense that exists in this world!"
The rationality and military doctrines Gouza had firmly held onto were shattered into ashes. Number tactics, steel formations, heavy cavalry... all turned into empty jokes in the face of four anomalous figures capable of massacring his army with storms, black fire, and an invisible rain of lightning as if sweeping dust in a front yard.
Beside him, Seale's face, which had been full of arrogance, tensed for a moment in shock.
However, that shock did not last long. Seale snorted, his crooked smile slowly unfurling again over his face paint tattoos. Even though the four monsters down there had just demonstrated a horrifying mass slaughter, Seale didn't feel threatened in the slightest. To him, no matter how strong the enemy's elemental magic or sword slashes were, they were still living creatures with mental vulnerabilities. As long as his opponents down there had emotions, fears, or trauma, his mental illusion curse could always drag them into a deadly hell of illusions.
Of course, it wasn't only the Warusa general and captain who were struck by the terror of despair.
Far behind the backs of the four Elves, tens of thousands of Shalzard troops swallowed hard. Many of the oasis soldiers unconsciously dropped their weapons and shields onto the sand because their arm muscles had gone weak. They stared in horror, mouths wide open, at the absolute domination happening before their eyes. They whispered to each other in fear, questioning what sins Warusa had committed to have to face these four elven executioners. How could magic so devastating be unleashed continuously without end and without a single chant?
Within the enemy ranks, panic spread at a speed far exceeding any plague. The surviving Warusa soldiers in the middle and rear lines saw their comrades up front charred, burning without being able to fight back. They began to turn around. They threw away their shields and weapons that hindered their movement, then ran as fast as possible, completely ruining the remainder of the formation. They no longer cared about the threat of military execution from Gouza; the primitive instinct for survival had taken over completely.
Meanwhile, far in the protected rearguard, inside the luxurious command chariots, the atmosphere turned into an incredibly suffocating silence.
The Gods Resheph, Set, Sobek, and Osiris immediately stood up from the seats of their command chariots. The divine eyes of those gods widened in shock as they watched the hundred-thousand-strong army they relied upon get rolled up by storms, blasted away, and paralyzed so easily on the open expanse of sand.
However, amidst all that panic, the most complex and profound reaction came from Erebus.
The God of Darkness gripped the wooden edge of his chariot's window so tightly that his nails dug into the wood fibers. The charismatic smile that always adorned his face vanished without a trace, replaced by a tense expression he had never shown before. His sharp, analytical eyes scanned the chaotic battlefield, searching desperately.
He squinted, trying to find the gleam of Finn Deimne's golden hair, searching for Gareth's sturdy shield, looking for the silhouette of Riveria's green staff, or seeking the steel-hard giant posture of Ottar.
But nothing. The result was empty.
The four figures dancing and massacring his army down there were completely unknown to him. They were not the children of Loki or Freya.
"There is something very wrong here," Erebus muttered slowly, his eyebrows knitting tightly to form sharp creases on his forehead.
His mind worked rapidly, rewinding all the information he had, but he still couldn't piece the whole picture together. He hadn't realized, or perhaps refused to consider the possibility, that Zald—whom he had currently left behind in the heart of Warusa—had betrayed him entirely. He only felt that there was a strange variable, an unknown pawn, that had suddenly jumped onto the chessboard and ruined the entire Purgatory script he had written so perfectly.
Why hadn't the promised Orario army been seen yet? And most importantly, who exactly were these four crazy elves standing on Shalzard's side?
Erebus stared sharply at the dust storm of Gazoob, which was now colored by flashes of purple lightning splitting the sky and blazes of black fire swallowing the earth. Amidst the heat of the Kaios Desert today, an incredibly cold, bad premonition began to creep slowly down the nape of the God of Darkness.
That premonition whispered softly into his divine instincts, making him realize one terrifying possibility: that in his ambition to test the new generation of Orario, he might have made a fatal mistake by inviting a true calamity into his own game.
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P - Gem_Blanks
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