Chapter 287
"Hey, Vena, I don’t think Hogni’s here, do you?" Dina’s voice, a deceptively soft whisper, carried across the rooftop.
"I heard he and Hedin are both behind that large wall of ice, sister!" Vena replied, a chilling smile mirroring her twin’s.
"Then what we really want to do is go over there and give them both a big, warm hug!" Dina declared, an almost childlike glee twisting her features.
Like Basram, the duo Dina and Vena, leaders of Alecto familia, prepared for conflict.
They stood, hands clasped, gazing down at the distant Arena.
Below, their subordinates were visibly anxious, fearful of the Dis sisters’ infamous cruelty to both allies and foes.
The twins shared a venomous smile, like the blossoming of a toxic flower.
"But wouldn’t Hedin and Hogni be just so happy if we put all these poor, crying people to sleep first?" Vena purred.
Their twisted affection for the Freya familia’s elven duo was their only care.
They danced gleefully, their voices swollen with perverse joy, before unleashing a devastating spell.
"Let the first gate devour all. Turn all hope into despair! Diaval Otua!"
From the sky, balls of black fire descended.
Like meteors of Armageddon, they rained across the land, causing catastrophic ruin.
Walls crumbled, the people screamed, and adventurers burned.
Blacksmiths, mostly from the Hephaestus familia brandishing magic swords, desperately tried intercepting the projectiles to shield the civilians.
Until now, Orario’s defense had been stalwart, but in a blink, the scales of war seemed like it tipped precariously.
Then, something miraculous occurred.
"Zeo Gullveig!" echoed a synchronized team.
The Freya familia’s expert healer team unleashed a formation with their combination spell.
Immediately, a wave of green mending light spread in all directions, encompassing the entire arena and restored everything within, save the crumbled buildings and defensive barriers. Revitalized, the adventurers seized their weapons, surging back into the relentless fray.
From then on, no matter how many times they were skewered, sliced, burned, or torn, those brave defenders rose once more, throwing themselves again and again into the hellish confrontation, enduring a relentless cycle of healing and destruction.
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“Tch! So they came after all, just like that asshole said they would!”
Allen snarled, his rampage on the north side of the Arena abruptly ceasing.
His gaze swept across the sudden, chaotic emergence of the Alecto and Apate familia.
The indiscriminate carnage they wrought twisted his features into a bitter grimace.
“And…he’s in the south…”
An undeniable, distant rumble announced Zald’s advance on South main street.
The sound solidified Allen’s frustration; his hopes for a rematch with the black-clad man, or even Mors, now seemed impossibly remote.
Annoyed, he lashed out, his spear singing like a silver flute as it diced a group of monsters into oblivion.
“M-Mr. Allen! Wh….what do we do?!” younger members of Freya familia cried, their eyes, desperate for direction, fixed on the sole first-tier adventurer on the eastern battlefield.
But their pleas barely registered.
His mind had momentarily drifted to Central Park, to the ice walls guarding Babel.
Then, with a sharp intake of breath, as if shedding regret or honoring a silent vow, Allen tore his gaze away.
“…We don’t do anything,” he barked, his voice laced with renewed steel.
“Just shut up and follow Finn’s plan!”
He sprinted across the ravaged ground, eyes now locked on the spirit warriors pressing toward the Arena’s northeastern walls.
“If you’ve got time to complain, then you’re not fighting hard enough!” he yelled over the din. “We can’t do nothing till we get rid of these assholes!”
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As time marched on, the prelude to devastation was slowly drawing to its close.
The conqueror’s arrival had irrevocably altered the entire state of the board, shifting the very foundations of the world.
Zald strode along his chosen path with an unnerving calm and purpose, even as the maelstrom of battle grew wilder and wilder around him.
It was a chilling echo of that fateful night of war.
The man moved as though he was without equal, an unchallenged force of nature.
Anyone foolish enough to cross his path became instant prey.
A mere touch, a dismissive brush, a glancing graze was all it took; his opponents were not just defeated, but utterly torn asunder, their forms dissolving into shimmering motes of red mist or collapsing into dismembered heaps.
“You are all soft,” he rumbled, his voice a low growl that carried over the din.
“Disgustingly soft. Too mild to even tempt my appetite, and yet…”
Within the recesses of his helmet, Zald’s steely eyes narrowed.
‘I know they can fight harder than this… They’re luring me in.’
He already knew, just as Valletta had surmised, that the entirety of Orario’s remaining forces likely lay concealed behind that wall of ice, awaiting in ambush.
How many did their combined forces number?
A hundred?
A thousand?
Such petty details were none of Zald’s immediate concern.
“Thank you,” he articulated, a chill courtesy in his tone.
“For preparing my feast. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”
Beneath his helmet, behind his unchanging expression, Zald envisioned the countless offerings that awaited him……the city’s finest warriors, reduced to mere food on his plate.
He straightened his imposing back, filled his lungs with the crisp, battle-scarred air, and bellowed.
“People of Orario! In our absence, you have grown weak!”
His rumbling voice, amplified by some unseen power, carried to almost every corner of the vast city.
Adventurers and evilus alike froze, compelled to listen to his imperious words.
Even the horde of monsters, caught in their frenzied rampage, were so startled by the sudden, deafening noise that they halted, their heads tilting skyward.
“Come out, and cater to me with your very lives! Summon every scrap of power! Of wisdom! Of inner strength!”
Zald’s absolute demand imprinted a cold sheen of sweat on every adventurer’s brow, a wave of dread washing over the populace.
“That is the only way you can face the truth! Face my hunger! For the sin of weakness is far worse than gluttony!”
Finn wore a deep scowl, his gaze piercing toward the south of the city, whence the tyrannical voice emanated.
“Do not feed me disappointment, for I can stand it no longer!!”
There was no one in the city with the power to dispute his words, no one who could argue against the undeniable truth of his might.
Zald had taught them all as much on that fateful night of tyranny.
“My throat burns with despair. Not even the fires of hell on earth can quench this bitterness!”
The man was an unstoppable force.
No one in the city could block his relentless path.
The five strongholds and the towering bastion of Babel itself quaked at his approach.
And before long, the colossal figure stood directly before the immense wall of ice, an opaque barrier designed to hold back the very end.
“And so it falls to you to satisfy my thirst,” he roared, his voice now a hungry growl.
“To heat my blood and boil my flesh!”
Zald lowered his voice, the anticipation a palpable hum, and raised his mighty sword, aiming its gleaming blade to carve a gate to his next battlefield.
“Let the feast… commence.”
A shock wave tore through the city, accompanied by a deafening peal of thunder that seemed to fracture the very sky.
Countless shards of glass-like ice shrieked through the air, glittering in motes of sunlight.
Zald stepped through the swirling cloud of debris and pulverized ice that had been kicked up by his impact, entering the shattered breach.
As the dust settled, the pristine white walls of Babel came into view beyond the ruined barrier. Then, Zald’s eyes, fixed on the expansive plaza ahead, widened.
“………”
There was no one there.
None of the city’s finest were waiting for him.
“…Where are they? …Wait…”
“…There’s only one?”
He narrowed his eyes, studying the plaza that was conspicuously empty, save for the solitary figure of the boaz who stood motionless at its center.
Now that the icy mist had completely cleared, Zald could clearly see that Ottar was alone, a sturdy bastion against the tide.
The boaz glared back with a heart brimming with courage, and opened his mouth to speak.
“We shall not be disturbed,” the warlord declared, his voice resonating with unflinching resolve as he addressed the triumphant conqueror.
“The task of bringing you down falls to me alone.”
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Back at Guild HQ………
Raul, his face ashen, stumbled through a flurry of startled adventurers before skidding to a halt before Finn.
He had seen the signal flare they had been awaiting.
“C-Captain! Zald has reached Central Park! He’s made contact with the Warlord!”
His voice cracked, the words spilling out in a desperate rush.
Finn’s response was immediate.
The coiled tension that had held his body rigid for hours dissolved, transforming instantly into decisive motion.
He was a fisherman, still and patient, whose line had just jerked with the weight of a long-awaited catch.
“Activate the barrier!” he bellowed, his voice cutting through the rising din.
“Seal off Central Park and signal our allies!”
Raul wasted no time.
He lunged for a nearby desk, snatching one of many flare guns meticulously arranged there. Raising it high above his head, he pulled the trigger.
A searing blue streak tore into the heavens, blossoming into a defiant star against the overcast sky.
Simultaneously, the city gasped.
An enormous force-field shimmered into existence, its translucent walls enveloping the very heart of the metropolis.
“Huh?! What the hell’s going on?!” a bewildered evilus soldier cried out, his voice choked with disbelief.
“A-a barrier has appeared around Central Park, ma’am!” another subordinate stammered, pointing with a trembling hand.
“It surrounds the wall of ice, Babel… everything!”
This unforeseen turn of events sent a ripple of bewilderment through the ranks of the evilus. Valletta, perched atop a trading house in the southwest, watched with a growing sense of unease. Far off, on the myriad rooftops encircling the Central Park, dozens of mages silhouette could be seen, staffs raised in unison.
Clearly, their incantations had been chanted well in advance, for the barriers materialized without delay…..layer upon layer, each a different hue, a distinct element, weaving together into a seemingly impenetrable, hemispherical dome over the city center.
“A barrier?! They’re trapping Zald inside Central Park?! But why?!”
Valletta’s mind raced, desperately trying to grasp the logic behind this sudden maneuver. Though the reason eluded her, a cold, dread certainty settled in the pit of her stomach.
This was not merely a defense; it was a cage.
She didn't have to wonder for long.
Her answer came in the form of a guttural, earth-shaking bellow that tore through the landscape.
“Rrraaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!”
Roars erupted from every stronghold…
“What is it this time?!” Valletta spat, irritation lacing her voice, just as a second subordinate arrived, even more flustered than the first.
“New enemies have joined the fray, ma’am! They showed up just after the signal flare was fired!”
The news made Valletta’s eyes snap wide open, a flicker of understanding blooming into dawning horror.
Miles away, in the southwest of the city, near the bustling trading district, the doors of a grand mansion……built beside the Ganesha familia’s headquarters…..burst open.
“That’s the signal! We’ve hidden long enough! Now is the time to fight!!” Shakti’s commanding voice rang out, her figure leading an army of her familia’s elites, bolstered by supporting allied familia’s, into the fray.
“I-it’s an ambush! We’re surrounded… aaaaaaaghh!!”
The evilus forces, so certain their relentless assault on the stronghold's first line of defense was on the verge of victory, were caught completely off guard.
Shakti’s unit executed a devastating rear charge, turning the tide with brutal efficiency.
Meanwhile, in the shopping district to the south, a different kind of torrent erupted as an army of adventurers surged from the hidden depths of a different casino.
“Our enemy has overextended themselves by attacking all the strongholds!” Asfi, her gaze sharp, her movements precise, led the charge.
“Take them out swiftly, before they have a chance to reform their lines!”
“You’re finally here, Asfi!” Falgar cried, his face a mask of relief amidst the grime of battle. “Perfect! All units, no more defending! Time to bring the fight to them!”
“Raaaaaaaaahhh!!”
Falgar’s great-sword flashed skyward, a beacon of renewed defiance.
The stronghold’s defenders, eager for retribution after the pummeling they’d endured, descended from the barricades, launching themselves at the enemy.
Working in perfect synchronicity with Asfi’s strike team, the two forces executed a devastating pincer attack on the horde of monsters and cultists.
“They’re everywhere! Have they been hiding in the buildings this entire time?!”
Olivas stood atop a building, momentarily spared from the carnage, yet unable to tear his eyes from it.
“They knew we would gather our forces at the strongholds… This was a trap all along!” he muttered, a cold dread seeping into his voice as he glanced nervously at Mors, who remained unsettlingly unperturbed.
Over on the roof of her trading-house, the torrent of information flooding Valletta’s senses forced her to confront an increasingly uncomfortable truth.
Even if she couldn’t yet grasp its full implications, it was impossible to deny the unfolding disaster.
“L-Lady Valletta! Our forces at the strongholds… they’ve all come under attack by adventurers who came out of hiding!”
“An ambush? But it doesn’t add up! Were they hiding there all along? There’s too many! All the other adventurers were supposed to be at Central Park!!” Valletta’s voice, now laced with apprehension, betrayed her growing panic.
“Unless… there’s no one there!”
The realization hit her like a physical blow.
A wrathful snarl tore from her throat.
“That wall of ice was just a distraction! It was meant to make us think that they were hiding an army!!”
“Th-then… who is Zald facing? Surely they don’t mean to ignore him completely!”
“Ottar!!” Valletta shrieked, her hands clenching into fists.
“It’s got to be that pig bastard! We’ve been following Finn’s lead this entire time, and now the board’s set up just the way he wants!”
Finn’s sole aim was never the civilians, the monsters, or even the strategically important strongholds.
No, his eyes had been fixed on the enemy’s true power…..the champions, the king, queen, and joker of their forces.
The bulk of the city’s defenders had been gathered in Central Park not to face an army, but to isolate Finn's chosen targets.
These things however were all deceptive baits, illusions Finn had woven to lure the evilus in.
The whole time, Finn had been leading them, as if by magic, with a beckoning finger.
The civilians had never been the main bait at all.
The entire landscape, their entire strategy, was the lure.
And by leaning so heavily on the perceived power of their champions, Valletta had, ironically, handed Finn the outcome he had truly been seeking.
“Finn, you bastaaaard!!”
The moment she realized the bitter truth, that she had been dancing in Finn’s palm all along, the veins in Valletta’s forehead bulged, and she exploded with a primal, frustrated fury.
But far across the city, Finn continued executing his meticulously planned maneuvers without delay.
“All units, keep up the pressure! Don’t let this chance slip through our fingers!”
The brave adventurers carried out his commands with enthusiasm.
“Ignore the monsters! Focus on the evilus up on the rooftops!”
Shakti, a whirlwind of motion, hopped from building to building, her spear a blur, beating back enemies with precise, brutal strikes.
“They don’t have full control over the beasts! Force them into the streets and let the monsters tear them to shreds!”
Finn had entrusted command of the southwest district to Shakti, and the eagle-eyed captain lived up to her role, accurately discerning the toxic synergy (or lack thereof) between the two enemy forces.
There were well over three hundred monsters in total, and their attack points were spread across at least five distinct locations.
Even if the evilus had possessed tamers of sufficient skill, it was an impossible task to control such an enormous, unruly horde.
There were simply too many of them.
The Ganesha familia, on the other hand, was home to many master tamers; Shakti herself was one of the best in the entire city, and nobody understood the behavior of monsters better than she.
One slip on the part of the evilus, and their greatest ally in this battle could very well become a crushing liability.
And Finn, it seemed, had known this all along.
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Over in the east, the most ferocious battles Orario had ever witnessed were erupting.
The air thrummed with raw power, a prelude to chaos.
“Struggle for eternity, indestructible soldiers of lightning.”
This was not a rallying cry, but a single chant, spoken in a voice colder than the deepest winter ice, that heralded Orario’s ambush.
Northeast of the Grand Arena, atop a magic stone factory, Hedin stood utterly alone.
His patience, stretched taut like a bowstring drawn to its breaking point, finally snapped.
The instant the magical shield concealing his presence dissolved, he unleashed his fury.
“Caurus Hildr!!”
What that bowstring let fly was no arrow, but a deluge of lightning orbs, thousands upon thousands, raining down without mercy.
The evilus forces swarming the Arena shrieked, “Gaaaaaaaaaaghhh?!”
Their screams were swallowed by detonations.
Unlike Shakti and Asfi, Hedin had no need to focus his efforts.
His tyrannical thunder ravaged humanoids and monster alike without distinction, detonating evilus suicide bombers and tearing through their ranks with chains of explosions.
“Ggh?!”
“Zheeeeaaaaaaahhhh?!”
Basram’s spirit warriors were no exception.
Blindly fixated on their immediate front, six were struck from behind by Hedin’s bolts, leaving only six still standing.
The sharp-witted mage unleashed another barrage, eager to wipe out this threat while the opportunity presented itself.
Yet, despite their madness, the spirit warriors possessed the extraordinary might of Level 5s. Their unnatural recovery rate healed wounds in the blink of an eye, or they twisted with beast-like reflexes to dodge the blasts.
However…
“Slaughter all until the feast is finished! Dáinsleif!”
Like a black star, the dark elf streaked across the ravaged ground, his sword a blur of extreme speed.
“Gaaaaaaghh?!”
“What?!” Basram looked on in shock as Hogni materialized from the chaos, cleaving one of the spirit warriors clean in half from shoulder to hip.
It was a wound even the creation’s ridiculous regenerative abilities could not mend.
Hogni and Hedin rarely cooperated closely, but when they did, the result was devastating.
“Basram!” came the combined voices and weapons of four pallum brothers.
Like Hogni, they entered the battlefield with unflinching resolve amid their ally’s lightning barrage.
The Gulliver brothers carved a path through the monsters, arriving before the dark priest to launch their spear, hammer, ax, and sword in his direction.
“Grh!!”
“L-Lord Basram, what are you…? Gaaagh!”
The sturdily built priest, with a guttural grunt, snatched an ally, using him as a gruesome shield. While the hapless cultist was shredded by spear and blade, then pulverized by hammer and axe, the sheer force of the pallums’ combined attack sent Basram flying back as well.
He looked down at his right hand, now lacking his second and third fingers, and clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Raising the staff in his left hand, he rang it, summoning the six spirit soldiers who’d escaped Hedin’s assault to his side, blocking any further follow-up attacks from the Gulliver brothers.
Elsewhere, two girls shrieked with unholy glee.
“There you are, Hogni, Hedin!!”
It was the Dis sisters.
Initially deployed to assault the south side of the Arena, they had spotted the objects of their infatuation to the northeast and veered straight over.
The murderous gazes of Orario’s white and dark elves fell on them, sending a shiver coursing down their spines as the sisters unleashed a magical greeting of fiery hail.
The Freya familia elves responded in kind, with a tempest of lightning and the glint of forged steel.
Flames and thunder canceled each other out, while the dark elf’s steel sang a deadly duet with the stiletto blade of his foe.
Only fifteen seconds had passed since the ambush began, and already the bulk of the evilus troops lay decimated, leaving only the lieutenants relatively unharmed.
The smoldering corpses of the evilus and monsters comprised a grim backdrop for the ensuing conflict.
The twisted twins invited their kinsmen to a lethal rendezvous, while the wicked priest composed his dark hymn for the six warriors who fought at his side.
The arrival of the city’s first-tier adventurers had plunged Orario into pandemonium, and in the east, the city was about to witness its most chaotic battle yet.
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