602 An Expected Betrayal
In front of hundreds of thousands of cultivators, the once bright formation had slowly started to shut down.. And the cause was right there to see. The spatial treasures that had fueled and stabilized it had now begun to mysteriously disappear, leaving no trace behind. One by one, treasure after treasure left an empty spot within the formation, causing the barrier to rapidly fall apart.
“..no.. no no no.. wha-” the lead Researcher muttered under his breath. His mind was in turmoil, for thousands of thoughts were fighting in his mind in hope that what was happening would suddenly make sense, and a solution would magically appear in front of him. “I m-must have.. I must have miscalculated.. Consumed? No.. the treasures hold no power, just concepts.. Was the formation too powerful? Impossible. I took into account the weight, and used three times the necessary treasures.. What..”
His ears were deaf to the surrounding noises of war.
The champions of Horror, relieved by his failure, had a renewed thirst for blood. They almost blindly threw themselves at the Armada as if devoid of any survival instinct.
“Fall in formation!” Okka shouted just like the rest of the admirals, who desperately tried to restore any semblance of composure in an army that now appeared to have truly fallen prey to the nature of Horror. Unknownst to them was the appearance of invisible and untouchable blobs of dark brown matter which their feelings of fear and desperation were producing.
This matter was, of course, the power of Horror. A unique essence that went beyond the comprehension of common mortal cultivators, and that was visible only to its owner, and its peers. Unfortunately, this power’s effects could be felt by Horror’s champions, whose gifts felt fueled, increasing their brutality and the intimidation their horrific actions produced.
Needless to say, the Armada was in disarray. Only cultivators at earshot would follow their admiral’s command, and those in between would have to fend for their lives while having to pick which incoherent order to follow. It was the latter type who, in the confusion of war, were producing the largest amounts of invisible brown matter.
The battle went on for several minutes, a time in which the Armada had tremendous losses. Only a small portion of their flotilla had been lost, but the lost s.h.i.+ps all happened to be colony vessels, each inhabited by hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people that were now little more than sc.r.a.p yards of metal and floating bodies. The sight of such a loss was heavy on the Armada’s military, but even more so for the civilians that had been spared, who could not help but contribute to the production of Horror’s power.
At the same time, the incalculable amount of losses weighed heavily on the lead researcher and many of its colleagues, who, uncertain on how to find a solution to their failure, could only observe the horde’s invasion commence. Most of them, distraught and ashamed, did not even react as the monstrous creature pranced towards them and began ripping their bodies to shreds with relish.
Despite what the cultivators thought, however, the invasion had not started yet. The numbers of the enemy had stayed the same, and it was only due to their shock, as well as the boost in their enemy’s gift that such a vast army had taken so many losses. An army with many captains, but no commander which soon turned a war of enormous proportion into a disorganized skirmish.
When it seemed that things were taking a turn for the worst, however, the grim sounds of war went quiet. The Maniacal laughter followed by horrified screams, the excited screeches, the sound of weapons clas.h.i.+ng, of weaponry being unleashed, of s.h.i.+ps exploding.. Everything went silent. In fact, it seemed time had stopped altogether.
“GET IT TOGETHER!” A deafening raucous yell exploded, piercing the ears of each cultivator within the Armada, and possessing their minds.
Suddenly, any feeling of fear, worry, desperation, or even grief had dissipated.. Taken over by the desire to follow the words of the man that had just spoken. In the blink of an eye, not only was the production of the power of horror halted, but the existing power had been blasted out of existence.
The next moment, the Armada seemed to become a different army. Each cultivator, regardless of their ranking or position, immediately fell back in place. Those who were bound to a fight used their newfound devotion and courage to make quick work of their monstrous adversary before finally joining their ranks. Then, like clockwork, the army began to push back.
Like a reversed burst bubble, the hundreds of thousands of cultivators slowly formed a containment field that surrounded the entirety of the stable s.p.a.ce, and together, they pushed the champions of Horror back from where they had come from.
Like seasoned warriors the cultivators kept pus.h.i.+ng, alternating between a coordinated a.s.sault and an intimidating war cry that even the champions of Horror could not help but feel threatened by.
Seeing the situation being reversed, the monsters made several attempts to break the oppressive formation, each more desperate than the others.. But they found no success. In a few minutes, they had been forced back into the bubble of stable s.p.a.ce, and after an hour, they were facing the choice of whether to die fighting, or to retreat to the trigate, and wait for the biggest part of the horde to finally arrive.
Despite what decision each individual champion made, the army of cultivators kept pus.h.i.+ng and pus.h.i.+ng, until finally, after almost three hours of merciless slaughter, the advance party of Horror’s domain had been defeated.
The victor had come at a huge price.. A price that had made it impossible for the winners to actually enjoy it. Tens of thousands of corpses lingered in their surroundings, and yet that was not the worst part. The worst part was the idea that what they had defeated was nothing but a small portion of Horror’s domain, and that soon, the rest would come, certainly powerful enough to annihilate them.
What prevented them from falling into despair was the same power that had snapped them out of their desperation not long ago. A power that was accompanied by the voice of the leader, whom they knew was in the middle of a crucial part of his cultivation, and therefore, had likely paid a severe price just so he could help his people recover. His voice had always been rea.s.suring, like that of a father, whose kids would not hesitate falling asleep next to as he drove down a dark road heading home.
That person was the Warlord.
A man with absolute authority whom people could not help but follow to their death, and who possessed a power that embraced the minds of others and that lingered, as if becoming part of their upbringing. To their enemies, however, he was a bringer of demise. Not unlike an officer that had been tasked with performing their execution, or a king they could not help but kneel in front of. Had the champions of Horror not been marked by the boon of their master, they too would have surrendered to his authority.
While the cultivator army would eventually be able to push the champions of horror out, it was entirely thanks to their leader’s intervention that they had done so in such a composed, almost surgical way.. And they knew it.
Instead of celebrating, the tens of thousands of cultivators began taking away their fallen compatriots, and bringing them out of the bubble of stable s.p.a.ce.. Yet, before long, they started to notice that something was wrong. Around the dome of stable s.p.a.ce, a formation they had now become familiar with had started to reappear. Thousands of runes took the exact positions they had abandoned just moments earlier, forming lines that, at their intersections, already presented a spatial treasure.
At first the cultivators did not think much about it, and simply thought that the research team was making a new attempt in hope to find what had gone wrong, but the more of the formation was completed, the more odd the situation felt. This time, the formation was forming at a much faster rate, to a point where its completion was not a matter of hours like before, but minutes.
As confusion became the prominent state of mind between the survivors of the battle, they noticed another detail.. The bodies of the researching team were strewn about, mauled by the attacks of their enemies.. So who was placing the formation?
Feeling that something was wrong, the cultivators regretfully let go of the bodies of their companions, and dashed towards the edge of the stable bubble.. Yet, for many of them it was too late. Just minutes after its odd appearance, the large barrier was completed, and the runes began to glow.
The cultivators stuck inside banged on the barrier with faces full of horror.. A feeling that their dumbfounded companions shared as they helplessly looked around in distress. “WHat is going on?! Who is activating the formation?” A tall young man shouted. Trapped on the other side of the barrier was his brother, who was desperately banging against the formation.
Similar scenes were playing out all around the barrier, which kept glowing brighter and brighter, until finally, the glowing stopped.. And the runes seemed to fall asleep.
Those who were outside of the formation, however, did not rejoice.. For the formation had not failed. In front of them they could see their companions, frozen in s.p.a.ce alongside every particle of dust and spark of immortal essence. In their eyes, it did not feel that they were looking at a vast expanse of s.p.a.ce anymore, but an indestructible snowglobe that separated their universe, for whatever was frozen inside.
Okka and the rest of the admirals, who had retreated for a debriefing, had now jumped back into s.p.a.ce, and were now looking at the solidified globe of s.p.a.ce, as well as the thousands of cultivators forever stuck inside.
“What.. how did this..” Okka muttered before releasing his immortal essence, hoping to sense the presence of the researchers, whom he believed were the only ones with the knowledge and comprehension of formations to actually put it in place. But as he did, he felt something odd. A few thousand miles away, was a box of isolated s.p.a.ce hidden behind an impossible darkness, and deceptive rays of light.
Being sensed seemed to alarm the creatures hidden inside the box, causing them to disappear while leaving behind no trace of immortal essence, just a ripple of pure, almost natural spatial essence.
Okka was not an idiot.. Even if he hadn’t spent the last few years fighting the elementals, no other would have been able to manipulate mana without leaving a mark of their own power behind. As he came to this conclusion, everything began to fall into place. The disappearance of the spatial treasures, which had led to a failure and a battle that had cost them dearly, as well as the formation’s reappearance which had killed thousands more.. With gritted teeth, and fists shut so tightly that his nails drew blood, Okka muttered, “Elementals…”
—–
Light years away from the interdimensional portal, the small room of isolated s.p.a.ce had quietly appeared. It did not seem that whoever was moving it had meant for it to go much further, as instead of disappearing again, and reappearing much further away, its six walls disappeared, revealing the presence of four individuals. A scrawny looking man, and three silhouettes composed of just as many different elements.
These four were, of course, the Elementalist, and the three ancestors of s.p.a.ce, Time, and Darkness.
Despite their success, however, these four individuals did not appear happy. Instead, there seemed to be conflict within the group. Specifically, between the three silhouettes, and the scrawny champion of Destiny, who was looking at them with an innocent smile and malicious eyes.
“WHAT HAPPENED?!” The spatial ancestor asked in sheer anger. “You were supposed to make use of the commotion and leave through the portal! WHY DID YOU NOT LEAVE?!” His angered state of mind was shared by his two companions, whose mouths he had taken the words right out of.
The three were aware of the cunningness of the champions of Destiny, yet they had decided to put trust in his survival instinct.. When things did not go according to plan, however, the three started to suspect that they had been somehow tricked.
Unfortunately, their suspicions were more than founded, for the Elementalist was now staring at them with an expression of pure disdain.
Without thinking twice, the three began to circulate their elements, and prepared for the fight of their lives, but as they tried, they found themselves unable to. The light that dashed through s.p.a.ce constantly was beyond the reach of the light elemental.. The darkness that shrouded the majority of s.p.a.ce was almost detached from the dark silhouette, and the infinite expanse of s.p.a.ce felt as if it was on the other side of a panel of gla.s.s.
“No matter how old and powerful you get, your stupidity will always be unmatched.” The Elementalist muttered with a matter-of-fact tone as his eyes began glowing of a bright golden light. He then reached for the gla.s.s like body of the spatial elemental, and with little to no effort, pierced it with his fingers. The entire action appeared as simple as dipping his fingers into a small body of water.
Despite the lack of facial features, the shock of the ancestor of s.p.a.ce was visible.. One that soon after disappeared as his body shut down, and slowly disappeared. In but a moment, what was left of his body was a small orb, a perfectly clear and transparent bead that emanated a power of primordial s.p.a.ce that the champion of Destiny held between his fingers.
Horrified by this inevitable spectacle, the ancestors of light and darkness could do nothing but look on in horror. as the grubby fingers of the Elementalist reached for their chest. The last thing they saw before their nigh-infinite life came to an end, was a pair of malevolent golden eyes shrouded in absolute darkness.