The Oracle Paths

Somewhere in the sky, a massive winged creature and its rider, cloaked in dark steel, ominously hovered miles above the ruins of Havocspire Citadel. The tempestuous weather—wild winds and random lightning strikes—made the flight exceptionally hazardous.

Yet, despite the peril, both rider and mount displayed uncanny calm and coordination, soaring masterfully above the chaos. As they skillfully maneuvered through a graceful aerial ballet, their hawk-like, eerily identical gazes pierced through the layers of storm clouds, smoke, and flames surrounding them.

This shroud of chaos not only concealed them from flying predators and enemy anti-air measures but also allowed them to reliably monitor the unfolding siege below.

The man and his nightmarish beast were indeed one of the many Vorzhul Rider duos tasked with overseeing the battlefield.

Initially, reclaiming Havocspire had gotten off to a decent start. The Outer Wall fell into their hands within a few hours—at the cost of millions of lives, mind you. A ridiculously high number considering they were up against just 400,000 or 500,000 Light Warriors in total.

But what were millions of recruits compared to the lives of thousands of high-potential elites? It was already a miracle that Abyssal Revenant Bones had managed to stop their evacuation.

Today, they'd make sure Havocspire became their tombstone. Come this time next year, it would be the anniversary of their deaths!

However, ever since the Outer Wall had been reclaimed, their troop advancement had ground to a crawl. Sending millions of cannon fodder to overwhelm their enemies didn't seem to significantly reduce the number of Light Warriors. Worse, those who survived only grew stronger, their initial momentum now nearing exhaustion.

At this rate, they'd have no choice but to wait for the arrival of a proper, professional army to contain these unkillable elites.

"All because of that damn Celestial and his Life Link," the Vorzhul Rider sighed, looking up past the highest layer of cumulonimbus. That was the upper atmosphere where Titan Featherfall and its rider, the Celestial, had been exiled with a powerful uppercut from Bones.

All Vorzhul Riders had been dispatched not just to observe the ground situation but also to patrol the sky, delaying the return of the invincible duo that could flip the battlefield with a single sneeze. They thought they had succeeded, but they'd underestimated the ultimate warrior ruling above the Radiant Conclave.

Somehow, the Celestial continued to profoundly sustain his network of Lifemancers with Life Energy and Life Aura, making them virtually unkillable while boosting their performance. No wonder their Soulmancers were struggling so much.

The Lifemancers would then reinforce the troops assigned to them through an extension of their Life Link, thus completing the loop. This deadlock seemed set to endure until the arrival of their own elite forces, as the present generals and veterans refused to engage with limited numbers.

"Those motherfuckers," the Vorzhul Rider cursed through gritted teeth. As if he didn't know what they were truly thinking!

To those bastards, these resilient Light Warriors were just delectable prey waiting to be devoured. And what better way to fatten them up than to feed them their disposable recruits?

But not everyone was the same!

Despite their reservations, numerous generals and veterans loyal to the Dusken Throne had already engaged the Conclave Guards and Radiant Mages defending the Inner Wall, thereby occupying their most treacherous elements. Their best Soulmancers and Vorzhul Riders were also there.

All that remained was to hope for an opportunity to persuade the Great General who had set the reconquest in motion to personally intervene. But as long as the Celestial and his damn bird were lurking around, that would remain pure fantasy.

As the Vorzhul Rider brooded over his grim thoughts, he cast yet another glance over his mount's neck, staring into the abyss below. He expected to see the same barbarians and Light Warriors senselessly butchering each other in a stalemate, but this time he was in for a shock.

His eyes widened stupidly as he jolted upright on his mount and blurted out,

"What the fuck?!"

Shimmers, Pulsars, Vitalists, Light Paladins... even Corebearers! All these troops, whose lifeforce shone as vibrantly as the sky just three seconds earlier, had suddenly gone dark.

"Even the Lifemancers..." The Vorzhul Rider muttered speechlessly, seeing that entire divisions of enemies had been wiped out in the blink of an eye. "Who did this?"

Of the initial 450,000 enemies, over 430,000 had perished in a flash. Even the numerous War Beasts, prized behemoths that they were, had met their end along with them!

"Holy shit…"

But he wasn't a Vorzhul elite for nothing. Once the initial shock wore off, his composure returned and an irrepressible thrill coursed through his body.

This was the opportunity the Dusken Throne had been waiting for!

SCREEEEEEEEEEE!!!

The shrill but unmistakably anxious battle cry of Featherfall, tens of kilometers above them, instantly confirmed he wasn't mistaken. His eyes lighting up, he joyfully concluded,

"Whoever did this is on our side!"

Knowing every second counted, the Vorzhul Rider and his hundreds of comrades dove towards the Inner Wall to get a better grasp of the situation. Within dozens of frenzied wingbeats, the last layer of fog obscuring the indestructible wall was blown away, and he finally saw what was going on.

The Inner Wall, fiercely defended just minutes before by tens of thousands of beasts, Radiant Mages, and Lifemancers, was now almost deserted. Save for a small handful of Radiant Mages, Light Warriors, and Lifemancers writhing on the ground, trying to grasp an invisible rope, all the others had vanished.

Literally. Their corpses were nowhere in sight.

Upon discovering this unsettling and unscientific spectacle, all the present Vorzhul Riders and scouts gasped in unison.

Fucking scary.

The real question, though, was should they finish them off or not? The riders hovering in the sky exchanged hesitant glances; then, with a mutually understood nod, they swooped down upon the survivors.

"No mercy!" One of them roared as he brandished his sword towards a cadaverous, sweat-drenched Radiant Conclave member.

The latter shot him a murderous glare as he bore down on him with his beast, weakly aiming his scepter at the Vorzhul's heart. His rider felt a twinge of regret as he caught the terrifying light fluctuations emanating from the scepter, but just when the magical projectile seemed about to be fired, its caster let out a horrified scream and disintegrated into ash.

Hundreds of similar scenes unfolded with the same eerie timing all over the Inner Wall's battlements. It didn't take long for one of the most respected Soulmancers present to figure out what was happening, or at least venture a hypothesis.

"They're cursed! Attacking them breaks their concentration."

Hearing this, the barbarians' eyes glinted maliciously, realizing that right now their enemies were mere shadows of their former selves. Even the fastest man in the world would be outrun if challenged to a race after being robbed of his legs.

It was exactly this kind of situation playing out before their eyes. Like weightlifters sucker-punched in the gut while already lifting a colossal barbell, they could do nothing but drop like flies before the strikes of these foes, even though they were far weaker than them.

As for the Lifemancers, Radiant Mages, and Light Warriors strong enough to withstand their assaults despite their critical condition, they didn't hesitate to make the call that would save their lives.

"RETREAT! ABANDON HAVOCSPIRE! I'LL TAKE THE FALL FOR THIS!" A young enemy general, towering over six meters and donned in pure gold armor, ordered unequivocally.

He was both a Radiant Lord, and a Master Lifemancer, but even a being as potent as he was helpless against such dark sorcery. He was certain the Celestial would understand his decision.

After all, it was either that or total annihilation!

And as if his idol and god had heard his prayers, a voice as deep and cavernous as the universe itself suddenly reverberated throughout Havocspire.

"RE…TREAT. THAT'S AN ORDER."

Even without ever hearing this voice, everyone from both sides knew instantly who it belonged to: the Celestial Valandar!

However, once the shock, mingling awe and fear, subsided, their minds clicked into the meaning of his words, and their jaws hit the floor. The hopeful faces of the survivors from the Lustra Plains turned pale and distraught as if they had seen a ghost.

Robbed of any will to fight, as if one mind, the strongest Light Warriors, Radiant Mages, and Lifemancers decisively turned on their heels and bolted eastward at the speed of light, abandoning Havocspire without a second thought.

Upon receiving the report of their sudden retreat, the Great General at the helm of the Vorzhul Legion and the entire military operation immediately ordered the deployment of all remaining troops. Similarly, unbidden, the generals and their elites on standby promptly joined the pursuit of the battered fugitives, hoping to score some easy feats.

The battle for the reconquest of Havocspire was officially over.

It was a total victory, and it was all thanks to one person: an unknown soldier named Jake Wilderth.

But as the forces from Duskwight Lands celebrated, his tug-of-war game with the Celestial on the other end of the line he was trying to reel in was far from over. At this very moment, he was facing his most daunting challenge since his pathetic first bout with Ael, the Nullifyer.