Grand Marshal Anglius stood in stunned silence alongside his soldiers, eyes wide as they watched the massive explosion tear through the forest. Flas roared skyward, a towering inferno that consud everything in its path. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and a gust of scorching wind washed over them. He knew the Xaos King was overwhelmingly powerful, but witnessing such destructive might firsthand was almost beyond comprehension.
The sheer force of the blast was akin to a peak Guardian Tier Spell—sothing that should have been impossible for even the mightiest of High Champions.
The shock in Grand Marshal Anglius’s heart was understandable. This display of power had annihilated an entire swath of the forest, capable of wiping out a whole town in an instant. However, his astonishnt was short-lived. A sharp gaze from Ned Anark, the Captain of the Lords of Horror, snapped him back to reality.
Anglius t Ned’s eyes and imdiately understood the unspoken ssage: despite the devastation, countless Leviathans remained. The blast had killed tens of thousands of drones and wounded many more, but the hive mind might choose to retreat and regroup, potentially returning with an even larger force.
"Golden Legion, onward! We must use the opening given by our King!" Grand Marshal Anglius shouted, his voice booming across the battlefield. His command cut through the lingering shock, drawing the attention of all n and won clad in golden armor. Their eyes sharpened with resolve as they turned toward their leader.
A blind charge would be foolish, but the Golden Wave Legion was anything but reckless. As they assembled, the communication gems each soldier wore began to glow. Overlord’s voice resonated in their minds, providing precise instructions and guiding them into flawless formations. Units shifted seamlessly, shields interlocking and weapons at the ready. Their discipline and coordination were a testant to their rigorous training.
The mont Ned saw that the Golden Wave Legion was prepared, he signaled his unit. All thirty-three Lords of Horror surged forward with breathtaking speed, their massive fras causing the ground beneath them to shatter with each step. Their montum built rapidly, and they beca a blur of white and gold as they raced toward the enemy. The magic matrices on their armor pulsed with energy, casting an otherworldly glow around them.
High above, Vlad observed the unfolding scene with a mix of pride and determination. The movent of his troops was impeccable. The Lords of Horror acted as the spearhead, ready to confront the strongest foes head-on. Behind them, the Golden Wave Legion advanced in a V formation, over five thousand soldiers moving as one cohesive unit. Their golden armor glead in the sun, creating the image of a radiant arrow poised to pierce the heart of the enemy.
On the flanks, tens of thousands of Turkin soldiers charged into the blazing forest from the sides, executing a pincer movent designed to trap the Leviathans. Their battle cries echoed, filling the air with a fierce symphony of courage.
Despite the nerves gnawing at them—this was their first major offensive against the Leviathans—the imposing figure of the Xaos King hovering above filled the soldiers with unwavering confidence. Vlad’s presence was a beacon of hope, his aura radiating authority and strength. The sight of him gazing down upon them galvanized their spirits.
A wide smile spread across Vlad’s face as he witnessed the determination and might of his forces. His body emitted an imposing aura, a manifestation of his inner strength. Yet, beneath the surface, he was beyond exhausted, his body wounded from the trendous effort it had taken to unleash such a devastating attack. To trigger an explosion that even a Level 16 life form would struggle to produce, he had pushed himself to the absolute limit, relying on the full power of his Heart of Wrath and accepting damage from falling at speeds that tested the very limits of his flesh and bone.
He knew that directly engaging the Leviathans could have achieved similar results over ti, but the impact wouldn’t have been the sa. Sacrificing his own well-being for a dramatic display was a calculated risk. This was the first clash in a war that would span the Monsoon Continent, and it was paramount to start with an overwhelming victory. He needed to instill in every soldier’s heart the belief that triumph was within reach—that they could overco the Dark Hunger by pushing themselves to the limit.
It took less than a minute for the Lords of Horror to reach the blazing forest. As they approached, their eyes glowed with fierce intent. In unison, they shouted, "Sobremarcha!"
The bodies of the thirty-three white giants expanded, growing even larger as their armor ignited with golden, blazing magic matrices. The heat radiating from them scorched the ground, and flas danced around their feet. They bulldozed through the forest, each step crushing smoldering logs and obliterating any drones that still clung to life. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of burning chitin.
Ahead, the stronger Leviathans—the insect-humanoid warriors and aerial units—observed the advancing giants with a mix of hatred and primal aggression. Though they had been far enough from the explosion’s epicenter to avoid total annihilation, they bore wounds that hindered their movents. Retreat was no longer an option; the humans were upon them.
Recognizing the threat, the hive mind orchestrated a counterattack. Dozens of insect-humanoid warriors unleashed ear-piercing shrieks, their cries echoing with killing intent. They lunged forward, powerful legs propelling them toward the white giants in a coordinated assault.
The clash was imdiate and brutal.
One Lord of Horror swung his massive sword in a wide arc, the blade cleaving through the first Leviathan warrior’s armored carapace as if it were paper. Black ichor sprayed into the air as the creature fell, its body split in two. Another Leviathan leaped toward a different warrior, razor-sharp claws extended. The Lord of Horror t it head-on, delivering a bone-crushing punch that shattered its exoskeleton. The creature crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
"Bala!" a Lord of Horror shouted, thrusting his fingers toward an oncoming foe. A sphere of golden fire erupted from his hand, streaking toward the Leviathan at blistering speed. The fiery projectile struck the creature in the eye—a vulnerable spot—burning through to its brain. It collapsed instantly, smoke rising from the fatal wound.
The Lords of Horror moved with uncanny coordination. Their massive swords flashed in the firelight, each swing precise and lethal. They weaved between the lunging Leviathans, their movents belying their enormous size. When a warrior was montarily engaged, another covered his flank, delivering swift blows that kept the enemy at bay.
Despite their nurical disadvantage, the Lords of Horror dominated the battlefield. Leviathan bodies piled up around them, the ground slick with dark blood. The insect-humanoid warriors, though fierce and relentless, were no match for the sheer power and discipline of the white giants.
However, the Leviathans’ hive mind quickly adapted. More insect-humanoid warriors poured into the fray, and aerial drones descended from above, their wings buzzing ominously. They aid to swarm the Lords of Horror from all directions, overwhelming them with sheer numbers.
But the humans had anticipated this.
As the Leviathans closed in, a thunderous roar erupted from the flanks. Grand Marshal Anglius and Freya burst into the battle, striking the enemy with overwhelming force. Anglius, now towering over the battlefield at over a dozen ters tall, swung his colossal halberd with devastating effect. Each swing created shockwaves that sent Leviathans flying, their bodies shattering upon impact. The ground quaked under his might, and drones were crushed beneath his massive feet.
Freya was a whirlwind of destruction. Wielding her mace with deadly grace, she moved like a tornado through the enemy ranks. Her strikes were swift and unerring, each one resulting in a burst of exoskeleton shards and viscous ichor. She deflected incoming attacks with ease, her reflexes honed to perfection.
At that mont, the Golden Wave Legion reached the battlefield. With a unified battle cry, they surged forward, weapons and spells at the ready. The clash between the golden wave and the dark tide was a sight to behold.
Fireballs, ice shards, and bolts of lightning arced through the sky as mages unleashed their spells upon the Leviathans. Explosions rocked the battlefield, sending drones flying in all directions. Warriors hacked and slashed with swords and axes, their blades cutting through chitinous armor. The air was filled with the sounds of battle—the clang of tal, the roar of spells, and the screams of dying creatures.
Blood and gore splattered across the soldiers’ armor as they pressed the attack. Pieces of drones—limbs, mandibles, wings—were scattered everywhere, littering the ground. The once vibrant forest was now a chaotic battleground of flas and carnage.
Despite the horrific sights, the soldiers fought with unwavering determination. They had trained for this mont, and the presence of their leaders inspired them to push beyond their limits. The Golden Wave Legion began to push the Leviathans back, reclaiming ground with every step.
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