The Oracle Paths-Chapter 1060: I Hope We Won't Regret This
He'd barely finished barking his command when three more pressurized fireballs plummeted like meteors onto the battlement, detonating this time in a densely populated area. The hapless recruits caught in the blast were instantly reduced to ash.
"Fuck! Mother of God...RUN!" A soldier cursed as he staggered away, his hand covering the right side of his smoldering, completely bald face. The flesh had almost entirely melted away, exposing the bone underneath.
A slightly more educated recruit lifted his dazed, oscillating eyes toward the sky. Catching sight of the sky filling with orange "shooting stars" on an unmistakably parabolic trajectory, his eyes widened like saucers, and he screamed at the top of his lungs,
"H-Holy crap! Grenadier Bugs! RUN!"
This second barrage, combined with the imminent approach of an even more devastating third volley, was the jolt needed to snap the fear-paralyzed recruits out of their stupor.
Shaking their heads or slapping their own cheeks to regain composure out of sheer will, the more lucid soldiers—or those whom fear did not paralyze but instead propelled—began to sprint without hesitation toward the nearest stairs.
As soon as the first few bolted, the rest followed like a flock of desperate sheep. In a split second, the scene devolved into utter chaos.
The mass of soldiers, who had been spread out with a semblance of order and unity along the battlement, instantly lost all cohesion, as if molten lead had been poured into an anthill.
Zzziiiiiiiip!
Jake, who hadn't moved yet but was intently staring at a point far to the East through the fog, heard—or rather 'anticipated'—the sizzle in the air long before anyone else. Squinting, he didn't see any fire projectiles this time but visualized, as if in a premonition, a thick beam of dazzling purple lightning cutting through the fog and covering the distance in the blink of an eye.
The lightning's trajectory was almost horizontal, as if it had been emitted from the top of a building or wall slightly higher than theirs. With his keen eyesight, Jake instantly identified the source of these fiery and electric projectiles as Havocspire Citadel's Inner Wall.
'So that's why they abandoned the Outer Wall,' Jake realized, spotting several massive, insectoid alien creatures with long, tubular protrusions as abdomens. 'With their long-range artillery targeting our walkway, they can pick us off the moment any of our armies appear on it.'
The unsightly things that had produced the explosive fireballs looked more like tanks than bugs. Their sixteen-legged beetle-like bodies were encased in an exoskeleton as tough as reinforced steel, a blend of deep obsidian and rust, giving them the semblance of ancient, heavy-armoured war beasts.
Without getting into the nitty-gritty of their appearance, it was their elongated and hollow abdomens that served as living, biological artillery cannons. These horrors were flexible enough to arch over their heads, allowing them to 'fart' in any direction.
As for the lightning beam bearing down on them— that came from the maw of an ugly and putrid eel-like monstrosity as large as a truck, wallowing in a makeshift pool filled with greenish water.
The back of its body was covered with electrogenic plates, faintly glowing in the twilight fog and running up to its jawline. Since an electric eel normally electrocutes its prey by making contact, Jake could only guess how many genetic mutations and manipulations had been required to spawn such an abomination.
In addition to these two types of nightmarish beasts, there were also numerous humanoid figures appearing minuscule beside them, seemingly coordinating the creatures. These men and women were dressed in white combat robes combining high-quality leather, fine steel mesh, and select pieces of light armor protecting their vital organs and joints.
'Radiant Mages and Lifemancers specialized in beast taming and cultivation,' Jake also identified for himself, a glint of innocent curiosity in his eyes.
But where he was relaxed enough to take the time to observe their attackers, for the only other individual capable of understanding what was happening, it was an absolute catastrophe.
"T-too fast!" Sank-Uk thought, horrified, as he watched the enormous lightning bolt descend upon them, his face etched with resignation. He knew that even if he wanted to, he'd never have time to order the soldiers to get out of its trajectory.
After all, its speed was near that of light. By the time you realized it was there, it was already too late.
To add insult to injury, because of Chillmire, the torrential rain currently pouring down had long ago soaked every surface of the wall. From the battlement to the stairs, the entire wall was covered with puddles of water.
If that lightning bolt hit its mark, every troop on the rampart within a fifty-meter radius would be zapped to oblivion. The danger was exponentially higher for those wearing conductive armor pieces or standing in the direct path of the electric blaze.
The only way to dodge electrocution: jumping off the wall before impact. Even if some soldiers managed to pull it off in time, they'd likely shatter all their bones, crashing at the foot of the wall.
"WE'RE SCREWE—"
Just as the vast majority of the recruits hadn't even registered the mortal threat looming over them, Jake subtly tapped the ground with his heel, as if taking a step forward. His figure blurred, and he reappeared instantaneously at the presumed point of impact for the bolt.
The electrogenic plates nestled within the eel's maw that fired that devastating laser hadn't even fully activated, and he was already in its path. A fraction of a second later, a blinding flash of light, followed by a deafening thunderclap, resounded, stunning the entire regiment.
Sank-Uk was the first to regain his senses, and when his vision cleared, he was gobsmacked to find that everyone was unscathed. It was only when he saw Jake standing unassumingly where the lightning was supposed to hit that he regained his composure, quickly retreating into solemn silence.
Meribelle, who had just selflessly intercepted the third salvo of flaming projectiles without the regiment being any the wiser, was the only other witness to what had just transpired.
To say she was utterly shocked would be an understatement. Besides her astonishment, her pallid complexion also revealed traces of barely-suppressed fear.
'I hope we won't regret this. We might have unwittingly handed over the throne to this foreigner,' she sighed gloomily, a shadow of regret and bitterness crossing her beautiful face.
"TO THE STAIRS! MOVE YOUR ASSES!" Sank-Uk's voice yelled again, reminding the disoriented and blinded soldiers that they were still under enemy artillery fire.
Biting their lips hard enough to draw blood to shake themselves awake, one by one, recruits and veterans alike started moving, feeling their way like the blind with the tips of their swords for guidance. Despite this, in the chaotic shoving and stumbling, several barbarians unluckily tumbled into the abyss— the stairs being devoid of any handrails.
In that brief span, they faced two more onslaughts of lethal fireballs before finally getting off that damned wall. Meribelle managed to intercept most of the projectiles, but some of them still managed to wreak havoc among their greenhorn ranks.
By the time the last soldier, Jake, stepped off the final stair, their regiment of about 3,000 troops had been slashed in half. Jake had seriously debated pulling off a full-blown rescue, but alas, from atop the wall, General Torvi and other top brass had a bird's eye view of the whole ordeal.
In the end, he chalked it up to collateral damage—unavoidable canon fodder. His moral fiber and the itch to flex his true power gnawed at him, but if it made it easier for 8 million Players from the opposing camp to identify and conspire against him, the gamble wasn't worth the candle. n(-0In
And Jake had another compelling reason to stick to this strategy... Due to some unanticipated anomaly he wasn't yet sure about, he had shifted gears dramatically upon entering Twyluxia.
He'd need to come across another Player to ensure his situation wasn't unique, but for now, he'd basically resorted to 'cheating.'
"Hopefully, I'll run into other Players on this battlefield," Jake thought with a glint of optimism.
None of the recruits, including Sank-Uk, were aware that these 'foreigners' spawned every 36 hours according to their ranks. However, based on the time he'd spent in the Red Cube, Jake had some inkling.
Including the baptism, it had taken over two days, almost three, to reach Havocspire Citadel. Following that logic, it wasn't impossible that other high-ranking Players were still around, or that lower-ranking Players had been temporarily pulled back here due to injuries or leave.
There were numerous citadels like this one along the Ironsoul Rampart, but only one where the Soulmancer King had been ambushed. Knowing the Oracle, it wasn't likely a coincidence that he'd appeared here. He logically expected to cross paths with other Players who shared some kind of fate with him.
And little did he know how right he was... For he had barely taken a few steps beyond the Outer Wall when his shadow suspiciously began to ripple.
