Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 652: Converging Battlefield

CH652 Converging Battlefield

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Boom!

The golden divine dragon erupted precisely at the core of the Lost Heathens’ defense.

Every inch within a five-meter radius of the blast’s epicenter was reduced to nothingness, while a wave of intense heat seared everything in the subsequent ten meters. The destructive force continued outwards for another twenty meters, leaving behind a scene of utter ruin.

’Fascinating... so molding the spell into a living form truly directed more of its power toward its main objective, minimizing waste from sound or uncontrolled dispersal,’ Alex contemplated internally.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

’However...’

"It felt a bit less potent than I imagined, given all the spectacle," Zora commented.

Alex silently concurred. The spell's visual presentation had been far grander than the actual destruction it wrought. Nevertheless, the obliteration at the epicenter had been undeniably immense, so the outcome wasn't entirely lacking.

"To be fair, it was still only a Grade Five spell, regardless of its appearance. It also wasn’t a Special Warfare type. I simply funneled a significantly larger amount of mana into it," Alex clarified.

Ultimately, whether it was Pangean or Verdantian spellcasting, both systems mirrored the magical philosophies of their respective worlds, each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses.

For Alex, capable of wielding both, the choice had shifted from a matter of limitation to one of personal preference and practical application.

His attention abruptly shifted to the members of the Fortuna Company positioned behind him.

"Why the hesitation? Advance. Eliminate them," he commanded, his tone calm, almost icy.

The sheer grandeur of the spell had momentarily stunned the Fortuna Company, causing a delay in their exploitation of the opening created.

Alex’s words jolted them back to the present. Without a second thought, they surged forward to capitalize on the advantage.

Alex gave a slight shake of his head as they charged towards the fractured defensive line, using the dense plume of smoke as natural concealment.

He then turned to his wives.

"I will handle that sorcerer," he declared.

The women inclined their heads. Zora exchanged a brief glance with Udara, who offered a subtle nod of understanding in return.

Alex observed their silent communication but chose not to address it. It was inevitable.

Instead, his gaze rested on Zora.

"I entrust them to you."

"Go," Zora responded. "I will ensure their safety. Do not fret."

Alex gave a small nod.

Turning then to Udara, he said, "Keep pace."

[Abyssal Conqueror’s Step: Third Step — Wraith’s Crossing]!

His form dissolved in a flash of lightning as he propelled himself forward, racing directly toward the remnants of the Lost Heathens’ defensive perimeter.

Udara too vanished into the enveloping shadows, leaving only Eleanore, Zora, and Sugud behind—none of whom intended to engage directly in the assault on the Lost Heathens.

The [Scorching Divine Dragon] spell had obliterated—or at the very least, violently disrupted—most of the defensive fortifications across the forward and central sections of the Lost Heathens’ formation.

The sheer force of the explosion had profoundly shaken them.

"Ah! My leg!"

"My arm!"

"My eyes!"

Many who miraculously survived the blast in the front and middle lines endured severe injuries.

They were still attempting to comprehend the event when the ’demons’ of the Fortuna Company descended upon them.

One man had just managed to pull himself free from a heap of debris when the heavy, thundering sound of approaching footsteps reached him.

The dust cleared abruptly, revealing a colossal figure hurtling toward him—a massive barbarian adorned with intricate tribal markings.

Boom!

Before he could even grasp the spear that had been thrown aside by the blast, the giant slammed a fist downward, crushing the man’s head into the ground with such brutal force that his skull instantly fractured, his blood and brains mingling with the earth.

Not far away, a cluster of Lost Heathens struggled to their feet, desperately attempting to re-establish their broken defensive line.

Then, without any forewarning, a slender, nonchalant-seeming swordsman materialized amidst them.

Click.

Before anyone could react, that distinct, soft metallic sound reverberated through the surrounding chaos.

In the very next instant, their heads detached cleanly from their necks, tumbling silently onto the blood-soaked ground.

On the opposing side of the smoke-shrouded battlefield, the archer contingent hastily regrouped. Fortunately for them, their position had been sufficiently distant from the explosion's epicenter, and several structures had absorbed a significant portion of the blast's energy before it reached them.

Their ears were bleeding, their senses still overwhelmed by the ringing—but they could not afford to falter. The battlefield demanded their immediate attention.

As they scrambled to retaliate against the advancing adversaries, a wild, deranged laughter echoed toward them.

They whirled around to confront a terrifying sight: a colossal warrior, adorned with fiery orange tiger markings, hurtling towards them. In his grasp, a pair of gleaming axes were held ready.

In a surge of alarm, the enemy unleashed a barrage of arrows.

Kavakan let out an even heartier laugh.

He soared through the air, effortlessly evading each incoming arrow as if they were mere trifles.

Boom!

He then descended with tremendous force, obliterating the center of the archer formation.

As he spun on his heels, his twin axes became a blur of lethal steel, decimating all in their path.

Deeper within the Lost Heathens’ rear ranks, near the main building's entrance, the reverberations of the explosion could still be faintly perceived. However, by the time the shockwave reached this distant point, it inflicted negligible damage.

The sentries stationed there constituted the ultimate bulwark, safeguarding whatever secrets lay within the edifice.

They were strategically positioned in tight squads, both encircling and occupying the structure.

Suddenly, a solitary female figure materialized in an alleyway that overlooked the building, her gaze impassive as she surveyed the guards.

Her focus narrowed onto one particular guard, a commander diligently directing retreating combatants from the mid-line, endeavoring to bolster the building's defenses.

Without a moment's delay, she lifted her armament and discharged her shot.

Thwack!

Thud.

A peculiar sound sliced through the din of battle, and before the surrounding soldiers could fully comprehend the event, their commander crumpled to the ground, lifeless, a bolt embedded precisely in his skull.

By the time the adjacent guards could react, the mysterious female assailant had already vanished.

Shortly thereafter, an identical scenario unfolded repeatedly around the building. Commander after commander, positioned on and around the structure, was systematically eliminated by the same invisible predatory force.

The entirety of the defensive contingent was plunged into immediate chaos.

No one remotely close to a leadership position dared to make themselves visible any longer.

This decision, though perhaps understandable, only served to further unravel the backline's already precarious defensive integrity.

Across the entire combat theatre, the Fortuna Company relentlessly pushed their assault, driving deeper into the Lost Heathens' formations.

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