General Vlashmir Gurdner's command echoed through the ruined square like a spark in a barrel of gunpowder. "This is a war for survival! All units, engage at full force!"
For the soldiers of the Griffon Legion, the order was absolute. They could no longer hold back, and now was the time to strike with all their might against the savage Moon God.
Their formations moved in unison. The front-line soldiers, specialized in defensive Channeling, planted their tower shields into the ground. Protective runes glowed across the metal surfaces, forming a semi-transparent wall of blue-tinged energy. Behind them, archers and battle-mages began chanting, as Essence gathered around them like a brewing storm.
High above, Paladins from the Church of Grugnir stood atop their airships and raised their spears of light. "For Slid, the Primordial Current!" their leader shouted. "Purge this filth from the land!" Beams of holy golden light rained down upon the horde of Aberrations below, incinerating them to ash.
Elsewhere, agents of the Consortium moved with their usual efficiency. They hurled strange devices that triggered ultrasonic explosions, thankfully contained by the defensive barriers. Once the blasts subsided, a sticky compound emerged, binding the Moon God in place.
And in the midst of all this, the Fravikveidimadr squad led by Gerald Vahtrein moved silently, like assassins. They spread out, not targeting the Moon God directly, but striking at the larger Aberrations, gathering data with every slash of their swords and every shot from their pistols.
It was a coordinated orchestra of violence. Attacks from various factions, each with their own methods and ideologies, all converged on a single target.
The Moon God now stood tall atop the ruins of the cathedral, gazing down with an expressionless face.
He raised both hands. That silent song began once more, but this time, its rhythm was faster, more frantic.
The Aberrations that had been standing still began to move. They did not rush toward the soldiers. Instead, they turned and crawled, slithered, and dragged themselves toward their master. One by one, they were absorbed into the Moon God's body. With each one consumed, the cavities in his chest glowed more brightly. His dull fur hardened, transforming into glossy black chitin armor. His massive form grew even larger, his shadow now blanketing the entire square.
"He's absorbing them!" Vlashmir shouted. "Stop him! Don't let him finish the ritual!"
But it was already too late. All the Aberrations had become one with the Moon God. Now standing as tall as a five-story building, his form warped and the surrounding air began to distort.
Then he moved.
He did not run or walk. He shifted. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished from the cathedral ruins and reappeared in the midst of the Griffon Legion's formation. There was no mistake; this had to be the power of the Heretic Path 'Nihilist' Order 4 'Nyx', which could tear space apart at the cost of life.
The stunned soldiers tried to react, but the creature's speed was beyond comprehension. A single swing of his massive arm released a shockwave that shattered the energy wall and sent dozens of soldiers flying like ragdolls.
"Damn it!" Vlashmir Gurdner roared. His aged face hardened with steely resolve. He could no longer just issue commands. In other words, he had to act himself. "I'll hold him back! All units, focus your attacks on the weak spot in his abdomen!"
The old general stepped forward. From his back, eight chains of pure silver light erupted, twisting through the air around him like spectral serpents. This was the manifestation of his Channel, Chainless Law, a rare Archetype 5 power. These chains were not mere physical weapons; they were immensely strong, reportedly able to crush steel.
"By the authority of the First Law," Vlashmir chanted, his voice now resonating with power, "I command you to be still!"
Two of the silver chains shot forward, wrapping around the Moon God's legs. When they touched his chitinous skin, there was no visible reaction. But as he lifted his arm to strike again, he suddenly froze. This was the power of a Chancellor, an extraordinarily strong Order, and the reason why Vlashmir was known as the third strongest general.
The Moon God let out a low growl for the first time, seemingly attempting to create vibrations to break free from the chains and retaliate.
"Now!" Vlashmir shouted.
Seizing the moment, all factions concentrated their attacks on the transparent sac in the creature's abdomen, where floating fetuses could be seen. A barrage of Essence projectiles, holy light, and sonic waves pounded the weak point.
For the first time, the creature showed signs of pain. The sac trembled, and cracks began to form on its surface.
But then, without warning, the Moon God ceased all attempts to break free of Vlashmir's chains. Instead, he seemed to be generating energy within his body. The glowing cavities in his chest intensified, and the cracked moon in the sky pulsed in unison.
"Be careful!" cried Miraille from the Consortium balcony.
The Moon God opened his lipless mouth. A dark, silent fluid poured from it, flowing under his feet and transforming into an invisible wave.
Vlashmir's silver chains disintegrated into dust upon contact with the wave. The general himself was hurled backward, coughing blood. "Fall back! An unknown element has appeared," he hissed. "It's anti-Essence!"
The Moon God was free once more. He ignored the nearby soldiers and turned toward a single direction: the Financial District. The Wool Exchange Tower. The Consortium's headquarters.
"He's targeting us," said Edric calmly, though his eyes showed razor-sharp alertness.
The Moon God raised his arm again, preparing to unleash the same attack that had obliterated the clocktower.
Just as everyone thought the Financial District was doomed, a shadow shot down from the sky.
It was a man clad in pitch-black armor. A tattered cloak fluttered from his back like the wings of a raven. In his hand, he held a massive scythe forged from a solidified, dark substance that radiated a chilling aura. Soldiers below trembled in fear at the sight.
"General Nathaniel Greaves," Vlashmir whispered, wiping blood from his lips. "You've come at last, butcher."
Nathaniel Greaves, the kingdom's second strongest general, was an Archetype 3 Evolver of the HollowChannel. His battlefield title was Hellkind, drawn from his sub-channel. He landed silently between Vlashmir and the Moon God.
"I needed time to convince the cowardly council to let me use my tool," Nathaniel replied in a flat, emotionless tone. He raised his scythe. "Leave this to me, Gurdner."
The Moon God seemed to sense a threat from the newcomer. He lowered his arm and faced Nathaniel.
"So, you're one of the new 'gods' disturbing our slumber," Nathaniel said, addressing the creature. "I've slaughtered many gods in my life. You won't be any different."
He swung his scythe. The weapon was known as the God-Butcher.
For the first time, the Moon God dodged. He folded the space around him and reappeared several meters to the left, evading the strike.
"Fast," Nathaniel remarked coolly. "But you can't outrun fate."
He raised the scythe again and pointed it toward the Moon God. A dark attack burst forth from the weapon and chased the creature relentlessly.
Forced to defend himself, the Moon God conjured a shield of anti-Essence.
Boom.
The clash of their immense powers shook even Welt Rothes' aperture, though he was far from the battlefield.
The battle between Nathaniel and the Moon God was beyond the reach of ordinary Evolvers.
Below, Vlashmir had recovered. He reactivated his Chainless Law. "We're backing him up!" he shouted to the remaining troops. "Attack from the flanks! Distract it!"
A three-way battle began. Vlashmir attempted to restrain the Moon God with law-based chains. Nathaniel unleashed relentless strikes with his scythe. The soldiers, paladins, and agents bombarded the creature with Essence and physical attacks, searching for any weakness.
The Moon God was now truly pressured. He continued to shift and evade, but attacks came from every direction. Nathaniel's shadowy scythe chased him endlessly. Vlashmir's chains tried again and again to bind him.
Welt could see it. Even though the creature was an Archetype 4, it was alone. Against two high-level Evolvers and hundreds of elite fighters, it was beginning to show cracks. The sac in its abdomen was fracturing further.
Just when it seemed they might finally defeat it, the Moon God did something unexpected.
He stopped moving.
He allowed Nathaniel's shadow scythe to strike him. He allowed Vlashmir's chains to wrap around him. He allowed hundreds of Essence attacks to slam into his body.
Strangely, he did not explode.
Instead, he began to glow. A terrible, dark light radiated from his form.
The cracked moon in the sky glowed with the same black light.
"Everyone, fall back!" Nathaniel yelled, sensing overwhelming danger.
But it was too late.
The Moon God's body dissolved into black particles and then burst outward in a wave of absolute darkness. The wave destroyed nothing. It simply passed through everything.
When the wave faded, the Moon God was gone. The cracked moon in the sky had vanished as well.
The square fell silent once more. The soldiers looked around, dazed. Vlashmir and Nathaniel stood at the center, both breathing heavily. Many soldiers were injured. Some had fainted from psychic strain. But no one had died in the final explosion. That alone was a blessing.
They had survived. They had won the battle.
"Is... is it dead?" a young captain asked.
Nathaniel looked up at the now-normal sky. "No," he said quietly. "There's no way that thing is dead. One day, it may return."
"Gone? Gone where?" Vlashmir asked.
"Wherever things like that go," Nathaniel replied, sheathing his scythe, now no more than a shadow. "Wrap everything up. Dismiss the alliance. We're going home. This is our greatest victory in decades."