Chapter 1470: Fracturing
“This — is impossible—”
Blood Conqueror faced the reddened horizon and roared, battle ax in hand.
He could not see the Deity of Gods directly, but he did not need to. The red hurricane climbing to the edge of the sky, the succession of concussive booms — these were sufficient. As one of the first senior lords to undergo the upgrade, he had been among the first to witness man-made fire-rain. In his memory, only the calamities of the Blackstone region produced phenomena of this scale — a world shaking, flame reaching toward the sky, the land resonating as though something deep beneath it had given way.
When the blast of magic power washed over them — strong enough that even higher ascendants felt it in the body rather than merely sensing it — all remaining doubt collapsed. This was not a ripple. It was a blow to the chest. Only the King’s death produced that particular palpitation. Every higher ascendant within range had felt the same thing at the same moment.
If one wished to kill the King, one had to first reduce the Deity of Gods. That meant fighting through thousands of Junior Demons, more than a hundred thousand Primal Demons, an uncountable mass of Symbiotic Demons. Blood Conqueror could not construct any sequence of events that led from the humans’ capabilities to this outcome.
“What is happening over there? What are Undeserved and Mask doing?” His rage had reached the place beyond articulation. The two of them had stood before the whole gathering and declared themselves capable of protecting the Deity of Gods. In less than an hour, the rear had been taken. If either of them appeared in front of him now, he would not spare the time for words.
“Wait — where are you going?”
Blood Conqueror had already turned toward the camp’s perimeter when Death Scar moved to block him.
“The enemy. Obviously. Get out of my way.”
“And how do you intend to reach the metal object in the sky?” The latter held his ground. “Furthermore — once the Deity of Gods is damaged, this Birth Tower is the only reachable Red Mist source remaining. The surviving members of the race will begin retreating toward Arrieta. If you march forward, you will be walking against the tide.”
“Then I’ll destroy whoever stands in my way.”
“And drive the migrating demons’ morale to nothing in the process?” Death Scar’s voice went flat and hard. “The blast has already destabilized the camp. If you depart alone, they will conclude you have panicked and fled. Order will collapse before the first wave of migrants arrives.”
“Bullshit!” Blood Conqueror’s voice was at the level that made the ground feel it. “I never retreated a single step facing the legions of the Sky-sea Realm. And you’re telling me I’m running?”
“Whether you are or are not means nothing. What matters is what the upgraded demons conclude in a moment of chaos. A surmise incongruent with reality can still erode a force, when the force is already shaken. This is a point your particular capacities have difficulty accounting for.”
A voice behind them.
Blood Conqueror’s eyes went wide. He had not forgotten that voice. He would not have forgotten it in a thousand years. Without hesitation he raised his ax, spun, and brought it down with the full weight of his magic power behind it. The impact drove a crater tens of feet across into the ground.
The dust had not yet settled when Hackzord walked out of a new Distortion Door.
“Traitor!” Blood Conqueror turned and roared.
“Which is why I note that, however absurd a surmise may be, no one asks after the truth of it.” Hackzord’s voice held nothing — not contempt, not apology. “I have not betrayed the race.”
“Where have you been these past months?” Death Scar’s expression had sharpened, though his posture remained careful. He was not angry in the way Blood Conqueror was angry. He was calculating.
“The Bottomless Land,” Hackzord said. “What the race calls the origin of magic power — the Realm of Mind.” He paused. “It lies between the Land of Dawn and the Blackstone region, above the sea where the fog rises. Nightmare Lord — Valkries — told me of it, and showed me the way.”
The silence that followed was unlike ordinary silence. Several nearby higher ascendants, who had drifted over when they sensed the confrontation, had gone completely still.
Blood Conqueror snapped back first. “So you chose to join forces with them, betray the King, and this attack is the product of your collusion.”
“I know you cannot understand.” Hackzord turned toward Death Scar. “Your anger is washing over your heads. You insist on vengeance and call it fighting for the race’s interests. But you” — he held Death Scar’s gaze — “are different from Blood Conqueror. You should be able to see what the clues point toward. And for the record — I had no part in the humans’ assault plans. The word ‘collusion’ is simply inaccurate.”
Death Scar was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was measured. “I am not Blood Conqueror. Sophistry is therefore useless against me. What is undeniable is that your absence weakened King City’s defenses. Even without direct participation, you indirectly aided the attack. Remaining idle while the city burned is a form of assistance.”
“Cut the speech!” Blood Conqueror’s patience had run out. “Use your ability to pin him down. I’ll finish it with my own hands.”
Death Scar did not move.
“What I want to know is this,” he said, still watching Hackzord. “After going this far — do you still believe you are acting for the race’s benefit?”
“What I believe is irrelevant to what I can offer.” Hackzord’s voice stayed level. “The facts are as follows: the humans possess a legacy that exceeds what we had calculated. The complete destruction of humanity is no longer achievable. The only endpoint remaining is mutual annihilation. But viewed from another angle — if the Battle of Divine Will is not a necessity, it becomes possible for both races to survive.”
“Why are we the ones who yield?”
A beat of stillness. Something moved through Hackzord’s expression that was quieter than the words before it.
“Because the one who can reach god — the one with the capacity to affect what lies beyond the Battle of Divine Will — is a human.”
“Is that certain?”
“If you had seen what I saw in the Bottomless Land, you would not ask the question.” Sky Lord exhaled. “According to Nightmare Lord, the race once stood within reach of that position. Heathtalese, who founded the Cloud School, had heard the whispers of the Oracles. At that time, humans lived in disunity, without the strength they carry now.”
Death Scar studied him for an extended interval — the assessment of a mind trying to determine whether what it was hearing was performance or truth. At last, quietly: “What does Nightmare Lord actually intend for the race? Has she pledged herself to this human?”
“No. Nothing so formal is required. All we must do is bring Roland to the Bottomless Land.”
“In that case—”
“Ridiculous!” Blood Conqueror brought his foot down onto the ground hard enough that the earth cracked beneath it, silencing both of them. “What difference does this have from submission? From surrendering your fate to another’s hands? You believe the promises of humans?” He let out a sound that was not quite a laugh. “Nightmare Lord is not worth the name either, if this is what she has decided.”
“This is the only—”
“Ha!” Blood Conqueror raised his ax. “Is centuries of war with the Sky-sea Realm nothing to you? Oh, but I forgot — you lack the stomach for it. You were always in the rear. How could a coward truly understand what it means to face a real enemy?”
The set of Hackzord’s expression changed. It was small, but it was there.
“I was born for blood and for slaughter. Fate is a thing I hold with my own hands.” Blood Conqueror’s voice dropped to something almost private in its finality. “Lower our weapons and beg for the enemy’s mercy? No. I, Blood Conqueror, will surrender to no one. Not on this day. Not ever.”
“I knew, when I came back, that this was the most probable outcome.” Hackzord raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A new Distortion Door opened at his back, slow and deliberate. “I still wanted to try.”
From the door stepped Silent Disaster, expression empty, blades ready.
Above them, dark clouds massed in the sky.