Defiance of the Fall

General Dossin spoke of victory and defeat, but it was greed rather than righteousness that shone in the eyes of the assembled leaders. Zac wasn’t surprised, and neither was the Dravorak leader by the looks of it. Concepts like the direction of the whole war were too far removed from early and middle Hegemons. Neither could glory keep you and your kin safe when marauders were kicking in your door.

In comparison, the promise of ancient treasure was far more palatable. Most soldiers were constantly wracking their brains to gain an edge, anything that would allow them to survive another day on the frontlines. The pressure was just as real for the leaders who faced not only the Kan’Tanu elites but also carried the weight of command. And what Hegemon didn’t have an obsession for cultivation and an unquenchable dream of walking further down their path?

“Of course, the alliance is willing to purchase or exchange anything you may find,” the Dravorak general continued. “Furthermore, we’ve already confirmed the System is awarding everyone on these critical battlefields quadruple contribution. In other words, you’ll be richly rewarded even should you fail to enter the Mystic Realm.”

“Fail to enter? Is the entrance contested?” a fiery-looking youth asked.

Speaking of, Zac realized most of the leaders in the room were quite young. And those who were older were invariably accompanied by an elite of Zac’s generation. It made sense, considering the mission called for elites who could fight above their weight limit. However, Ogras once mentioned that one should be wary of two types of elites—the ruddy-faced youngsters and the spicy old gingers.

The latter were those hopelessly bottlenecked who never gave up on the martial path. Instead, they spent millennia polishing their foundations and braving dangers in hopes of finding an opportunity to take that next step. Most such cultivators ultimately failed to reforge their fate, but a few accumulated enough fortuitous encounters to give them incredible fighting prowess.

The room was veritably teeming with youthful exuberance yet lacking the measured experience of the skilled veterans who’d overcome countless obstacles. Was the System really gathering candidates for the inheritance, or was this part of some gambit devised by the alliance? Either case, the imbalance only increased Zac’s misgivings, but there was not much to do but keep his eyes and ears peeled.

“Entrance? There is none,” Dossin said. “Strictly speaking, the space surrounding our target is so unstable that it’s impossible for a stable entrance to form. Neither have we successfully managed to install a doorway ourselves. The only way to reach the fortress is to stumble onto a temporary pathway.”action

“A temporary pathway? Like a Spatial Tear?” another commander frowned.

“In a nutshell.”

Zac and Vilari shared a hesitant look. It was obvious they couldn’t just jump into any random Spatial Tear and expect they’d reach the Mystic Realm they sought. However, they’d “enjoyed” front-row seats to one of the rare spatial anomalies connected to the Limitless Empire War Fortress just yesterday. They had better chances of survival flying into a sun than that terrifying explosion.

Others had similar doubts, but Dossin eventually lifted her hand to still the heated discussions in the room.

“The pathways I speak of differ from the chaotic eruptions many of you have witnessed. Those are formed by the fortress’s protective barriers bleeding into our dimension, forming unstable energy exhausts. The pathways are rather gaps in these same barriers. You’ll know when you’ve encountered one. Our challenge is that they only last a second or two, and it’s up to fate who reaches them before the opportunity’s gone.”

“So we’re just supposed to wait around and pray a pathway appears next to us?”

“No. Some regions have more promise than others. The situation is in constant flux, but it’s not completely random. Our scholars are constantly monitoring the spatial deterioration and other clues to pinpoint potential hotspots. We’ll move out the second they find a target near our base.”

“I’m guessing the Kan’Tanu have similar means?” another leader asked.

“War will break out wherever a window of opportunity appears,” Dossin confirmed. “Only a few will enter Mystic Realm while the rest of us deal with the Kan’Tanu. The more elites we kill, the fewer they can send into the fortress. And the further we push back their ranks, the more of the pathways will be used by our people.”

“So we’re just supposed to jump blindly into an unstable vortex when it appears? What if we don’t wish to take the risk?” a thin elder asked.

“Everyone here was picked for their strength and ambition. Our assessment is that few among you would turn down this opportunity should it appear before you. Remember, there are no powerful War Machines or Late Hegemons inside the fortress. Furthermore, the alliance will provide incredible rewards to those who provide even the smallest assistance to the fortress’s takeover. Just entering a passage entitles your faction up to 250,000 Alliance Merit,” Dossin said. “Everyone present for this meeting will trigger the full award, while warriors of lower grade or rank will lead to smaller payouts.”

Her calm face and flat delivery would make it seem she was covering some inconsequential details, but another wave of shocked and excited discussions erupted within the room. The dangers were still there, but the juicy carrot the alliance had dangled before them would make it even harder to pass up on the battle for the war fortress.

Alliance Merit was a copy of the official Contribution Stores as an additional frontline perk. Instead of the System, it was the established factions who opened their coffers to provide treasures. The items weren’t as good as the best things in the Elite Exchange, and the exchange rate was worse, but the treasury was still full of items that were highly sought after even by Late Hegemons.

It wasn’t that the people present lacked the funds necessary to fuel their cultivation. All were picked because their faction stood above their peers. It was rather that they simply couldn’t get their hands on too many items useful for D-grade cultivators. Even Zac, who could freely traverse the whole sector, had found it impossible to convert his growing fortune into materials good enough for his Cosmic Core. Just acquiring D-grade Natural Treasures that could speed up his body-tempering and Soul Cultivation was a huge challenge.

The best materials went to those with the biggest fists, and that was the established forces of the Multiverse. Zecia wasn’t any different, and the shortages of good cultivation materials had only been exacerbated by the war. The powerful empires or clans would never let the good stuff reach the open markets. They’d either keep the materials for themselves or trade for equivalent resources with other factions. It was only now that the ancient empires faced the threat of extinction they’d been willing to make some concessions.

250,000 Alliance Merit wasn’t enough to reforge your fate, but it was enough for a leader or a group of strong subordinates to make noticeable strides in their cultivation. Not to mention the fact this mission would award large amounts of real contribution on top of the Alliance Merit. Even Zac would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. There were just so many desirable items in the System’s Elite Exchange, but he was almost tapped out after his latest round of purchases. The Alliance Treasury was one of the few remaining places where he could gather the materials necessary for his breakthrough.

Accruing enough Alliance Merit also provided unique perks on the frontlines. More autonomy, higher authority, and the option to choose your battlefields—all things that could prove more important than raw strength when it came to survival.

The meeting lasted for another twenty minutes, but Zac was still carrying a belly full of unanswered questions by the time they emerged from the meeting room. There was surprisingly little to go on regarding the situation within the fortress and how they were supposed to take control of the thing. Only a few reports had made their way back to the outside, even after a whole day’s struggle.

The entrances were rare and random, and the same seemed true for the exits. Not to mention, there was a decent risk of appearing in the middle of a Kan’Tanu army if you jumped into a random vortex. Still, the Mystic Realm wasn’t completely isolated, and Dossin relayed some pertinent information.

The fortress was badly damaged, both from an ancient conflict and more recent spatial turbulence. That was the only reason they had a chance to pass through its barriers. Furthermore, the fortress had awoken on its own for some reason, and it considered everyone a hostile target. In fact, the Kan’Tanu wasn’t the greatest threat inside—it was the fortress itself.

The assembled leaders repeatedly asked for more detailed descriptions but could only glower in frustration when Dossin rejected or sidestepped any such requests. Only those who managed to enter would be appraised of the actual situation, with fear of critical intelligence being stolen by spies cited as the reason for the secrecy.

The information lockdown didn’t just extend to the fortress, either. Even the battles outside were kept vague, and they would only learn of their role right before clashing with the cultists. Dossin assured them that The Alliance had provided several aces, but she also implied neither side wanted to make any big moves at this stage.

Any high-energy attack came with the risk of backfiring spectacularly, what with space already being weakened by the War Fortress’s dimensional barriers. Everyone was ordered to use War Machines sparingly and only to use models that spread their force over a large area. The focus was on securing and defending spatially active regions rather than killing cultists.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” one of the old retainers muttered as they left the command center.

“Grandpa, what do you mean?” the valiant-looking youth to his side asked.

The young man appeared slightly naïve, but he was a Peak Early Hegemon with an aura as steady as bedrock. His combat strength might pale compared to Zac’s, but fighting with a common Middle Hegemon shouldn’t be a problem. Furthermore, going by his exquisite gear and the respectful attitude of the Middle Hegemon to his side, he was likely a core descendant of their clan.

“Young master, I’ve participated in many similar meetings before receiving your third elder’s grace. Wild Mystic Realms, unpredictable Danger Zones, and newly-formed Grand Formations—they all need someone to sound out the dangers and bring back the harvest. But why would those in control send their own men, the talents they’ve arduously raised? Why not dangle some rewards and let outsiders take the risks?”

“That’s right,” another warrior snorted. “They say this is a critical mission, so why are there only unaffiliated factions in our group? Where are the imperial armies or members of the Eight Grand Clans? Hell, I only recognize a couple of faces here. They’re sending us into the maws of our enemy blindfolded.”

The man was right. Dossin was a Dravorak General, but she led a mixed army of the sixteenth rather than a Dravorak elite regiment. Furthermore, representatives from Zecia’s top factions, from empires to sects and clans, were conspicuously absent. Of course, this was only one of hundreds of similar camps, but it was still a worrying sign.

“But what can we do but enter those maws?” the youth sighed. “Military law aside, I can’t pass up on this opportunity. No matter if it’s for the clan or myself.”

The other leaders wore complex expressions, but the young clan leader’s words rang true. One by one, they returned to their armies to prepare themselves. Zac was no different, but they only got another ten minutes before a blaring alarm broke the calm.

“It’s here!” Dossin’s voice spread through the camp. “Assemble within 30 seconds!”

“Go!” Zac ordered, and the Acheron Company moved as one.

They appeared on a designated spot outside their barracks, every warrior teeming with conviction and killing intent. They knew the upcoming battles would be grueling, but they’d also entered the Atwood Empire’s strongest unit for these kinds of opportunities. Contribution, merit, and treasures were all up for grabs, and those who survived would have taken another step forward on the road of cultivation.

Dossin had already taken up a position in the center of the square, but she didn’t give any order to set out. Zac looked around with confusion, wondering if the hotspot was right in their backyard. A spatial collapse would undoubtedly impact the environment, and Zac didn’t have to wait long for signs to appear.

A deep rumble soon shook the camp, and one barrack after another crumbled as waves of incredible energy surged through the ground. The only structures surviving were two black pillars Zac assumed were Array Towers.

“We’re moving,” Vilari suddenly exclaimed, and Zac sharply inhaled upon realizing what was happening.

The commotion wasn’t created by spatial turbulence. The whole square slowly rose into the air, casting off all temporary structures connected to it as it rotated. The whole base was actually a supersized flying vessel and not a simple one, judging by the energies involved.

“Get ready. This ship is made for speed and little else,” Dossin warned.

There was no time to ask for clarifications before one of the towers shattered with a deafening bang. A sharp tug rocked the whole platform, but the soldiers of the makeshift army were all Late E-grade or stronger. A few had to take a steadying step, but that was about it. Of course, the situation would have been very different without the sleek barrier a few meters above their heads.

Zac was shocked to find they were moving at a speed approaching the levels of an escape treasure, leaving a mile-long streak of spatial chaos in their wake. Their acceleration had been nigh-instantaneous, shattering both space and the atmosphere. Mountains and rivers were reduced to flashes of light as they roared across the continent, but the indistinct landscape suddenly became clear.

Most seemed to think their mad dash had already led to the hotspot, but Zac’s brows furrowed as he gazed upon a massive storm formation in the distance. This couldn’t possibly be their destination. He could tell space was incredibly solid, to the point their vessel had lost most of its speed. The kind of environment that could endure powerful War Arrays.

This was an ambush.

A stone bell the size of a city block emerged from the vortex, and even the reinforced space buckled from its mere presence. It seemed to be made from emerald-green jade, but it had seen better days. It was covered in cracks, and one section was completely missing. The whole clapper had also fallen out, leaving a rotten rope within.

Its state wasn’t good, and there were no cultists around to box them in or control the huge treasure. Still, you’d have to be blind to not realize the bell, damaged or not, was a terrifying treasure. It alone was more than enough to deal with their motley army.

The whole bell reeked of forbidding power, but the most terrifying emanations were released by the lines of engravings covering its surface. The bottom row had been ruined by the missing section, which seemed to prevent a mirrored engraving on the bell’s top from activating.

However, the three bands in the middle remained intact and left Zac’s soul shuddering. Two were bands of complex scripts Zac didn’t recognize, but something about them made Zac’s skin crawl. They were sinister but in a different way from the Kan’Tanu’s heritage. It felt more like a force of nature than a heretical treasure.

The middle band wasn’t another formation but rather an exquisitely depicted scene. The bell was dozens of miles away, but Zac could see every detail for some inexplicable reason. And it filled him with an immense sense of wrongness.

The engraving portrayed a motley procession approaching a small cave entrance. The cave looked completely normal, like something you’d find on any mountainside. Yet it filled Zac with much greater dread than the arcane scripts. It was like a primordial evil lurked within, staring back at him from within the bell.

The procession was comprised of beings of all shapes and sizes, from powerful cultivators to small critters. All different, yet all the same. Everyone was decked in matching robes of finest red silk, even the small mice, and they had joyful smiles plastered on their faces. They could have been a wedding procession, but the celebratory gifts in their hands were their own beating hearts.

Zac had no idea what this kind of treasure would do, but he had a looming feeling they would find out sooner rather than later.

So much for not using large-scale weaponry.