The Oracle Paths-Chapter 1054: Abyssal Revenant, Chillmire

1054 Abyssal Revenant, Chillmire

"Have you lost your damn mind?! Didn't you see my whole squad get

obliterated in a flash by that golden freak of a bird?!"

Sank-Uk, silent until now, snapped to attention when he heard Meribelle boldly proclaim that Havocspire would be retaken today, no matter the cost. Had she not seen the colossal Titan Bird, its wings casting ominous shadows over the ruined citadel? No mortal army, no matter its size, could stand against such a beast.

Recalling the commander's presence, the woman shot him a vexed look, letting him spew his worries before cutting him off,

"Would you shut it?" Her eyes then settled on Jake's face, and an inquisitive eyebrow rose. "By the way, what are we doing with these two? The other recruit passed out early on and likely missed everything, but this guy here's a regiment commander. We can't risk our conversation leaking out."

The burly warrior tensed, realizing that the Soulmancer was casually discussing ending his life. Right in front of him, no less! Suddenly, the topic of retaking Havocspire Citadel seemed a whole lot less significant.

Anxiously awaiting the outsider's verdict, he held his breath. But luck was on his side today. Jake wasn't the type to execute someone he'd just saved.

"I'll vouch for him," Jake replied, unfazed, as if discussing the weather. "However, I share his concerns. If you're banking on my powers to deal with Featherfall and the five riders atop it, you're barking up the wrong tree."

Relief washed over Sank-Uk as the proverbial knife left his throat. His gratitude towards Jake grew tenfold. Having overheard their conversation, he now vowed to protect Jake's identity, even if it meant lying to his superiors.

Normally, such deceit wouldn't sit right with him, but he wasn't a fool. In fact, he was sharper than he looked. He too had begun to question where the true Soulmancer King resided.

Regardless, whether the elusive king was dead or hidden among them didn't matter. Following Jake into battle was the smartest move. He hadn't forgotten that this all-encompassing war of unmatched scale was only beginning...

Even esteemed commanders like him could easily be tossed aside in such vast battles. Under this stranger's banner, at least, he saw a glimmer of survival. Who knows? He might even earn a advancement by the war's end.

As Sank-Uk mentally patted himself on the back for his decision, Meribelle, about to address Jake, stopped mid-sentence as the ground rumbled beneath them, signaling the cacophony of footsteps approaching from behind. The main force of the fleeing army, overseen by this team of Soulmancers, had finally arrived.

Suddenly recalling something, the woman turned to another of her colleagues - a gangly man with hollowed cheeks and, to put it mildly, sparse hair. Before she could utter a word, he raised a finger and snickered with a scratchy voice,

"Relax, Meribelle. Lucas has had it covered since we landed here. Assuming they have good eyes, all they've seen is our team touching down and having a leisurely chat with these two 'gentlemen' briefing us. Cough, your honor remains intact. As for your pride...

"Oh, fuck off, Emlet." Without hesitation, Meribelle flipped him the bird, eliciting a choked gasp from Jake, who was pleasantly surprised to discover the universal nature of that gesture throughout the cosmos.

As for Lucas, it turned out to be a sort of floating carpet hovering about a hundred meters above them. Its surface was eerily mirror- like, emitting an odd force that bent the light around it, seemingly manipulating it to produce what Jake assumed were illusions.

Compared to what he could muster, this was peanuts, but given the context, it was more than adequate.

Of course, Jake had spotted the artifact the moment they arrived. If he could detect their approach through miles of canyons and hills, spotting a mirror carpet was child's play. He simply opted to play dumb after deducing that the artifact posed no threat to him.

What truly threw him off, however, was the carpet having such an "Earthly" name. Goes to show, you learn something new every day.

When the army of over 150,000 barbarians finally decelerated, halting in a somewhat orderly formation mere meters from the Soulmancers, the demeanor of the latter shifted dramatically, reverting to their rigid and austere facade. Meribelle also cleared her sore throat one last time and followed Emlet's directions, adjusting her posture to mirror that of the illusion cast by Lucas.

Both Jake and Sank-Uk were also instructed to follow suit, slightly tilting their heads as they tried to strike a believable deferential pose, blending the perfect mix of fear and admiration.

"Not bad." Meribelle acknowledged with a nod of approval. She cleared her throat one last time and gestured for Emlet to drop his illusion.

What greeted the frontline soldiers was the stern faces of 28 Soulmancers surrounding a trembling duo, staring at their feet - one clearly a commander, distinguished by his armor, and the other, a raw recruit, evident by his lack of armor, so to speak.

Well, actually three. Another ragged-looking man lay unconscious on the ground, dried blood oozing from all seven of his facial orifices - a sight that war-hardened veterans were all too familiar with. He must have crossed one of those sinister Soulmancers.

Walking ahead of the army, a hulking barbarian, nearly ten feet tall in heavy armor, leapt off his equally imposing steed, and immediately clasped his hands in greeting. His straightforward gaze and the fact he didn't even attempt a bow spoke volumes about his rank.

"What are your orders, Soulmancers? Should we continue our retreat

to Grimstone Keep?"

"General Torvi... No need." Meribelle sighed heavily, casting her gaze northward. "The counterattack is already gearing up." Jake, who'd been pondering how the Dusken Throne intended to oust

Featherfall and the Celestial to reclaim Havocspire Citadel within a

day, followed her line of sight, and all his questions were answered.

Hundreds, or perhaps thousands of kilometers to the north of their position, a sprawling blanket of rolling white clouds, which he hadn't noticed before, now filled the horizon. Though still too distant to discern the looming threat they harbored, Jake's eyes twitched when he discerned the ominous outline of an alien visage illuminated by lightning from the tempest within.

Harnessing his Cosmic Sight to its fullest, Jake narrowed his eyes for a clearer view and soon shuddered, his fists quivering slightly. Everywhere this wall of white clouds passed, a sheet of ice and desolation, even more lifeless than Pluto's surface, trailed behind.

What astounded him further, however, was the clouds' trajectory - it wasn't random. Their path seemed to be calculated to preserve as much life as possible. With his enhanced vision, Jake noticed, much to his astonishment, that all the friendly troop formations that had fled or were en route to Havocspire Citadel had been completely spared.

And the speed of those clouds... Even if he pulled out all the stops, Jake wasn't sure he could hit such a pace relying purely on raw power. By raw power, he meant both his physical strength and telekinesis, as well as any other means of propulsion at his disposal.

This behemoth was blitzing across the landscape, clocking in at dozens, if not hundreds, of kilometers per second. Yet, what really floored him wasn't just its blistering speed. It was the absolute absence of the expected ruin and cataclysmic shockwaves that should've followed such a supersonic movement of that volume of air.

It was as if these clouds... didn't truly exist. And if they weren't real, then it could only be the manifestation of a soul. A horrendously powerful one at that.

That's why Jake had felt a cold shiver down his spine. A consciousness so vast, wielding the power to influence the climate over hundreds of kilometers... When it came to ethereal might, he knew when he was outclassed.

"The Abyssal Revenant, Chillmire!" General Torvi bellowed, clutching his massive sword with a trembling hand for support as his legs wobbled. Now he understood why Havocspire was such an untenable position for the enemy to hold.

Now that all its garrison had retreated, one of their most dreadful Spirit Guardians, a calamitous entity that usually slumbered at the base of the Underworld Cascade, was free to unleash its wrath. And with no friendly troops to concern itself with, the voracious winter soul was free to wreak havoc, plunging the still-burning city into a sudden and severe ice age.