The Oracle Paths-Chapter 1057: It's Just An Oversized Turkey

Moments later, the army of 150,000 barbarians, complemented by Sank-Uk, Jake, and the booze-addled vagrant, were back on their feet, marching in the opposite direction towards the Havocspire Citadel. Now that the mountain and hill chain concealing the frozen ruins at Chillmire was no more, each force could faintly discern the movement of neighboring allied armies converging on the same target.

And to put it mildly, they were attacking in droves!

It was hard to picture without having visited Havocspire Citadel when it still stood tall, but it was a sprawling, gigantic warrior city. Its outer wall extending over 100 kilometers in diameter, this military bastion could comfortably accommodate hundreds of millions of troops, and even more if it was a short siege.

When the Radiant Conclave launched its blitzkrieg assault on Havocspire with the sole purpose of assassinating the Soulmancer King, more than half of the stationed troops met their end during the onslaught, but the remainder managed to flee, suffering heavy losses. The force commanded by General Torvi was just one of those armies that escaped the city in time.

Of course, not all the surviving armies were as massive or well- equipped. Some consisted of just a few companies, depleted to one- third of their original strength, and sometimes without their leader, while others had several regiments, divisions, or even entire legions at their disposal.

A division was any force composed of two or more regiments, whereas a legion consisted of at least two divisions. The army corps led by General Torvi contained the merged remnants of four massive legions, but now only two remained...

No matter the size of these armies that managed to flee and then endure the wide-range wrath of the Featherfall Titan, they all had something special, be it a Soulmancer shielding them from the deluge of giant feathers or exceptional warriors. This was particularly true for those isolated squads that had survived without the protection of a Soulmancer.

And at this very moment, all these armies were making a U-turn towards Havocspire Citadel, ready to fulfill the mandates that fell from the sky, or more accurately, dropped by the apathetic Vorzhul Riders.

The close flyby of these ominous flying beasts had killed quite a few unlucky soldiers in the process, earning the ire of a large number of survivors.

In addition to these survivor armies numbering in the millions, Jake also noticed that after the departure of the Vorzhul Riders, another heavily armed force had also left Grimstone Keep. Each of these soldiers was muscular and fierce, their arms and faces often crisscrossed with scars bearing witness to the bloody battles they had endured. 'Career soldiers.... perhaps even elite troops! Jake realized immediately, his gaze lingering briefly on one of the Vorzhul Riders perched atop the highest tower of Grimstone Keep.

The flying beast was decidedly larger and uglier than the rest of its kin. However, what set it apart were the thick black steel plates covered in spikes that shielded its face, chest, and other vulnerabilities.

A rider sat confidently at the nape of its neck, gazing down at the departing army from Grimstone Keep with a cold indifference dripping with contempt. [That's the Great General spearheading the counterattack, no doubt about it.] Xi surmised thoughtfully before adding. [It would be enlightening to see him in combat up close. Great Generals rank among the most powerful beings on Twyluxia, second only to the

Soulmancer King and the Radiant Conclave. If you can take one down with confidence, this Ordeal will be as good as over for us. Of course,

I'm excluding those Abyssal Revenants and Titans. Until you're back to full strength, I suggest steering clear of them...]

Jake's lips quirked at his Al's last remark. Damn, for something that shared his mind, wasn't she selling him a bit short? If he let loose, chucking all caution to the wind, he was confident he could whoop Featherfall's ass without breaking a sweat. 'It's just an oversized turkey, anyway, he ruminated, marching alongside the barbarians of his 'new' regiment.

Truthfully, he could understand why Xi had uttered that. Defeating such a creature was one thing, but taking it down unnoticed was a whole different game. The moment Jake took out a monster like that, he'd have to say goodbye to his low profile.

It had its ups and downs. On one hand, rallying the rest of the Myrtharian Nerds would be a cakewalk. On the flip side, it'd paint a glowing target on his back. 'One thing at a time...

Turning his attention back to his 'new' regiment, Jake studied the faces of his newfound comrades. Every soldier around him wore a look that was nothing short of grim and resigned, if not downright hopeless.

It made sense. Their unit was on the front lines. To make matters worse, Jake, Sank-Uk, the drunkard, and the ill-fated strangers with dead eyes alongside them were front and center of one of the three lead platoons.

Their odds of survival couldn't be grimmer. In a clash of this magnitude, a regular foot soldier had almost no shot at making it out alive, let alone terrified greenhorns with questionable gear.

Half of them didn't even have shields, and none sported any standard armor. The only exception was Sank-Uk, but after getting skewered by Featherfall's onslaught, his gear had seen better days.

It was bitterly ironic that in contrast to their prior disarray, now General Torvi, his officers, and elite troops brought up the rear. It seemed they were more than willing to throw as many rookies to the wolves as needed to achieve their goals.

The situation was downright shameful. It was even more striking as the 28 remaining Soulmancers had tacitly spread out among the various regiments and divisions.

Several of them, like Meribelle, hadn't hesitated to position themselves on the front lines. Their reassuring silhouettes hovered hundreds of meters above, ready to swoop in during any supernatural ambush.

Unsurprisingly, Meribelle floated right above their regiment, further fueling Jake's suspicion that the real Soulmancer King was close by. It narrowed his search to his new regiment, but for now, he had to play dumb. "I have to hand it to you; your moral compass is something else," Jake joked, chatting with Sank-Uk. He walked so casually with his rusted sword in hand; one might think he was out for a leisurely stroll. "And here I thought I wasn't that righteous," the former commander replied with a gloomy look. "I've got a gut feeling this is going to come back and bite me real soon."

Jake and Sank-Uk walked a pace or two ahead of the rest, disregarding all semblance of order. They weren't even bothering to lower their voices, and thus the disheartened recruits trailing behind listened as if they were dealing with total oddballs.

Right behind Jake, the previously drunk wanderer, now newly revived, was currently sticking to him like glue. During the healing process, alcohol had been purged from his system, leaving him fully sober.

His memories were hazy, but clear enough to know that if he wanted a shot at survival in this hellhole, he'd best latch onto this miraculous powerhouse. Up until now, he'd never believed in any higher power, but after his improbable rescue by Jake, his worldview had been turned upside down. 'Why drown my sorrows and drink to forget when I can follow him and take back what's mine by my own hand?'

In the end, their trek to Havocspire Citadel consumed the better part of the day. By the time they reached its imposing, miraculously intact walls, the storm had long since broken.

A torrential downpour hammered against their skulls, deafening their ears, while a biting and icy wind constantly slapped them, forcing them to squint. Added to this was the reality that the sun was on the brink of setting, its light having been long eclipsed by a thick blanket of cumulonimbus clouds. From the North, near the Lumyst River, colossal tornadoes loomed in plain sight, dancing at the edge of their vision-a terrifying aftermath of Chillmire's icy maelstrom.

But the real horror show was ahead of them, beyond the towering walls. Whether by luck or misfortune, they weren't the first regiment to arrive on the scene.

Stretching as far as the eye could see, a sea of Underworld Barbarians occupied every inch of free ground, from their position right up to- and even beyond-the ramparts.

Scattered everywhere were the more or less undamaged corpses of men and beasts, alongside numerous hollows from devastating explosive impacts. In some spots, the earth had been completely upturned, while in others, remnants of fire or even molten molten rock replaced the ground. The battlefield was so littered with debris- arrows, spears, cannonballs-that one could hardly set foot without getting injured.

To make matters worse, due to the pouring rain, pools of blood and entrails from the dead had mixed with the water, creating the beginnings of a morass. To reach the walls now meant wading knee- deep in a murky muck of questionable composition. The only bright side was that the rain masked the stench.

There was no doubt about it... The siege of Havoscpire Citadel was already in full swing.