Chương 259

The ground tore itself apart. The False Heartwood, nourished by the souls of eight druid elders, stopped being just a simple beacon. Empowered by their sacrifice, the tree transformed into a fierce spirit of bark and vines, commanding the formidable power of Fourth Tier nature magic. Everything rumbled, and the bedrock of the Shattered Basin groaned in protest before finally giving way.

Roots as wide as city streets exploded upward through the riverbed and the stony soil, slithering like great snakes and moving at the same speed. Orion stood at the cliff's edge, the wind whipping his lab coat around his legs as he watched the slaughter unfold. A large Burrower that was attempting to drill into the canyon wall to escape the upheaval was impaled from below. A root tore straight through its chassis, lifting the sparking machine fifty feet into the air before snapping it in two.

The alchemical core ruptured, spilling corrosive green fluid over the wood, but the Tier Four life mana simply sloughed off the acid, instantly growing fresh bark to replace the burned layers. The branches lengthened, whipping outward like colossal flails. They wrapped around the heavily armored Centurions, lifting them from the mud, constricting with unimaginable pressure, and crumpling their anti-magic armor like tin foil. The sheer scale of the spell was awe-inspiring.

The canyon floor became a churning ocean of wood, stone, and violent greenery, aggressively dismantling the machine army, piece by piece. But the enemy wasn't without resources of its own. Its hive-mind registered the new threat, and, seeing the impossibility of survival, the overarching command protocol shifted. What had once been orderly ranks dissolved into a suicidal frenzy. Red optical sensors flared across the basin.

The machines stopped trying to retreat or defend themselves, turning their weapons toward the cliffs and the surrounding forest, and abandoned all defensive maneuvers to inflict maximum casualties before their inevitable destruction. Alchemical flamethrowers bathed the roots in green fire. Rotary saw blades shrieked against the enchanted bark, pushing their engines to the point of overheating and explosion.

Cyborgs engaged their thrusters, ignoring the lethal vines to launch themselves directly at where the humans stood. They overloaded their alchemical cores mid-air, turning their own bodies into screaming shrapnel bombs.

"Reinforce the wards!" an Arcanist roared, slamming his staff into the stone. Several battle-witches collapsed as their wards shattered under kamikaze strikes that battered them. Mages scrambled for cover as boiling coolant, brass blades, and liquid Silence rained down on their artillery positions. The orderly firing lines devolved into chaos as the frenzied machines swarmed the lower ridges. Though exhausted, Orion did not stand idle. He spun mana into the CC, drawing on the Field despite the lingering static.

Fortunately, he wouldn't need much power for what he had in mind, or he would have genuinely risked going into mana burn. And that sucked. I just have to make use of their own chaos. Altering a few trajectories is much easier than trying to batter down tier-three constructs. One of the few remaining cyborgs rocketed toward a cluster of healers tending to the wounded, and Orion snapped a positive gravity vector onto its left thruster.

The sudden imbalance sent the machine spiraling out of control, crashing harmlessly into the canyon wall in a burst of flame. He aimed at a cluster of alchemical missiles streaking toward his mother's position, weaving [Event Horizon] to deflect the projectiles into a swarm of Burrowers. Before he could continue, a sudden pull on the Field distracted him. Archmage Valentia flew above the swarming machines, his blue robes plastered to his body by the fierce updrafts.

He raised his staff high above his head, and the amethyst crystal blazed in response to his inaudible command. The rushing river at the center of the basin answered his call. Its waters surged upward, defying gravity in a swirling pillar, then instantly froze into hundreds of ice lances the size of elephants. With an upward sweep of his arms, Valentia drove the glacial spears through the hulls of the remaining airships, each struggling to stay aloft. Asteria acted a moment later.

She folded space itself, catching the severed bow of a crashing zeppelin and making it reappear directly above the densest cluster of frenzied Centurions on the basin floor. The sheer tonnage of the falling fortress wiped them out, burying them deep in the mud. The sky rained fire, Silence and ice. The ground churned with roots and brass. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

It dragged on for another agonizing ten minutes, the sounds of grinding metal and explosive magic echoing so loudly that Orion had to pull back. But eventually, the frenzy burned itself out. Without the protection of their Enders, the machines simply could not withstand the firepower of several Tier Four casters. When the final alchemical engine sputtered and died, it was crushed beneath a heel of woven ironwood roots. Multiple fires hissed and choked as the river surged back into its broken banks.

Finally, the Shattered Basin fell quiet, save for the creaking of the False Heartwood and the ragged breathing of the survivors. With the destruction of the zeppelins and their storage vats, the oppressive, magic-dampening effect finally weakened. The smog thinned, carried away by natural and magical winds, allowing the Field to breathe freely once more. The moment the Silence lifted, a connection snapped back into place.

A melodic chime rang out in Orion's mind, followed by a cascade of notifications that he made a concerted effort to analyze through his SGDs. System Notification! A Tactical Victory has been achieved: The Shattered Basin. Participation in the annihilation of the Iron State Northern Army confirmed. Participated in the destruction of [Defoliator Zeppelin] x3. Personally defeated [Iron State Centurion] x14, [Mechanized Cyborg] x9. Strategic sabotage and battlefield manipulation acknowledged. +925, 000 Exp Level Up!

Level Up! Level Up! The sheer volume of experience hit him like a physical blow, and the exhaustion pulling at him was washed away by a torrent of revitalizing energy. His connection to the Field deepened, easing the searing ache in his overworked mind. He felt his memory sharpen, his body grow sturdier, and his perception of the Field become more intricate as his attributes scaled to match his new level. ORION A.

VOIDWALKER Class: [Causal Epistemologist] [B-rank] Level: 81 Mind: 468 Attunement: 458 Body: 62 Traits: Mana Manipulation [B-rank]; Hypotheticism [B-rank]; Falsifiability Criterion [B-rank] Hitting Level eighty-one was a significant milestone, especially given how quickly he'd gotten here. He was approaching the apex of Tier Two, with his processing speed and arcane capacity now rivaling those of mages who had studied for decades. The world felt distinctly slower and more manageable.

With some effort, he managed to suppress the rush. It truly felt great to grow, but leveling up too quickly was dangerous, for it made you think you were invincible. It was a strange problem to be saddled with. Most people leveled up slowly, and getting more than one at a time was rare. With a sigh, he dismissed the window, letting his focus return to the physical world. Their victory was undeniable, but the cost had been high.

Healing wards were erected along the cliffs as witches and Collegium medics rushed to treat burns and shrapnel wounds inflicted in the final frenzy. People shouted in pain or grief, clutching their loved ones who hadn't made it. It would take time to get a full count of the dead, and even longer for all the injured to be restored, but even at a glance, Orion could tell that forty percent of their initial force would require some level of magical healing beyond the cantrips everyone could summon.

Perhaps a tenth was gone, washed away by the machine army's unrelenting waves. Overall, it was a very low price to pay, considering the number of losses from other battles. In fact, this could be called a resounding victory, but that calculation left him tasting ashes. Dozens of people had died, and even more might be added to the count, as there were only so many people capable of healing magic of the caliber needed to restore organs. Even after all was said and done, some would remain crippled.

Orion knew very intimately that some magical wounds could not be healed with spells, and there was simply no way everyone would have access to the kind of treasures his mother had used to restore his foot. Eventually, he looked away, deciding that staring at the carnage wouldn't help. He found Pauline seated on a flat stone, calmly wiping viscous black fluid from her daggers with a scrap of cloth. She looked up as he approached, offering a tired but genuine smile.

"Somehow, we made it once more," she noted, sheathing her blades.

"I suppose I won't have to haunt you after all."

"I told you it would work," Orion replied with a thin smile, offering a hand to help her up. A low rumble drew their attention to the canyon below. The False Heartwood creaked and groaned as its roots retreated underground, revealing it to be at the center of the devastation. It was a mighty sight, with its thick trunk embedded with the crushed remains of brass armor and mechanical limbs.

Tasmeos and the elders were gone, their bodies permanently merged with the wood, leaving behind a silent guardian standing over a graveyard. It's sad, but even with how little I knew the old druid, I can tell this was a good end for him. He probably planned it from the start, which is why he took only the other elders along. Asteria flew down to join them, looking down at the tree.

Despite the mighty spells she'd cast, she still looked impeccable, and Orion had to wonder whether she'd taken the time to cast some household magic to ensure it. Asking now might be pushing it. Seeing their commander untouched by the enemy, even after going toe-to-toe with two Enders, will do wonders for morale.

"They paid a heavy price to aid us," she murmured, contemplative.

"The Sanctum shall remember their sacrifice." The somber mood that had settled after her proclamation was broken by a low curse. Turning, Orion saw Candra wipe sweat from her forehead, her eyes losing their glow. Throughout the battle's climax, Orion had vaguely been aware that the old woman was standing perfectly still, her milky eyes white and unfocused. It seemed she had been divining something even through the Silence's interference, and if her expression was any indication, what she'd found was not good news.

Asteria frowned, turning to face the elder.

"Speak plainly, Elder Sister. The army is broken, and the Enders are dead. What did your scrying reveal?" Candra took a moment to compose herself.

"I traced the magical tethers of those mechanical brutes. That was why it took me so long to kill a single one," she explained.

"It seems these Enders are networked, tied to a central command to coordinate their strikes, even though they host real people inside. When they fell, the network spiked, trying to reroute the signal." It took Orion a moment to catch the implication.

"The command signal did not originate from the zeppelins." Candra pointed a gnarled finger at him.

"Exactly. The zeppelins were receiving orders, not issuing them. The relay tether stretched far beyond the Shattered Basin." A sensation of dread settled over the cliff. The cheering among the lower ranks suddenly sounded hollow.

"Would they really sacrifice an entire army? To do what?" he asked, but even as he spoke, possibilities began forming in his mind. There was little reason for the Iron State to care about their machines beyond the cost of replacing them, and if they had a bigger prize in mind, they wouldn't hesitate to do so.

"Did they know the beacon was false?" Asteria asked.

"Possibly," Candra replied.

"But more likely, they just suspected it. Nevertheless, they acted as if it were true and sent their army here, while the command group moved elsewhere."

"Where?" Orion asked. Candra turned slowly, pointing her cane eastward.

"They've sent forces to attack our camp and have destroyed it. They've already moved on to search for the true Heartwood."