A thunderous crack split the sky.
Above the central stronghold, where once there was peace, a full-scale battle between peak Cosmic experts now unravelled like a storm of gods. Ery stood in awe beneath the protection of the stronghold's inner wards, his eyes locked on the figures tearing through the heavens.
Each one of these combatants bore their third cosmic realm, brilliant manifestations of the law they commanded. The air trembled with the force of their spells; reality itself rippled from the sheer weight of their auras.
Among them, Rendra the Stonebreaker—a colossal half-giant, the confird Supre Magus of the enemy force. This monster of a man stood nearly four ters tall; he alone could fight ten peak cosmic experts.
Wielding a warhamr, he swept through the sky like a living cot. Every swing shattered the sound barrier, and every roar sent ripples across the clouds.
But he was not unopposed.
His foe, Lord Airel, Vice Commander of the stronghold and a Soul Champion, countered the supre barbarian with the ethereal blades of pure soul force—translucent constructs that darted and sliced with haunting precision.
With a re gesture, Airel summoned a tidal wave of spectral spears that tore through the giant's defense. The half-giant retaliated with a stomp that cracked the clouds and launched teoric debris.
The sky roared as they clashed—cosmic flas and soul energy colliding like stars going supernova.
Elsewhere, five more barbarian warlords surged forward, their presence warping the air around them. The Pardera Ten, the elite group of defenders, ford a flying wedge to block their advance.
Elental destruction exploded in every direction. Flaming teors rained down. Bolts of black lightning crackled between conjured storm clouds. Swords of light and waves of shadow clashed violently, their collision shaking the very mountains beneath them.
Within minutes, it beca clear that the attackers possessed the stronger force. The four dark-cloaked experts hadn't even revealed their faces, yet the ten defenders were already struggling to hold the
Fortunately, the stronghold's defensive formations initiated just in ti. These intricate arrays not only created protective barriers when the defenders were in danger but also retaliated with bursts of powerful energy—launching devastating assaults infused with elental force and ancient runes that lit up the night sky.
Ery watched it all from behind the stronghold's mighty walls—walls that pulsed with magical runes and glowed with protection arrays. The central formation array, a radiant do interwoven with dragon glass and mythic ore, absorbed the excess shockwaves and redirected the raw energy skyward like pillars of light.
"This is no ordinary fortress," Ery muttered to himself. Yet, even with that defense, he could feel the oppressive pressure of the battle.
As he observed, Ery's eyes narrowed on two barbarian experts who stood out amid the chaos.
The first appeared childlike at first glance—barely over a ter tall, with wild hair and stubby limbs. Ery thought him a dwarf until he saw the grotesque, shifting musculature beneath the skin. The man's flesh rippled like molten clay, bouncing and reshaping with every attack.
When slashed, his body rely compressed and sprang back. It was a forbidden body transformation technique, likely one that fused beast genes into his own core. He moved with terrifying agility, bouncing off spells, crushing defenders with unpredictable force. In less than a minute, one of the Pardera defenders lost an arm trying to restrain him.
The second was a wild-eyed woman with dark skin, tribal markings, and bone piercings. She carried no weapons, but in her hands was a massive totem staff etched with ancient runes. Her voice rose in rhythmic chants, each syllable pulling beasts from the void.
From her chants erged a poisonous obsidian frog, its breath a toxic mist that corroded magical barriers; a crimson centipede with blade-like legs that stretched for dozens of ters; and worst of all, a giant mosquito, its wings humming with sonic force, its needle proboscis piercing one defender's shield like butter. Each beast carried the force of a cosmic expert on its own.
"A beast master…" Ery whispered. "Each of those familiars probably stronger than Aegis the red demon's dragon…"
One hour passed,
The defenders began to falter. Spell shields cracked. Formation runes flickered.
But the stronghold's defense holds firm.
Even from the relative safety of the inner outpost, Ery felt the pulse of magic in his bones. He couldn't help but marvel at the power. He had only recently broken into the Grand Magus realm, but these were entities far beyond him.
Each expert might probably kill him in just a few moves.
He exhaled, realizing how small he still was in the grand sche. It was at this mont that Ery realized the cloaked figures—four in total—had finally made their move.
Silently coordinated, the group surged toward the northern gate, swift and precise like a sharpened blade. The defending magus stationed at the gate, sensing danger, hurriedly raised his staff to enhance the gate's protective crystal formation, but Ery's keen senses picked up sothing else.
A sudden ripple shimred through the air—space magic.
One of the cloaked attackers vanished from sight and reappeared mid-stride behind the barrier, bypassing the defense with spatial displacent. In the blink of an eye, he unleashed a devastating shockwave that tore through the gate's inner pylons.
"STOP HIM!!"
Lord Ariel's voice bood across the stronghold, his figure a flash of silver as he prepared to intercept—only to be blocked by the supre warlord.
"HAHAHA, where do you think you are going?!"
Only seconds passed, but it was enough. The protective formation—already weakened by multiple attacks—finally burst outward as the core crystal exploded, sending shards of mana-infused crystal through the air like deadly rain. With the formation broken, the gate's magical defenses were compromised.
Then ca the sound—a low, guttural hum at first, like the earth groaning in pain—followed by a thunderous roar.
From the northern horizon, an army surged forward. Thousands of warriors—the enemy's main forces—descended like a plague of locusts, their war cries shaking the sky.
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