The clans started to gather their forces in the Nyseren sector.

Three defense lines were formed on the border of the Nyseren sector: the North, the South, and the Central Front.

Seraphis brought most of her forces, leaving little to guard the Vaelmir sector. Her fleet stretched across the southern line; the Infinitus warriors were veterans who’d fought demons for millennia.

In contrast, Adrian had left nearly half of his warriors, including half the duskbane warriors, behind in Drakthor. Right now, Origin Capital was located on the edge with Drakthor; for Adrian, the capital was more important than anything; one mistake, one breach, and the heart of his people would fall. He would never gamble with that.

Within twelve hours, nearly all assigned forces had converged and aligned themselves on their specified defense line, forming an enormous battle grid.

Inside the central command hall, Thalren studied the projections, calculating strength ratios and defensive coverage. Doubt flickered across his masked face about the Origin Clan.

The north and south defensive lines were filled with nearly half a million seasoned SSS-rank warriors on each flank, and these were veterans bred from millennia of warfare.

But the center…

“Two hundred and fifty thousand?” he muttered.

The numbers weren’t even close.

He remembered the Duskbane clan had nearly 150,000 warriors from all the previous sieges. Which meant… “The Origin Clan only sent one hundred thousand?”

Against millions of demons? Against commanders and lords? Against the front that mattered the most?

Yes, Adrian himself was a monster, could be stronger than a warlord, a presence that silenced the entire council hall. But armies weren’t carried by one man. Thalren had witnessed too many powerful individuals fall when their forces crumbled around them.

Old clans like his had more than a million warriors, and even though he could not just gather everyone here for a single siege, he still brought up a decent number. But the Origin Clan numbers were too low, and most of those were not even veterans of Edge sieges.

He clenched his jaw behind the mask. “…Perhaps I judged them too early by just seeing the Origin Patriarch.”

So he quietly signaled his aides, “Hold additional Voidrender reinforcements ready, just in case the Origin line collapsed.”

His voice was low enough that the others wouldn’t hear; no need to undermine their morale before the battle even began.

What Thalren didn’t know was that this was just half the warriors, but even if Adrian had brought everyone here, he would still have underestimated them because to him, they were newbies. But Origin warriors were different from normal SSS-ranks warriors, which he would see soon.

Meanwhile, beside him, Seraphis stood silently by the edge of the projection.

“Why aren’t they attacking yet?” she murmured.

Thalren turned slightly, “What?”

“They are not attacking yet. They gathered… and then they paused.” Her voice lowered, growing colder. “Demons never waited before like this, never.”

Thalren felt a chill slip down his spine.

Because she was right, demons were creatures of bloodlust and rage. They surged forward the moment they gathered enough numbers; patience wasn’t in their nature.

It felt as if they were waiting, as if the siege itself was merely a stage.

Moments later, the Runithian Stellar Lord rushed into the chamber, “Patriarch Thalren! The demon legion is on the move! A million lesser demons advancing, led by one hundred demon commanders!”

The projections shifted, showing tidal waves of essence rushing across the void. Dark red signatures flooded the display, a crimson swarm that blotted out the star-lit backdrop.

And then Adrian entered the chamber with Kaelith beside him.

Thalren straightened. “They’re moving.”

Adrian’s gaze swept the projection, his expression unreadable. The demon horde was vast, but his focus lingered on something else, the absence of the warlords and lords from the formation.

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The warriors that stood in the frontlines slowly started to see the dark forces coming towards them; it was visible to their eyesight now. Black shapes twisted through space, masses that coalesced into clawed limbs and fanged maws. The void itself seemed to darken around them, as if their presence drained light.

Demon roars reverberated through space, a soundless vibration that rattled even hardened warriors. It wasn’t sound, it was essence itself, pressing against their minds.

Thalren and Seraphis’ orders sounded through the warriors’ nodes, “Fire the cannons.”

The void ripped open as the warriors fired the cannons that unleashed torrents of concentrated mana. Bolts of raw energy smashed into the demon army, slowing the advance, scattering formations.

This was not strong enough to kill even SSS-rank lesser demons, but slowing them was fine.

Thalren watched the projections, “Maintain fire, don’t let them close the distance.”

Then Adrian’s voice rang through the Origin Net, “Begin formation.”

Across the central line, the Origin and Duskbane warriors moved.

Within seconds, thousands of warriors shifted into geometric grids. Circles formed across the void, each one containing a thousand SSS-ranks positioned in perfect symmetry. Hundreds of such formations spread across the battlefield, glowing faintly with mana threads that connected warrior to warrior.

At the center of each circle stood a single warrior.

Thalren leaned forward, “What… are they doing?”

“Begin resonance,” Adrian commanded.

Mana surged, not from one warrior to another, but from many to one.

The threads connecting each formation flared, a thousand warriors channeling their mana through the resonance network, flowing toward the center like rivers converging into a single lake.

The center lead warrior in each formation lifted a hand.

A spark appeared above their palm, and then it grew.

A fireball swelled into existence, expanding past the size of battleships, roaring with stellar-level compression.

Thalren’s eyes widened. “That’s—”

“Impossible,” Seraphis whispered.

“FIRE!” Adrian’s voice boomed.

Hundreds of stellar-level fireballs launched simultaneously.

The void ignited.

The impact was apocalyptic, entire columns of demons evaporated beneath the heat. Explosions rippled outward, chain reactions that tore through the demon vanguard like a scythe through wheat, fire and ash consumed the battlefield. Screams echoed through the void, not soundless vibrations, but actual death cries as demons burned.

One in every five demons vanished in an instant.

Before Thalren could speak, before Seraphis could question, the center warriors raised their hands again.

Another volley, then another, and another.

They fired like machine guns, each stellar-level spell launched with precision. The fireballs didn’t just crash into the demon forces in the center; they spread in all directions, saturating the battlefield with overwhelming firepower.

When the barrage finally paused, twenty percent of the demon army wasn’t merely wounded.

It was erased.

“What—”

“How—”

“Impossible—those are SSS-ranks! How can they—”

Across the northern and southern lines, warriors from other clans stared in disbelief. They had fired energy cannons, standard siege weapons that barely scratched the demon advance. But the Origin Clan had become the cannons themselves, launching spells that only Stellars should be capable of casting.

Most didn’t understand. How could they share mana like that? How could SSS-ranks manifest stellar-level power?

The Origin and Duskbane warriors themselves were shocked. They had trained for this attack for years inside the Time Field, drilling the formations until they moved like breathing. But they had never truly seen its effects on a real battlefield.

And the best part?

Each warrior had only spent two percent of their mana, even after all this barrage.

A single formation held at least a thousand warriors, and the center lead warrior cast the spell using the tattoo, which consumed mana with impossible efficiency. Everything combined, the cost was negligible.

So they continued.

More fireballs, more devastation. The demon advance slowed to a crawl as the central line became a wall of fire.

…

On the demon frontline, a Demon Commander wielding fire essence halted mid-flight. An inferno blasted past him, heat scorching his scaled hide.

His flaming eyes widened, “How?”

He could cast a fireball like that, but each cast drained a chunk of his mana. This was war, a prolonged battle where wasting mana meant death, so no one launched stellar spells like this.

But the empires were doing things differently now.

The Commander snarled and activated his domain. Flames bent to his will, absorbing the incoming fireballs before they reached the lesser demons behind him. Other Commanders did the same, their domains flaring to life as they shielded the advancing horde.

The barrage slowed, but it didn’t stop.

…

Deep inside the demon sector, the Demon Emperor leaned forward; fascination gleamed in his eyes.

“Resonance Network…?” he mused, tapping one finger against the armrest, “Efficient, elegant and deadly.”

His lips curled into a smile, “Good, good! Show me more!”

…

Back in the Nyseren command hall, every gaze turned toward Adrian and Kaelith.

Thalren’s eyes fixed on Adrian, his mind racing. Every clan had its own secret skills and methods, techniques passed down through millennia, guarded jealously. He could sense that this was one of Origin’s secrets, something they wouldn’t share lightly.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

“How?” Thalren’s voice was quieter now, almost disbelieving. “Mana sharing is impossible, and even with shared mana, only Stellars can cast a true Stellar spell, so how—”

The moment the question left his mouth, he doubted his own words. Did they use a skill scroll? But he didn’t see it.

Adrian and Kaelith simply smiled; they didn’t answer.

Thalren didn’t push, nor did Seraphis. They understood all clans had their own secrets.

Thalren turned back toward the projection, his thoughts churning. He had underestimated the Origin warriors badly. He had seen their numbers and dismissed them. Even saw them as newbies who had never fought an Edge siege.

But with a single move, they had erased more than twenty percent of the demon forces.

His reinforcements wouldn’t be needed, not now.

Seraphis crossed her arms, her expression unreadable.

Across the galactic net, beings with high authority got to watch this, and this scene left them in stunned silence. The Origin Clan wasn’t a footnote anymore; they weren’t the little clan that only depended on its strong patriarch or star-system formation anymore.

This was the first roar of all the origin warriors on the battlefield.

A declaration saying that they are strong enough!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep