Chapter 358: One Human

Isaac moved.

Roots erupted from the ground beneath the falling Catastrophe, bursting through stone and soil as if the earth itself had been waiting for a command.

They twisted together mid-air, forming a vast platform directly under the Crimson Sky Wyrm.

No—platform was the wrong word.

It was a bed.

A massive, living cushion of roots, grown to match the creature’s size.

The Wyrm slammed down onto it.

The impact still shook the land.

Shockwaves rippled outward, flattening everything in their path.

Before they could spread unchecked, more roots surged upward along the edges of the platform, rising like walls.

Thick, interwoven barriers formed in a rough ring around the impact zone.

Isaac gritted his teeth.

Mana drained from him at an alarming rate, but he didn’t slow down.

He kept summoning more roots with thicker layers.

He reinforced the bed beneath the Wyrm while strengthening the walls meant to contain the shockwaves.

For the people watching from a distance, the scene was unreal.

An entire forest was being born in seconds.

Trees rose fully formed. Vines wrapped around pillars of root and stone. The land reshaped itself under Isaac’s will, green swallowing gray, life pushing back against destruction.

Althea felt her breath catch.

As a Florathi Princess, she had been raised around war and plants.

She had seen forests weaponized, cities reclaimed by roots, and battlefields turned into living traps.

This was different.

This wasn’t the power of countless awakeners working together.

It was just one.

One human.

“You said he was strong. But this is… extraordinary, my lady. Even the stuck-up imperial knight order and imperial mage order that usually conduct many tests for new knights and mages will welcome him with open hands,” Charlotta said quietly beside her, her voice full of awe

Althea didn’t answer right away.

The Crimson Sky Wyrm thrashed wildly. Its roar turned ragged, furious.

The platform beneath it began to crack under the pressure. Roots splintered. Shockwaves burst outward again, slamming into the walls.

The barriers trembled.

Isaac felt it immediately.

He let out a short grunt as the strain hit him. His mana reserves dipped sharply, warning signs flashing through his senses. He pushed past them.

More roots surged up to reinforce the bed. He layered them, weaving strength into flexibility, forcing the structure to give just enough to absorb the impact without collapsing.

At the same time, he activated two borrowed skills.

A faint, distorted shimmer appeared around him as Emily’s Phantom Ward took form, warping space just enough to soften incoming force. Overlapping it, Celia’s Mirror Rift flickered into existence, reflecting part of the shockwaves away from his position.

Even with that, the shockwaves reached him.

He added a dome of roots around himself, anchoring it directly to the ground. Across the battlefield, similar domes rose around the others.

Awakeners braced themselves, activating their own shields, leaning on Isaac’s defenses to survive the aftermath.

The world shook.

Then, slowly, it calmed.

The shockwaves faded, rolling into nothing more than distant tremors. Dust settled. The air, heavy with mana, began to stabilize.

Althea exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath.

The dome of roots around her and Charlotta pulled back, sinking into the earth and unraveling as if they had never existed.

The Crimson Sky Wyrm lay before them.

Blood streamed freely from the massive, slashed ring where its wings had once been. The wounds smoked faintly, reacting with the corrupted mana in the air. The creature roared again, fury and pain blending into something feral.

Above it, movement filled the sky.

Imps.

Countless of them, small compared to the Wyrm but still dangerous, swarmed toward the severed wings. They latched onto the fallen flesh, tearing into it with manic hunger.

Althea’s stomach tightened.

Each of those things was as strong as an elite-rank human awakener. If even a fraction of them escaped into the city, the damage would be catastrophic.

Roots lashed out.

Gigantic tendrils burst from the ground and wrapped around the Crimson Sky Wyrm’s limbs, its neck, its abdomen.

They tightened, pulling it down, pinning it in place.

Other roots shot upward like spears, crushing imps mid-air or slamming them into the ground before they could flee.

The battlefield became a blur of motion.

Roots constricted. Imps screamed and died. The Wyrm thrashed, tearing apart several bindings, only for more to replace them almost instantly.

Althea swallowed.

“Last time, he was already strong. But this…”

She watched Isaac in the distance, directing the chaos with frightening precision.

“It’s like I’m watching one man wage an entire war by himself.”

Her heart was pounding.

Charlotta didn’t respond, but her grip tightened on her weapon. Her eyes never left Isaac.

Beside her, unseen by most, a small, floating eyeball hovered silently.

Its surface rippled with faint light as it recorded everything.

Charlotta had activated it without a word, transmitting the scene to a place Althea didn’t know. Somewhere far away, someone was watching.

Isaac descended from the air, landing near them with a soft impact.

His breathing was controlled, but there was tension in his posture.

“Are you guys alright?” he asked.

His voice was calm, almost casual, as if they weren’t standing in the shadow of a restrained Catastrophe.

“Yes. Thanks to you,” Althea replied quickly.

She hesitated, then asked, “Is this your clone?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, nodding. “It’s one of them. My main body and the others are hitting the weak points of the Catastrophe. We’re trying to do as much damage as possible before it manages to fly again.”

“You’re attacking with your main body? Shouldn’t you hide it somewhere safe?” Althea frowned.

“I don’t want to hide while everyone else is risking their life,” he said.

“Oh,” Althea said.

Her eyes widened slightly.

She had expected confidence, maybe arrogance. What she heard instead was resolve, plain and stubborn.

For Isaac, this wasn’t about heroics.

It was necessity.

His Flow State only activated when he pushed himself to the edge.

When his mind was forced to keep up with impossible demands.

Right now, he was controlling multiple clones, restraining the Crimson Sky Wyrm, suppressing imps, maintaining large-scale constructs, and reacting to a battlefield that changed every second.

To do all that, he needed his mind at its sharpest.

And that meant being in the fight.

“Althea. It’s time you start. Relay my instructions. Exactly as I say them to everyone,” he said.

She nodded. “Understood.”

She activated her skill.

Her voice carried. It cut through the distorted mana, the lingering interference, reaching every corner of the battlefield.

Isaac spoke steadily, feeding her instructions one by one.

“Unit three, pull back ten meters. You’re too close to the imp cluster.”

Althea repeated it, her voice steady, amplified by magic, reaching only the targets marked by her.

“Shield bearers, rotate positions. Don’t let your mana drop below thirty percent.”

Again, her words carried.

“Fire units, stop targeting the Wyrm’s core. Focus on clearing imps near the eastern perimeter.”

Orders flowed without interruption.

This was necessary.

Comms had already started to fail.

The mana density in the area was too high, too unstable.

Bursts of powerful attacks caused irregular fluctuations that scrambled signals or cut them entirely.

Technology simply wasn’t ready for this kind of battlefield.

Awakeners like Althea were needed.

As she spoke, the battlefield responded. Units moved. Formations adjusted. Pressure eased in critical areas.

Isaac’s eyes were fixed on the Crimson Sky Wyrm.

His attention was split between several perspectives at once, but he kept a thread of focus on Althea.

“Alright, I’m going to start feeding you weak points. Make sure everyone understands this clearly,” he said after Emily revealed the locations to him, since she was told about them by Tirra, her ghost bird, that was flying in the air.

The flying bird could see the weak points due to being airborne.

“I’m ready,” Althea replied.

“The Crimson Sky Wyrm body has characteristics of several high-level monsters grafted together. This is because these parts haven’t stabilized and yet to transform back into its true body.”

He paused briefly, tracking one of his clones as it narrowly avoided a thrashing limb.

“The weak points are where those parts join. The neck base, where the draconic spine connects to the abyssal torso. The lower abdomen, where the armored beast core is still merging. And the shoulder sockets where the wings were attached. Those areas are still transforming. They can’t fully handle strain.”

Althea repeated his words aloud, her voice spreading across the battlefield.

“All units, listen carefully. The Catastrophe’s weak points are not random. Target the joint zones. Neck base. Lower abdomen. Shoulder sockets. Those areas are still transforming and cannot withstand sustained damage.”

Isaac added, “Tell them not to overcommit. Hit and pull back. If they stay too long, the Wyrm will counter.”

“Understood,” Althea said, relaying the instruction without missing a beat.

Around her, the battle adjusted again.

Attack teams stopped wasting effort on hardened scales and redirected their focus. Coordinated strikes landed, then withdrew, carving damage without giving the Wyrm time to retaliate properly.

Isaac felt the shift immediately.

“That’s working,” he muttered.

Charlotta stood at Althea’s side, weapon drawn, eyes scanning constantly.

Isaac’s clone hovered nearby, roots coiling loosely beneath its feet, ready to react at any sign of danger.

From a distance, it might have looked excessive.

Charlotta was a Champion-rank awakener with a High-rank species. Isaac’s clone alone had enough combat power to hold off multiple powerful imps.

Using both of them just to protect one person seemed wasteful.

But no one questioned the decision.

Althea’s ability to deliver instructions instantly, without confusion, across the entire battlefield was too important. If she fell, coordination would collapse. The cost of losing her would far outweigh the combat power spent guarding her.

A shockwave rippled through the ground as the Crimson Sky Wyrm tore free another root binding.

Charlotta stepped forward half a pace, grip tightening.

“Don’t worry. Professor Catherine and I are watching that side,” Isaac said calmly.

The Wyrm twisted, massive body grinding against the restraints.

Blood seeped from reopened wounds, dripping onto the root bed below. Its roar was lower now, more focused, as if it were slowly adjusting to the situation.

“It’s starting to get irritate. That means it will soon use a powerful attack,” Althea said quietly.

“Yes,” Isaac replied. “That’s why we need to stay ahead of it.”

He turned his attention outward again, feeding more information as his clones tested reactions, probing weak zones, pulling back before retaliation could land.

The battlefield held.

…

Emily’s POV

—Should I attack?

Aeralis circled above her, its shark-like body moving through the air as if it were water.

The Abyssal Shark’s presence warped the mana around it, pressure radiating outward even when it wasn’t doing anything.

Its eyes tracked every imp that tried to slip past the root walls.

Whenever one got too close to escaping, Aeralis snapped forward. A weak bite. A casual sweep of its tail. Enough to kill instantly without drawing too much attention.

Emily stood near the center of her formation, summoning spirits one after another.

They surged forward under her command, intercepting fleeing imps and tearing them apart before they could scatter.

Her role was clear.

Containment.

“No, not yet. You move only when I say so.”

Aeralis slowed its circling slightly, acknowledging her command without complaint.

Emily watched the Crimson Sky Wyrm closely.

Right now, it looked dangerous, but not desperate.

It was moving sluggishly, testing restraints, probing for weaknesses, but not unleashing its full power. Despite losing three wings, it still believed it was untouchable.

That belief was keeping them alive.

“The closed area is doing its job,” Emily murmured.

Isaac had shaped the battlefield deliberately. The walls of roots, the reinforced ground, the layered barriers. Everything boxed the Wyrm in.

In this enclosed space, large-scale attacks were a liability.

If the Crimson Sky Wyrm used fire breath or lightning, the damage would reflect back onto itself.

The mana density alone would cause backlash.

Opening its Fourth Eye, an attack that would not damage it, took time.

In its current state, it was vulnerable.

If Aeralis attacked now, with its full strength, the Wyrm would feel threatened.

And a threatened Catastrophe didn’t care about self-damage. It would lash out, tear everything apart, and force the battlefield into chaos.

Emily couldn’t allow that.

“Sword Empress is still down,” she said quietly, glancing toward the rear lines.

The Sword Empress, their strongest trump card, was resting after unleashing her strongest attack earlier. That strike had severed the Wyrm’s wings, but it had drained her heavily.

She wouldn’t be back in the fight anytime soon.

Which meant, for now, Emily held the most dangerous firepower on the field.

And that made restraint more important than aggression.

A group of imps broke away near the western wall, pushing through a weakened section of roots.

“Spirits, intercept,” Emily ordered.

Three spectral forms surged forward, colliding with the imps mid-air. Two were torn apart immediately, but the third managed to slip through.

Aeralis flicked its tail.

The imp vanished in a spray of blood.

“Good,” Emily said. “Keep it light.”

Aeralis continued circling, its presence alone discouraging most escape attempts.

Emily’s eyes never left the Crimson Sky Wyrm.

It was still trying to free itself, but more cautiously now. Roots tightened around its abdomen, biting into unstable joints. Coordinated attacks landed on the shoulder sockets, reopening wounds again and again.

The Wyrm roared, but there was frustration in the sound.

“Soon,” Emily whispered.

Then she felt it.

A shift.

The mana around the Wyrm changed, pulling inward instead of radiating outward. The pressure became focused, dense.

Emily’s expression sharpened.

“No,” she muttered. “Already?”

The Crimson Sky Wyrm’s massive head lifted. The scales along its forehead parted slightly, something beneath them pulsing with unstable light.

A vertical slit opened.

The Fourth Eye.

Emily’s heart skipped a beat.

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