Chapter 338: 338

The Zephyr clan leader narrowed his eyes as he too noticed the descending island. The winds around him picked up violently, swirling into a deadly whirlwind. “Focus on the flag!” he yelled to his clan members. “Forget the Harpies, we take it now or it’s over!”

The final phase of the race had begun. As the Terra clan’s island descended into the heart of the storm, a blinding bolt of lightning tore through the dark clouds, striking the edge of the floating rock. The crack of thunder was deafening, and the impact sent chunks of the island flying. One large fragment of rock broke off, plummeting into the storm below, disappearing into the chaos.

Garrok and his team braced themselves, the island trembling beneath them. Another flash lit the sky, and this time, the lightning came closer, grazing the stone just feet away from Garrok. The island was falling apart under the relentless fury of the storm, and they hadn’t even made their move yet.

“Hold steady!” Garrok barked, his voice cutting through the roar of the storm. His team was tense but focused, their feet rooted firmly to the stone beneath them, using their control of the earth to keep the island from crumbling completely.

The winds howled louder, as if the storm itself sensed the Terra clan’s intentions. The Harpies and Zephyr members, both caught in the thick of it, had to fight not only each other but the increasingly violent storm. Lightning struck indiscriminately, and gusts of wind threw them off course.

Another bolt of lightning, even larger than the last, struck the island dead center, shattering a massive chunk from its core. The ground beneath Garrok’s feet trembled violently. A portion of the island split off and was sucked into the storm’s winds, tumbling into the chaotic maelstrom below. It was becoming a race against time for the Terra clan—if they didn’t act fast, their own island would be torn apart.

“Now!” Garrok shouted, urgency in his voice.

His team sprang into action, using their earth magic to stabilize the remaining chunks of the island as they began their final approach toward the flag. They rode atop pieces of stone that shot downward like jagged comets, but even their well-honed abilities weren’t enough to protect them from the storm.

Lightning danced in the sky, striking at the Terra clan’s falling platforms. One of Garrok’s team members, a stocky man named Nara, was nearly thrown off his stone as a bolt struck near him, breaking the platform beneath him into pieces. Nara screamed as he fell, but with quick thinking, he summoned a new pillar of rock from the debris, barely managing to steady himself mid-fall.

“Keep moving!” Garrok yelled, his own platform shuddering as the winds grew stronger, threatening to tear him off course. The very air seemed to resist them as if the storm had a mind of its own.

Meanwhile, the Harpies and Zephyr clan had finally realized the Terra clan’s plan.

“Those rats!” shrieked one of the Harpy leaders, a fierce woman with wings crackling with electricity. She flapped her wings furiously, calling down another bolt of lightning, this time aimed directly at Garrok.

Garrok saw the flash of light and reacted just in time. He threw his hand out, commanding a slab of stone to rise from beneath him, absorbing the full impact of the lightning. The stone shattered, sending debris raining down, but Garrok emerged unscathed. His eyes narrowed as he locked onto the Harpy leader, his determination burning even stronger.

The Zephyr clan was not far behind. Their leader, the sharp-eyed wind master, quickly summoned a vortex of air beneath his feet, propelling himself toward the flag with incredible speed. He ignored the chaos around him, focusing entirely on the goal.

But Garrok was already moving. With a grunt of effort, he propelled himself and his team downward, riding their rocky platforms like falling meteors. As they hurtled toward the flag, they had to navigate not only the storm but also the fierce attacks from the other two clans.

The Harpies were relentless, hurling bolts of lightning and flames, trying to disrupt the Terra clan’s descent. One of Garrok’s teammates was hit by a sudden burst of wind from a Zephyr clan member, knocking him off his platform. He tumbled through the sky, desperately trying to regain control. Garrok gritted his teeth and reached out with his power, summoning a new stone beneath his falling teammate just before he was carried away by the wind.

“We’re almost there!” shouted one of the Terra members, but they were far from safe. The Zephyr leader was now within reach of the flag, his vortex of wind carrying him closer with every second.

Garrok’s heart pounded in his chest. He could see the flag just below, tantalizingly close. But as they neared, the storm intensified, whipping up violent winds and hail that hammered against them like a wall of force. Garrok knew they had one shot, and they couldn’t afford to miss it.

“Break through!” Garrok roared, and his team responded. Using their earth magic, they summoned a series of stone pillars, smashing them into the wind vortex created by the Zephyr leader. The pillars exploded on impact, disrupting the vortex and sending the Zephyr leader spiraling out of control.

The Harpies saw the Terra clan making their move and screeched in fury. One of the harpy leaders, wings crackling with lightning, made a desperate dive for the flag, claws outstretched. But as she approached, the ground beneath her shifted. Garrok, controlling the earth with effortless precision, moved the stone just enough to send her spiraling off course. With a scream of frustration, she crashed into a nearby cliffside, her chance lost.

The Zephyr clan forcefully took control of the wind as they rushed toward the flag, only for Garrok and his team to merge with the surrounding earth. Both the Harpies and Zephyrs felt their hearts in their throats as they saw it.

For a brief moment, they were close to touching the flag, only for Garrok’s hand to stretch out from under the earth. His fingers closed around the flag just as another bolt of lightning tore through the sky. The storm, the chaos, the race—it all seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Then, with a triumphant roar, Garrok planted the flag into the ground, claiming victory for the Terra clan.

The colosseum erupted in cheers and gasps as the hologram confirmed the winner. The Harpies, Zephyr clan, and other competitors stood wide-eyed, taken aback by the result.

The race was far from over, as this was still the first flag, but it was undisputed that the Terra clan was now two points ahead of the others.

The Zone shifted again with the capture of the flag, throwing everyone into a new, even more disorienting area. The team even more disordered this time.

Meanwhile, somewhere on the eastern continent, in the territory of the Apelings, lay a land of great importance to their prosperity. This land was guarded by the Terra clan. Even the most revered Apelings were rarely allowed to set foot on it—yet today, on a significant day for the Apelings, a certain group had their eyes on this land. They knew how vital it was to the Apelings, and if they succeeded in their plan, the Apelings would suffer greatly.

Not too far from Terra clan territory, amidst the trees of the forest, patches of red moved through the foliage. Upon closer inspection, they were revealed to be a group of burly humans, each wielding blood-stained weapons. Their armor and clothing bore the markings of the followers of Björn, the god of insanity and warfare. A familiar figure could be seen among them.

This figure was the first priest of Björn to arrive on the eastern continent, welcomed by the people of the Omadi kingdom. It had been three years since the priest came to this land. At first, he thought allying himself with the Omadi kingdom would advance his cause, but time proved him wrong. Unlike other priests who had made significant progress in the lands they were sent to, his efforts had been dismal.

This outcome had been expected when he was first deployed, but everything changed when there was rapid progress on the western continent, which had also been expected to be a tough challenge. The success in the west put pressure on him from the higher-ups, who believed his lack of progress was due to incompetence.

For Björn’s followers, who cared only for blood and war, this might not have bothered him—but their society had grown more complex, and it was no longer solely about one thing. He had begun to enjoy the privileges of his position and didn’t want to lose them, so he promised to do better. That was when rumors began to spread that sacrificing godlings would be a superior offering to Björn.

The priest had started this rumor because his time on the eastern continent had taught him that the Apelings were a quiet race who preferred to keep to themselves, unlike the werewolves, who were often seen on hunts. The Apelings were rarely encountered, but that changed after his arrival. He didn’t know why they had become more outgoing, but he believed it worked to his advantage.

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