Chapter 569: 569

Vorenza looked at Phantom, the being Ikenga had indicated could offer help. She fell silent, her mind racing as she considered how useful he might truly be. She then glanced at Ikenga, who remained quiet, observing them both. If it were possible, she would have preferred Ikenga’s direct assistance, but their brief exchange had taught her not to push him further, lest he do something undesirable purely out of spite.

“I am outnumbered,” she stated, speaking to Phantom. “At my peak, these three mages wouldn’t have been an issue. Sure, I might struggle, but a complete loss is far from the truth.”

Vorenza continued, a hint of desperation in her voice, “I need to pick them off one by one, but that’s impossible to achieve without some help.” She looked expectantly at Phantom, hoping he would offer some ideas.

Phantom glanced at Ikenga, who remained impassive. “I can’t directly help against a sixth-tier being, nor am i of much help in a direct confrontation,” Phantom stated. “But I can create the necessary chaos for a diversion. It won’t affect the sixth-tier mages or the army leader, but the rest of the camp will fall into disarray.”

Vorenza nodded, a plan quickly forming in her mind. She waved a hand, drawing memories from Rattan’s mind about how the fortress was maintained. Turning back to Phantom, she said, “When the time to act comes, I believe you’ll know. And I trust you’ll provide the chaos you spoke of.”

Turning to Ikenga, whose form was now shimmering and fading, Vorenza offered a rare, apologetic tone. She felt a prickle of unease, a slight regret for her earlier brinksmanship, but it was overshadowed by the sheer desperation that had driven her. “I ask you to excuse my recent actions,” she began, her voice softer than before, “but I’ve simply come too far to die at the hands of some mere mages. My entire lineage, my very being, depends on this.”

To her surprise, Ikenga paused his departure, a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his expression. “I do not mind,” he responded, his voice still layered but now with a hint of detached interest. “Besides, my sister is curious how you plan on overcoming something she deems ’inevitable.’”

With that cryptic remark, he was truly gone, his shimmering form dissolving into nothingness. Vorenza stood rooted, his words echoing in her mind. Inevitable? The word hung heavy, carrying a weight she couldn’t quite decipher, a chilling prophecy she hadn’t anticipated. The implication that an entity as powerful as Ikenga’s “sister” had already judged her efforts was unnerving. It took a long moment for her to process the statement, the full weight of its meaning slowly settling in. Finally, with a sigh that seemed to deflate her very essence, her own figure began to fade, drawn back to her physical form.

A short while later, Rattan stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. He was met instantly by Chief’s familiar, weathered face, etched with a mixture of concern and a subtle, almost paternal disappointment in his gaze. Rattan could feel the unspoken question in those eyes: What have you gotten yourself into now, boy? The awareness of his guardian’s presence, so often a source of quiet exasperation, now brought a strange, complicated comfort.

“I once hoped your path and growth was pure, with no hands at play behind it,” Chief said, his tone heavy with disappointment.

Rattan, still reeling from the surreal encounter he’d just encountered, took a moment to fully process Chief’s words. He wasn’t a child anymore; he understood that Chief was referring to “His guardian”—the unseen force that had shaped so much of his life. A sour retort spilled from his lips. “What do you know? Even the great goblins couldn’t have gotten to where they are today if a greater hand wasn’t at play in their fate.”

His voice grew sharper, fueled by a sudden, frustrated defiance. “Who are you to look at me with such eyes when you can’t even come to terms with the fact that you’re also a pawn for a greater power?” Rattan challenged, watching as Chief let out a low, bitter chuckle.

“You are indeed right Rattan, who am I?” Chief’s voice was low, tinged with a deep weariness that Rattan had rarely heard. “For the last few years, I thought I had finally wrestled control of my fate from the goddess. I believed I could now control my abilities, truly help many of our people escape certain death.”

His gaze drifted, unfocused, as if seeing beyond the tent walls. “I thought I finally was in control, but today showed me how blind and ignorant I was.” Without waiting for Rattan to interject, Chief continued, a bitter edge entering his tone. “Do you know, after I escaped from the Empire and began to understand the changes happening to me, I somehow found myself on this side of the battlefield?”

He looked back at Rattan, a haunted intensity in his eyes. “I was face to face with the very demons who brought down my home, yet all I did was question how strange a coincidence it was before I solely focused on helping our people as much as I could in this war.” Chief’s voice grew colder, laced with self-loathing. “It was only now I understood that I was just a well-placed piece, kept close by the goddess to serve a purpose, just like I did with you. I somehow have become her vessel—something my people sacrificed their whole lives to be, yet she ignored them.” Madness began to creep into his eyes, a dangerous glint of resentment and despair.

Rattan, listening to Chief’s words, was filled with a strange mix of fear and anger. Chief’s revelations were prying open a floodgate Rattan desperately wanted to keep sealed—the very reason he had never sought to uncover his guardian’s ultimate goal or grand design for him. Hearing Chief’s confession, he couldn’t help but picture the same fate befalling him. He was about to spiral down this dark rabbit hole of thought when a memory, unbidden, poured into his mind.

This unexpected memory initially startled him, but after a moment, it filled him with an overwhelming sense of joy and pride. He might not have noticed it, but his voice came off as condescending to Chief as he declared, “Well, unlike your great master who toys with you, mine is a partner and doesn’t leave me hanging in its plans.”

Chief stood up as he placed a hand on chife’s shoulder “Your goddess and my guardian will be in a brief alliance as we all have a common enemy which are the empire and their mages”

Rattan had no time to dwell on his recent, jarring interaction with Chief, a figure he once admired for his bravery. Perhaps it was the elevated status he now held, or perhaps Chief’s current fractured state of mind, but Rattan found himself believing that Chief held no value for him anymore.

This new perspective might have been the core of it all. Rattan now possessed a grand, all-consuming goal, and he was beginning to view everything and everyone through the lens of utility—whether they could be useful to him or not. Reminiscing about his past relationship with Chief served no purpose; his focus had entirely shifted to how dramatically things would change if the demon queen’s plan succeeded.

His own survival was no longer a pressing concern. His subconscious mind, whether through newfound arrogance or a deeper, ingrained power, now held an unwavering belief that nothing truly detrimental could ever befall him on this battlefield. Instead, his thoughts turned to how he could best leverage this unfolding chaos for his own benefit and that of his people. The Empire was already on an undeniable path to collapse; his new purpose was to strategically contribute to that downfall while securing a future for himself and his kin.

Meanwhile, beyond the fortress’s shield, under the oppressive night sky, the Abyss demons began to move. They merged into a grim formation, advancing steadily towards the fortress. Only minutes earlier, they’d received Vorenza’s direct order to advance. They continued their march until a voice, echoing directly in their minds, commanded them to halt. Every demon froze, their advance suspended.

Some distance from the fortress and its shimmering shield, a gaping tear in space materialized. Beyond this rift, a realm of swirling webs was visible, and from its depths, a single, thick spider string shot forth, latching onto the psychic barrier.

The moment the web made contact, the three sixth-tier mages inside the fortress noticed. But before they could react, a pulse emanated from the web, rippling outwards and spreading through the entire shield. What was far worse was that this pulse carried a concept with it: “Disunity.” It struck like a roaring wave, an unseen force. It was as if the web unleashed a series of focused, high-frequency sonic screams that did nothing to physically shatter the shield. Instead, their purpose was to create intense, localized vibrational resonance within its structure—imagine striking a tuning fork against a glass, not to break it, but to agitate its very molecules.

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