One week passed, and when the day finally came.

The staging area no longer felt like a place where plans were discussed, but like a place where those plans had already solidified into something real and irreversible.

The central plaza of our base was filled, four hundred gods standing in precise formation, arranged into their assigned squads with a level of discipline that only came from repeating the same movements and procedures over and over again until hesitation had been worn out of them completely.

Their uniforms were identical, dark and practical, designed with no concern for appearance beyond what was necessary for combat efficiency, every line and layer built to reduce visibility while allowing full freedom of movement in a fight.

Each soldier carried equipment that represented months of work, countless adjustments, failures, refinements, and testing cycles, all of it condensed into compact systems that could be deployed in seconds under pressure.

Christina stood beside me on the raised platform overlooking the formation, a tablet held in one hand as streams of data moved across its surface, each line corresponding to a different soldier, a different system, a different variable that she had personally overseen.

She had not slept for more than thirty-six hours, and although she carried herself with the same controlled composure as always, the fatigue showed in the subtle tension of her posture.

When she spoke, though, her voice carried across the plaza without a trace of it.

“All teams report ready status,” she said, the amplification array projecting her words clearly across the entire assembly.

“We are beginning final equipment verification. Squad leaders, step forward and prepare for inspection.”

The formation shifted in response, not chaotically, but with calmly as forty squad leaders stepped out from their lines.

Forty squads, ten soldiers each, every group assigned a distinct role within the operation, from infiltration and direct combat to technical control, intelligence extraction, and medical support.

Christina stepped down from the platform without waiting, and I followed as we moved toward the first unit.

Alpha Squad stood ready, their role defined as the initial infiltration team for the Records Department, the group that would enter first and establish the foothold on which everything else depended.

Their leader, a seven-star goddess named Kiera, straightened and saluted the moment we approached.

“Alpha Squad ready for inspection, ma’am.”

Christina acknowledged her with a small nod before beginning her work, moving from one soldier to the next with a level of focus that left no room for oversight.

I watched her carefully, paying attention to what she checked first.

The identity arrays.

Each soldier wore one as a pendant, a small crystalline device designed to mask their divine signature and replace it with the carefully constructed identity they would carry inside the Court.

Christina activated them one at a time, comparing each output against the data on her tablet, verifying not only that they functioned, but that they matched perfectly.

“Identity array functional,” she said for the first.

Then the next.

And the next.

She did not rush, but she did not pause either, moving through all ten with steady consistency until every signature had been confirmed.

She shifted immediately to communications.

The earpieces were designed to blend in with standard Court-issued equipment, nothing about them drawing attention, yet each one was capable of maintaining secure contact even inside a hostile system.

“Test transmission,” she ordered.

Each member of Alpha Squad spoke a coded response in turn.

Each signal registered cleanly on her tablet.

“Communications verified.”

Weapons came next.

Every soldier carried two, one visible and aligned with their assigned identity, and one concealed, far more dangerous than anything they were meant to appear to have.

“Show me your cover weapon,” Christina said.

The first soldier presented a standard Court-issued blade, the kind permitted to mid-level personnel for defensive purposes.

She inspected it briefly, then returned her attention to him.

“Concealed device.”

He tapped his belt.

A faint pulse of compressed divine energy responded, tightly contained and ready to be released.

“Yield?” she asked.

“Equivalent to six-star full output, directed into a thirty-degree cone.”

“Activation method?”

“Double-tap and hold for two seconds. Triple tap for emergency detonation.”

She gave a small nod.

“Next.”

She continued down the line, repeating the process with exacting precision, verifying every detail without exception.

By the time Alpha Squad’s inspection was complete, fifteen minutes had passed.

There were thirty-nine squads left.

While Christina continued her checks, I stepped toward Kiera.

“Your team understands the insertion timing?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. We enter during the shift change at zero eight hundred, proceed to the Records Department on sublevel three, integrate with staff, and begin securing access to the central database.”

“And if someone challenges you?”

“We present credentials and maintain identity. If those credentials fail, we signal for extraction and fall back to the designated position.”

“And if extraction is denied?”

Her expression tightened, not with fear, but with resolve.

“We execute contingency protocol. Sensitive equipment is destroyed, witnesses are eliminated if required, and we hold long enough for secondary teams to breach.”

I gave a short nod.

“Correct.”

We moved on.

Beta Squad waited next, assigned to the eastern frontier, their role to create disruption strong enough to pull attention away from the main operation.

Their leader, a seven-star god named Rax, stood ready, his posture steady with the kind of confidence that came from experience rather than assumption.

“Status?” I asked.

“Fully prepared. We have studied the target outpost repeatedly. Every member of the team can move through it without visual reference.”

“And your equipment?”

“Standard combat configuration, plus the counter-resonance weapons.”

He indicated the weapon across his back.

I took a closer look.

The design was more compact than the large-scale version I had tested before, refined for mobility without sacrificing function.

“Range?” I asked.

“Fifty meters effective. Thirty seconds of disruption per shot. Fifteen-second recharge.”

“And against higher ranks?”

“Still effective, though reduced. Approximately twenty seconds on eight-star targets.”

Christina joined us at that point, transitioning smoothly from Alpha Squad without missing a beat.

She repeated her inspection process, adapting it to Beta’s role, moving through weapons, barrier arrays, healing systems, and extraction beacons, catching even minor inefficiencies.

“Your charging array is running slightly slow,” she told one soldier. “Recalibrate before deployment.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We continued through the remaining squads.

Gamma through Epsilon, built for direct assault, carried heavier equipment designed for overwhelming force, including containment arrays capable of restricting high-level targets and portable systems that could interfere with domain abilities.

When I asked Gamma Squad’s leader, Torres, to demonstrate, he produced a compact circular device and explained its function clearly, describing its deployment, its activation window, and its vulnerabilities without hesitation.

“Two seconds before full strength,” he stated calmly. “Fast targets can escape before stabilization. External interference can overload the field.”

“So you require support,” I said.

“Yes. Standard formation is two operators.”

Christina glanced at me with a faint hint of approval.

“He takes preparation seriously.”

“I can see that.”

The technical squads followed, then medical, then support, each group carrying tools suited to their purpose, from network intrusion arrays to advanced healing systems capable of stabilizing even catastrophic damage.

Christina spent longer with the medical teams than any others, checking each device twice, her tone firm in a way that left no room for interpretation.

“If someone is injured, your responsibility is to keep them alive,” she told them. “Everything else is secondary.”

“Understood.”

The inspections continued without interruption.

By the time the final squad had been cleared, four hours had passed, and the sun had shifted high across the sky, its position marking the passage of time more clearly than anything else.

Christina’s exhaustion was more visible now, though she did not allow it to affect her movements.

Every squad stood ready.

Every system had been verified.

Every role was understood.

We returned to the platform.

She addressed them again, her voice carrying cleanly across the entire plaza.

“Four hundred soldiers,” she began.

“Forty squads. One objective. In thirty minutes, we open a portal directly to the Primordial Court’s central stronghold. This is not an infiltration. This is a direct assault.”

She let the words settle over them before continuing.

“You are prepared. You have trained for this, and you carry equipment designed to close the gap between you and stronger opponents. You are organized to support one another. You are ready.”

Her tone shifted slightly.

“But this will not be easy. Some of you will not return. Some of you will face enemies stronger than yourselves. Some of you will fall. If you have doubt, step back now. We need certainty.”

No one moved.

She waited.

Ten seconds passed in complete stillness.

“Good! Deployment will follow the assigned wave order.”

She outlined the sequence clearly: Alpha first, Beta simultaneously at the frontier, Gamma through Epsilon advancing once the distraction began, support teams following in coordination.

No questions came.

“Then prepare. Twenty-five minutes.”

The formation broke as squads gathered.

Christina turned to me, the weight of everything resting behind her eyes.

“This is it,” she said quietly.

“It is.”

“Are you ready?”

“Are you?”

A faint smile crossed her face.

“I have been ready for a long time.”

I reached out briefly, touching her hand.

“The plan holds. The people are ready.”

She nodded, though her gaze drifted back to the field.

“Plans change. People make mistakes.”

“We accounted for more variables than anyone ever has.”

“I know.”

She squeezed my hand once, then released it, already returning to her tablet.

The minutes passed quickly.

When the portal team activated the gateway, space itself began to distort, folding inward before tearing open into a controlled passage of compressed energy.

Through it, the entrance to the Primordial Court became visible.

Massive gates.

Defensive towers.

Barrier arrays shimmering in layered formations.

No sign of awareness.

Christina’s hand found mine one last time.

“Come back,” she said quietly.

“I will.”

She stepped forward and gave the order.

“Alpha Squad, deploy.”

They moved without hesitation, ten figures disappearing into the portal.

“Beta Squad, deploy.”

A second gateway opened.

More soldiers vanished.

“Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, prepare.”

They assembled, weapons ready.

She looked at me.

I nodded.

Her hand cut downward.

“All squads, deploy. Begin the invasion.”

Four hundred soldiers advanced as one.

I moved with Gamma Squad, Christina at my side.

The transition through the portal lasted no more than a heartbeat.

Then we stood before the Court itself.

Alarms erupted immediately.

The gates began to close.

Energy gathered along the towers as the defenders reacted.

Christina’s voice came through the communication array, steady and controlled.

“All squads, we are engaged. Execute your objectives.”

I drew my weapon and fixed my eyes on the gates ahead.

There was no turning back now.

Everything was about to change.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep