The Oracle Paths

Chapter 1220: Plans Are for the Living

Simultaneously, as Cho Min Ho drew ever closer to his destination, Harrkesh, better known as Silent Blade, had already arrived at Dusken City.

Their mission to seize Dusken and snatch the true relic of the Nethershade Chalice was no less crucial than taking Lustris. Whoever held the two capitals would rule supreme over the continent, putting a swift and decisive end to this pointless war.

”Remember,” Harrkesh growled menacingly, eyeing his subordinates one by one. ”We’re not here to massacre anyone—just to seize the Dusken Throne. Anyone caught with their hands dirty doing anything but their assigned task will face our leader’s wrath. And I don’t think I need to remind you bastards exactly what kind of punishment awaits, right?”

The white-skinned Nosk with a murderous glare leveled his crew of misfits yet again. They were a motley bunch of criminals and repeat offenders, constantly needing to be whipped into shape.

Sure, these goons had muscle—that’s why they were here—but that was about their only redeeming quality. Left unchecked, they’d swiftly devolve into the next scourge to be eradicated by the future Soulmancer King, capital captured or not.

However, if they played it smart, kept civilian casualties minimal, even if Cho Min Ho ended up losing to Jake, they’d still have a shot at twisting public opinion to ascend to power as the true Soulmancer King, more or less democratically. Ultimately, it was all a game of strength and public favor.

The Players crouched in the grass on the outskirts of the city exchanged sour looks but kept quiet, shifting their gazes toward the imposing black stone walls ahead. Dusken’s tribal, archaic vibe stood starkly opposed to Lustris’s luminous, refined architecture.

The reason was straightforward: this city had barely existed three years ago.

Before the rise of the Soulmancer King, the tribes of the Duskwight Lands had been fragmented, and the Dusken Throne hadn’t even existed. The capital emerged later, created from the necessity to centralize authority and streamline governance.

Yet significant resources had been poured into fortifying its defenses, leaving its walls on par with those of Lustris. Instead of a colossal tree at its heart, Dusken boasted sinister palaces and the Netherwell Cathedral—an ominous structure adorned with towering spires and grotesque sculptures of damned souls—said to house the sacred chalice.

”Is it just me, or is the city unnervingly quiet?” one Player asked hesitantly, anxiety plastered clearly across his face.

”I briefed you morons already,” Harrkesh sneered. ”Except for Ledger, the other two Abyssals were dispatched to crush the infestation pouring in from beyond the membrane. Sure, there’ll be other defenses, but they’re not going to just show themselves easily. Watch out instead for other Players—whether from our Mirror Universe or enemy factions—they probably have similar plans. My gut tells me we’re not alone out here.”

”Then when do we attack?” complained the same Player, fed up with squatting in bushes.

”When Cho Min Ho sends the signal,” snapped the Nosk impatiently. ”Our mission isn’t actually the priority here. If Lustris falls, the opposing Players surrender, and Jake ends up dead or too wrecked to put up a fight, then it’s game over in our favor. But since we’re technically allies, we can’t afford to act openly aggressive, or our Ordeal Rating will tank if the Oracle System pegs us as traitors.”

”Well, that’s fucking annoying...”

”It’s annoying because none of you have the instincts or patience of a true hunter,” Silent Blade shot back disdainfully. ”If we hold our position, the enemy will be forced into making the first m— Speak of the devil, here they c...”

His words abruptly died in his throat. His eyes widened. ”...What the actual fuck is that?!”

*****

Hidden just a few kilometers away in a subterranean cave carved out by tunneling magic, Kaelum Thranis, known as the Titan of Vrax, seethed silently, waiting for his chance at redemption. His trusted subordinates stood silently ranked behind him.

He was supposed to be alongside Shadrex and Weiss at Lustris, blocking Shadrex’s prophecy from unfolding, but he had secretly gone rogue. This entire Ordeal had been a chain of humiliating failures for him, who had never before tasted defeat—almost enough to tame his fiery temper.

Yet, ironically, these setbacks had also forced some self-reflection, curbing his impulsiveness. After intense deliberation and with bitter resignation, he had decided to activate his faction’s ultimate skill: The Protector.

This power allowed him to summon an invincible guardian for a limited time at an astronomical cost in Aether Points. The summoned protector was a perfect clone of any chosen Player, unkillable as long as the Aether Points lasted.

Of course, there was a catch. The longer the conjuration remained active, the more the upkeep cost shot through the roof. Summoning it was already obscenely expensive, but according to the intel gleaned from the archives of the Oracle System and the Mirror World, the theoretical limit for a faction like his hovered around one or two hours at best. Even dynastic factions existing for billions of years couldn’t maintain it for more than a few days without bleeding themselves dry.

On top of that, there was a cooldown period between each summoning, lasting up to a month, limiting its use to absolute shit-hits-the-fan emergencies. And as if that wasn’t restrictive enough, the Protector couldn’t move beyond its designated territory, typically limited to their base.

To freely march toward Dusken and exact his revenge against Bones, he’d delegated summoning authority to a subordinate, empowering Shadrex or Weiss to unleash the Protector whenever shit went sideways. From that perspective, it was as though he’d never left their side.

This guarantee was enough to convince the other two Rank 17 powerhouses to back his assault on Dusken. If he could snag the Nethershade Chalice they’d embarrassingly failed to steal the first time, all the better.

”Too bad Bones isn’t around,” the five-meter giant grumbled sourly, tightening his grip on his flail until it creaked in protest. ”Whatever. Results are all that fucking matter.”

If anyone who knew him had heard him say that at the beginning of the Ordeal, they’d have thought he was possessed. Since when did this battle-crazed, prideful brute prefer easy wins just to save face?

”When are we attacking?” one of his men asked, with impatience so similar it could’ve been the Player pestering the albino Nosk. Even the timing was almost identical.

”Soon enough— Fuck! What the hell is that?!” Kaelum shouted, eyes bulging with shock.

His reaction mirrored Harrkesh’s almost exactly. Because the enemy that had struck first was something none of them had anticipated. The kind of nightmare that shatters plans before they’ve even started.

*****

Cho Min Ho and his men, just moments from reaching their goal, suddenly weren’t feeling so confident. The Korean leader’s calm facade and his faction’s elite had fallen apart spectacularly in the face of the nightmare unfolding before them.

Just meters ahead, a brutal, nightmarish scene straight from an apocalyptic horror flick was tearing Lustris apart.

The White City, a sanctuary of joy and peace mere minutes ago, now burned fiercely. Its paved foundations had collapsed, swallowed by monstrous fissures. The heart-rending screams of the citizens filled the air, an unending cacophony of terrified women and children echoing mercilessly.

It was just unfathomable. Seconds ago, everything had been perfectly fine! The situation was so utterly insane that they were beginning to suspect some massive collective hallucination.

From these enormous cracks spewed a tide of abominations cloaked in dark Lumyst, billowing out like thick, sinister smoke. At least, that’s how it appeared from a distance, as the once-pristine buildings of the capital drowned beneath a relentless wave of underground horrors.

Everywhere they looked—the city walls having crumbled at the assault’s onset—they witnessed civilians being eaten alive or burned to ashes. These unfeeling creatures spared no one, not pregnant women, not even infants. In fact, they didn’t spare anything, descending like ravenous locusts upon everything living, from plants to insects.

It was sheer slaughter.

Most suspiciously, Anthace’s roots, typically an impenetrable defense for the capital, were conspicuously absent. The gigantic white tree, with its flowers perpetually bathed in gentle light, stood untouched amidst the chaos, its eerie passivity highlighting its inactivity even more starkly.

And the bitter irony? The ’dangerous target’ Cho Min Ho and his crew had reliable intel on and believed to be elsewhere was standing in plain sight.

There he was, openly facing off against the Celestial atop the tower nestled in Anthace’s trunk, usually the Radiant Conclave’s stronghold.

Nothing about this goddamn situation made any sense.