SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Chapter 388: Chapter 388: The Fall of the Thal’zar [II]

The enemy came into view at last.

Across the open ground ahead, the Thal’zar forces formed their lines—lycans standing tall in their natural shapes, others already half-shifted, muscle and bone ready to tear into something more feral at a moment’s notice. Among them moved men who could become beasts, warriors who carried that transition in their posture alone, hybrid figures built for impact rather than finesse.

They were prepared for a frontal collision.

Trafalgar stood at the very front of his formation, unmoving, his presence anchoring the three hundred soldiers behind him. He did not shout or gesture, yet the effect was clear in the way their stances tightened and their breathing steadied. Seeing him there made the line feel harder to break.

Garrika remained at his side, eyes fixed on the enemy ranks.

Trafalgar glanced toward her.

”You’ll be fighting people of your own race,” he said calmly. ”Do you feel anything about that?”

Garrika did not hesitate.

”No,” she replied. ”Sharing a race doesn’t mean sharing a bond.”

Her gaze stayed forward as she continued.

”My family is Arden, Marella, Ronan, and Sylven. That’s who matters to me. The rest are strangers.”

Trafalgar crossed his arms.

”Then stay sharp,” he said. ”Just like in the mine. You support me, and I’ll support you.”

She let out a short breath, something close to a dry laugh.

”You saved my life back then.”

He looked at her again.

”So that’s why you came?”

Garrika finally turned her head toward him, meeting his eyes without trying to soften the truth.

”I told you already,” she said. ”I like you. And I don’t feel like losing my chance because you decided to die in a war.”

For a moment, Trafalgar said nothing.

Ahead of them, the Thal’zar lines held steady.

The distance between both sides continued to close.

Karon au Sylvanel rode forward from the Sylvanel lines, his presence cutting cleanly through the noise of preparation. He reined in near Trafalgar and did not waste time with ceremony.

”We move now,” he said. ”I’ll take the lead. You stay at my side.”

Trafalgar gave a single nod.

”Understood,” he replied. ”Let’s make sure this goes clean.”

Karon’s gaze swept briefly across the field, toward the enemy ranks already braced for impact.

”It won’t,” he said flatly. ”But we’ll make it end.”

Around them, the full scale of the allied force became impossible to ignore. More than four thousand troops occupied the front, spreading outward in disciplined formations. Summoners stepped forward, mana flaring as familiars began to take shape—beasts, constructs, and spirits emerging into the open air. Warriors finished materializing their weapons and armor, metal and magic locking into place without pause, every movement focused on speed and efficiency.

No one spoke unnecessarily.

No one hesitated.

The air grew heavy, thick with restrained mana and anticipation. The moment stretched to its limit, like a breath held too long.

Trafalgar drew a slow breath.

Then the mana around him shifted.

Black obsidian plates began to form over his body, rising from nothing and locking into place with seamless precision. Each piece aligned as if guided by an unseen hand, covering him layer by layer. Light vanished the moment it touched the surface, swallowed instead of reflected, leaving the armor unnaturally dark against the battlefield.

The helmet sealed last.

Winged. Predatory. Thin lines of faint gold traced the visor, pulsing once before going still.

Obsidian Wings was complete.

In his hand, Maledicta materialized, its blade humming as a dense aura spilled outward—deep blue threaded with darker violet tones, heavy enough to be felt even from a distance.

Arthur stared.

So did Garrika.

Aubrelle, seeing through Pipin’s shared sight, froze for half a second longer than the others. None of them had seen this armor before, and the thought crossed Garrika’s mind at the same time it crossed Aubrelle’s.

It fits him too well.

Karon lifted his voice, letting it carry across the front.

”Secure the objective zone!”

”No one lowers their guard!”

”Bring victory to House Sylvanel!”

”Crush the traitors of the Eight Great Families!”

The allied forces answered as one.

The ground trembled beneath thousands of moving feet.

The distance vanished.

The clash began.

Trafalgar moved with the first wave.

He did not sprint ahead recklessly, but neither did he hold back, advancing at a pace that pulled his three hundred soldiers forward with him, his presence acting like a fixed point they could rally around even as the formations began to break. Garrika stayed close on his flank, matching his rhythm without needing instruction.

The collision came fast.

Summoners met the charge head-on, familiars slamming into lycans already shifting fully into bestial forms. Claws tore into summoned flesh, jaws snapped shut on mana-made bodies, and spells detonated between them in bursts of light and force. Somewhere to the side, a roar drowned out shouted commands as a massive familiar was brought down under sheer weight.

Not all the lycans rushed forward.

Several remained in the rear, hands raised, chanting through snarled teeth as magic flared around them. Bolts of distorted energy and binding effects struck the Watercaller lines, disrupting their formations and forcing them to fall back, their support momentarily stripped away.

Blood hit the ground.

Shouts turned into screams.

Steel rang against bone and fang.

Within moments, the battlefield settled into its true state. Chaos stopped being shocking and became normal.

Trafalgar pushed through it, Maledicta held low and steady, his armor absorbing impacts that would have staggered another fighter. Bodies fell around him, some summoned, some very real, and he stepped past them without slowing.

Then the space in front of him cleared.

A lycan stepped forward to meet him, taller than most, his body fully shifted, muscles packed tight beneath dark fur. A long spear rested in his grip, its tip already stained red.

Their eyes met.

Trafalgar stopped.

He did not rush.

He chose not to draw on his full strength yet, keeping his mana restrained, reading the distance, the weapon, the stance. This would be measured, at least for the moment.

Around them, the battle raged on.

Between them, a duel was about to begin.