CHAPTER 132: WAR OF FLESH AND TIDES

The tsunami of abyssal horrors—tentacled leviathans, skeletal behemoths fused with coral shadows, and swarms of eyeless, screaming entities—surged forward with unrelenting madness, their forms undulating like a living nightmare born from the depths.

The air thickened with the brine of the sea and the psychic venom of their illusions, but the bastion’s diviners were the first to strike back.

Perched atop the concentric walls, their robes billowing in the gale of impending doom, they chanted in harmonious unison, hands weaving intricate patterns that summoned hallowed spells.

Golden threads of light spiraled outward, weaving into a vast net that draped over the advancing wave.

The spells pacified—reducing the horde’s volatility, dulling the chaotic psyches that fueled their frenzy. Tentacles that lashed with frenzied speed slowed to sluggish swings, glowing eyes dimmed from piercing malice to confused flickers, and the maddening projectiles of gore and shadow lost their erratic trajectories, falling short or dissipating harmlessly.

As the diviners’ hallowed net took hold, the bastion’s defenders unleashed a hail of retaliation.

Void Hunters and soldiers, positioned along the battlements, hurled projectiles with grim precision—arrows tipped with essence vials that exploded on impact, releasing clouds of purifying mist; spells conjured from ancient tomes, bolts of fire and ice arcing through the sky like meteors; and Curio Items of rare and exotic make, activated in desperate fury.

One hunter lobbed a Noble-tier orb that unfolded into a swarm of ethereal blades, slicing through a jellyfish entity’s pulsing body.

Another activated a Rare Curio ring, summoning a barrier of thorns that impaled advancing swarms.

The air filled with the cacophony of explosions, sizzles, and screams as the horde recoiled, their advance blunted but not broken.

"To see the might of the bastion and gauge their strength before acting, you’re quite the nasty reinforcement to have, Samael," Karen wryly chuckled.

"And this is the extent of their prowess after I had severely reduced the numbers of the raid using six Eldritch Bolts," Samael raised an eyebrow. "Sure their entire military could withstand or even fight in a frontal war against the Hollow Aequor almost equally at first glance, but they will be fighting for days where logistics and determination will start to take toll.

"Not to mention, the Hollow Aequor’s numbers are almost endless, and they could just bring front reinforcement on the spot almost instantly as long as they have access to their core essence."

"We have seen enough," Kivas smiled. "Let’s not reduce our credibility as an ally and prevent any further damage from the abyssal retaliation."

"I’ll make sure they can barely retaliate then," Samael smirked.

Amid this barrage, the Limbo Tiers—those not locked in defensive positions—stationed closer to the front lines began their own spellcasting.

Hovering in all sorts of clusters and positions, their black dust forms crackled with energy.

One by one, they raised their cracked arms skyward, calling forth the power of beyond the plane.

The sky was lit again and again, thunder roared as bolts struck their hands, imprisoned in swirling voids of essence.

The air hummed with the intricacies of space and elements—void mingling with storm, fire, and shadow—concocting a spell of devastating potency.

Before the horde could adjust, the Limbo Tiers unleashed their concoction.

Destructive beams lanced outward, beams of compressed fury so intense that their light pierced the gloom, visible even from the inner walls as blinding streaks.

The beams carved through the wave, vaporizing tentacled limbs, shattering abyssal frames, and dispersing swarms in bursts of ionized ash.

The ground scarred with molten furrows, the horde’s front line crumbling under the assault.

In Vaingall’s hallowed sanctuary, the group watched the spectacle through Yoiglah’s divine holographic screens, the tortoise deity’s amber eyes reflecting the distant flashes.

Oizys leaned forward, her black feather wings rustling as she snickered. "Samael, you really hid a lot of spell formulas under your belt. Those beams—space-twisted lightning with a mix of elemental overload, I can imagine that you’ve been only using the concept in its bare minimum."

Samael smirked, her draconic horns catching the screen’s glow, arms crossed with smug satisfaction. "I still have more where that came from. Can’t reveal all my tricks at once—I need to set a pace for the performance."

"Remind me from time to time to never mess with those two," Azulus said to Karen with an anxious face.

"Fear embed itself into the mind, I doubt that you will forgot about it somewhere close to the future," Karen curved a smile.

Back on the battlefield, the Aequorians retaliated with unbridled insanity. From the surviving horde, madness exploded in every form—ilusions manifesting as phantom duplicates that mimicked the defenders, sowing confusion; tentacles lashing out in unpredictable arcs, spewing acidic gore that corroded wards; maddening projectiles—blobs of shadow-flesh that screamed psychic curses, inducing temporary frenzy in those struck, and self-inflicted horrors, where behemoths tore chunks from their own bodies, hurling them as explosive masses that birthed smaller spawns upon impact.

The air filled with a chorus of screams, whispers, and guttural roars, the horde’s chaotic hive adapting, pushing back with renewed ferocity.

The diviners responded swiftly, their chants rising to a fever pitch as they cast a wide barrier—a shimmering dome of hallowed light that enveloped the bastion’s front lines.

The barrier absorbed and diffused the incoming madness, lessening the damage from tentacles and projectiles alike.

A couple of Limbo Tiers, sensing the strain, floated closer, their void essence channeling into the barrier.

Cracked hands extended, infusing it with reinforcement, an enhancement skill that Samael often used.

The dome thickened into an impenetrable veil. Then, some Constructs wove lights among the barrier’s threads, amplifying them with a unique trait that was crafted on the spot.

As Aequorian attacks hammered the dome, red beams lanced back, turning the horde’s assaults against them.

Tentacles that struck were seared by reflected energy, projectiles bounced back to explode amid their own ranks, and illusions shattered upon contact, the barrier’s intensity creating a sight of poetic justice—the abyss’s madness reflected, amplified, and returned.

Emboldened, the soldiers and high-ranking Void Hunters charged forward, unleashing their unique skills and spells.

A grizzled hunter activated a Curio Item—a pendant that neutralized darkness for a short period, banishing shadows in a radius and exposing hidden spawns to the light.

Another blew a flute-like artifact, summoning a giant lizard-like titan from a rift, its scales gleaming with ethereal armor.

The beast roared, obeying its summoner’s bidding, charging into the horde with crushing jaws and tail sweeps that pulverized swarms.

Gimmicks abounded, one hunter wielded a staff that turned Aequorian gore into explosive mines, another donned gauntlets that absorbed psychic venom and redirected it as poisonous clouds.

Themes varied—fire-wielders conjuring infernos, ice mages freezing tentacles mid-lash, summoners calling spectral allies. The battlefield became a tapestry of creativity and desperation, each hunter’s arsenal was blessed personally by Fathomi’s chaotic whim.

Yet amid the fray, the Limbo Tiers shone as the ultimate support and powerhouse.

Their beams continued to lance, carving swaths through the horde. The barriers they enhanced held firm, retaliating with precision, and their constant supportive skills bolstered allies, soothing diviner fatigue or shielding hunters from backlash.

They dealt the most damage—beams vaporizing leviathans, essence surges disrupting swarms—and contributed the most utility.

Though, for some reason, any attempts to inflict illusions on the Limbo Tiers failed outright, the psychic hooks sliding off like water on oil.

It was definitely as intended, nor planned from the get go considering that Samael hadn’t been adding anything new to her Divine Constructs.

In the sanctuary, Samael frowned at the screens. "Curious—the illusions aren’t touching our Constructs. What’s causing that nullification?"

Kivas smiled knowingly, her halo glowing. "My blessings are actively preventing it," she said, though inwardly she kept the truth secret.

It was her Anti-Aequor Formula skill, channeled through those blessings that she planted on each participating Divine Constructs.

After hearing that, Samael caught up quickly and immediately noticed what was going on.

But just like how Kivas mentioned any of it, Samael also decided to hide the fact that she knew Kivas had a new skill that could ward off illusions.

"What are you smirking about, Samael?" Oizys casually teased.

"I’m quite amused by the state that my Divine Constructs are in," Samael chuckled low. "If only you can directly experience the battlefield, Ozzy, then you might also caught up to it as well."

"I’ll just ask Kivas about it later," Oizys grinned.

"That’s cheating," Samael pouted.

The war raged on for two days and nights, the Hollow Aequor calling endless reinforcements from their depths—portals ripping open in the battlefield, spewing fresh horrors to replace the fallen.

Waves crashed relentlessly, but Morgina’s leadership turned the tide into a stable resistance.

Using telepathy, he orchestrated like a grandmaster at chess.

Casualties were minimized, rotations allowing rest amid the chaos, his curse-like madness now a focused edge.

Of course, two days had passed and Azulus weren’t even watching anymore as she had something important to do amidst the viewing session.

So the Vaingall’s council decided that the war had been up for too long.

To end it once and for all, the Lust Tier raised its gauntleted hand, lightening the sky with a colorful spectrum of elements.

Space swirled, clouds twisting into a pillar of singularity—void, fire, storm converging in its right palm.

The horde paused, sensing the impending cataclysm.