CHAPTER 223: THE CAGE IN THE SKY

Chapter 219: The Cage in the Sky

The silence that followed the closing of the rift was unnatural.

It wasn’t the quiet of peace; it was the breathless, suffocating stillness of a lung that had forgotten how to exhale.

I stood amidst the wreckage of the warehouse, the stolen Horn of Behemoth heavy in one hand, Draken humming a low, agitated dirge in the other.

The dust from the shattered windows hung suspended in the air, glittering in the dying light of the mana lamps.

My phone vibrated again, a frantic buzz against my chest.

[Victor: Boss! The mana readings aren’t going down. They’re expanding. It’s not a spike anymore. It’s a dome.]

I ran to the shattered window, kicking aside the corpse of a cultist. I looked up.

The sky over Sky Island, usually a pristine canvas of twilight stars and artificial auroras, was bleeding.

A crimson fracture had appeared at the zenith, directly above the Hero Honour Hall.

It wasn’t opening; it was spreading, like a drop of ink in water, branching out in jagged, lightning-like veins of dark energy.

These veins raced down toward the horizon, curving inward as they fell, forming a cage.

"A barrier," I whispered, my grip tightening on the Horn.

But this wasn’t a standard containment field. My [Quantum Analysis Mind] screamed as I tried to parse the structure.

The mana density was off the charts—denser than the Labyrinth, denser than the Sunken Vault. It felt rigid, absolute.

[Warning: High-Tier Barrier Detected.]

[Rank Estimate: SS-Class.]

[Property: Spatial Lock / Mana Isolation.]

"SS-Class," I hissed.

"They aren’t trying to hide. They’re locking us in with them."

A barrier of this magnitude required a power source that rivaled a city’s core. Or... a sacrifice.

I looked back at the twelve corpses of the cultists, lying in their circle of blood.

"They were just the kindling," I realized. "The fire is somewhere else."

[Sky Island – Central Plaza]

Outside, the panic was beginning to take root.

The tourists—elves in silk robes, dwarven merchants with jeweled beards, human families on vacation—had stopped their strolling.

They were pointing at the sky, their faces illuminated by the sickly red glow of the forming dome.

"What is that?"

"Is it a fireworks display?"

"No... look at the clouds. They’re turning black."

Then, the sirens began.

It wasn’t a mechanical wail. It was a harmonic resonance, a deep, vibrating hum that emanated from the white spires of the city itself.

"ATTENTION CITIZENS."

The voice was calm, female, and utterly synthetic. It seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"THIS IS VENA. SYSTEM ALERT: CODE RED. UNIDENTIFIED MANA INCURSION DETECTED IN SECTOR 4. BARRIER INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. SPATIAL LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT."

Vena. The Central AI of Sky Island. The mind that controlled the gravity wards, the weather, and the defenses.

"INITIATING DEFENSE PROTOCOL: AEGIS."

The ground rumbled.

Along the main avenues, panels in the pristine white pavement slid open with the hiss of hydraulics. From the depths of the island’s underbelly, they rose.

Mana Soldier Knights.

They were marvels of magi-tech engineering. Three meters tall, encased in gleaming, polished silver armor that looked more like art than weaponry.

They held massive halberds of translucent crystal, and their visors glowed with a steady, reassuring blue light.

These weren’t golems. They were autonomous constructs, each powered by a connection to the island’s central Mana Grid.

Their combat capabilities were rated at A-Rank. They were faster than humans, stronger than ogres, and felt no fear. They were the reason Sky Island was considered the safest place in the world.

Fifty of them marched into the plaza, their metal boots shaking the ground in perfect unison.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

"Please remain calm," a Knight broadcasted, its voice a deep baritone. "Proceed to the nearest shelter. The threat will be neutralized."

The crowd, seeing the silver giants, began to relax slightly. The Knights were invincible. They were the iron fist of the Council.

But from my vantage point on the warehouse roof, I didn’t feel relieved. I felt a cold knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

I knew the lore. I knew the schematics of Sky Island from the Art of War expansion pack.

The Mana Soldier Knights had a fatal flaw.

They didn’t have internal cores. They drew power wirelessly from the central Mana Grid—the same grid that kept the island floating. It was an efficient design, allowing for infinite stamina as long as the city had power.

But if the signal was disrupted... if the grid was corrupted...

The crimson barrier overhead pulsed. A wave of static electricity washed over the city, making the streetlamps flicker.

Down in the plaza, a Mana Knight mid-stride suddenly jerked. Its blue visor flickered violet.

ZZZT.

It stumbled, its heavy halberd clattering against the stone.

"System... error..." the Knight droned, its voice distorting. "Connection... unstable."

Another Knight froze, its arm locked in a salute. A third collapsed to one knee, smoke venting from its joints.

"No," I whispered, watching the chaos unfold. "They didn’t just bring a barrier. They brought a jammer."

The Cult knew. They knew the island’s weakness. They weren’t just trapping us; they were disarming us.

[Sky Island – The Grand Hotel]

Leon Lionheart stood on the balcony of his suite, staring up at the bleeding sky.

The wind had picked up, howling through the spires, carrying the scent of ozone and sulfur.

"Leon!" Aiden kicked the door open, running onto the balcony. He wasn’t smiling. His twin swords were already drawn, sparks of lightning jumping nervously between them.

"The elevators are dead. The mana-lights in the hall just exploded. What the hell is happening?"

"We’re under attack," Leon said grimly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Look at the Knights."

Below them, on the street, the silver guardians were faltering.

They moved like puppets with tangled strings—jerky, uncoordinated. Some had stopped moving entirely, freezing into statues of silver and dead circuitry.

"The grid," Aurelia Miller said, stepping out behind Aiden. She held a data slate, her face pale.

"My connection to the external network is cut. And the local mana readings are... wrong. The ambient mana is being overwritten. It’s turning chaotic."

"Where is Michael?" Lyra asked, pushing past them to look at the street. "He said he was going to the Honour Hall. That’s right under the center of that... thing."

Leon looked at the red fracture in the sky.

"He’s in the middle of it," Leon said. "We have to move. If the Knights are down, the civilians are defenseless."

"Against what?" Aiden asked. "I don’t see any monsters."

"You will," Leon said. "That barrier... it’s not just a wall. It’s a door."

[Sky Island – Sector 4]

I leaped from the warehouse roof, landing in the alleyway with a roll.

Nox poked his head out of my pocket, hissing.

...Bad air... choking...

"I know," I muttered. "Hold your breath."

I needed to get to the Central Spire. If I could reach Vena’s core physically, I might be able to reboot the local grid, isolate the Knights from the corrupted signal.

But as I stepped onto the main road, the ground shook.

It wasn’t an earthquake. Sky Island didn’t have earthquakes.

It was a resonance frequency. A sound so deep it vibrated the teeth in my skull.

"WARNING," Vena’s voice returned, but it was glitching, skipping syllables.

"MANA... GRID... COMPROMISED. SECTOR 4... 5... 6... OFFLINE. SHIELDS... FAILING."

The barrier in the sky pulsed violently. The crimson veins thickened, throbbing like arteries.

And then, with a sound like tearing canvas that echoed across the entire island, the sky split open.

It wasn’t a rift. It was a wound.

Three massive tears opened in the fabric of the barrier, pouring out a thick, black ichor that vaporized before it hit the ground, turning into a dense, suffocating fog.

From the first tear, a figure descended.

It was humanoid, but colossal—easily ten meters tall. It wore armor made of weeping grey bone. In its hand, it held a flail, the spiked balls burning with green ghost-fire.

[Entity Detected: Abyssal Juggernaut]

[Rank: SS]

From the second tear, a creature slithered out. It had the upper body of a woman, beautiful and terrible, but her lower body was a mass of writing tentacles that dripped acid. She held a staff topped with a screaming skull.

[Entity Detected: Siren of the Void]

[Rank: SS]

And from the third, central tear... nothing fell. Instead, gravity seemed to invert. Debris from the city—carts, benches, loose stones—began to float upward.

A figure floated down, wrapped in a cloak of pure shadow. It had no face, only a swirling vortex where a head should be.

[Entity Detected: The Void Walker]

[Rank: SS]

Three SS-Rank demons.

In the game, this event—the "Skyfall Raid"—was an endgame scenario. It required a full raid party of max-level players.

Here? It was just us. Students. Tourists. And a handful of guards.

The pressure hit the city like a physical hammer.

Civilians in the streets collapsed, foaming at the mouth as the sheer density of the demonic aura crushed their minds.

Even I, with my [Mindbreaker] title and high stats, was forced to drop to one knee, gasping for air. Draken vibrated violently, its own aura flaring to protect me.

"Three..." I choked out. "They sent three."

This wasn’t a sabotage. This was an extermination.

[Sky Island – The Luxury District]

Evelyn Whitehound dropped her teacup. It shattered on the balcony floor, the sound lost in the roaring of the wind.

She stared up at the three monstrosities descending from the sky. Her face, usually a mask of cool amusement, was stark white.

"Alastor," she whispered.

Alastor Greythorn wasn’t smiling. The Sword Saint stood by the railing, his hand gripping the hilt of his greatsword so hard the leather creaked. His eyes were wide, reflecting the crimson hell above.

"SS-Rank," Alastor growled, his voice low and devoid of its usual bravado. "Three of them. And the Knights are down."

"We have to evacuate the students," Evelyn said, her voice trembling slightly before snapping back into professional steel. "We need to get them to the airships."

"The airships won’t fly, Evelyn!" Alastor roared, pointing at the barrier. "Look at the sky! Nothing leaves! That barrier is solid space-lock. We are trapped in a cage with three tigers."

He drew his sword.

The blade hummed, a pathetic sound against the overwhelming pressure descending from above.

"We aren’t teachers today," Alastor said grimly. "We’re meat shields. If we don’t hold them... the kids are dead in five minutes."

[Sky Island – The Lord’s Tower]

At the highest point of the city, in a room walled with glass, stood the ruler of Sky Island.

City Lord Cessias.

He was an elf, ancient even by his race’s standards.

His hair was long and white, his robes woven from starlight thread.

He was one of the few remaining SS-Rank heroes from the last war, a contemporary of Herald Crimson.

He stood with his hands behind his back, watching the demons descend.

The room was silent. His aides were on the floor, unconscious from the pressure.

Cessias looked at the Mana Grid monitor on his desk. It was red. Critical failure.

The island’s gravity engines were running on reserves.

If the grid failed completely, the island wouldn’t just be conquered. It would fall out of the sky and impact the continent below with the force of a meteor.

"They aim to drop the city," Cessias murmured, his voice calm, sad.

"They wish to turn my home into a bomb."

He turned to the window. His eyes, usually filled with the wisdom of ages, were now burning with a cold, final light.

He raised a hand, and a staff materialized—a branch of the World Tree, pulsing with immense power.

"Vena," Cessias said.

"YES, LORD CESSIAS," the glitching AI responded.

"Unlock the Omega Protocol. Divert all remaining power from the life-support and luxury districts to the Central Spire shields."

"WARNING. THIS WILL RESULT IN 40% CIVILIAN CASUALTIES FROM ENVIRONMENTAL FAILURE."

"Do it," Cessias ordered. "Better 40% than the whole world."

He stepped out onto the balcony, the wind whipping his robes. He looked at the three SS-Rank demons hovering over his city.

"You want my island?" Cessias whispered, his mana flaring, an SS-Rank aura of pure, blinding white light rising to meet the crimson darkness.

"Come and take it."

(To be continued)