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Chapter 733: Chapter 733 - Anchors

For several breaths, the northern battlefield remained silent.

The valley that had been overflowing with Black Mass monsters only moments earlier was now covered in scorched earth and fading miasma. Above it, the remnants of Lucien’s Creation spears dissolved into light while the surviving forces stared at the enormous gap he had carved through the enemy advance.

Then the silence broke.

The commanders moved first.

Orders raced through the regional communication network before the surviving Black Mass forces could recover. Reserves that had been waiting behind the northern line surged forward, while formation specialists rushed to restore the positions that had nearly collapsed. Automatons advanced into the devastated valley and established another defensive line before the drifting miasma had even cleared.

The people followed.

There was amazement, of course. Too many had seen what the Covenant Disc had just done for there not to be.

But they did not stand there staring.

That pleased Lucien far more.

The enormous attack had given them an opening, and they immediately understood what to do with it.

Independent coalitions reinforced the weakened flanks without waiting for someone to tell them exactly where to stand. Beast forces moved into terrain that had become difficult for ordinary troops to cross. Scouts pushed beyond the reclaimed line to determine how quickly the enemy was reorganizing.

Within minutes, the northern front that had been threatening to collapse had become stable again.

Lucien watched the changes spread across the map and felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease.

They were adapting.

Even after witnessing something capable of erasing an army, they had recovered their attention quickly enough to remember that the war was still happening.

That mattered.

•••

The northern breakthrough changed more than one front.

News of what had happened traveled through the battlefield almost instantly.

Forces struggling elsewhere saw the cleared valley on the projections and understood that the situation was no longer hopeless.

The Black Mass could be stopped.

The Primordial Incarnations could be occupied.

Lootwell’s defenses were still functioning.

And somewhere behind the lines, Lucien possessed a weapon capable of changing an entire battlefield if the situation became desperate enough.

Morale recovered with surprising speed.

The fighting remained brutal, but the atmosphere changed.

People no longer reacted as though every new breach might be the one that ended everything.

They started treating the invasion like a problem that could be solved.

Lucien considered that a much healthier attitude.

He remained near the central platform, where Vivian was still using the megaphone whenever broad instructions needed to reach nearby districts while the other Lootwell administrators coordinated through the larger network.

Lucien intervened only when necessary.

A collapsing barrier received reinforcement.

A sector about to lose communication suddenly found another route opened through the preserved-region network.

A dangerously isolated force received a teleportation corridor just long enough to withdraw before the surrounding Black Mass closed in.

Most of the battlefield no longer required his direct attention.

That was the important part.

The Thousand Races were beginning to carry themselves.

•••

As the hours passed, certain figures became impossible not to notice.

Some were commanders who could look at a deteriorating front and decide what had to be sacrificed before everyone else had finished arguing.

Others were healers who somehow kept entire medical districts functioning despite injured people arriving from several directions at once.

Several scouts repeatedly identified threats before the regional network confirmed them.

There were defensive specialists who held passages long after retreat would have been easier, not because they were stubborn, but because thousands of people were still moving behind them.

A few powerful individuals became anchors almost by accident.

Wherever they appeared, frightened people gathered around them and the surrounding line stabilized.

Lucien watched them carefully.

Some names he already knew.

Others belonged to people who had barely appeared on the earlier rankings.

That made him smile.

Nobody near him asked why.

•••

The battles above the preserved region were even more violent.

The Primordial Incarnations had stopped merely suppressing the forces beneath them.

They were fighting in earnest.

Astraea met one of them high above the northern sectors, while several ancient beasts surrounded another over the eastern ruins.

The Four Dragons had divided themselves across the most dangerous fronts.

Lucien’s attention remained on the Red Dragon longer than he expected.

He had known the ancient dragon hated the Black Mass.

Seeing it fight them was different.

Fire spread across the sky in enormous waves, yet the destruction never touched the allied forces below. Every burst curved where it needed to curve. Every expanding sea of flame opened around friendly positions and closed again the moment the Black Mass crossed into it.

There was rage in the Red Dragon’s attacks.

There was no carelessness.

Lucien had seen countless Fire Laws by now.

The Red Dragon’s was almost painfully straightforward.

If someone imagined fire in its most obvious, overwhelming form, they would probably imagine something close to this.

Nothing about it was subtle.

The control was.

That was what made it frightening.

A sea of flame capable of swallowing kilometers could narrow around a single allied formation without touching it, then explode outward again the moment the last friendly presence disappeared from its path.

The other three dragons were no less impressive.

The Blue Dragon moved Water with a command that made entire rivers rise from the preserved terrain before crashing into miasma formations.

The Green Dragon used Air with such precision that enormous currents redirected flying monsters while leaving the formations beneath them undisturbed.

The Brown Dragon shaped Earth into moving defensive walls and rising platforms that changed the battlefield faster than several formation teams could have managed together.

Watching them reminded Lucien of Marie, Kaia, Sylra, and Marina.

The resemblance ended quickly.

The four elemental spirits never seemed to be commanding their elements.

When Kaia used Fire, the flames felt alive because, in a sense, they were responding to something that belonged among them.

The Four Dragons were different.

They were masters of the elements rather than embodiments of them.

Their Laws were the clearest expression of what most people imagined those elements should become when pushed toward perfection.

Lucien found the distinction fascinating.

He also found the Red Dragon’s expression increasingly concerning.

The ancient dragon looked entirely too happy whenever another Black Mass formation burned.

Lucien decided not to interrupt him.

•••

The Primordial Incarnations remained the harder problem.

Even the ancient beasts could not simply overwhelm them.

One Incarnation suppressed several matching Laws across the western sector while simultaneously exchanging attacks with two ancient beasts and an Eternal.

Another tore apart three large-scale formations before the Blue and Green Dragons forced it farther into the sky.

The Red Dragon faced one whose authority repeatedly smothered lesser flames around it.

That only seemed to make him angrier.

His next attack compressed an enormous amount of Fire into a narrow line rather than trying to overpower the Incarnation’s authority across the entire sky.

The result cut straight through the suppression field before exploding behind it.

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

The Red Dragon had adapted quickly.

So had the others.

The ancient beasts were not winning easily.

They were not supposed to.

But none of the Primordial Incarnations had been allowed to descend into the lower battlefield either.

The strongest people present had done their job.

They had become the ceiling beneath which everyone else could continue fighting.

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