Chapter 397: Calamity of the Void

An alchemical automaton collided headlong with a modified dragon. The tremendous impact twisted the automaton's hardened metal frame. The dragon itself reeled, losing balance in mid-air before plunging from the skies.

Yet more automata pressed in without hesitation. One spider-shaped construct clambered up the dragon's scaled body with unnerving speed, its eight iron limbs latching on tight. A drilling ram descended from its core, sending a warhead laced with combustive alchemical fluid deep into the beast's flesh.

An explosion erupted within the dragon. Its body bulged grotesquely; its scales split, its flesh tore, and a storm of gore burst outward in all directions.

Even bolstered by Milos's remorseless alterations, the monster's frame could not endure the wound hollowed within it. Reeling under the automaton's relentless assault, the dragon plummeted from the heavens and struck the ground, never to rise again.

"The battle is going well. With the aid of the alchemical legion, our infernal allies have managed to suppress these corrupted dragons. If we push our advantage and unleash Iron King Bogul, we might be able to clean up the battlefield."

From atop Skyborne City, Icarus, commander of a subset of the legions, studied the relayed projections of the warfront. His voice was sharp, his analysis swift. All indicators were favorable. The legions' destructive capacity was staggering; with demons tying down the dragons' advance, the machines required only a single opening to inflict grievous losses.

"Understood. These abominations might have powerful bodies, but they don't understand tactics and won't use any magic once we're within a certain distance of them. They fight like machines, rigid and predictable. True dragons are far deadlier."

So came the reply from one of Skyborne's stationed defenders, a legendary magician.

Skyborne City, which boasted the continent's most advanced knowledge and technology, was itself a fortress of incomparable might. Among its residents were dozens of legends. These were the primary forces defending the city; even they didn't dare chance the battlefield outright.

"Good. The Iron King has entered the theater. Clear the nearby automata from its path and prepare for the purge. Once this wave is crushed, we shall strike at the abyssal nest."

Icarus's gaze lingered on the battlefield. Though the fighting now tilted in their favor, he remained as cautious as ever. Their true adversary had yet to show its hand.

"How is the progress on Sieg's new armaments? His adaptation to magitech equipment is without precedent. Once our preparations are complete, his strength may tip the scales against the Abyss itself. We will need him."

Icarus brought up his next point.

"I'm ready to enter the field at any time," Sieg replied, steady and assured.

"Excellent. The true trial approaches. Our enemy will not fall so easily."

On the battlefield, the struggle continued. Dragons, demons, and automatons clashed in a chaotic frenzy, none yet gaining a decisive victory. Then, with earth-shaking steps, a colossus strode into the fray: the Iron King Bogul. Its arrival promised to shatter the stalemate.

As if knowing what was about to come, the alchemical legions hurriedly retreated after one last volley of attacks, leaving the infernal dreadnaught Esteban behind. The demons, having been alerted by Aurelian and Skyborne City in advance, swarmed forward against the mutated dragons.

Iron King Bogul's footfalls rumbled across the battlefield. After one final step, the giant halted. Its humanoid frame lowered to a half-kneeling position. Its massive legs drove mechanical pylons deep into the soil to anchor its bulk.

Layer by layer, the armor plating over its chest folded away, revealing the incandescent glow of its core reactor. The magical lattice etched across its breastplate flared alive, prepared to channel unrestrained power.

The reactor's hum climbed to a shriek. Above the battlefield, a vast ring of violet lightning coalesced—an immense gravity seal. Its pull magnified weight a hundredfold. The first to succumb were swarms of infernal fire-bats dragged helplessly earthward, their bodies pulped by the merciless acceleration.

The reactor's bellow rose again, louder. A second gravity ring expanded across the skies, compounding the burden.

Dragons and demons alike sagged beneath the crushing force, their bones groaning and their wings buckling. Flesh strained against the unrelenting press of weight.

That was the nature of gravity magic. Over the past century, the intelligent races had developed surprisingly holistic and complex magical theory. Ordinary magicians had counters to such tricks, but these mutated dragons, who were casting on intuition based on their innate magical circuits, had no clue how to handle it.

Iron King Bogul was executing its Final Requiem, which it had used to great effect against the World-Eater in Liaheim.

The third resonance shook the heavens. This time, the ring flared not in the air but at the ground itself, its force vector reversed.

A lattice of fissures spidered outward as the earth itself broke apart. Rocks and soil caught within the circle began to rise, drawn inexorably into the enclosing prison of gravitational force.

Rocks were torn from the ground by the inverted gravity. They drifted upward, caught in the embrace of twin gravitational rings. The uprooted earth and the ensnared dragons were both hurled toward the center of the field.

It was an uncanny scene: whole swathes of land rose into the air, along with the writhing dragons and hapless demons entangled within.

Though no solid barrier lay before them, the massive "mountain" wrenched from the ground let out a thunderous crack as it hit the center of the field, born of two opposing invisible forces colliding with irresistible might.

Within that "mountain," the altered dragons thrashed in futile defiance. Lacking any countermeasure against gravitational magic, their brute flesh alone could not withstand the titanic furnace that burned within the Iron King's chest. Bones splintered, sinew tore, and flesh was ground to paste beneath the compounding weight. Mountain and monsters alike were crushed together into an ever-compacting mass.

Gravity had bound a vast swath of the battlefield; now came the blow to end it all.

Runic sigils blazed across the Iron King's chest, drawing energy from his auxiliary core into a single searing nexus. The high-energy red sun that had once risen in the elven capital of Liaheim now flared to life once more, brighter and deadlier, to fall upon the writhing mountain of rock, dirt, and flesh.

The red sun detonated before impact, a firestorm of heat and force engulfing everything within range. Rock was torn asunder, steel melted, and flesh consumed. The destruction wasn't caused by the red sun alone—the infernal dreadnaught Esteban unleashed its own broadside in concert.

Its main cannon rumbled at full capacity, endless infernal power funneled into a single incandescent strike. Together with the Iron King's sun, the blast obliterated the mountain and all trapped within, erasing the battlefield in a flood of annihilation.

The echoes of the cataclysm echoed through the skies long after the strike itself had ended. The shockwaves stilled only after long minutes. By the time the dust thinned, the heavens were, for a time, cleansed. A few mutated dragons had survived outside the blast zone, but they no longer posed any true threat.

"Excellent," rumbled the infernal lord's projection, gazing at the skies. "Though I do not relish admitting it, on this plane, your allies' aid cannot be dismissed. The fewer of my legions I waste, the better."

Aurelian narrowed her eyes. The strength Skyborne City had committed was staggering; few powers in the world could muster such force. And yet...

Why had Milos not revealed itself? Were these mutated dragons truly so meaningless to it? Were they nothing more than pawns to be spent at will?

"Fire!"

The infernal lord's order cut through her brooding. Convinced the greatest threats had been swept aside, he was intent on finishing the task and honoring his pact with Aurelian by eradicating their quarry outright.

Resolute and merciless, he wasted no time nor mercy on his enemies. Esteban swelled with power once more, the titanic demon within straining as it readied for another massive attack.

A colossal cannon fired, thicker and even brighter than before. It shot across the sky and plunged into the vast crater left by the fallen dragons. At its heart, sealed packets of condensed energy unraveled, chaining one explosion after another in a relentless cascade.

The earth's crust shattered. Mountains collapsed inward. The crater and everything within were buried beneath a deluge of tumbling stone.

"Is it over? Impossible. It couldn't have been so simple."

Aurelian eyed the impact site. Milos was an abyssal horror that had worn the body of a Dragon God for centuries, whose domination of dragonkind might not extend to other races.

Though Aurelian wanted to trick herself into beating that Milos, her heart knew better. She had come prepared to sacrifice her life to end it all, but reality was worse than even her worst fears...

Harsh alarms shrilled across Skyborne City. The density of void energy in the air was skyrocketing, reaching levels that demanded a full-scale alert in the span of moments.

"Void concentration exceeding thresholds—what's happening? Report!"

Icarus's voice was sharp with alarm. This was no accident.

"Void energy is spiking all across the island. This is abyssal work—they've mastered the void itself!"

The Council of the Arcane's specialists confirmed what he already feared.

"This concentration... it's almost at the level we'd expect during an evil god's descent. How can this be? How can this abomination rouse such upheaval even after Morningstar's detonation? Just what is our enemy...?"

Icarus grimaced. Abyssal creatures were born to the void; this shift made the entire battlefield their domain.

"!"

His breath caught. Silence reigned across the comms.

In the heart of the island, where dragons had fallen beneath the Iron King and Esteban's combined barrage, black vortices had begun to bloom. From each whorl of void crawled the carcasses of the altered dragons, rising reshaped and remade.

Milos's touch had allowed them to transcend the material plane; the void itself had taken root in their corpses. They could be reanimated out of nothing...

The ground beneath Esteban erupted. From the rift, a misshapen, jet-black dragon erupted, lunging upward before anyone could react. It tore open the warship's armor with ease, then plunged into the titan-demon within and rent it from the inside.

The titan scarcely had time to scream before Milos burst through its spine, shattering the deck and rising above the falling warship.

A silver greatsword flashed into being, intercepting its dive. But Milos's strength shattered the blade to fragments with a single contemptuous blow.

"Oh? You've found the source of the power I gifted you. And how do you like the little trinkets I left your dragons? In the void, they will wield strength beyond your wildest imagination."

Milos wasn't in a hurry to make a move. Its voice was heavy with mockery as its gaze fell on Aurelian, now fully unveiled in her silver dragon form.

"I'll wear the body your king bound me in no longer. The taste of freedom is exquisite. Don't you agree?"

Below, Esteban plummeted in ruin. The reborn dragons twisted again, their bodies warping into ever more dreadful shapes under the void's embrace.

Could such an enemy truly be overcome?