The Oracle Paths

1207  We Must Win At All Costs

Whether in the Dusken Throne's camp or the Radiant Conclave's, a heavy silence had paralyzed the crowd. Their breaths caught in disbelief, eyes bulging in astonishment. Just moments ago... What had transpired made absolutely no sense. To anyone.

Just minutes earlier, even the Radiant Conclave generals were convinced they were about to lose this second match as well. But oddly enough, when defeat seemed certain, a twist made them question their own eyes, taking the duel in a drastic new direction:

Their opponents suddenly turned... inept. It was subtle at first—a delayed parry here, a mistimed dodge there, a sloppy sword swing, a misstep on the battlefield.

Then it became undeniable. The Dusken Throne fighters began dropping like flies, one after another, making blunders that went well beyond accidents or bad luck.

Warriors tripping over themselves, artifacts hitting friendly targets, a shove throwing off a comrade's stance, even vengeful spirits attacking their own allies... It was absurd and ridiculous, yet it unfolded before their stunned eyes.

Jake and his crew briefly pondered the possibility of a hex of misfortune, some bewitchment, or other dark sorcery. But a quick probe with his mental sense ruled that out: of the two foreign energies residing in the soldiers' bodies, one had subtly activated.

Not the one he suspected belonged to Cho Min Ho.

Though he hadn't known its exact purpose before, it was now clear as day that it enabled the entity behind this contamination to seize control of the infected natives and Players, or at the very least sway their actions. The manipulation was extremely subtle, preventing anyone from suspecting the perpetrator's identity or accusing the enemy camp of dirty tricks. After all, in a fight to the death, all bets were off, and any participant could easily claim credit.

"That was... I can't even begin to express how badly I want to kill you right now," Jake articulated slowly, venom dripping from his words as he bore a frigid gaze on the doppelganger. "I had zero expectations, and yet I'm still disappointed. Deeply."

09:29

If Jake had any lingering doubts about the shapeshifter's role, a single look at his grotesque mix of shock and indignation dispelled them. Whether the real Cho Min Ho was aware of the plot or not, his underling was clearly out of the loop.

"That was... I can't even begin to express how badly I want to kill you right now," Jake articulated slowly, venom dripping from his words as he bore a frigid gaze on the doppelganger. "I had zero expectations, and yet I'm still disappointed. Deeply."

The fake Soulmancer King candidate knew better than to mouth off and swallowed the rebuke silently. His side had royally screwed up, and for fuck's sake, he still had no clue why ?!

"Anyway, I'll handle the third round. Just sit back and watch." Jake waved the shapeshifter away dismissively.

The Korean doppelganger had no desire to be humiliated any further and was already off to blow off steam on his subordinates. The hapless generals had no clue what had just unfolded.

Sheanu was sweating bullets after this back-to-back failure. Radahn sported a sinister look, his narrowed eyes ablaze with anger. He wanted answers about what had happened to his men. Before the battle, he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Meanwhile, Jake had already moved on to the next duel. The team battle under his purview involved Corebearers and Radiant Lords, but he had no intention of calling on the natives. Turning to his companions, he commanded, "Myrtharians, you're up."

His voice was steady—neither domineering nor loud—but a hundred Players from his faction stepped forward in unison. As anticipated, 100 Myrmidians had volunteered. Infantry combat was their forte, and the best way for them to shine as a race.

Jake flashed a wicked grin as he assessed them, a feral smile that was mirrored by all. This was going to be overkill!

Their armor and weapons weren't as overpowered as his own forged from Horizon Hardstone, but they were still exceptional—all of them, like Lucia, had used their own blood to make their weapons evolve with each victory and spilled blood. Interestingly, even though they'd ditched the traditional hoplite armor of their era—exposing too much skin—their combat suits, shimmering with a crimson hue, had retained some characteristics, like the helmet design or breastplate shape.

But most crucially, their Lumyst cultivation had reached or exceeded the Corebearer level, half of them being Radiant Lords. They were all insanely powerful—a caliber of warriors and army that the continent of Twyluxia could never dream of matching.

Still, to be cautious, he commanded in the same calm tone, "Your platoon is unbalanced. Three of you need to step back to make room for an Eltarian, who will play the role of Soulmancer, as well as two Kintharians or Throsgenians to control the battlefield."

Without needing to confer, three Myrmidians stepped back of their own accord. Jake knew they kept a ranking among themselves, and these three were the weakest of the lot. The word "weak" was very relative here. Of the 1,300-plus Myrmidians still alive, none could be considered weak—each was a superhuman killing machine forged for war.

Asfrid took care of teleporting an Eltarian from outside the camp—they were on another mission elsewhere. However, selecting two Kintharians proved to be significantly more troublesome.

Given their lazy habits, they had to be unearthed from wherever they'd gone to take their morning siesta. The two who were awakened were grouchy, but upon hearing the order came from their leader, they stopped whining and got serious about the upcoming fight.

Ceythie and the other generals, who didn't know these Players well, were skeptical, repeatedly offering members of their personal guards, but Jake refused them all.

"That goes for you too. Just sit back and watch. This fight should broaden your horizons." He brushed them off without batting an eye. Then he turned to the platoon he'd just assembled and said in a relaxed tone, "No unnecessary deaths. Just force them to concede defeat."

"We can still snap a few bones, though?" quipped a Myrmidian with long, braided golden hair reminiscent of a high elf.

The chuckles from his comrades made the excluded natives realize that this wasn't the first time such a joke had been made. These golden-eyed Players were way too comfortable.

"As you wish," Jake replied seriously. "I just want to get them back on their feet easily. No soul damage, if possible."

"Should be easy," the Eltarian chuckled. In the group, he was the only one truly specialized in that area.

All the while, Cho Min Ho's lookalike was tempted to throw in a biting remark, ready to mock their bravado and excessive arrogance. But a glance at their postures and expressions—filled with a calm ferocity like predators on the prowl—dissuaded him. At least, compared to the previous team, these Players had the means to back up their smugness.

A few minutes later, the hundred Myrtharian Nerds were in the arena. Their similar armors, distinct from those of the other barbarians, immediately caught the attention of the crowd from both camps. The Saints of the Radiant Conclave instantly sensed that the participants for this match were different.

"Players. Strong ones," one of the Players authorized to communicate directly with them reported, a look of dread on his face. He recognised several of them.

"Can your 'Players' match them?" Master Eldrion asked, pressing his lips together irritably. Why was the gap in quality between these Players and the ones he'd been given so vast?

Sensing the Saint's frustration, the Player laughed awkwardly and consoled him, "The bulk of our forces are mobilized elsewhere. But rest assured, they'll be here if needed for the individual duels. For this one, you'll have to make do with your men, even if it means losing deliberately."

"The Radiant Conclave never concedes without a fight. That's not how we've ruled over the Lustra Plains for thousands of years," Lord Calyx growled fiercely. "So what if they're strong? Our Light Warriors are not inferior."

Lady Lyria and Faye refrained from commenting, but from their delicately furrowed brows, it was clear they weren't as optimistic as the spymaster. Master Eldrion's faith in his troops lay somewhere in between, but he couldn't rely solely on hope to win these duels. The fate of their land was at stake.

"We must win at all costs. If their Players are participating in the duels, we don't have to hold back. I want our 100 best Light Warriors below the Saint realm to form this team."

His declaration fell like a guillotine on the generals and senior officers around him. He was talking about them! Even in an army as vast as the Radiant Conclave's, Radiant Lords weren't commonplace, and the best were naturally those who could stand here, so close to their ultimate leaders.

Despite this, they were warriors who had seen and experienced nearly everything, and after the brief surprise passed, they obeyed with a salute, then left the group to join the temporary platoon.

The next moment, the most powerful platoon of Radiant Lords in the history of the Lustra Plains was formed. The duel between the two greatest armies of this world was about to begin.