The Oracle Paths

1209  A Vain Struggle

Calling their clash unprecedented would be an understatement; despite their immense experience and unwavering confidence, these natives had never faced anything like this. On the continent of Twyluxia, their constitution and the characteristics of the Lumyst Water they used to cultivate restricted their magical abilities to a rather binary level. This had given birth to two opposing archetypes of cultivation, each with its own unique nature: Soulmancy, a force that resonates with the soul, and Lifemancy, a power that harnesses the life force.

Their abilities and specializations were evident from their very names. Hampered by a rather mundane bloodline, these Lustra Plains natives barely scratched the surface of Lumyst's advanced and revolutionary potential. At most, a select few Lifemancers could tap into the essence of light, holy, and, even more rarely, water for those who cultivated by the river, rather than with the ambient Lumyst. Those who could fully unravel the hidden elements of Lumyst were a rare breed, if they even existed.

Over in the Duskwight Lands, things were a bit more nuanced. The Underworlds Barbarians might not have the same robust physiques as the Light Warriors, nor could they wield their holy magic, but they boasted their own artifacts and powerful spirits. Ancient monstrosities like Chillmire roamed the land, and although this icy calamity could not be tamed, awakened elemental spirits with more reasonable strength roamed the continent. They were a rare sight, yet not entirely uncommon.

A lava flow from a volcano in the Duskwight Lands, ignited by a volcanic eruption, could very well awaken after a prolonged exposure to the Lumyst Spirit in the atmosphere. Some renowned Soulmancers even commanded multiple such spirits, with Master Firentz being one of them.

As a result, the Radiant Lords managed to keep their composure initially when the lava explosion surged toward them. Though stunned, their uninitiated minds could—with great effort—process what was happening.

But when, right after unleashing the lava blast, the molten ground—already spreading far and wide—began to ripple and morph into thousands of horrifying jaws opening beneath their feet, chills raced down their spines, a grim sense of impending doom settling in.

Never in their lives had they witnessed such witchcraft. To top it off, they couldn't sense the presence of any fire or lava spirits nearby!

"This is bad!" Master Eldrion rose from his living wood throne, his eyes sparkling with determination as he surveyed their predicament. He was aware that these Players possessed a plethora of extraordinary abilities, but the battlefield reports they had received only detailed scattered incidents, which paled in comparison to the current situation. Not everyone was an Oracle Knight like Jake or the Titan of Vrax, ready to battle Titans or Abyssal Revenants at the drop of a hat. According to their sources, regardless of their strength, these Players were expected to be weakened by the world laws of Twyluxia, and they needed at least several months to regain their full power. The scene unfolding before their eyes was a far cry from their predictions, leaving them speechless and awestruck.

"So that's how powerful these outsiders truly are... We've been living under a rock," Lady Lyria murmured softly, her large emerald eyes sparkling with curiosity, as she realized the true strength of these foreigners.

They were like frogs at the bottom of a well, completely unaware of the vastness of the world beyond. As the guardian of the Radiant Conclave's archives, she was utterly enraptured.

The corner of Lord Calix's lips twitched as he heard her mischievous remark, but for once he found himself at a loss for words. He was utterly dismayed to admit it, but the powers of these foreigners were utterly beyond his comprehension.

"In any case, if any of them dares to face me, they'll soon discover that possessing unique powers isn't the end-all be-all. What truly matters is the raw power and the battle-ready mindset." He finally spoke, his eyes blazing with a fiery desire to battle.

"At least on that point, we agree," Master Eldrion conceded quietly, though his brow was deeply furrowed in concern.

The Player acting as the liaison between the Radiant Conclave and the other factions kept his silence, fearing he might make them reconsider. If only you knew that even in our Mirror Universe, where the impossible is possible, these Evolvers participating in a fifth Ordeal are a rare sight, akin to a unicorn in a forest, he mused.

He feared that without pitting their own high-ranking Players against them, these Myrtharian Nerds would remain unmatched. That's right—he had already recognized them.

Their powers and their terrifying leader were too iconic, and a certain 'rival' had 'accidentally' spilled the beans on everything he knew about his problematic ally. The Radiant Lords, handpicked by the Radiant Conclave, were formidable by their own standards, but they paled in comparison to the true monsters of their Mirror Universes.

And indeed, the inevitable unfolded before their eyes. The hundred champions representing the Lustra Plains fought like ravenous tigers, but eventually, they began to fall like flies.

The Myrmidian, with his sleek shaved head, grew weary of dodging the radiant slashes of his towering two-story opponent. A glimmer of disappointment flashed in his golden eyes, and with a casual flick of his hand, he sent the colossal owner's enormous, gleaming white claymore flying, poised to strike him.

The giant's arms, thrust above his head, caused him to stagger back briefly, leaving him vulnerable to attack. The young man, his face unchanged, slipped through a crack in the breach and, with a flourish of his scarlet sword, slit the giant's throat, effortlessly tearing through the Anthace wooden plate armor like it was paper.

His opponent crumpled to his knees, his hand clutching his throat in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood, but the crimson liquid continued to gush between his fingers, his bearded face growing increasingly pale. In contrast, the aura emanating from the shaven-headed Myrmidian shone even brighter, as victory elevated all his attributes, from his physical form to his Lumyst Aura. The seasoned Radiant Lord needed no further cues to grasp that his foe had shown mercy. With his unyielding vitality, he would survive, albeit by a narrow margin.

For a fleeting moment, the exhausted Lifemancer pondered why the Life Link hadn't activated to share his wounds or at least lend him some Life Lumyst to aid in his recovery. But a sweeping glance across the battlefield provided the answer. This defeat... it wasn't just his. Each of his comrades-in-arms was, like him, on the brink of death—their complexions ashen, still alive only thanks to their enemies' mercy.

After the barrage of curses and scoldings from their comrades, the two Kintharians had stopped intervening, grumbling with slumped shoulders and sheepish looks. Despite that, it hadn't changed the fights' outcomes. Even without their participation, the Myrmidians remained invincible in one-on-one combat.

Some Radiant Lords fought better than others, offering admirable resistance, but in the end, they all bowed after a few minutes. Little did they know that none of these Myrmidians had access to their full power—their Lumyst Aura hadn't had enough time to lift all restrictions.

As the defeated natives clung to a faint glimmer of hope that their leader—the Master Lifemancer who had been whisked into the clouds by a tornado—would salvage their honor, a shining object crashed with a pathetic splat into a corner of the lava lake that was just beginning to cool. The freshly formed obsidian crust shattered like an eggshell, sending magma splattering in all directions.

The attention of both victors and vanquished was suddenly drawn to the area where the glowing "meteor" had fallen. After a few seconds of tense scrutiny where no one dared to breathe, a tattered white plate armor surfaced. Its wearer reappeared half a minute later, unconscious, fished out by the Eltarian's telekinesis.

"Chill, he's still breathing," Ventorius assured them with a light chuckle as he landed with the grace of a gentle breeze, his gladius casually draped over his shoulder. You could still see blood beading along its edge.

The Radiant Conclave didn't need to witness any more of this painful thrashing. Continuing the duel would only rub salt in their wounds. If they insisted on courting disgrace, next time their opponents wouldn't show the same mercy. After all, Radiant Lords were a precious resource and couldn't be sacrificed needlessly.

"We... surrender," the captain of the hundred Radiant Lords rasped out, barely louder than a whisper.

He had acknowledged their defeat before Master Eldrion could throw in the towel on their behalf. It was his duty to take responsibility for their failure.

Ventorius shot him a dismissive glance, then sheathed his sword and turned away, striding back to his camp. His companions followed him, their eyes fixed on the horizon, as if they were marching towards a new destiny. In the face of this indifference, most of the ailing Radiant Lords felt their wounds reopen, gushing blood like a raging river. Their commander, meanwhile, had already fainted again, his body convulsing with a violent cough of blood and bile. He had summoned his last remaining strength to concede victory, and this debilitating apathy was more than his exhausted nerves could bear.