The Oracle Paths

1210  You're Up

"If I hadn't seen that battle with my own eyes, I never would've realized just how glaring our combat flaws really are…" A grizzled general of the Radiant Conclave sighed heavily, his voice laden with emotion. He made no effort to conceal just how rattled he was by what he'd just witnessed.

He'd merely voiced what everyone else had been too proud to say out loud. Among these high-ranking officers, each with a reputation so solid it needed no defense, their cultivation levels had already reached those of Corebearers or Radiant Lords.

In other words, they had no trouble imagining themselves in the boots of those who'd just been handed a crushing defeat. Just picturing how they would've fared in their place filled them with a deep sense of dread and helplessness, a suffocating weight pressing down on their chests.

Not even the Saints of the Radiant Conclave were spared from the prevailing gloom. Lord Calyx's expression was twisted and ghastly, his jaw clenched so fiercely that you could practically hear his teeth grinding from one end of a gymnasium to the other.

Sensing that his army's morale was on the brink of a meltdown, Master Eldrion suppressed a weary sigh and cleared his throat instead. Seeing he had their attention, he said,

"We knew they were strong. This defeat was one of the possible outcomes we'd considered."

Upon hearing this, the other three Saints gave him a look that screamed disbelief. Oh really? Then why the hell didn't we know that…?

Naturally, they kept their mouths shut, not wanting to tear down this flimsy bluff and crush what little morale remained. Anticipating the burning questions his peers wanted to hurl his way, the old sage cut straight to the point with one terse word:

"Titans."

Most of the generals and officers present furrowed their brows, puzzled. But those who got it immediately lit up with excitement. The other three Saints' doubts vanished as well, a sudden flash of understanding crossing their faces.

So that's how it is.

The upcoming duels would involve beasts, and beasts only. If Titans entered the fray, victory was basically locked in. After all, Abyssal Revenants didn't qualify as beasts, which meant they were excluded from the competition.

"I didn't know the Celestial gave you a way to command them," Lord Calyx grumbled, his tone oddly bitter.

Given the stakes of this battlefield, the presence of Titans was inevitable—like the roots of Anthace, the Tree of Life itself. Their strategic and deterrent value was simply too immense.

That said, true command over them was out of reach. At most, one could request their cooperation, much like when Master Eldrion had sought Anthace's help to construct their viewing platforms.

"Anthace vouched for me," the old man said succinctly.

"Oh? Since when is that stuck-up old tree suddenly so cooperative?" Lady Faye quipped with biting sarcasm, her silky auburn hair gleaming under the auroral sunlight. The vixen's sharp tongue was as infamous as her beauty.

Among the four Saints, she was the only one specialized in charm and enslavement magic. Her vices aligned perfectly with her areas of expertise, and in some ways, she was the most formidable Lifemancer on the continent, apart from the Celestial.

Not because she was unmatched in direct combat—the comical ease with which Jake had flipped her own charms back on her proved that wasn't the case—but because she could apply her beguiling powers to beasts. The stronger her underlings, the more lethal she became. This was precisely why she oversaw every research, breeding, and taming institute dedicated to military creatures.

With a mere snap of her fingers, she could mobilize almost every enslaved or genetically modified beast under her Life Lumyst. Nearly every creature on the continent fell under her dominion—but Titans and their offspring were notable exceptions. Her mixture of bitterness and surprise wasn't pulled out of thin air.

Lady Lyria, on the other hand, remained silent, though her striking emerald eyes were alight with suspicion. Anthace was famously pacifist, sticking to defending the capital and contributing its branches and leaves to bolster their industry.

As Keeper of the Archives, she knew far more than most about the long history of the Lustra Plains, both its official records and its darker, hidden truths. Nowhere in those accounts was there mention of the ancient tree involving itself so directly. Furthermore, the Titan Tree only maintained a privileged relationship with the reigning Celestial, their conversations never recorded. It was enough to make anyone wonder.

Back in the arena, the "defeated" had just finished being carried off—most of them on stretchers.

Saying that evacuating the Radiant Conclave's team took considerably longer than their swift entrance would be the understatement of the day. It couldn't be helped; their injuries were simply too severe.

The Myrmidians had held nothing back, and their crimson blades—along with the powers and intents they'd channeled—acted like some corrosive toxin that couldn't be purged from their victims. It stopped their mighty vitality from closing up their wounds.

This wasn't cheap trickery or some slimy form of cheating; any Evolver, beast, or Digestor of a certain tier instinctively infused their attacks in this way.

For many, it wasn't even deliberate. Without such measures, their battles would drag on indefinitely. The most ruthless fighters even made sure to hack into the Spirit Body—or sometimes even the soul—leaving their opponents not a sliver of a chance to survive.

When the hundred Myrtharian Nerds returned victorious to their own camp, thunderous cheers exploded around them, nearly deafening. Foreigners or not, their overwhelming show of strength had fired up these natives, filling them with pride and a certain sense of honor.

The enthusiasm among the fresh recruits was contagious, but the more seasoned officers wore conflicted looks. On one hand, they felt proud too—this was their side's total victory, after all—but on the other, these Players now seemed even more dangerously unpredictable.

As the cheers finally started to settle, the fourth duel was about to begin. There were supposed to be five beast duels, but so far the Duskwight Lands had failed to present any creature worth the name for the first bout. Meanwhile, from the far side of the arena, terrifying, savage roars echoed, letting everyone's imagination run wild with dire possibilities.

"I guess congratulations are in order," the Cho Min Ho look-alike coughed out reluctantly.

Deep down, he was anything but calm. These Myrmidians were downright terrifying. No wonder his leader stayed on guard around them.

"If that's all you've got to say, you can just keep your damn mouth shut," Esya snapped, merciless.

The shapeshifter's lip twitched with anger, but he forced a placid, almost indulgent smile onto his face.

"I do have more to say, of course. Logically, my men should handle this match, but for certain... reasons, the promising beasts of our faction are currently tied up elsewhere. How about you handle this fourth duel for us?"

His request was nowhere near as innocent as it sounded. Yes, Jake could choose which matches his people entered, but Cho Min Ho had to participate in at least nine duels. Forcing him to go back-to-back would strip him of what little control he had over the order of battles.

Against all expectations, Jake responded with a flat, "Sure."

Inside, the doppelganger was smugly anticipating how Jake would conjure up a competent beast out of thin air. But the very next instant, his eyes practically bugged out of his skull when he watched Jake grab a plump cat by the scruff and chuck it straight over the stands, dropping it smack in the center of the arena.

"You're up," Jake said matter-of-factly, while Crunch shot him a betrayed glare mid-flight. His legs flailed helplessly in the air, tragic and comical, like Mufasa plummeting after being betrayed by Scar in The Lion King.

His master had just yanked him out of a perfectly good nap. The chubby orange turkey perched on the cat's rump was none too pleased either, flapping its wings like crazy to hover in place.

"For fuck's sake! Couldn't you have woken us up nicely?!" Lord Phenix sputtered, spitting feathers left and right.

"Want to take his place?" Jake asked, his eyes glimmering with a cosmic fire as he locked gazes with the turkey.

That intense stare hit the overgrown bird like a bucket of ice water, and in a blink, he was all nerves and backpedaling.

"Haha, uh… no need. I'm afraid these absurd duels might ruin my lovely plumage."

Will, Asfrid, the two sisters, and the other Myrtharian Nerds rolled their eyes in open disdain. Anybody could see he'd nearly pissed himself after a single glare from Jake. So much for his bravado.

Meanwhile, Crunch had finished his graceless descent into the arena. After a long, arcing fall, he'd bounced and tumbled a few times before ending up seated on his rear, his squashed face radiating injustice. Without budging from that spot, he licked his chops and muttered under his breath, too quiet for most ears:

"Master... For once, I hadn't even done anything wrong yet..."