Chapter 111
The full weight of their cosmic awareness focused on the three-layered formation below, piercing through the fog of darkness and black incense smoke, searching for the core of this rebellion.
The concentrated beams of their luminous gaze fell like thousands of pillars of light from heaven, illuminating in particular the unshakable figure of Zhulumat Katamtum standing at the center of the formation, then encircling the Satanic High Elders around him, and sweeping across every hardened detail of the faces of Shaqar, Onigakure, Makakushi, and every captain and subordinate of the Xirkushkartum Team as they tightened their grips on their weapons.
"As long as their probability wavers, our steps are law."
That unspoken instruction rippled through the formation like a dark electric shock.
Before the echo of that massed heavenly gaze fully subsided, the collective body of Zhulumat's forces moved with the precision of a machine driven by survival instinct.
Within the Anti-Rumble Line, trembling hands no longer shook from fear, but from a burning urgency, reaching for something at their belts or within the protective pouches on their chests.
A necklace, forged not of gold or silver, but of fine blackened bone fragments and obsidian beads that reflected light with savage greed.
With movements drilled thousands of times in the shadows, they draped the object around the necks of each shield standing before them.
Not around their own necks, but around the necks of the shields, as if granting additional life and protection to those already cursed plates of metal and bone.
The necklaces immediately glimmered with a dim purplish-black light, creating a subtle field of repulsion across the shield surfaces, causing the holy light from above to distort like oil upon water.
The voice that shattered the suffocating silence came from the second layer.
The Orbit-Breaker Line transformed into both a pounding heart and a mouth roaring commands.
Shaqar, neck veins taut and his voice hoarse from earlier shouting, pressed his line forward.
"Hurry! Move your shields—don't let that light settle!"
His shout was reinforced by Onigakure on the right flank, commanding with a tone like forged iron.
"Speed is our shield now! Advance three steps, together!"
Makakushi, like a wraith whose hissing voice came from every direction, added pressure.
"They're gathering energy. You want to be the first targets? Move!"
Each shout was not merely words, but a direct injection of adrenaline into the nervous systems of every subordinate on the front line.
The soldiers who had stood transfixed beneath the divine gaze jolted back to motion, their muscles tensing as they began to shift their three shields with increasing speed, creating a moving wall that hissed and shimmered with dark light.
While the two outer layers moved amid deliberate tactical clamor, the core of the formation sank into a deeper and far more dangerous silence.
Within the Banner of Zhulumat, the circle of Satanic High Elders together with Zhulumat Katamtum closed their eyes.
The outside world of sirens, light, and shouting seemed to dim.
All that remained was their inner darkness and five strands of possibility they began to weave.
Their lips moved in inaudible incantations, a complex spell that did not plead, but manipulated the structure of probability itself.
Their minds split.
Touching the possibility that would occur—the final annihilating light assault from the heavens; diverting the possibility that would not occur—the total destruction of their formation in an instant; scrambling the possibility that might or might not occur—betrayal or panic within their own ranks; tightening the possibility that was difficult to occur—direct intervention from a higher power on their side; and finally, solidifying the possibility that would absolutely never occur—their surrender or acknowledgment of the One Almighty.
"Listen—even the dust remembers who has the right to rule."
Baaaam!!
"The sky submits. The earth bears witness. Flesh trembles."
Baaaam!!
Baaaam!!
"There is no room for denial, no gap for deviant will."
The ritual silence within the core circle was suddenly shattered by an unnatural, mechanical movement from above.
One of the Holy Beings, standing at the very front of the heavenly formation, jerked its head upward toward the sky with a sharp, broken motion.
A loud sound, like dry wood splitting or ceramic bones being forced beyond their limits, cut through the air already thick with energy.
That cracking noise was so real and crude, a deviation from the flawless perfection they had displayed until now, as if their sacred bodies possessed physical limits that could scream aloud.
The reaction from the Banner of Zhulumat occurred even before the concept of "time" could register a pause.
The Satanic High Elders, including Zhulumat Katamtum who never averted his gaze, reflexively looked up.
Their sharp eyes caught the strange movement, and in an instant, an understanding of a calamity far worse than a direct attack flooded their minds.
Faces usually cold and contemptuous were briefly marked by the faintest crease of concern, a flash of primordial fear that they immediately forced back into their inner darkness.
Instead, their lips moved faster.
Prayers that had once been intoned with solemn reverence turned into frantic, hissing murmurs filled with intensity, an effort to reinforce the weave of possibilities they were crafting, as if trying to stitch back together the fabric of reality about to be torn by something unforeseen.
Then, the world exploded into sound.
The absence of any pause was palpable, the transition from silence to cacophony occurring without a chance to draw breath.
Thousands of Holy Beings that had stood like statues of light suddenly opened their mouths in unison.
From those radiant cavities emerged not weapons or wrath, but a colossal choir so immense that the air vibrated visibly.
Praise and adoration of the Accursed One echoed forth, filling every empty space, every crack in the walls, every hollow within the ears.
Yet this song was different.
It carried a crushing weight of despair, a lamenting divine compulsion, as if the chant itself were the final ritual before a great sacrifice.
"Sanctity is always cunning when it cannot break through."
The impact of that massive heavenly song left no room for adaptation.
The pressure of sound, now materialized into visible physical waves, slammed into the Anti-Rumble Line like an unceasing wall of air.
The bone-metal shields adorned with protective necklaces vibrated violently, their piercing clatter blending with the thunder of praise from the sky.
Fine cracks, pale like spiderwebs, began to spread across their surfaces, starting from the edges directly facing the heavens.
Every nine seconds, with cruel clockwork precision, a violent gust of wind born from the flow of the song's energy crashed toward them.
The wind did not merely howl, but pushed with near-solid force, forcing the soldiers' boots to grind against the earth and retreat several inches.
Each time the surge struck, their tight formation wavered, and the effort required to advance again drained them completely, eroding their stamina far faster than any physical combat ever could.
Behind the rattling shield line, the Orbit-Breaker Line was trapped in a deafening silence.
The shouted instructions of Shaqar, Onigakure, and the other captains were utterly drowned within the ocean of divine sound.
Their voices, struggling to break through, only returned as echoes trapped in the near space, bouncing between their own bodies and the shield wall ahead.
Those echoes became piercing acoustic interference, ringing inside their already aching ears, creating deep disorientation and nausea.
To be continued…