CHAPTER 44 — Beast Tide
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The sky over Stonewake City was no longer blue.
It was a bruised, hazy orange—choked by the thick, acrid smoke of a hundred uncontrolled fires and the rising, choking dust of a thousand charging hooves. Ash drifted down from the heavens like dirty, gray snow, coating the terracotta rooftops, the defiant banners of the Pavilion, and the dulled armor of the defenders alike. The very air trembled with distant, primal roars—each one louder, heavier, and more deliberate than the last. These were not the cries of animals; they were the battle cries of a kingdom.
Stonewake was in a state of absolute chaos.
The emergency bells had been ringing for three hours straight, their rhythmic, clanging toll no longer serving as a warning, but acting as a constant, frantic metallic scream that filled every alleyway. Civilians flooded toward the subterranean safe grounds in tightly controlled lines, their faces etched with terror. Crying children were clutched tightly to their mothers' chests, while elders walked with a grim, practiced silence, their faith placed entirely in the Pavilion that loomed above them.
At the same time, every able-bodied disciple, elder, and manual laborer of Stonewake moved in the exact opposite direction. They marched toward the forest boundary, toward the sound of the screaming earth.
The Pavilion Leader was absent.
Called away weeks earlier to resolve a complex diplomatic crisis in a neighboring territory, he had left Stonewake under standing contingency protocols. However, authority did not fracture in his absence. Instead, it condensed, becoming a sharp, singular point of command.
And it had settled, without a moment of debate, on Kael.
At the highest overlook of the Pavilion's defensive terrace, Kael stood unmoving. His long, violet-lined coat snapped sharply in the heated wind, sounding like the crack of a whip. His presence was calm, but it was the kind of artificial calm forged under extreme pressure, not the ease of peace.
Orders flowed from him without a second of hesitation, his voice amplified by a subtle layer of Qi.
"Third and Fifth Squads, rotate out now. I want a fresh line. No heroics."
"Artifact teams, suppress only. Conserve your charges. Do not pursue fleeing targets into the brush."
"Medical arrays forward. Priority to the boundary defenders. If they fall, we all fall."
Disciples moved the instant his words fell, scattering to execute his will. Elders relayed his commands through the heavy formation amplifiers mounted on the walls. No one questioned him. No one hesitated. In this new, harsher world, strength had long since replaced seniority as the only currency that mattered.
Beyond the city's reinforced stone perimeter, the land dropped away into a scarred, blackened expanse where the edge of the ancient forest met the stone of the valley. There, the primary safety formation stretched across the mouth of the valley like a translucent, shimmering golden wall. Its runes flickered and sparked under constant, violent assault.
Behind that wall stood a thin, exhausted line of warriors.
They were the wreckage of a military force. Their armor was cracked, their shields dented and useless, and blood—both human and beast—soaked into the parched soil beneath their boots. Every few seconds, the earth beneath them shuddered as massive, multi-ton beasts hurled themselves bodily against the barrier, sending ripples of visible strain through the glowing arrays.
They were holding. Barely.
The beast tide pressed from the forest like a living, breathing sea of muscle and hate. It was a wall of fang, claw, scale, and horn—bodies packed so tightly together that weaker beasts were crushed into the mud beneath the feet of the stronger ones. Their deaths were irrelevant to the forward momentum of the swarm. This was not a scattered incursion or a simple hunt. This was displacement. This was a mass exodus of desperation. Nature itself was being driven forward by something it feared more than death.
And at its center was a predator that had never been slain. A consequence they had failed to bury.
This nightmare had begun exactly one year ago.
When Kael, Kane, Rovan, and Serik had returned from the Sunless Canyons, they did not return as conquering heroes. They returned as hollowed-out survivors. Broken meridians were painstakingly healed in months of silent seclusion. Ancient weapons, gifts from a ghost, were mastered through endless cycles of blood and repetition.
Their power rose accordingly, fueled by a desperation to never be that helpless again.
One by one, Kane, Rovan, and Serik had stepped into the Core Realm. But Kael's ascent had been the most terrifying to witness. The Violet Nova Essence he had absorbed did not merely strengthen him; it had fundamentally rewritten his foundation from the marrow out. What should have been a single, difficult breakthrough became a vertical surge. From the Initial Core Realm, his cultivation had skyrocketed, stabilizing only when he reached the Peak. He was a monster in human skin, his power shimmering just beneath the surface.
Stonewake did not celebrate these achievements loudly. Power of that magnitude drew unwanted eyes from the Inner Sects and the Arbiters. And eyes brought trouble.
When two full years had passed without any sign of Ren, a decision was made—quietly and decisively. The Flaming Lion, the beast that had nearly killed them all, had to die. They could not leave such a threat at their doorstep.
They went prepared. Formations were mapped to the inch. Retreat paths were secured. Suppression arrays were layered three deep. Kael stood at the very forefront, violet light compressed so tightly around his body that the space itself seemed to distort and blur.
But two years in the wild, feeding on the chaotic energies of the shifting Canyons, had changed the beast as well. It had evolved into a Peak Stage Level 3 monster—a King in its own right. Its mane was no longer just fur; it was a literal, roaring conflagration of golden spirit-fire that burned even the air.
At first, everything had gone according to their plan. They wounded the Lion. They cornered it in a narrow ravine. They forced it into retreat positions, bleeding and weakened. Victory had been within their reach.
Then the beast realized it would die.
At the very brink of its death, the Lion had unleashed a final, suicidal surge of essence. It had set the entire valley ablaze in a localized sunburst, escaping into the deep, inaccessible mountains while the team fought to survive the heat. Since 그 day, the beast tide had grown. What began as small-scale skirmishes had escalated into a relentless, total war. Each attack was stronger than the last. Each wave more coordinated, as if the Lion were learning their tactics.
Stonewake repelled them all. Until today.
A sudden, thunderous crack split the air, louder than any roar.
Kael's eyes snapped to the western boundary just as a massive impact sent jagged fractures racing across the golden formation's surface. The runes flared white-hot, screaming in a high-pitched frequency—then they shattered.
"Resonance failure!" someone shouted from the control towers, their voice cracking with panic.
The First Elder staggered toward Kael, sweat and soot streaking his aged face. His Intermediate Core Realm aura was trembling, his hands shaking under the sustained output required to feed the walls.
"The western pylon is cracked!" the Elder shouted over the din. "Energy consumption has exceeded our recovery rate! We can't hold for another hour—"
Another massive impact struck the barrier—and this time, the primary boundary itself let out a low, dying groan.
"—another minute," the Elder finished hoarsely, his eyes wide with the realization of what was coming.
Kael stood at the very edge of the stone overlook, his robes fluttering wildly in the hot, smoke-filled wind. Behind him stood Kane, Rovan, and Serik. They looked like veteran commanders now, their faces hardened by three years of constant vigil, their posture weary but unbroken. Kane gripped his Glacial Fang Halberd so tightly his knuckles were white, the air around the heavy blade constantly frosting into ice crystals despite the blistering heat.
Kael didn't look back. His eyes were fixed on the dark tree line, where the shadows were thick with the glowing, murderous eyes of thousands of monsters.
"If the formation goes, the city burns," Kael said, his voice cold and terrifyingly tight. "Kane, Rovan—prepare to lead the vanguard at the breach. We meet them on the ground. Serik, forget the pylon. It's a lost cause. Redirect all remaining energy into a localized spatial distortion at the main gate. If we can't stop the flood, we funnel them into a kill zone."
"Kael, if we do that, there's no retreat into the inner city," Serik warned, his hands already dancing over his Star-Map Monolith. his brow furrowed. "We'll be fighting in the streets."
"We're already fighting for our lives," Kael snapped, his aura beginning to flare in violent, violet pulses.
At that moment, a sound like a world-ending thunderclap ripped through the air.
The primary boundary formation—the great golden shell that had protected Stonewake for centuries—shattered completely. Shards of crystalline spiritual energy rained down upon the city like falling glass, evaporating into mist before they even hit the ground. The shield was gone.
A roar that shook the very stone foundations of the Pavilion erupted from the forest. Leading the charge, a massive shape of pure gold and living flame burst through the smoke. The Flaming Lion had returned, larger and more radiant than ever before, and behind it, a tide of beasts surged toward the city like a dark, unstoppable wave of teeth and claws.
The warriors at the front didn't even have time to scream before the tide reached them.
The forest had finally come for the stone.
Kael stepped to the very edge of the terrace, his hands beginning to glow with a blinding violet light as the city braced for the impact that would decide its fate.
Stonewake did not fall yet. But for the first time in its long, proud history—it could.
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Chapter End