Unlike the chaos consuming Gatmont's southern front, Sombravida deliberately slowed his operations.
He halted territorial expansion.
He consolidated.
Void Beast Thunder production continued under Timd's supervision.
Adjuchas with compatible abilities were reorganized into specialized units.
Reiatsu control drills intensified.
Seven days passed.
Sombravida did not move.
He waited.
Because real victory in Hueco Mundo was never decided by speed—
But by timing.
The First Messenger
On the seventh day—
Rip—
A Garganta tore open above the core territory.
The spatial distortion was violent but unstable.
Sombravida already knew who it was.
He summoned Jekain and Nel, along with several mid-tier Adjuchas, and approached calmly.
The messenger stepped out, his spiritual pressure flaring in agitation.
He immediately sensed something wrong.
Too many signatures.
Too organized.
Too stable.
And underground—
Gillian signatures remained dense.
Unharvested.
"Where is Yinfeng?!" he roared.
Jekain answered first.
"Don't shout."
"We are here."
The Confrontation
The messenger's anger flared.
"Gatmont is under assault by three alliances! Why did you not strike their rear?!"
"We did," Jekain replied lazily.
"The Northern Alliance is ours. We were preparing to advance into the Northwest."
"Lies!" the messenger snapped.
"We saw Northern and Northwest forces on the battlefield!"
"You were ambushed from both sides!"
Jekain's expression sharpened.
"Perhaps your lord should reflect on why alliances marched together against him."
Silence fell.
The messenger understood.
Too late.
"Windwhisper… you rebel?"
Jekain shook his head.
"I was never loyal to Gatmont."
"My loyalty was always to my king."
"Your king?" the messenger whispered.
The blade entered his chest before he could process it.
Thud.
Sombravida stepped forward as the messenger's reiatsu collapsed.
"And that king… is me."
The sword withdrew.
The surrounding Adjuchas surged forward, tearing the dying messenger apart.
In Hueco Mundo, death was not ceremonial.
It was consumed.
Strategic Patience
"My king," Jekain asked, "do we strike immediately?"
"Not yet."
Sombravida remained calm.
"The coalition will take time to grind Gatmont down."
"We stall."
"We develop."
"When both sides bleed…"
"We descend."
Two more weeks passed.
More Adjuchas were born.
Sombravida's forces exceeded one hundred.
Most low-tier—
But disciplined.
Organized.
Coordinated.
Unlike the loose alliance forces in the south.
The Second Messenger
Two weeks later—
Another Garganta opened.
This messenger arrived furious.
"Wind Whisperer! Why no response?! Why has the previous messenger not returned—"
His head separated from his body mid-sentence.
Sombravida did not speak.
He simply struck.
Mask removed.
Consumed.
He lifted his head and released a long, piercing howl.
Across the forest—
Reiatsu answered.
One by one—
Dozens.
Then nearly a hundred Adjuchas gathered.
Jekain and Nel landed beside him.
All knelt.
"It is time."
He opened a Garganta.
Not a small one.
A massive spatial fracture.
Large enough to transport an army.
They marched through.
Southern Battlefield
The war had escalated into attrition.
Three alliances pressed Gatmont from multiple fronts.
Casualties were staggering.
Over thirty of Gatmont's Adjuchas had fallen.
The coalition had lost more—
But they had numbers.
Gatmont stood in the center of the battlefield, reiatsu blazing like a furnace.
He was still powerful.
Still terrifying.
Still king.
But alone.
The Stalemate
Ogrind faced him first.
Metallic skin hardened under compressed reiatsu.
The clash cracked the air.
Ogrind was thrown back, arm fractured.
But not destroyed.
He taunted deliberately—
Following Sombravida's prior instruction:
Separate Gatmont.
Stretch him.
Force overextension.
Gatmont did not fall for it.
He shifted to the battlefield's edge instead—
Killing low-tier Adjuchas efficiently.
Mask crushed.
Cero fired point-blank.
He fought like a veteran predator.
Desperate.
Efficient.
Terrifying.
Alliance lords hesitated.
They did not wish to be the one who died first.
That hesitation gave Gatmont breathing room.
The Sky Tears Open
Just as Gatmont began charging a high-density Cero—
The air behind the battlefield split apart.
A Garganta far larger than normal opened.
All combat halted instinctively.
Sombravida stepped out first.
Humanoid.
Calm.
Controlled.
"Sombravida?" Gatmont frowned.
"Where is Yinfeng?"
"Behind me," Sombravida replied mildly.
Ogrind and Barbournes bowed immediately.
"Greetings, my lord."
The battlefield froze.
Gatmont's eyes darkened.
Understanding dawned.
"You."
"You orchestrated this."
Sombravida nodded lightly.
"I infiltrated your forest as a Gillian."
"Yinfeng was always mine."
"Every assassination."
"Every provocation."
"Every betrayal."
"Designed."
Gatmont's reiatsu erupted violently.
"You dare—"
Before he could finish—
Jekain emerged from the Garganta.
Then Nel.
Then lord-tier reinforcements.
Then—
Rows.
Upon rows.
Over one hundred Adjuchas poured into the sky.
The pressure wave alone forced alliance lords backward.
Even they had not expected this scale.
Declaration
"Lords of the Alliance," Sombravida said calmly.
"This is my war."
"Assist—or step aside."
"But interfere…"
"And I will treat you as enemies."
His reiatsu surged upward.
Not wild.
Not chaotic.
Solid.
Compressed.
Dense beyond typical mid-tier levels.
The Execution
"Deploy!"
Void Beast Thunder rained down.
Hundreds.
Borut detonated in sequence.
The battlefield vanished into violet poison mist.
Spikes erupted across the ground.
Low-tier Adjuchas collapsed instantly.
Mid-tier units staggered under neurotoxic paralysis.
Gatmont roared—
But Nel's anti-membrane dropped around him, briefly isolating him from his forces.
Jekain's sealing domain expanded, distorting perception and restricting high-speed movement.
"Zero-Type Storm."
Sombravida teleported into the heart of the paralyzed enemy ranks.
Golden lightning erupted.
Not wild—
Precise.
Targeted.
It shredded immobilized Adjuchas in seconds.
When the storm ended—
The battlefield had changed.
Gatmont's army was broken.
Severely wounded.
Scattered.
"Harvest."
Sombravida staggered slightly—spiritual exhaustion visible.
But conscious.
His forces surged forward in disciplined waves.
Cero volleys.
Coordinated strikes.
Efficient executions.
The coalition watched in stunned silence.
This was not war.
This was annihilation through preparation.
Gatmont Alone
The poison mist thinned.
Gatmont stood isolated.
His subordinates lay dying around him.
His allies hesitated.
His enemies multiplied.
For the first time—
The king of the Central Forest felt the pressure shift completely.
And Sombravida—
Stepped forward.
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