Chapter 685: We must grow stronger
An ominous chill seized the hearts of the Vorometallicae Legends when they noticed the faint smile that curled over General Tiberius’ lips. They didn’t know what it heralded, but every instinct warned them it was nothing good.
Almost immediately, they witnessed the remaining energy within the towers surge into the ground beneath the Korokor Stronghold, before radiating outward in a sprawling array of magical formations.
In the span of a heartbeat, a massive magic circle manifested—spreading across dozens of kilometers, right beneath the Vorometallicae ground forces.
Whatever excitement or bloodlust had been coursing through the Voroe abruptly drained away. The new circle crackled with energy far beyond anything those towers should have unleashed, suggesting that something—or someone—far more powerful had prepared this magical trap. The tower’s energy, it seemed, had only been the final catalyst.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!"
Before the Vorometallicae could react, an apocalyptic burst of fire and destruction erupted from the intricate runes. The Korokor Mountain range was suddenly swallowed by a sea of flames, the roar of the inferno drowning out every other sound.
The Voroe Legends managed to hurl themselves into the sky, desperate to escape the fiery onslaught, but they weren’t unscathed. Burns seared their limbs and torsos, pain lancing through them.
Though such injuries weren’t severe enough to cripple them permanently, it was a brutal shock to their confidence. Worse still, they realized in horror that their remaining ground forces below stood no chance whatsoever.
Safely inside the Korokor Stronghold, the Graecia soldiers could only stare in awe and grim satisfaction at the carnage unfolding. The design of the circle ensured the stronghold’s defenders stood at the calm center of a deadly storm—a "safe zone" meticulously excluded from the blazing formation’s effects.