Chapter 425
Amidst the chaos, the elite guards of the allied clans gathered, their expressions grim yet resolute. These warriors were the best among their ranks—hardened by battle, unshaken by fear. They watched as their comrades fell, their strategy crumbling under the relentless onslaught of the Zealots. The battlefield was no longer in their favor.
One of them, a Zephyr captain, clenched his jaw. "If we stay, we’ll be slaughtered one by one," he said, his voice carrying over the din of battle. "They strike from the shadows, dragging us into their world. If we wait for them to come... we’re already dead."
A Terra warrior, his armor cracked and smeared with the blood of fallen allies, exhaled slowly. "Then we take the fight to them."
Silence hung in the air for a brief moment. It was a mad idea. Reckless. No one who had been pulled into the upside-down world had ever returned. But was waiting for death any wiser?
The Ember Clan’s commander, his gauntlets still smoldering from his last attack, let out a low, dry chuckle. "Better to burn out in battle than waste away like cowards." He looked around at the gathered warriors. "Who’s coming?"
One by one, they stepped forward. Zephyr assassins who had spent their lives in the shadows, Terra warriors who had stood as immovable shields, Ember combatants whose flames had always burned brightest in the darkest times, and Ripple sorcerers who had mastered the art of flowing between realms. Together, they would forge their own path into the unknown.
The Zephyr captain turned his gaze to the battlefield, watching the Zealots as they materialized and vanished like phantoms. He exhaled, steadying his heart. "Then let’s make our move."
They had no magic to force themselves into the upside-down world. But they didn’t need it. All they had to do was become irresistible prey.
Forming a tight circle, they began their advance, cutting through lesser Zealots with ruthless precision. They did not retreat, did not defend. They let themselves be surrounded, baiting the enemy with reckless aggression. The Zealots, sensing the shift, grew bold—no longer striking from the edges but closing in, their shadowy forms flickering with anticipation.