Chapter 48: To Battle!

Maydee wasted no time. The moment Joshua's devastator left his hands, she gathered her energy, forcing herself to remain steady despite the slight fatigue gnawing at her limbs.

Her voice rose above the chaos, firm and commanding, weaving the ancient tongue of magic.

"Ignis Ardente! Vires Fluctua! Solis Cor Meum! Da Nobis Potentiam!" (Blazing fire of anger and wrath, grant these warriors might!)

A pulse of crimson light burst from her hands, expanding outward like a wave of liquid fire. It cascaded over the warriors below the ramparts, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Strength surged through their veins, fatigue fading, muscles tightening with vigor.

But the spell had taken its toll. Maydee's legs buckled as exhaustion overtook her, and she dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.

Joshua moved quickly, stepping to her side, his own body still trembling from the energy expended in his attack. The strain of the devastator really pushed on his limits, but Maydee's enchantment reinvigorated him, forcing his body to recover faster than normal.

"Rest and gather your strength, Master," he said, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. His voice was firm, his expression determined. "I'll handle the rest for now."

Then—

BOOOOOOOOOM!

A cataclysmic explosion erupted in the distance.

The shockwave tore through the battlefield, rattling the wooden walls of Irene and nearly knocking the unprepared off their feet. The villagers gasped, their faces a mixture of awe and terror as a blinding fireball consumed the area where Joshua's devastator had struck.

The horde of beasts, once charging with reckless abandon, was thrown into utter chaos. Those at the center of the blast were vaporized instantly, their bodies reduced to charred remains. The ones at the outskirts of the explosion were left howling, dazed and disoriented.

Joshua smirked, watching the carnage unfold. "Bullseye."

But while the villagers and warriors gaped at the sheer destructive power of the attack, two men remained unmoved.

Amador and Bran had seen it all before.

The village chief watched the disorganized beasts with an experienced eye, gripping the hilt of his massive greatsword. He had fought countless battles, faced overwhelming odds, and survived. And now, standing on the precipice of war, he would once again lead his people into the fray.

He lifted his blade high above his head, his deep voice thundering across the battlefield.

"Warriors of Irene! Let us bathe in the blood of these foul beasts! ATTACK!"

A deafening roar erupted from the warriors as they charged.

Muscular giants, each standing over two meters tall, stormed forward, weapons gleaming in the morning sun. Their eyes burned with bloodlust, their bodies empowered by Maydee's spell. Amador led the charge, his greatsword carving through the air with terrifying precision.

Ahead of them, the beasts struggled to recover. Staggering, snarling, confused.

The warriors crashed into them like a tidal wave of steel.

Swords cleaved through thick hides. Spears found their marks in vulnerable joints. Limbs were severed, blood splattered across the dirt, and dying shrieks filled the night.

Bran was already deep within enemy lines.

Moving like a shadow, the assassin weaved between the disoriented monsters, his daggers flashing like fangs in the dark. He struck vital points with pinpoint accuracy—severing tendons, slicing throats, stabbing into exposed flesh. Beasts collapsed before they even registered what had happened.

Above, the villagers let loose a relentless rain of arrows.

Bows twanged in unison, shafts finding their marks with deadly efficiency. Though they were not trained warriors, they knew their role. Their job was to provide cover, to slow the enemy, to weaken them before they reached the frontlines.

The younglings, armed with spears and shields, stood their ground at the village gates. They were not meant to fight on the battlefield, but they would defend their home to the last breath.

The battle had begun.

The beasts had numbers.

But Irene had warriors.

—

Joshua did not remain idle. His glowing eyes locked onto the chaotic battlefield, mind racing. He had no time for hesitation. With a deep breath, he gathered his energy, shaping it into razor-thin, needle-like projectiles. He needed something fast, precise, and lethal.

The first shot left his hand in an instant—an invisible blur. Traveling at speeds exceeding Mach 1.4, the compressed 400-joule energy spike tore through the skull of a charging beast. The creature collapsed mid-stride, its body twitching before falling lifeless into the dirt.

Joshua smirked. "Perfect."

He quickly ran the numbers in his head. With his current core capacity, he could fire around 120 of these before depleting his reserves. If he kept his rate at one shot every twenty seconds, his energy could regenerate fast enough for him to maintain a near-infinite firing cycle. But patience wasn't an option. The beasts kept coming.

"Fuck it," he muttered. "I'll just fire away. I'll just face the consequences later"

One shot. One kill.

Joshua unleashed hell.

Beasts dropped left and right. Monstrous wolves, reptilian horrors, twisted abominations—all fell before his unerring accuracy. He targeted vital points—the head, the spine, the heart—ensuring that each creature he struck never got back up. Every shot was clean, precise, and executed with machine-like efficiency.

He barely had to aim anymore. His vision, enhanced by energy coursing through his core, allowed him to anticipate movements before they happened. He simply saw his target, willed his energy into existence, and let his instincts guide the shot.

The battlefield became a symphony of destruction.

Then, with a deep inhale, a roaring blaze erupted beside him.

Maydee had recovered.

With renewed strength, she raised her hands high, her eyes glowing a fiery crimson. She chanted swiftly, her voice weaving power into the air.

"Ignis Ferox! Adurere Hostes! Flamma Tempestas!"

A salvo of fireballs streaked through the sky, each one the size of a warrior's shield. They crashed into the oncoming horde, igniting the ground and engulfing creatures in an inferno of hellfire. The village's defenders, emboldened by the devastating magic, let out war cries and fought with newfound ferocity.

Yet, as Joshua kept firing and Maydee continued her barrage, a nagging feeling clawed at the edges of her mind. Something felt off. This was... too easy.

The beasts, for all their ferocity, fell with little resistance. They charged mindlessly into their attacks. There was no coordination, no strategy—just an endless rush of flesh to be slaughtered.

Her brow furrowed.

She clenched her fists and focused her energy. A whisper of magic left her lips.

"Oculis Revelare. Ostende Veritatem."

Her vision sharpened, the battlefield shifting into an ethereal spectrum of energy flows and auras. What she saw made her blood run cold.

The beasts were glowing—not with their own life force, but with something else. Something external. Threads of dark energy pulsed within them, thin but unmistakable. They weren't just attacking the village. They were being driven. Controlled.

Maydee's eyes widened in horror.

She whipped her head toward Joshua, her voice a sharp command:

"STOP FIRING!"

Joshua, mid-shot, hesitated. "What? Why?"

Maydee's heart pounded as the realization sank in.

This wasn't just a random attack.

This was something far worse.

Maydee's voice was laced with urgency as she spoke, her sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. "At first, I thought the Gifted was merely agitating the beasts with spiritual energy, but now... that bastard is controlling them. He is more powerful than me and well-versed in the spiritual arts."

Joshua's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"

Maydee pointed into the distance. "About 2,000 paces in that direction."

Joshua cursed under his breath. "That's too far. I can't hit what I can't see."

He exhaled sharply, his mind racing. Energy surged through his veins as he gathered power, calculations running in tandem with his rising pulse. The distance, the required force, the dispersion radius—he needed a devastating attack large enough to reach the Gifted. But without sight, it would be nothing more than a blind gamble.

Then, an idea struck him. "Master, can you guide my shot?"

Maydee blinked. "What do you mean?"

Joshua steadied his breath, his hands already crackling with condensed energy. "If I release an attack, can you lend me your senses to see that bastard?"

Maydee hesitated, considering the risks. To intertwine their spiritual perception mid-battle was dangerous—it required synchronization, precision, and unwavering trust. One misstep could disrupt the entire flow of energy. Yet, she could see the conviction in Joshua's gaze, the sharp focus that had carried him this far.

She nodded. "Give me ten seconds."

Joshua clenched his fists, the energy in his core reaching a boiling point. "I'll be ready."

The battlefield raged on around them—warriors clashing, beasts roaring, arrows whistling through the air. And yet, in the midst of the chaos, master and disciple stood still, their minds linking, their spirits aligning. In that moment, all distractions faded away. There was only the target, the power, and the unshakable determination to end this madness with a single, decisive blow.

Joshua met his master's gaze and gave a firm nod, signaling that he was ready.

"This will only last a moment. I don't have much energy left," Maydee warned, her voice tight with exhaustion.

Joshua nodded again. That was all the time he needed.

His mind raced as he visualized the shot. At a distance of 2,000 paces, he had to treat this like an artillery strike. The arc had to be perfect—the angle, the velocity, the gravitational pull on the projectile—all had to be calculated within mere seconds. His energy reserves were stretched thin, but he could not afford a mistake.

Maydee raised her hands, chanting in the ancient spiritual tongue, her voice barely above a whisper but resonating with undeniable power:

"Verenzii En'Sarath, Luthaan Kii'Thorei!"

(O unseen spirit, open the eye of the hunter!)

A blinding rush overtook Joshua's vision. His consciousness expanded beyond its limits, his perception stretching like an unseen tether latching onto the distant figure in the forest—The Gifted.

The Gifted lifted his head, seemingly sensing someone looking at him.

There!

The image seared into his mind. A cloaked figure, shrouded in pulsating spiritual energy, surrounded by writhing, dark tendrils of control over the rampaging beasts. His focus sharpened, his pupils constricting as his mind pushed its limits. His body screamed in protest, a sharp pain stabbing through his temples. Blood trickled from his nose, but he ignored it.

With every ounce of willpower, he completed the final adjustments.

His core surged.

20,000 joules of raw, concentrated energy coalesced before him. The air vibrated, distorting around the glowing mass. The sheer force of its presence made the wooden ramparts groan under his feet.

Joshua exhaled sharply.

THIS ONE'S FOR YOU JACKASS! SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!

The Devastator tore through the air, leaving behind a deafening boom that shook the very foundations of the village. The recoil sent him staggering, darkness creeping at the edge of his vision. His body had nothing left to give.

How I wish I could see it.

A ghost of a smile flickered on his lips as his knees buckled.

And then, Joshua collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.