The Oracle Paths



"W-who the hell are these guys?" A wounded soldier blurted out, his voice tinged with awe, as he witnessed their combat prowess unfold in real-time.

He was one of the lucky few who had survived a battle beyond the Ironsoul Rampart, before being sent back to Havocspire due to his injuries. In this living hell, he had managed to kill a Light Warrior, thus setting himself apart from the run-of-the-mill newbies. And yet, his brain struggled to process the spectacle unraveling before his disbelieving eyes.

He was far from alone. The remaining fifty or so barbarians who were still alive after just one minute of battle could pat themselves on the back for hanging on this long. Whether they were greenhorn conscripts or pseudo-veterans who had survived a battle or two, all could see their adversaries were far from ordinary.

Each of these Light Warriors dwarfed them in size, strength, and skill. As if that weren't enough, their teamplay was on another level, flawless. Even their gear was top-notch.

The battle-hardened soldiers who had returned from the frontlines behind the Ironsoul Rampart knew all too well how dire their situation was. These rookies might not realize it, but once they had crossed the Ironsoul Rampart, they would have normally been endowed with at least one piece of spiritually enchanted gear to level the playing field.

This was to counterbalance the overwhelming physical advantage the Light Warriors had over them, not to mention that spirit enchantments were the only real edge they had over the warriors from the Lustra Plains. Armed with these magical weapons, defeating a stronger foe was within reach.

That's why the battle felt so damn hopeless. Not only had these recruits never seen combat, but they were still lugging around their shoddy gear from their basic tribes.

That was also why the veteran soldiers who had fought beyond the Ironsoul Rampart could still hold their own despite their apparent injuries. Otherwise, a kill or two wouldn't have been enough to offset their physical inferiority.

So, the grim tally was this: Of the fifty or so troops still alive, nearly half didn't even belong to their own unit but were soldiers who either had or had received at least one enchanted weapon.

The other recruits had made it either through sheer luck or by exploiting the breaches created by Sank-Uk, Jake, and Hephais to score some easy kills amid the chaos in their formation.

Which brings us back to two of their three main lynchpins: Jake and Hephais.

What the hell is wrong with these dudes? It was he unspoken question written all over the faces of the bewildered barbarians fighting in their wake, rushing to pick up the scraps. On one hand, they were relieved to still be alive; on the other, they couldn't shake the feeling that something was profoundly off.

Yet, among them was one who found their performance utterly expected: the formerly alcoholic vagabond.

His name was Ekho, and before today, he could never have imagined witnessing—much less surviving—such an event. His encounter with Jake was nothing short of divine intervention.

By sticking as close to Jake as possible, he had managed to finish off two severely wounded Shimmers who had miraculously survived the blade of the self-proclaimed Soulmancer King. It had been so easy that he was still disoriented.

Another paradox: despite penetrating deep into enemy ranks, he and the other recruits felt virtually no danger. The two monsters wrapped in human skin before them commanded the full attention of their opponents, drawing them in like moths to a flame.

Riding the wave of slaughter unleashed by the fearsome duo, the vagabond and other soldiers had all the time they wanted to closely observe them.

"It's unnerving," a soldier, looking like a mummy wrapped in bandages, finally blurted out. "I feel like these rookies aren't much faster or stronger than me, but somehow these big guys can't lay a finger on them. Are they one of those great weapon masters of legend?"

Ekho remained silent, finishing off a decapitation on a Shimmer rendered paralyzed by Hephais's pommel strike to the nape. Inside, however, his thoughts raced. With this third kill, he already felt a power surge.

"Wrong." A recruit, one Ekho recognized for having once envied his enchanted axe, spoke up solemnly. "They're even weirder than that. You may not have noticed, but with each kill, their physical skill and Lumyst Aura noticeably increase. That's normal enough. But here's where it gets freaky. Have you noticed they're not even winded after a minute of slaughter? Hell, they're not even breaking a sweat!"

The other recruits blinked in collective stupidity before exclaiming in unison, "Holy shit, you're absolutely right."

The mummy-like soldier squinted thoughtfully at Jake and Hephais's backs, then nodded gravely. "Now that you mention it, I notice something else. Normally, when your blade hits a bone, your arm is supposed to slow down or go numb. Since their speed seems normal, they should have the same human limitations as us. Yet, even though their arm moves at an average speed, their blade never slows down while cutting through enemies. Whether it's flesh, rib cages, or skulls, they finish their stroke without any apparent slowdown. The only way to do that is if the motion is already so effortless that bones or armor in the blade's path make no difference."

Jake, who was half-listening while hacking through his fiftieth Shimmer, stiffened in embarrassment.

Hephais, yanking his scimitar from the eye socket of another Light Warrior, had the same guilty grimace. Damn it, do you think it's easy to restrain our strength against these weaklings? It feels like I'm acting in a freeze-frame scene...

However, taking note of these observations, Jake and Hephais immediately adjusted their micro-muscle control. Their skin grew slightly moist, their breathing quickened, and so did their heart rates. It was too late to fool these recruits, but with Meribelle covering their backs, it was an acceptable risk.

'If they survive, they can just join my regiment,' Jake internally concluded after recalibrating his persona.

Whether fortunate for him or unfortunate for the recruits, they soon had no time to pay him any further attention. Decimating a platoon in a minute might seem intense, but they still faced nearly 3,000 Light Warriors.

About 70 seconds after joining the battle, their entire recruit unit had already been wiped out. The handful of survivors had regrouped in one of the three breaches created by their three champions.

With no more reinforcements to clash against the wall of shield-bearers, the focus of all the enemy soldiers swiftly shifted to the three troublemakers.

"Pulsars, wipe them out before their reinforcements arrive!" bellowed the commanding officer in a razor-sharp tone, pointing at Sank-Uk, Jake, and Hephais.

Sank-Uk narrowed his eyes when he realized where the enemy commander's attention was fixated. Though he was undoubtedly causing the most devastation, having slain over 300 Shimmers and five Pulsars, the enemy general only had eyes for Jake and Hephais.

'Tsk. As expected from a Vitalist. The guy's got an eye for detail,' the former commander commented grimly.

In the realm of Light Warriors, "Shimmers" were those who've just awakened their Light/Life Lumyst Aura. Though it only provided a marginal boost to physical stats, it only boosted their body without any perks for the soul or Spirit Body. In a low-tier skirmish packed with expendable grunts, it was a game-changer.

But here's the kicker: rather than soul-snatching, these guys vampirically siphoned lifeforce to juice up their own Lumyst Auras.

"AAAARRRGH! Stop, for fuck's sake!"

Jake whipped around, his eyes widening at the nightmare unfolding behind him. One of the recruits was being torn limb from limb by a Light Warrior who was a beast among men.

Standing taller than a utility pole, this armored behemoth had muscles so chiseled they looked like they were carved out of stone, pulsating with grotesque veins. Unlike the other Light Warriors, this dude was wrapped in a veil of white light, as if donning a celestial aura.

In a flash, before Jake could even think of playing hero without breaking character, the recruit—already one arm short—was lifted overhead by the towering brute.

Gripping his prey with both hands, the behemoth then clenched his muscles as if about to tear through wet paper. With a bone-snapping crunch, the recruit's body split in two, unleashing a torrent of blood.

Blood splattered onto the giant's face, who then slurped it up like some distorted sommelier, savoring a vintage red. He then tossed aside the still-conscious halves of the body.

The moment they hit the ground, they withered instantly, like rotten fruit, and the radiant halo around the Light Warrior intensified, however slightly.

It was at this sobering moment that Jake, Hephais, and the remaining recruits realized the appalling truth. Nearly three thousand of their comrades littering the battlefield were nothing but hollow husks.

And those shield-bearers and archers, the architects of this bloodbath? Their Lumyst Auras had all brightened, some teetering on the edge of evolving, just like the monstrosity that had just made a spectacle of his brutality.

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