Chapter 239: The Fall of the Behemoths

Hadrian looked up.

The seamless golden light around his Behemoths had begun to flicker. It could no longer hold their bodies at that compressed size.

They had maintained Blood Boil for half an hour. That alone was proof of their strength.

A sharp crack rang out.

Before Hadrian could react, the golden shell around one Behemoth shattered. Its body swelled back to dozens of meters tall, and its speed fell sharply.

His expression twisted. Then he shouted his decision.

"Golden Behemoths! Withdraw from the battlefield!"

The Black Banner leaders stared in horror.

"No! If the Behemoths retreat, our Lords’ morale will collapse!"

"Even without Blood Boil, they can still keep the Stormlance occupied!"

"Lord Noll, who will take responsibility if that costs us the war?"

Hadrian had no intention of listening.

He had become General Hale’s personal guard, enjoying the standing of a major in the war sector, because of one extraordinary piece of luck. A Legendary Troop Sigil had dropped for him, and it had given him Golden Behemoths.

"The Dawnwing corps has already tipped the balance," he said loudly. "The best result we can hope for now is to cripple each other."

He looked around at the others.

"Think! Tidecrown has lost the Jade Court’s support. Sooner or later, it will be ours. We can ask for reinforcements and plan properly. Why make needless sacrifices?"

His voice hardened.

"And if we lose this battle, that’s the intelligence services’ failure. What does it have to do with us? Four-Star Extreme troops. A Dawnwing corps. We’ve forced Cassian to reveal every reserve he has. That’s a major achievement. Next time, we’ll take Tidecrown in one stroke!"

The leaders exchanged glances.

He had a point. Although that promise about taking Tidecrown next time sounded rather familiar.

Even Dorian found himself nodding. They were the Province’s future rulers, destined to stand above countless others. Why risk their lives in a war they were certain to win eventually?

What good would victory do if they were already dead? Someone else would enjoy the spoils.

One after another, they quietly ordered their best troops to ease their attacks. Some began drawing those troops back.

Hadrian was about to breathe more easily when Galen offered a helpful warning.

"Lord Noll. Your Behemoths seem to have been cut off."

Hadrian looked. His composure broke.

"You bastard, Cassian! Aren’t there enough Legendary and Epic troops for you to kill? Why do you have to go after my Behemoths?"

Through the spatial barrier, he could see two Dawnwing squads blocking their retreat.

Worse still, the Dawnwings seemed interested only in keeping the Behemoths from escaping.

"You’re using them to train your own Extreme troops! Damn you! I’ll never forgive this!"

On the battlefield, Giselle looked tired. Her eyes, however, were brighter than ever.

She nodded to the Marshal who had come to support them, then turned into a streak of lightning.

The Behemoth facing her barely managed to protect its neck. Instead, a wound several meters long opened across its arm, blood pouring from it.

Its vitality was extraordinary. Flesh shifted at the edges of the wound, closing at a visible speed.

Before it could finish healing, lightning flashed again. A fresh wound opened across its back. It roared in pain.

Blood Boil gave a greater burst of power than Storm Body. Its aftermath was harsher too.

Giselle’s Storm Body was still active.

Now the advantage was hers.

The difference in their size was immense, but wound after wound opened across the Behemoth. Its movements grew slower. Her attacks began reaching its neck and other vital points.

Nothing remained of the contempt in its eyes when the battle had begun. It was afraid.

It wanted to flee. But tearing another opening in the spatial barrier would give Giselle time to strike dozens of times. A Dawnwing squad waited nearby as well, watching for any attempt to escape.

"No!"

Hadrian’s anguished scream carried across the battlefield.

At last, the Behemoth’s tremendous vitality ran out. It toppled like a small hill, the light fading from its eyes.

Its death seemed to open the way for the others.

One after another, Golden Behemoths exhausted their lives and crashed to the ground.

Several Lords had kept their feeds fixed on the clash between the two Extreme lines. Every viewer saw them fall.

Comments flooded the images.

[Dead! The Golden Behemoths are actually dead!]

[Those are Extreme troops! One in ten thousand!]

[Did you see the Stormlance? They kept getting stronger as the fight went on.]

[That strength, and that beauty? They’re a match for Faerie Dragons. I envy him. No, I hate him for it!]

[A Dawnwing corps and the Stormlance! Cassian really can take on a Province!]

[The Crown has certainly made its mark today.]

Almost all three hundred and sixty-five Provinces had now joined the Homeworld Channel. Large nations controlled dozens. Smaller nations might hold only one or two, while some held none at all and lived at the mercy of greater powers.

The Crown had friends among them. It had enemies too.

[That Northbear viewer must be joking. Some troop line nobody has heard of, compared to Faerie Dragons?]

[I saw the statue. The Dawnwings are far too strong as well. It’s obviously an aura Building.]

[Lady Vaust is right. Take them away from their Domain, and both the Stormlance and the Dawnwings will show what they’re really worth.]

Their words dripped with contempt. What they felt privately was another matter.

Amanda, the youngest of the Stormlance, finished her opponent as well. She turned toward Sigrid.

"I learned so much from that fight. I think I can bear another Troop Soul now and advance to Legendary Five-Star."

"That’s not all."

A trace of excitement showed in Sigrid’s usually steady eyes.

"Just now, I think I felt it. The call of the Mother River."

The Stormlance froze. Then they burst into cheers.

If they could find the Mother River, their people could bring forth new generations again.

Sigrid raised a hand to quiet them.

"Keep fighting, sisters. Repay our Lord with the enemy’s blood."

"Yes!"

At that moment, Cassian opened the Stormlance’s recent combat log almost without thinking.

He stared.

"Damn. That works too?"