Chapter 145
Zhereth walked in silence with his thirteen soldiers, showing no expression, offering no hint of what lay within his mind, simply following the flow with perfect discipline.
Apathy and the eighteen members of Team Xirkushkartum maintained their positions around Shaqar, ready to respond if anything happened, ready to protect their captain should circumstances demand it.
And at the very rear, the four members of the Orbit Severance Unit advanced with heightened vigilance, their hands never straying far from their weapons, fully aware that they might become the final line of defense if something unexpected struck from behind.
'No pressure. No frequency disturbance. No flashes of holy energy attempting to cut our path.'
Within the dark and damp underground corridors, among ancient walls that had silently witnessed the passage of thousands of warriors before them, bad news began to spread from all directions.
The soldiers assigned as messengers, who moved faster than the main group, returned carrying identical reports from different teams.
That ninety-nine percent of all teams deployed that night, those who intended to traverse the carefully mapped hidden routes, were now forced to retreat.
That they had to step back with heavy hearts, moving away from their intended destination, returning toward the outer borders of the capital city of Thalyssra, blessed by the Great Sanse.
That wave after wave of attacks launched by Angels and Holy Beings rained down upon them without pause, without mercy, without granting any chance to fight back or even to take cover.
The only good news amidst the chaos was that there were no casualties at all, that despite being pushed back, despite failing to penetrate the enemy's defenses, not a single soldier had fallen in those assaults.
Yet failure remained failure, and this news spread among the warriors still advancing with an increasingly heavy silence.
Shaqar listened to those reports with mixed emotions.
He heard how the team to their east had been struck by an overwhelming surge of energy, how the team to their west had been surrounded by luminous beings emerging from the darkness, how the team to their north had been forced to turn back after three attempts to break through an ever-tightening blockade.
He heard the names of captains he knew, names of leaders he respected, names of soldiers he might have encountered on battlefields before, all forced to retreat, all failing to advance further, all compelled to accept that tonight they would not reach the castle.
And yet, at the same time, as those grim reports continued to arrive from every direction, Shaqar realized something strange.
That his team—the team he led, composed of various elements with three other captains within it—had not encountered a single one of those attacks.
That they continued walking, continued advancing calmly, continued following the route written on the map without any interference from Angels and Holy Beings.
He did not know whether to feel grateful or to grow more suspicious of this anomaly.
On one hand, he was grateful that Apathy and his eighteen subordinates, Makakushi and his twelve soldiers, Onigakure and his twelve followers, Zhereth and his thirteen men, the four members of the Orbit Severance Unit, and the two envoys of the Banner of Zhulumat were all safe and advancing without obstruction.
On the other hand, he wondered why they were the only team left undisturbed, why the Angels and Holy Beings that relentlessly bombarded ninety-nine percent of the other teams seemed blind to their presence, why the path they followed felt like a corridor deliberately left open amidst a suffocating siege that engulfed the entire city.
Those questions settled heavily in his chest without answers, lingered in his mind without being dispelled, dancing at the edge of his awareness like shadows never fully seen yet always felt.
'If this is a stage, then the curtain has already risen.'
The two members of the Banner of Zhulumat, who had been walking silently at the front, finally moved for the first time with a purpose beyond simply following the flow.
They halted briefly, took out communication devices that were only used in the most critical situations, and began transmitting reports to every team without exception.
The report was simple, yet carried immeasurable weight.
That they were still advancing without interference.
That the route they were taking—the same route followed by Shaqar's team—remained completely open, without obstacles, without attacks, without the presence of Angels and Holy Beings that had overwhelmed ninety-nine percent of the other teams.
That this was not coincidence, nor blind luck, but a gap that might have been intentionally left open or perhaps simply undetected by the enemy.
And based on that report, the two envoys instructed all teams that had been pushed back, those still gathered at the borders, those still searching for a way into the city, to immediately follow the route they were taking.
The process of sharing the route unfolded swiftly, with an efficiency only achievable by soldiers trained in emergency conditions.
The two members of the Banner of Zhulumat transmitted coordinate after coordinate, point after point, instruction after instruction, ensuring that no team would get lost, no group would be left behind, no misinterpretation would lead to fatal consequences.
They worked with an almost inhuman calm, with precision that reflected why they had been chosen as direct envoys of Zhulumat, fully aware that every second spent communicating was a second the enemy could use to close the gap they were exploiting.
And when all information had been delivered, when every team had received the same instructions, when there was nothing left to communicate, they turned toward Shaqar, Onigakure, Makakushi, and Zhereth.
A nod.
A signal.
An order that did not need to be spoken.
That they must move again.
That time waits for no one.
That the castle at the center of the city still awaited them with all its mysteries.
Shaqar did not wait for a second command.
He raised his hand, signaling all members of his team—Apathy and his eighteen subordinates, Makakushi with his twelve soldiers, Onigakure with his twelve followers, Zhereth with his thirteen men, the four members of the Orbit Severance Unit, and the two envoys of the Banner of Zhulumat who had just completed their task.
One movement.
One command.
One moment in which the entire small force resumed their journey in unison toward the same goal.
Their footsteps once again echoed through the underground corridors, filling the empty spaces with a steady rhythm, carrying them ever closer to the center of everything.
No one spoke, no one questioned, no one showed doubt, even though within each of their chests there must have been lingering questions about why they were the only team spared, why they were the only ones allowed to advance this far, why the Angels and Holy Beings seemed blind to their existence.
To be continued…