Nathan handed Zeryn to Frank, who was beside him. He stomped his foot and launched himself straight toward the dense enemy ranks.

  Attacks instantly converged on him. He wasn't trapped; he was the trap. Thanks to [Digestive Efficiency], his mana and essence reserves had stabilized. He dissolved into lightning, weaving through the ranks. He closed the distance in a blink. His fist traveled mere inches, yet the impact detonated like a bomb, shattering mana barriers and physical shields alike, sending soldiers spiraling back into their comrades.

  He flickered in and out of existence. The Lightning Aspect provided the speed, but his Body Cultivation delivered the payload. Engaging him at close range was suicide.

  Shockwaves rippled out from every strike. The road cracked beneath his boots. Lampposts bent like twigs, and walls trembled. The air grew thick with mana.

  Each punch carried the hope of those watching from behind. He had no affection for this country or any specific individual. But at this moment, there were lives that depended on him. And he just wanted to protect them.

  Fire coursed through his muscles, searing from his forearms to his core. Every step was a battle against his own physiology as his body cramped and stiffened.

  Fear flickered in the enemy's eyes. They had struck him, cut him, yet the madman before them advanced without pause.

  A unified shout from behind startled Nathan back to his senses. He lowered himself to the ground, creating a deep crater. He turned his head.

  A dense swarm of Maelivar soldiers, like mosquitoes at night, rushed toward them in their black armor.

  His own side was already exhausted from the battle in the square. Everyone was panting, their bodies bent under the weight of their own fatigue.

  Through the gaps between buildings, Nathan saw the storm still raging, still stubbornly refusing to dissipate. It fought to the very end with Arthur Merinor.

  His head throbbed. The world was reduced to meaningless static, pierced only by the shouts of his comrades and the shoves urging him forward.

  He didn’t stop. Essence flooded his veins. Free from Arthur's suppression, he unleashed the 33% Berserker State.

  Without breaking stride, he dug his fingers into the road. With a roar, veins bulging on his neck, he ripped up a massive slab of earth and hurled it. Boom! Dust billowed, blinding the front line. Amid the rain that obscured their vision, he once again infiltrated the enemy ranks.

  “Nathan!” a Verdant Spire disciple called out. Around him, he conjured stones of all sizes, firing them straight toward his current leader.

  Nathan seized the moment. His legs blurred into a tempest of kicks, launching the stones with a velocity that shamed standard Earth Cultivators.

  The Maelivar forces were only pushed back, their numbers not diminishing. All Nathan was doing was trying to push against a thick, solid, and unrelenting wall.

  He couldn’t even tell how far he had gone, or if he was even close. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to know the distance, lest it demotivate him.

  Behind him, desperate screams joined the gale as Maelivar forces pressed in like a tsunami. Their numbers had dwindled to barely fifty. The disciples from other sects who had initially survived were gone—dismembered in the chaos.

  “Senior Brother, look out!” Frank appeared beside Nathan, spinning his staff to weave a membrane of water. An enemy attack crashed down, rippling the surface. It held for a second, then shattered into mist. A spear lunged for Frank’s head.

  Whoosh!

  With a flick of his finger, Nathan deflected the spearhead. He followed with an Air Punch—the Vermilion Ape’s technique—blasting the enemy back with pure air pressure to conserve his mana.

  He grabbed Frank, skidding across the pavement. Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Nathan’s vision went black.

  Triggered [Efficient Sleep]. One credit given.

  Nathan’s eyes snapped open. Frank was still standing beside him, staff blurring as he erected water walls to hold back the tide.

  His vision blurred. He closed his eyes and opened them again, only to see his own trembling hands.

  “They've finally come,” Zeryn whispered from beside him.

  Hearing that, Nathan lifted his head. Though everything was unclear, at the intersection ahead, he saw a commotion.

  The black-armored flood of Maelivar soldiers was being parted. A new force had joined the fray. They didn’t use flying boots, yet they hovered effortlessly in the air. That familiar energy signature drew a sigh of relief from Nathan’s lungs. The Tier 3s of The Amber Path Coalition had arrived.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The column surged forward, banking right at the intersection to merge with their allies. The managers and staff Nathan knew were all present. Thomas was there, alongside Robert, the man who had always despised Nathan. Robert's eyes burned with naked hatred as he spotted him.

  Celene rushed to support him, signaling another group of guild staff to cover the retreat. The members of The Amber Path Coalition stood in stark contrast to the soldiers; they were draped in an eclectic array of artifacts. One wore a necklace hanging to his stomach, another a hat fashioned from a tarnished bronze bell, while others clutched ancient, tattered talismans.

  The sales staff advanced. Talismans shattered, deploying a force field so dense that nearby buildings groaned under the pressure. It caused no damage, yet it formed an impenetrable wall against the Maelivar soldiers. The bell rang, sending a sonic wave crashing into the enemy lines; an entire squad dropped to their knees, clutching their heads in agony. The necklace flashed, radiating a golden halo. As the light washed over Nathan, his mental fog evaporated. His body remained broken, but his mind was instantly clear.

  “Move south,” Celene said. “A path has been opened for you.”

  “What about you?” Nathan asked, his body tensing to resist her urge to push him away.

  Celene retracted her hand and sighed. “I’ll stay here.”

  Suddenly, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him. Her hands tightened against his back, her face buried in the crook of his shoulder. Nathan raised his hands, confusion flashing in his eyes.

  “Hug me,” she whispered.

  Nathan obeyed, knowing his business partner wouldn’t act without reason in such a crisis. His hand rested on her slender back, feeling the rapid hammer of her heart. Her trembling transferred to him. He longed to comfort her, but the roar of explosions drowned out any words he could offer.

  Celene pushed him away after a moment, her eyes filled with tears.

  “Go, now,” she said.

  “Why?” he blurted out.

  “You’ve helped me enough.” Celene smiled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Consider this a service for my boss. One last piece of advice: fly if you must, boss!”

  The code clicked instantly. Nathan gritted his teeth, hoisted Zeryn onto his back, and sprinted.

  From the city center, a new army advanced, gleaming under the lightning of Lachlan’s storm. They were creatures of cold metal—square heads, single crimson lenses, and heavy, hydraulic limbs. The robot swarm moved with a singular, terrifying purpose: termination.

  The robots’ arms raised emotionlessly, metal tubes shifting from gray-black to red-hot. Energy beams shot out in unison. The wall created by the talismans shattered, pierced through in a single volley.

  Thomas’s beard trembled, his orange-yellow robe billowing. The Coalition manager slammed his palm against the pavement. A shockwave of distorted air blasted outward, fierce and unyielding. Wherever the wave passed, metal instantly corroded. The robots’ armor rusted to dust in seconds, their engines seized, and they collapsed into heaps of scrap.

  Yet, the devastation only bought them a moment. The robot army sprouted like mushrooms after rain, pouring from the city center in a fresh wave. They flew through the air and crawled along the ground—an emotionless, terrifying tide.

  Maelivar finally revealed the true terror of a technological metropolis. Gun emplacements along the walls roared to life, raining fire on the column. Drones swarmed from their docking stations, and autonomous warships darkened the sky.

  The staff supporting Nathan’s group peeled away, deploying a barrage of defensive talismans.

  Nathan knew the Amber Path Coalition was, at its core, a merchant guild. They played both sides, never fully antagonizing anyone. Maelivar might punish them, but the backing of the Golden Path Consortium meant Duke Kael Voss would have to temper his retaliation.

  They were protecting Nathan at Celene’s request, and for that, there was a price. She must have leveraged the Tier 3 wine he had brewed. She had always told him to wait for the right moment. Trapped here, she had played that card with the guild’s management. A suffocating debt awaited Nathan. And he accepted it.

  A terrifying truth swelled in Nathan’s mind as he was being sheltered and running away. Zeryn was too grievously wounded. Not the kind that the elders of his clan could turn a blind eye to. Just a slight misstep, if Arthur just increased the intensity, Zeryn’s life would be forfeit.

  The protector of Zeryn cannot interfere, Nathan dreadfully concluded.

  That was why he hadn’t stopped Celene from her dangerous action just now. The display of affection wasn’t because the two had developed a closeness. It was to make the enemy believe she was a valuable asset. A hostage who could be used to threaten Nathan. But in reality, she wasn’t. He believed Celene knew that well. Yet she hadn’t hesitated to put on that act just now.

  The clattering of the robot army grew denser as they drew closer. Half of the enemy forces had been diverted to deal with The Amber Path Coalition’s group. The remaining half focused on advancing straight toward the remaining targets.

  “We’re close!” Sevro shouted.

  The southern city wall grew closer. The buzzing of drones made Nathan’s skin crawl. They swarmed out from behind buildings like a hungry locust plague.

  Suddenly, his feet felt light, his body seemingly defying the laws of physics.

  “Go!” Sevro whispered.

  Nathan channeled all his remaining strength, using everything he had. He rocketed forward, faster than the Lightning Aspect had ever carried him. He carried Zeryn—his best friend, his only family. The black wall loomed, its cold surface screaming dead end...

  Just before impact, a flash of light swallowed him.

  The sensation of stone gave way to wind. The open plains stretched out before him, a jarring contrast to the claustrophobic city. He glanced back at the majestic, imposing wall of Maelivar. The gun emplacements were still firing inward, targeting the empty air where they had just been.

  Around him, others appeared one by one. Frank and Elen staggered out of the invisible gate. The disciples and Prince Daniel Caelen appeared afterward. Aotian, battered beyond recognition, was next. Sevro collapsed as the last one. Counting them all, there were just over thirty people.

  When they had arrived, five hundred strong and full of vigor, now they departed, small and pathetic.

  And yet, they had no time to rest. Because this wasn’t the path they had taken, meaning it was no longer safe. The path ahead, the quiet, sprawling plain, was where deadly mines were hidden.

  A choked sound from Aotian made Nathan frown. The captain was staring into empty space, his face ashen.

  PsiLink!

  Maelivar forces had broadcast a shocking notification for all to read.

  Major Lachlan Rourke: Deceased.