Chapter 504: Stage Is Set
Veylara’s jaw clenched so tightly that a thin bead of blood broke from her scarred lower lip, tracking down her chin.
She slowly, deliberately took a deep breath, forcing the violent spike of her Layer 4 essence back down into her core, letting the suffocating spiritual pressure around her body dissipate into the wind.
She slowly lowered the point of her massive bone-spear, resting the heavy butt of the weapon against the cracked clay of the riverbed.
"The ancestors have witnessed your bow, Chief Vane," Veylara declared, her booming voice carrying a forced, heavy solemnity that echoed cleanly off the majestic walls of the pass. "A beast-tide is a curse that tests the limits of any tribe.
The Veynar do not forget the ancient pact, nor do we turn our backs on those who honor the Sacred Pact when the sky turns black."
A massive, collective sigh of pure relief rippled through the Veynar elders behind her.
The white-haired elder with the scarred face let go of his bone staff, his trembling knees straightening as the terrifying prospect of facing the horde alone was pushed away by the presence of the Zharun tridents.
Chief Vane’s pale lips immediately pulled back into a wide, smooth smile. He straightened his seven-and-a-half-foot frame, his long gray hairs rippling under the hot wind as he hit his thick hand against his leather breastplate.
"Your wisdom is as deep as the roots of the ironwoods, Warchief Veylara," Vane said, his resonant tone dripping with warmth. "The Zharun spears are now your spears. Together, we will turn this barren wasteland into a graveyard for the Coalition rats."
But as the elders rushed forward to greet the Zharun captains and coordinate the merging of their infantry lines, Veylara didn’t look at Vane.
She turned her head subtly, her single, sharp eye locking directly onto Sol’s.
In that single glance, she tried to convey everything she couldn’t say out loud.
Be ready.
For anything.
Sol met her gaze steadily. He gave the smallest, almost imperceptible nod in return. His silver-crimson eyes were cold and calm, but she could see the promise in them.
He understood.
He would be ready.
Sol stood silently at the front, his hand resting on the hilt of the Dreadwing Blade. The Golden Silver energy inside him hummed steadily, ready for whatever came next.
The trap had just become significantly more complicated.
But he was far from out of moves.
...
The two armies stood facing each other across the barren wasteland... Veynar and Zharun, supposedly allies, but the air between them crackled with suspicion and unspoken threats.
Veylara turned to Sol, her voice low enough that only he could hear.
"Keep your eyes open," she said quietly. "If they move against us... you have my permission to act first."
Sol gave a single, small nod.
"Understood."
The stage was set.
The real battle... and the real betrayals... were only just beginning.
...
Now that the immediate confrontation had defused, Sol utilized his newly evolved Golden Silver pool to map out the exact strength of the army standing before them.
The molten liquid inside his chest thrummed, expanding his senses to trace the core pathways of every single Zharun warrior in the line.
He checked their equipment first. There were nothing flashy. The Zharun warriors were clad in standard, rugged beast-leather armor and thick hide plates.
Their main weapons were simple bone-tipped spear blades, wide bone cleavers, and short daggers.
They looked like a typical, heavy-hitting marsh tribe ready for a rough brawl.
But their internal numbers told a completely different story.
As Sol’s sensory grid swept through the ranks, his eyes narrowed. Scattered systematically through the thousand-man force were roughly thirty-three Layer 3 warriors.
That was an absurdly high number of elite warriors for a tribe that had supposedly just lost massive amounts of blood fighting a surprise beast tide.
They were distributed perfectly through the lines, ready to take command of separate infantry blocks at a second’s notice.
Then his senses hit the very back of the column, and his core gave a sharp throb.
There weren’t just thirty-three Layer 3s. There were two distinct Layer 4 powerhouses in this army. One was Chief Vane, who was standing right in front of them, broadcasting his heavy spiritual pressure.
The second Layer 4 signature was completely hidden all the way at the back of the army, mixed with other common warriors.
The hidden powerhouse didn’t show his face, keeping his massive essence completely coiled and masked..
Chief Vane noticed Sol’s narrowed gaze shifting toward the rear of his column. His smooth smile didn’t falter as he casually waved a thick hand.
"Ah, don’t mind the old carriage at the back," Vane said casually, his voice light. "That’s our High Elder. His core pathways are strong, but he’s a quiet guy.
He deeply dislikes grand stuff, speeches, or big crowds, so he decided to stay in the back to avoid the attention.
Don’t mind him for now; he’ll move when he is needed."
Sol could roughly feel the hidden guy’s exact position , tracing the dense knot of energy mixed with other layer 1 and layer 2 warriors.
He knew exactly where the target was, but since the old man was staying put, he decided not to press or demand he show himself.
"As long as his spear hits the right target, he can sleep in the back for all I care," Sol replied flatly, his voice rough and casual.
...
They didn’t waste any more time. With the Coalition army marching hard from the other side of the ridge, they had to integrate the Zharun forces into the strategy immediately.
Sol, Veylara, and Thauren gave Chief Vane and his captains a brief, direct breakdown of the ambush plan. They told him about the narrow mountain pass, the shamanic illusions, and how the main force would drop from the ridges once the enemy force was choked in the bottleneck.
Vane and his thirty-three Layer 3 captains listened to the strategy without a single objection.