CHAPTER 812: TODAY WE CELEBRATE

The tremors grew stronger—deep, thunderous rumbles shaking the land beneath the boots of over ten million soldiers. And then, before August, Orfry, or anyone else in the Zanis command center could issue an order, it happened.

Twelve separate points across the Asaris Continent erupted violently. The ground shattered in perfect synchronization, creating gaping maws in the earth from which massive towers began to rise—each one stretching thousands of meters high, forged from dark alloy and embedded with runes that pulsed like veins of fire.

August and the gathered officers of the Zanis family stared in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Building towers underground was, in theory, an excellent way to fortify defensive formations while keeping them hidden from the enemy. But in practice, the logistical challenges were nearly insurmountable. To construct even one of these towers would have required countless Earth Mages working day and night to stabilize the shifting terrain. The slightest error in direction, material structure, or magical calibration could collapse the whole system, burying the project—and all the resources spent on it—beneath the surface.

Yet the enemy had not built one.

They had built twelve.

Twelve fully functional underground towers, perfectly positioned and risen in unison without the slightest hitch. It was a feat of engineering, logistics, and magical precision so far beyond anything the Zanis family had considered possible that every strategist in the room turned pale. The implications were staggering. If the enemy could pull this off without being detected, then their ability to move undetected through the continent was far more dangerous than anyone had assumed.

But there was no time to dwell on the problem of the future since the present had a lot to offer.

Not five seconds after the towers rose from the earth, their surfaces began to glow. With a sudden surge of power, they released beams of pure energy into the sky—columns of light that struck upward with deafening force. The sky itself seemed to react, shifting and twisting as the beams began forming an immense dome of radiant energy.

A single tower’s shield could never cover the entire continent. But these towers weren’t working alone. Their individual shields connected and reinforced one another, amplifying the magical output exponentially. In less than five minutes, a massive dome had manifested over the entire Asaris Continent.

Exilion soldiers paused in their march, confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere. They looked upward at the strange shimmering energy now blanketing the sky. Then, without warning, came the real assault.

An invisible pulse rippled through the dome.

Instantly, millions of soldiers fell to their knees, clutching their heads, screaming in agony. Their ears rang so violently that many collapsed, disoriented and vomiting. Their equilibrium vanished, and their senses scattered.

A Champion’s nervous system was reforged upon their evolution, able to endure neurotoxins that could kill a normal man, yet they stood no chance against the power of the tower. Their bodies, conditioned for war, were simply not prepared to endure the sonic and magical pressure being funneled into their nervous systems. They dropped like stones, paralyzed and incapacitated before they could even lift a weapon.

Only Guardians managed to remain standing, though they staggered from the disorienting effects. Sages, bolstered by their immense soul strength and advanced magical resistances, could still fight—but only just.

Then came the second wave.

"BOOOOOOOMMMMM."

Arcs of lightning, thick as trees and glowing with the fury of condensed magic, rained down from the dome. Each strike targeted the areas where resistance remained. Guardians and Sages who had barely weathered the initial assault were now caught in a hailstorm of destruction.

The lightning was fast—unnaturally fast—and devastatingly precise. Entire groups were vaporized before they could react. Even those that managed to trigger the explosive agents in their blood barely made an impact. The lightning consumed the blood, igniting it mid-air, neutralizing the chain reactions before they could generate a true blast.

From within the command center, Augustus, Orfry, and the rest of the generals watched in stunned silence through their surveillance devices. The battlefield was now a graveyard. Millions of soldiers rendered useless. Thousands of elite troops vaporized. All without a single Reaper or Xaos soldier lifting a finger.

The defensive mechanism the Xaos Kingdom had unveiled was breathtaking.

It didn’t just neutralize the lower tiers of the Exilion military—it nullified them entirely. Beneath Guardian Tier, no soldier could function under the dome. Champions were rendered unconscious within seconds. And now, the dome could release Peak Sage-level lightning arcs across any point on the continent instantly.

"DAMN IT!" Augustus roared.

His voice boomed with rage as his aura exploded outward, sending many of the nearby officers crashing into the walls of the command chamber. He trembled with fury, fists clenched, eyes bloodshot.

He had been so close.

Victory was within reach—he had believed it, felt it. The numbers were on his side. The positioning was perfect. His forces were closing in.

And yet, at the final moment, the enemy revealed their hidden trump card: a dome that covered an entire continent and rendered his strategy meaningless.

Throwing millions of soldiers into the fray now served no purpose. The instant they stepped under the dome, they collapsed or were wiped out. Without even reaching the enemy front lines, they became corpses.

The only feasible path forward was to destroy the towers generating the dome.

But they were built deep within Xaos-controlled territory. The only ones capable of enduring the dome’s energy long enough to even approach the towers were Legends.

And Legends, no matter how powerful, could not march alone into enemy territory. Not when the enemy had their own Legends—deadly, fanatical, and perfectly positioned to intercept.

Every angle, every route, was closed.

No matter how Augustus looked at it, the conclusion was inescapable.

The Asaris Continent... now belonged to the Xaos Kingdom.

...

Unlike the Zanis Command Center—where the air was filled with panic, fury, and disbelief—the atmosphere within the Xaos Stronghold, buried deep in the Dragon Spine, was one of unrestrained triumph.

The moment the final tower had connected, forming the impenetrable dome over the Asaris Continent, a wave of euphoria swept through the citadel. Soldiers and officers alike were overtaken by a deep, genuine sense of accomplishment. Cheers echoed through the fortified corridors. For the first time since the invasion began, they felt a sense of security and the fact that they could show their faces without fear as the continent belonged to them.

Even the highest-ranking figures—Vlad, Overlord, Alonz, and the rest of the inner circle—allowed themselves to bask in the victory. No words were needed to express what they felt: pride and the relief of success hard-earned.

It had been an extraordinarily difficult feat to pull off. One misstep—one faulty rune, one tower out of sync—would have spelled disaster. A single collapse would’ve prevented the dome from activating. And failure was not an option, especially since they had no backups.

Each Dome Tower had cost more to produce than a set of High Legend-tier armor, and the Xaos Kingdom had pooled nearly all its resources to construct the twelve monoliths. The engineering, the logistics, the concealment efforts—it had taken every ounce of their resolve to bring it to fruition.

But they had succeeded.

Now, at last, the Asaris Continent was theirs. The Zanis family no longer had a path to reach the Xaos headquarters. Their endless waves of soldiers and suicide bombers were no longer a threat.

Just as the soldiers in the stronghold were erupting into cheers and spontaneous chants of victory, a powerful wave of energy surged through the room. Vlad’s aura flared, drawing everyone’s attention instantly. The air grew heavy, and the celebration paused.

The True Depravita of Wrath stood tall, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that made every soldier in the hall stand straight, alert and silent.

"My people," he began, his voice deep and commanding, "there is still much to do. The war is just beginning."

A hush fell across the stronghold.

"But today—today, we celebrate."

His tone softened, though his presence remained firm. A moment later, the tension melted, replaced with renewed energy and thunderous cheers.

Music erupted. Crates of rations and ceremonial wine were brought out and distributed freely. Within minutes, the stronghold was transformed. Soldiers danced, laughed, embraced one another. They raised toasts to the engineers, the tower teams, the commanders—and to Vlad himself.

The celebration was not just a luxury. It was a necessity.

In war, morale is the foundation on which empires are built and defended. Victories might win land, but spirit wins wars. The Xaos Kingdom understood this truth deeply. They needed to remember what they were fighting for—not just survival, not just conquest, but pride. Unity. Purpose.

There would be darker days ahead. Bloodier battles. Greater sacrifices. Moments where their spirit would be on the brink of collapse as they are forced to make a decision that will mark them for the rest of their lives.

But for this brief, shining moment—they allowed themselves to rejoice.