CHAPTER 855: A GIFT FROM THE LOWER DIMENSION

The Higher Dimension, with worlds like Valhalla and Graecia, was populated by beings that those of the Lower Dimension would have worshipped as gods. Before Terra ascended, no human from the Lower Dimension could possibly crush a mountain with a single fist, conjure flames hot enough to boil the seas, or stand in the sky and sweep away tornadoes thousands of meters tall with a casual wave of the hand.

Their techniques, their mastery over energy and cosmic forces, and their sheer physical might were on an entirely different scale. Even their machines were unmatched—the most advanced fighter jets or tanks of the Lower Dimension were crude toys compared to the weaponry that Higher Dimensional science could produce. In every field—combat, technology, cultivation—the gap was immeasurable.

All except one.

Humans of the Lower Dimension were weak, fragile, and short-lived. But they possessed something that even a Lord should never look down on—wisdom, imagination, and an unquenchable desire to innovate, especially in times of war.

When humanity began to delve into the field of atomic science, we learned a terrible secret: splitting the atom could release a wave of energy so vast that it birthed a fireball capable of engulfing entire cities in an instant—heat and light that rivaled the very surface of the sun.

The man who first gave this "gift" to humanity feared that it would also be the instrument of our destruction. It was a power that, perhaps, should never have belonged to our dimension at all. In the Higher Dimension, the laws of physics were different, more robust.

To interact with matter on the atomic level—to split the very building blocks of existence—would require incredible wisdom, decades of effort, and still offer no guarantee of success. The Lords of those realms never pursued such a path; even if such weapons were powerful, they were clumsy and ineffective against beings of their level.

But there was one thing these weapons could do: devastate armies. In the chaos of battle, if an enemy was foolish enough to mass their forces into one tightly packed area, such a weapon could erase them utterly—especially if your own troops were positioned far away, safe on mountain peaks thousands of meters from the blast.

Atila’s eyes widened as the ground beneath the horde began to glow. At last, his perception caught something—strange devices buried deep in the earth. Their outer shells vaguely resembled the Xaos Kingdom’s Sky Fighters, though heavier, reinforced. But before he could analyze further, the devices detonated.

And the world turned to fire.

Five super-atomic warheads erupted from beneath the earth, their combined fury blooming into titanic spheres of light. The air was instantly stripped away, replaced by a roaring inferno that burned hotter than molten steel. The blast wave tore the horde apart in a heartbeat—the abominations had been packed so tightly there wasn’t even space between them, and now that density became their doom. Flesh, bone, and armor evaporated in the heart of the explosion; those at the edges were thrown like rag dolls, shredded by the hurricane-force winds that followed.

From above, it looked like five miniature suns had bloomed on the battlefield. Their edges were perfectly calculated—not a single meter of the blast reached the mountain’s summit. The energy dissipated just short of the defenders’ lines, leaving the soldiers untouched by the flames, though the ground quaked and shuddered beneath them.

The results were staggering. In mere seconds, millions of abominations vanished—obliterated so completely that not even ash remained. The unstoppable wave that had been moments away from reaching the summit was gone. Less than five percent of that force remained, scattered and broken.

Shock and awe rippled through the defenders. Even Grand Marshal Anglius, a veteran of countless battles, had never seen such a thing in person. Before Terra’s ascension, nuclear weapons had been bound in the tightest regulations, so much so that even most military elites had only read about them in theory. Now they had seen their reality, and the sight left them breathless.

The flames had stopped short, but the shockwaves had not. The concussive force slammed into the mountaintop like a hammer. Soldiers were thrown from their feet; some were flung clear into the air. Most of the Xaos warriors were strong enough in their cultivation to resist injury, but many of the Rebellion’s weaker fighters were not so fortunate. Bones cracked, joints popped, and a few lay groaning on the ground, clutching their ribs or arms.

Yet none of that mattered.

In the hearts of the defenders, there was nothing but exhilaration and relief. They had been seconds from annihilation, and now they stood victorious over a battlefield scoured clean by fire. The hellish tide that had threatened to swallow them whole had been reduced to nothing.

As their cheers began to rise, their eyes turned upward—to the divine figure ascending toward the Legendary battlefield. None of them had known these weapons existed. They had been kept in complete secrecy.

And the reason was simple.

Overlord had deceived his own soldiers as part of the plan. If even a whisper of such weapons had reached the wrong ears, Orfry and his Corruption Generals would have suspected something and never packed their armies so tightly at the mountain’s base.

However, as they saw the panic and urgency in the eyes of the soldiers at the top of the mountain range, they commanded their forces to march with everything they had, willingly sending them into the slaughterhouse.

It had been a gamble—one that forced Overlord to sacrifice some of his most valuable tools, the Sky Fighters. A single miscalculation could have turned the plan into disaster. But the execution had been flawless. The victory was absolute.

The ground battle was no longer in question. With one strike, Overlord had secured the mountaintop, broken the enemy’s momentum, and shattered their numbers beyond repair, not to mention that he also took the life of Atila by pinning down the man at the core of the blast.

But he didn’t pause to celebrate. His next move was already decided.

The Divine Avatar’s form blurred as he flashed into the Legendary battlefield above, locking instantly onto his next target.

Fang and the Royal Guard had fought him with everything they had. The Nightmare Knights had even taken the dangerous, strength-enhancing drugs that pushed them temporarily into the Legendary Realm. Yet despite their bravery, they were all grievously wounded. Cuts bled freely, armor hung in pieces, and their breathing was ragged.

Their foe, Tepest, stood tall and smiling amidst them, his armor gleaming darkly, crimson eyes burning with cold satisfaction. The battlefield around him reeked of spilled life force and scorched air.

However, that smile faltered the instant he saw the Divine Avatar flashing toward him.

That was a monster who had just erased millions, the being who had annihilated Atila and torn apart the heart of the Corruption Army’s advance.