Thalion's relentless pursuit carved a path of devastation through the obsidian corridors of the Black Fortress. Emerging from the dungeon's depths, he ascended into one of the towering spires connected to the inner fortress wall. The air was thick with the scent of blood and charred flesh, remnants of the witches and their thralls who had fallen before his blade. Though many he encountered had not yet committed atrocities, Thalion showed no mercy. The time for leniency had passed; the sanctity of his base demanded a purge.

Contemplating the fortress's security, Thalion recognized the flaws in their current system. Assigning guards to patrol areas without a comprehensive strategy was insufficient, especially with the influx of vulnerable newcomers. The need for a more robust defense mechanism was evident. Despite the chaos, progress was notable—only Jack and Josh had encountered significant resistance, momentarily halting their advance. Kargul reported Evelyn's impressive kill count, suggesting a reward in the form of gloves to spare her hands from perpetual bloodstains. He also mentioned spotting a slim black spider in the jungle—a surprising development, as these creatures typically avoided undead territories. Their intelligence and predatory nature posed a new threat, necessitating immediate warnings to the base's inhabitants to avoid jungle excursions.

Meanwhile, Maike and Kaldrek focused on organizing defenses and informing elite fighters of the impending conflict. Thalion was astonished that Amalia and Jim remained oblivious to the unfolding massacre. Perhaps they underestimated him, perceiving him as too emotionally compromised to orchestrate such decisive actions. Their complacency would be their downfall. Operating from the shadows, Thalion systematically dismantled witch covens, ranging from ten to fifty members, before they could react or send distress signals. Utilizing his bloodline skill, he traversed shadows undetected, evading patrols and striking with lethal precision.

The fortress's control crystal remained elusive, but his campaign had already claimed over a hundred lives, excluding the brainwashed. Each kill propelled him closer to evolution, now at level 77, just three levels shy. Yet, he pondered the timing—would evolving now, potentially reaching an empyrean class, be advantageous? Given his current dominance, delaying evolution seemed prudent. Allocating his points to agility, he pressed on with his mission.

Three hours later, the inevitable occurred. Maike's panicked message reached him: "Thalion, Amalia is questioning the deactivated portals. What's our move?" His response was swift and resolute: "Ensure those guarding the portals hold their ground. She'll soon grasp the reality. I'm heading to eliminate her now. Prepare to command the purge of all witches." Reverting to his human form, Thalion activated Mistform, propelling himself through a window towards the ship housing the portal.

From his vantage point, he observed Amalia and her entourage aboard, berating a subordinate. Surrounding vessels buzzed with witches and their enthralled minions, reminiscent of bees guarding their hive. The moment for subterfuge had passed. It was time to end this charade.

Positioning himself eighty meters behind Amalia, beyond the immediate reach of aura detection, Thalion prepared his assault. Jim stood beside her, likely anticipating an opportunity to salvage the situation. Thalion doubted any redemption was possible; the corruption ran too deep. Without hesitation, he unleashed a blood thorn, its trajectory unerring. The projectile pierced Amalia's skull from behind, propelling her forward as her body crumpled to the ground. The battle had commenced.

From that moment on, everything unraveled in a blur of motion and violence.

As soon as Amalia’s body hit the deck, the surrounding fighters turned on Thalion without hesitation. Dozens surged forward, blades drawn and spells igniting in the air. Thalion barely had time to aim a second blood thorn at Jim before a searing powershot screamed toward him. He twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding it, catching a glimpse of the shocked expression on the portal keeper’s face as realization dawned.

Enemies closed in from all directions. Unlike his encounters with vampires, Thalion couldn’t simply negate the incoming attacks. He was forced to raise mana barriers and parry a rain of arrows with the crimson edge of his Blade of the Blooded Templar. He retaliated with red slashes and blood thorns—his most effective airborne strikes in human form. But the sheer number of assailants was overwhelming. Pressured, Thalion unleashed a powered mana wave, the force of it scattering spells and disrupting projectiles mid-flight.

The wave ignited spots of flame along its path, and to his unease, even the very air began to burn. Ominous fire licked across the deck, though Thalion paid it little mind. Time was short. With a quick transformation, he shifted to eagly, activating Skydive and Tempest Glide to dart laterally in the sky. His wings beat rapidly, the wind howling around him as he gained speed. To his surprise, the crimson flames had all turned into brilliant azure fire, crackling with electricity and burning with unnatural energy.

Thalion kept circling, charging a lightning beam with deadly precision.

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Flames swirled around his form, ignited by the sheer power he was gathering. His erratic movement among the ships made it nearly impossible to track him. When he fired, the first lightning beam struck with devastating force—four ships exploded in a blaze of red and gold, the wreckage plummeting from the skies. At over four hundred meters altitude, it would take time for the debris to reach the ground. If anyone below died from the impact, Thalion considered it their own fault for standing idle.

Two more vessels were cleaved apart by windblades during a rapid flyby. Fires erupted everywhere—though strangely, they did not behave as expected. Flames turned electric blue and lashed back at their casters. Fire mages recoiled in confusion as their spells sparked prematurely, some detonating in their hands. Meanwhile, Thalion refrained from using his Domain Skill—he didn’t want to harm the stunned, fighters still frozen in horror upon the main deck who guarded the portal.

Then, a sudden explosion of power drew Thalion’s attention.

Jim’s aura surged outward, far stronger than Thalion had anticipated. It was clear the man had been preparing for this confrontation. His current strength easily doubled what he'd shown in their previous standoff and back then, he had been empowered. Worse still, Amalia, whom Thalion had assumed dead, was rising to her feet. The blood thorn lay beside her, soaked and glistening, but somehow she had survived a spike through the brain. Her eyes locked on him, brimming with hatred. He had severely underestimated these witches.

Jim became light and vanished in a streak of white and reformed mere meters from Thalion, his blade wreathed in blinding light. Thalion barely leaned aside in time, dodging the strike, then burst into motion, quickly outpacing Jim with his superior speed. In seconds, he was fifty meters away. Thalion hadn’t forgotten how these formations worked: take out the weak first, then bring down the core.

Another lightning beam tore through three more ships, sending warriors leaping over the railing to escape the inferno. On the massive central vessel, Amalia and ten witches began weaving a ritual, energy pulsing in arcs around them. Jim’s protective shield was already in place, bolstered by a dozen enthralled lackeys who had joined them on deck.

That’s when Maike’s message came through, sharp and resolute:

“Amalia’s coven preyed upon our people, enslaving their souls and robbing them of free will. Every member of the coven must be eliminated.

Anyone baptized by Jim must lay down their arms until this is resolved, if they wish to survive.”

The message had little effect on Thalion’s immediate attackers, but it rippled across the battlefield. Uncertainty spread like wildfire. On the central ship, many hesitated—some reached for their weapons, others froze. A few finally moved, charging the shield surrounding Amalia and her coven. She merely lifted her hand, and a pulse of her will dropped ten of them to their knees, clutching their heads.

Thalion narrowed his eyes.

It was time to give that shield a proper hit—then deal with the rest of her cursed followers.

Thalion circled high above the battlefield, the storm crystal in his chest crackling with raw power. Lightning coiled around his form, dancing along his wings like living threads of fury. As energy surged within him, he began charging another lightning beam, the air around him vibrating with tension. Below, Jim made another attempt to intercept, but Thalion dipped beneath his reach, weaving through the air with impossible agility. Then, with a piercing cry and a flash of azure light, Thalion released the fully charged beam straight at the radiant shield encasing the witches.

The impact rang out like thunder. A metallic, cracking screech split the air as the beam smashed into the barrier. Though the shield held, hairline fractures spiderwebbed across its surface. Four of the channelers sustaining the barrier collapsed—some motionless, others twitching, their fates uncertain. The remaining witches faltered, expressions strained with panic and fatigue. The pressure was mounting.

Jim, undeterred, lunged forward again, but Thalion remained elusive. His eagle form was sleek and compact, and paired with his danger sense, he was a blur in the sky. Light orbs and crackling spears chased after him, but none could find their mark. Thalion twisted, dove, and spun, the wind screaming past him as arcs of light tore through the empty air. The speed at which he moved made him almost impossible to pin down, and soon, many of the vessel-bound warriors lost track of his position altogether.

Thalion, however, did not lose track of them.

He carved through enemy ranks with ruthless precision, his windblades slicing through armor, his lightning beams setting whole decks ablaze. Half of Amalia’s and Jim’s airborne forces were already dead—burned, broken, or falling in fragments with their shattered ships. Ten of the flying vessels had been reduced to debris, their remnants tumbling toward the distant ground below. Thalion varied his flight constantly—diving under the central dreadnought or soaring high above its masts—keeping his movement unpredictable, impossible to anticipate.

Jim finally stopped chasing. He hovered before Amalia’s shield, and something began to change. Glowing white threads extended from the witches’ ritual and latched onto him, weaving around his limbs and chest, feeding him power. His aura expanded violently, the air distorting around his frame as his strength surged to new heights. Thalion narrowed his eyes. Jim wasn’t the concern—not yet. The real danger was forming inside that shield.

Still, Thalion didn’t panic. He could feel the subtle tremors of his title’s danger sense, but it hadn’t exploded with alarm. Whatever the witches were preparing, it wasn’t fatal—at least, not yet. He didn’t want to reveal his trump card, the crippled Eclipsari form, until absolutely necessary. So instead, he stayed in motion, continuing his deadly dance. He cut down the last of the visible support mages with precise windblades, the sharp gusts ripping through robes and bone alike, while his lightning beams rained devastation upon what few ships still dared to stay aloft.

For now, he would keep up the pressure. Whatever the witches were summoning, it would show itself soon. And when it did, Thalion would be ready.