With everyone on the surface now prepared, the only question that remained was how to reach Kael’s camp without attracting attention. Unfortunately, the answer was simple. They couldn’t. Avoiding detection was nearly impossible.

Jakob and Annie were the key to this plan. They were well-known in Kael’s camp and, more importantly, still seen as neutral. Jakob had explained that many within the camp spoke in hushed tones about Thalion, Evelyn, and Kargul, often repeating Kael’s exaggerated tales. But Annie and Jakob had stayed on the fringes of politics and still held some level of trust. That was exactly what Thalion needed. He didn’t want to storm in, spill blood, or demand loyalty. Ruling had never been his goal. The camp's population, though not insignificant, held little value in terms of credits or power. What mattered was avoiding conflict. If Kael gave the order, these people might attack Thalion’s forces, and that was what he wanted to prevent.

Convincing them to switch sides might not be too difficult. Kael’s lies hadn’t erased the stories of Thalion’s stand against the orcs. He still led the largest human faction, and he had never made any secret plans to exploit or rule over others. His leadership was practical. A few responsibilities like guarding or gathering materials, but no invasive demands. He had no interest in micromanaging their lives or building some utopia. All he wanted was stability.

Time was slipping away. Thalion considered using the Crippled Eclipsari form to ascend quickly, but that would reveal a trump card he preferred to keep hidden until the inevitable clash with Kael. The tunnels weren’t wide enough to allow sneaking past unseen, and his bloodline skill couldn’t cover the distance required. The scouts placed along the corridor to the surface would surely notice if anything unusual occurred.

In the end, the simplest plan was the best. Kargul and Evelyn would remain in the lower levels to monitor the situation and protect those who stayed behind. Thalion would disguise himself. He took the brown cloak of a messenger, stored his armor and weapons in his spatial ring, and made his way upward. Without his gear, he felt strangely vulnerable. Over the past few weeks, the armor had become almost a second skin. He pulled the hood low to hide his crimson skin, grateful that Maike had already arranged for the real messenger’s identity to be obscured. Couriers came and went regularly, delivering news between groups. That cover gave Thalion just enough room to move.

Still, the scouts remained a problem. Stationed throughout the corridor, they would quickly report anything unusual. Even if Thalion reached the surface safely, the scouts at the camp entrance would see him the moment he crossed into enemy territory or if the skyships began to move. The window for surprise was small.

Thalion’s plan was straightforward. Enter the camp, address the people, and expose Kael’s lies. With luck, Jakob would arrive at just the right moment to lend his voice to the cause. There would be resistance, no doubt. Kael had loyalists, and some would try to rally the others into attacking Thalion. If they chose to fight, he would disable them or, if necessary, kill them. It wasn’t ideal, but he couldn’t allow the camp to be used as a dagger at his back.

He also knew that Kael would learn of this soon. The man might rush up to the surface, either to confront Thalion with another web of lies or to try and kill him outright. A duel would actually be the cleanest outcome. It would allow Thalion to defeat Kael in front of everyone, as long as he was strong enough. The real problem was Kael’s escape token. Expensive and rare, it could activate instantly, making a finishing blow nearly impossible to land.

Still, Thalion liked the idea of a duel the most. This mission wasn’t about an ambush. It was about seizing the narrative, addressing the people before Kael had the chance to twist the truth. The elves likely wouldn’t interfere. They viewed themselves as superior and had little interest in human politics.

Thalion moved quickly through the tunnels, each step echoing softly against the cold stone. No alarms rang. No footsteps followed. As he emerged from the catacombs, the sky was still draped in night, but the faintest hints of dawn were beginning to show along the horizon. Time was running out. They would have to test Lucan’s bombs soon and push hard toward the pillar. There would be no second attempt.

He turned toward Kael’s camp. It was a humble cluster of tents surrounded by a wooden wall and a few watchtowers. There were no defensive enchantments, no glowing runes, nothing that suggested true preparation.

Did they not receive a divine command to destroy the pillars? And now, their effort seemed half-hearted at best. Did they truly believe their patron gods wouldn't see through their cowardice? That they wouldn't notice how their champions failed to risk their lives when it truly mattered? To Thalion, the whole thing reeked of hypocrisy. Perhaps they’d spin some tale of noble sacrifice, of tactical retreat, but that didn’t change the truth. If he were a god, he wouldn’t buy it. Still, that was between them and their patrons, if they lived long enough to have that conversation.

Thalion adjusted his cloak, took a breath, and walked forward. The first light of morning cast long shadows across the field, and with each step, he moved closer to a confrontation that would decide far more than control of a camp.

Thalion turned toward Kael’s camp, now nothing more than a scattering of tents on the horizon. The moment had come. Part of him would have preferred ending this in the catacombs, where Kael and his cronies had fewer escape routes. But that would have meant cutting down countless soldiers—fighters who had nothing to do with Kael’s treachery. Men and women who believed they were protecting the world from the undead. Thalion wasn’t here to butcher the misguided.

After a few paces, he summoned his armor and masked helm, letting the heavy, arcane-forged plating slide into place. The worn messenger’s robe vanished into his spatial ring. Then, with a flicker of light and the hiss of air displaced, he activated Mistform and soared toward one of the three towers built into the outer wall.

He materialized in silence next to a large ballista where two guards stood, deep in idle conversation. They didn’t even see him until he kicked the siege weapon. The force of his blow, backed by more than six hundred points of strength, shattered the ballista like splintered kindling and sent it skidding across the platform with a metallic shriek.

“What the...” one of the soldiers began, eyes wide in disbelief.

Before either of them could react further, Thalion released a fraction of his aura. The same pressure he had used against the vampires guarding the catacombs now surged through the air, crashing over the guards like a wave. It wasn’t meant to kill—it was a message. A warning. Kael would know Thalion had arrived, and one of his loyal followers would surely race to alert him.

Messages were already coming in from Kaldrek, confirming that the ships and fighters were en route. Not that Thalion needed them. His power eclipsed that of anyone in the camp. If every fighter charged him at once, the battle would drag on, but it would end the same way.

“Calm down,” Thalion said, his voice echoing across the camp, laced with mana to ensure everyone heard it. “I’m not here to fight. Not yet.”

The guards stared at him, wide-eyed. The one on the right was trembling, clearly overwhelmed. Thalion waved them off with a flick of his hand, gesturing for them to descend. He didn’t want them hovering behind him while he addressed the crowd. It would be awkward and dangerous if they interrupted him at the wrong moment.

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Thankfully, they seemed eager to be anywhere but near him. With a grateful nod, they scrambled down to the camp, disappearing among the others emerging from their tents. Most of the camp’s structures were nothing more than fabric and spatial manipulation. Thirty tents, perhaps but each one likely housed dozens, maybe hundreds, depending on how many had joined Kael after being forced into the Fifth Stage by the tutorial.

Thalion stepped to the edge of the tower and scanned the gathering crowd. Soldiers lined the walls and towers, their expressions shifting between fear and indecision. The rising sun cast pale light across the field, igniting the dew-laced grass in a soft gold glow. This was the calm before the storm.

“Listen carefully,” Thalion began, his voice carrying like thunder. “I won’t repeat myself.”

All eyes turned to him. The crowd below stilled, waiting.

“I know Kael has told you horror stories about me. I’m here to prove him wrong. I’m here to tell you the truth.”

The silence held. None of Kael’s inner circle interrupted him, yet.

“You all know what I’ve done for him. I saved Kael from Thorwald on the Second Stage. I fought at his side against the orcs. I killed the shapeshifters that were creating real problems for him. And in return? He tried to kill me. All for power.”

Thalion's gaze swept across the crowd. Their expressions varied. Some filled with uncertainty, others with curiosity, and a few with outright hatred. But more than anything, there was confusion. A crack in their convictions.

“They were our friends, once. But now? They’re mad. Touched by divine gifts they never earned, and poisoned by greed. Arrogant. Dishonorable. Parasites. The moment you have something they want, they’ll slip a dagger between your ribs.”

He let the words hang in the air like a blade waiting to fall. Below, a murmur rippled through the crowd. Some nodded. Others narrowed their eyes. A few clenched their fists. Thalion had sown the seed. Now it was time for the antagonist to step forward, as if on cue.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

A woman emerged from the crowd, her stride confident, her presence unmistakable. Zyra. Thalion knew her from the Third Stage. She had once enchanted plants for him—powerful, beautiful creations. Back then, she had smiled at him, while planning to kill him. Now, her eyes burned with something else entirely.

A surge of emotions twisted through Thalion. On one hand, he felt vindicated. He had read the board, predicted the move. On the other, a hot spark of fury flared in his chest. Zyra had tried to kill him once before, more eager for his death than even Kael. At least Kael had hesitated. Zyra had relished the chance.

He clenched his fists at his sides, breathing slowly to keep the fury at bay. He would not give her the satisfaction of an outburst. Not yet.

But deep down, a darker part of him itched to leap from the tower and slap the arrogance from her face.

"And why should we believe a single word from your mouth?" Zyra shouted, her tone cold and unwavering. Her expression remained neutral, almost stoic but Thalion could feel it now. The title made it easy. Behind her calm facade, emotion roiled beneath the surface. Frustration. Hatred. But most of all—fear. That was the strongest one. She masked it well, but not well enough to fool him anymore.

Still, he had to stick to the plan.

"Well, I guess by the end of the day, we'll all know who the real liars were," Thalion replied smoothly. His voice gained weight with every word, laced with a growing thrum of mana that pulsed in the air like distant thunder. “Now, here’s my proposal. No matter what Zyra or her little clique told you. Mark my words, only one of two outcomes awaits you. Which one... that’s your choice.”

He paused, letting the silence build. The weaker minds in the crowd, especially those recently arrived from the lower stages were already shaken from experiencing a sliver of his power. He gave them a moment to gather themselves before continuing.

“We are taking control of the catacomb. I won’t force you to help, but I won’t tolerate betrayal either. You have three choices: step back a few hundred meters and wait this out. Fight me and die, or send word to your comrades underground and tell them that if they leave peacefully, no harm will come to them. Later, if you wish to join my faction for protection, that option exists too.”

His gaze swept across the assembled crowd, sharp and unwavering.

“But know this—you will move. One way or another. And as for Kael…” He leaned forward slightly. “I’m more than enough to deal with him myself. I don’t want to kill you but if you take up arms against me for his sake, you won’t walk away in one piece.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Some faces were pale, others skeptical. But as the skyships crept closer overhead, casting long shadows across the sand and tents, fear began to solidify into compliance. The war machines were close enough now that, should Thalion will it, the entire camp could burn.

“So… you just want us to stay out of the fight? That’s it?” a younger man near the back called out, clearly bewildered. For him, it probably sounded like a bargain.

Then a woman with short, bright red hair stepped forward. “One of my friends—a heavy warrior—is still down in the catacomb. Can I go retrieve him?”

Thalion nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, go. Anyone else who needs to fetch someone, now’s the time. The rest of you. Move in that direction.” He pointed west, toward a rocky rise away from the camp. “We’ll keep a few scout ships nearby just in case the elves try something.”

Then, with calculated ease, he leaned against the wooden railing of the tower, his posture relaxed. He stared toward the mouth of the catacomb, waiting. Waiting for Kael to emerge. It couldn’t be much longer now.

Inside, however, his calm was a lie. A violent storm churned within him. Rage burned in his chest, a pressure building too quickly. It took everything in him to keep it leashed. He wanted to give in. He wanted to shatter Kael’s smug face and rip the others apart with his bare hands. These were not idle thoughts. This was a deep, animalistic fury he rarely allowed himself to feel. But betrayal does strange things to a person. Especially when it comes from those you once trusted.

Below, the camp slowly shifted. Tents vanished into spatial rings as many chose to evacuate into the desert—far enough to be safe, but not so far that they couldn't return if things went wrong. Some people sprinted toward the catacomb to warn or retrieve allies. A few stayed behind, weapons in hand, watching Thalion with wary eyes. But no one had the courage to act against him. Not yet.

And then, the next figure to emerge from the catacomb wasn't Kael. It was Jakob.

The large young man hurried across the sand, breathing heavily. He leapt up onto the tower with effort, and the wood groaned under his weight.

He was panting like he’d run through a furnace, but he spoke through the exhaustion. “Listen to everything Thalion just said. He saved my life. And I knew Kael. I tell you now—Kael, Sylas… and the worst of them all, Kai. They're lying.”

“Thanks, mate,” Thalion said with a dry chuckle, his fury momentarily subdued by the honest desperation in Jakob’s words. “They’re already leaving, but good effort. I appreciate it.”

Still, something in Jakob’s words stuck out like a poisoned barb.

“What do you mean with worst of them is Kai?” Thalion asked, eyes narrowing.