CHAPTER 37: THE BATTLE OF INVICTUS ( 1 )

"Listen and stop trembling, you men and women who have left behind your homes, your children, your city!

Look ahead, beyond the flames: there lies the future of your homeland, and the lives of millions of brothers and sisters your courage can save.

Let all who lack the bravery step back.

Nothing will be done to you... except the guilt of abandoning your duty will haunt you to your final breath.

And let all those ready to bleed, to die, and to triumph—follow me!

Let us sever the arrogance of these Calamities, swollen with pride, who dared to commit the sacrilege of trampling on the Emperor’s land!

With me:

For the Empire,

For the Homeland,

For the Emperor.

Charge!!!"

As soon as these words were shouted, he was the first to dash toward the towering gates of the fortress.

Lightning wrapped his body like a garment, illuminating the path through the darkness of the night.

Behind him, four Enforcers followed. Then, like a shattered dam, they all surged forward, without order, without discipline. The crowd of Initiates broke the formation they had maintained throughout the journey, revealing only a blind rage against those who dared to trample their homeland. Fatigue, hunger, and thirst exploded into pieces, replaced by a rush of adrenaline that flooded their bodies.

They became a disorganized horde: the fastest trampled those who lagged behind. Those who fell got up again, wounded but running once more seconds later. Some died in the stampede—but they were too few, too insignificant to deserve a second glance. In their eyes shone only one emotion: kill.

Few were well armed. Those who managed to recover swords or guns from the city were the lucky ones. The others relied only on their fists and their powers to rip victory from their enemies.

More than seven thousand Initiates, fueled by adrenaline, were launching an assault on a fortress said to be unbreakable—and that fortress could never have expected what was about to knock on its door.

If an observer had been watching, they would not have recognized, in that roaring tide, the men and women who, just a month earlier, were only workers, bakers, teachers, students, carefree parents whose only combat experience came from the action series of their childhood.

No—such an observer would have seen a tidal wave of unleashed beasts.

Their morale alone, their cries and their slogans, would have made any regular army pale.

If wars were won by spirit alone, then they were invincible.

---

Elsewhere in the fortress, on that freezing night, two Enforcers drank to stay warm atop one of the watchtowers. They were stationed at the rear gate, facing human territory.

Unlike those assigned to the front gates, their role was purely decorative. Their only job was to announce supply deliveries, making their nights long and dull; only alcohol helped them stay awake in the face of such futility.

One of them, gifted with enhanced auditory Resonance, was the first to hear something strange. He asked his colleague:

"Are we expecting a delivery at this hour?"

The other checked a schedule before answering:

"No, nothing planned. Empty time slot, as usual."

"I think something’s coming."

"You’ve had a bit too much tonight, haven’t you?"

"No, I swear. Besides, I drink better than you."

"Tsk. Of course. Since you’ve got so much energy, you can keep watch. Let me know when you start hearing a pretty woman singing."

Still puzzled by the sounds he was picking up, he grabbed his binoculars to scan the area. After a few seconds, he spotted the source of the noise: thousands of people were charging straight at them.

He kicked his colleague awake, tossed him the binoculars, and grabbed a microphone to alert his superiors.

The response came quickly:

"Must be the reinforcements the major mentioned. You’re ordered to open the gates immediately.

They’re fiery for rookies... best not to cool them off."

"Yes, sir."

He pulled a lever, triggering the slow opening mechanism of the gates.

The deafening sound woke the entire fortress. Several Executors stepped out to understand what could cause such a racket at night.

And as the gates opened wider, a crowd began to gather in the rear courtyard.

From atop his office, Major Kraft observed the entire scene. He didn’t bother coming down, preferring to wait for Grégoire and his team to come up for their congratulations.

He had sent them to recruit in Astoria, but he hadn’t expected this. He thought some of the Newly Awakened would refuse to fight. After all, not long ago, they were just ordinary people.

"With this many men, I won’t have to fear even a scratch on my fortress—or a blemish on my reputation... or my career."

He raised a glass of wine to his lips—but a flash of light interrupted him. The glass dropped from his hand, and unglorious words spilled from his mouth.

"What the hell is this?!"

He jumped through the window, landing in the central courtyard.

To understand what he had seen, we must go back a few seconds.

Grégoire’s lightning cloak allowed him to reach such speeds that his charge appeared as a mere flash. When he reached the gates, he spotted two Calamities in a watchtower. Rage consumed him instantly.

Using his right foot for leverage, he lunged at the tower. He had to grab the wall twice to reach the top.

Taking the two Calamities by surprise, he needed only five seconds.

He opened his hands, fingers aligned like a blade, and swung them through the air—decapitating both enemies before they could react.

By the time their heads hit the floor, he was already in the courtyard. He lunged at the Calamity he judged most dangerous.

Ignoring its screams, he threw his left hand backward, palm open. When he closed it, a lightning spear materialized.

Thunder Spear

When Major Kraft landed in the courtyard, he saw Grégoire charging at him. He spat furiously:

"Grégoire! Unless you give me a good explanation, I’ll forget our friendship and have you court-martialed!"

The major believed the threat would be enough to stop him. It wasn’t.

The only response he received was a spear of lightning straight through his chest. The strike sent him skidding back ten steps, burning the upper part of his uniform.

He barely had time to raise his fists before Grégoire followed up with a second strike—an uppercut that smashed into his jaw and launched him flying into the fortress walls.

Grégoire struck the wall headfirst. The blow rattled his brain inside his skull.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been knocked out. But that’s not what happened.

The parasite deactivated his pain receptors and ordered a rush of extra oxygen to the brain.

Grégoire opened his eyes again. Blood dripped from his mouth, but he didn’t care. He reset his jaw and charged once more.

This time, instead of covering his whole body in lightning, he concentrated it into a single fist.

Seeing that, the major understood:

"He gave up his overall speed... to boost his strength?"

"Tsk... fool," he spat.

He didn’t understand why his subordinate was acting this way. After all, Grégoire had never disobeyed an order. But this wasn’t the time for feelings.

Though his rank was higher, he never underestimated an opponent.

Shrugging off his scorched shirt, he readied a right hook the moment Grégoire came within reach.

Their fists collided with a thunderous crash.

Grégoire focused all his lightning coating into his strike, allowing him to match, for a brief moment, the raw strength the major possessed.

Alas, it didn’t last. The major used the coating too: his entire body was enveloped in a thin yellow layer that reinforced him. His power surged, forcing Grégoire back.

He seized the opening to grab his wrist in a firm grip, then executed a judo throw, slamming him to the ground with a perfect takedown.

This retreat gave him a chance to take in his surroundings—and that’s when his eyes widened.