Chapter 175: The Predetermined Flow
The Rodir River drew a low breath.
For a single moment, the wind vanished and only the voice of the earth remained. A mournful wail. Then—the current shattered and overturned.
At first, it seemed like nothing more than a simple wave. But soon, the surface began to heave as the entire river was dragged in one direction. The surging current twisted its body like an enormous serpent and swept over the battlefield. Columns of water erupted skyward, tearing through the air before flipping overhead and plunging down.
The Corrupted let out instinctive screams.
The river swallowed them in an instant. Muddy water forced its way into every seam of their armor, and iron joints groaned and snapped. Staggering soldiers were shoved into one another, and shattered shields and broken blades drifted through the whirlpool.
Everything was bound into a single current.
Blood and mud, debris and corpses, and Rite-Stone weapons drained of their light—all were swept away at once. The Rodir River churned violently, as though pouring out a cry it had long held back.
Royce gripped the reins of his horse and bit his lip.
"……Did the elves prepare something like this?"
He looked toward the upper reaches of the river. Airien and the elves would still be chanting their verses even now. A deep blue light bled outward, adding texture to the erratic current.
But what he was witnessing was far too vast to call something anyone had made.
"That…… is like magic from legend."
Royce's voice trembled without him realizing it.
Just then, Basim collected himself and quietly added,
"The river is moving on its own."
"……?"
"The wrath of the mountain has passed into it."
When the rock cried out, the river wrenched its entire body. The tremor rising from deep below the riverbed felt as though the entire mountain range was tilting. The wind carried the mingled scent of blood and powdered stone.
The course of the river was no longer decided by the elves or the dwarves—something with a far greater will was determining it.
Royce could not find a single word to say. Standing in the heart of the battlefield, he felt a dread unlike anything he had known. Not the instinct to flee, but a fear like that of standing before a force of nature one dares not even look upon directly.
Perhaps, he had already known. This scene was not a catastrophe someone had made—it was a catastrophe the world itself had summoned.
* * *
The river surged violently, then rewound, creating a fierce torrent. When the reversed current inverted the direction of the flow entirely, thousands of the Corrupted were lifted bodily into the air.
Kyiee-ek!
The screaming lasted only a moment. The waves rose to the sky, and the wicked things vanished to the riverbed.
Airien continued to recite the elven language without pause. Together with her kindred, she called out against the veins of leaf and water and stone.
But that voice broke apart along with a tremor. Before the verses could even reach their mark, the river answered on its own.
Kwarrrrrrr!!
The earth roared. Streams of magical energy flowing down from the mountains gathered at the riverbank. The elves' language was distorted within it. The musical scale wavered, the rhythm collapsed into chaos. The song was not moving the river—the river was swallowing the song.
"Airien…… We've lost control."
At some point, the other elves stopped their chanting. The river's fury was already racing toward its end. To goad it further would have been meaningless.
Airien looked out into the distance, down toward the lower reaches of the Rodir River. A massive beast was resisting until the very last, but it too would meet the same end.
At that same moment.
Even as the river swept away countless Corrupted, the beast Brawk held its ground with stubborn force. It thrust its Rite-Stone shield forward.
The shadow markings on the surface of the shield fractured and scattered. It had tried to hold on through the power of darkness, but this was no mere water or mass of earth—it carried the full weight of nature.
The shield shuddered violently, and then the Rite-Stone cracked with a sharp snap—violet sparks scattering in every direction.
[How dare you use such petty tricks……!]
Brawk drove both feet deeper into the ground. But resistance had its limits. Soon the shield shattered into pieces, and the force of the river consumed him entirely. His massive arms and beast-like torso were swept away without exception.
Behind him, Bandipa raised his hammer high. Across his arms and chest, a sinister vein of gold spread like a pattern carved into flesh.
[Do you think a mere trickle of water can stop me!]
When the hammer head came crashing down with tremendous force, even the raging waves split apart to either side. It was a fleeting illusion. The fractured current rejoined itself at once. Stitching itself back together as if suturing a wound, it returned with explosive pressure packed into that very gap.
Bandipa's solid frame was pushed back a single step. That one step became a second. He raised the hammer again, but it was already too late.
Wind and water—the entire river—rotated and came surging in. The surface coiled upward to the sky before crashing down with every ounce of its strength.
The meaning contained within was unmistakable.
'I am restoring the broken current.'
It was a low and unambiguous declaration.
In the moment Bandipa was swept away by the river's fury, Airien heard that voice with perfect clarity. It was not something heard with the ears—it was a sensation felt through the soul.
Immediately after.
With the last obstacle gone, the river seemed to have reclaimed its own path at last, flowing without obstruction. It consumed all that existed, and what remained above it…… was nothing.
* * *
Only after washing itself clean did the Rodir River ease its fury.
The churning waves subsided at some point, and all that remained was a pale haze and the mist of spray. The dark magical energy was nearly imperceptible, and only the tremors left behind by the torrent still lingered in the earth.
"Is it over……?"
Volga said, supported by Zahira. At that, Royce shook his head.
"We clear out the vanguard."
Wolf cavalry and a portion of the Corrupted had crossed the river. Their main force was exhausted, but it would be no great difficulty to handle them.
Soon, his gaze turned toward the opposite bank.
Close to half the enemy forces still remained. Now that their commanders were lost, they needed to press in—but the river had swelled too high, leaving no way to attack. Their part in this was now finished.
Yet for some, it was only just beginning.
Another tremor rose beneath their feet. Unlike before, it struck the ground in a deliberate rhythm. Countless hoofbeats sent sound bleeding through the haze.
Then came the silhouettes. Forms that were neither light nor shadow. Thousands of knights followed in their wake. Water mist collected in the horses' manes, and the Niborian armor patterns flickered faintly.
At their head, Calix urged his horse forward. The grey sword-light soaking into the edge of his blade spread deep and dense.
Piiiiiik!!
The sound of the whistle rang out short and sharp.
But that signal struck like thunder. Below the cliffs, the cavalry who had kept themselves hidden without so much as a single breath of sound erupted forward as if detonating. They cut through the dust and spray, and in their fierce charge, forged a second torrent.
A thunderous roar shook the ground.
Calix extended the tip of his blade forward, and the Mana Stones embedded in the barding blazed with light all at once. Time bent. The resistance of the air vanished, and every sensation merged into one.
'I have waited long enough.'
The reward for his patience stood before his eyes. Calix let his gaze turn cold and sharp. While Royce and Marik, Basim and Volga fought with everything they had, he had been waiting in stillness.
He knew he had to trust them and leave it to them—yet inside, he had grown restless—and so he poured that feeling too into each forceful step. In the span of a few exhaled breaths, the warhorse Lunos glided forward.
The first collision came all at once, like lightning striking.
Kwagwagwagwang!!
Before the Corrupted could even react, the knights charging in formation split the center apart. Before the hooves ever made contact with the enemy, the pressure field Calix had released tore through the layer of air.
Every sound fell into a vacuum.
Then, the grey sword-light blazed up in the shape of a flame. The Corrupted thrust their spear shafts forward, but the moment before blade met blade, their weapons twisted back on themselves. Rite-Stone spearheads shattered, and through the gap, the sword came flying in to cut across the backs of enemy necks.
A single stroke across the neck, the forearm, the torso—anything within reach was cut clean away.
Pajijik.
Those enemies whose lives were not severed in one blow were neutralized from their severed points outward, freezing solid.
Calix held dominion over everything on the battlefield. He read the temperature of the blood, the movements of the enemy, the shape of their fear. He perceived his own magical energy with perfect clarity—the precarious balance between chaos and darkness—and the path forward.
While Lunos's front hooves drove through the chest of an enemy charging from the left, his sword swept to the right, erasing the space there.
The knights rode after him with flushed faces. It was partly the heat of battle—but mostly, it was the excitement born of witnessing the man before them become yet another force of ruin.
They overlaid the battlefield with a fresh coat of the blood-smell the river had washed away.
The enemy ranks collapsed in an instant, like sand. With every sweep of Calix's sword-light, blood burst forth. It evaporated immediately, leaving not a trace behind.
Some of the Corrupted came charging in with savage desperation. The moment a beast let out a roar, the air around it convulsed. Yet within it, he was awakening to a new sensation entirely.
A corrupted creature's skin swelled as it attempted to self-destruct—but before it could, an enormous surge of magical energy pulled it back in reverse. Seized as if by the collar, it was drawn in, compressed by a tangible force, and detonated.
'The pressure field and the cold are nothing more than aspects of magical energy. What matters is something else entirely.'
Calix slaughtered his enemies as naturally as breathing. He reversed the flow of magical energy to detonate them from within, froze and shattered them, and the majority he simply cut down without any of that being necessary.
Without his permission, not one of them could find a foothold.
'This place…… is my domain.'
The world bends to his will.
Time slows and the world grows quiet—but it was not born from the Neural Accelerator. Calix moved freely through that stillness.
Wherever his gaze fell—no. Everything he perceived was severed.
Sound, breath, and light alike. All of it.
Then, a considerably large Corrupted creature came pouring in with subordinates in tow. It was a last desperate act. A futile struggle.
Puhwaaaaaak!!
Magical energy exploded outward from the core of his heart. The enemies within a certain radius were flung away as if caught in a gale, and those in close range were simply crushed where they stood. Near the riverbank, the waves heaved, and a blue pulse swept through in a swirling rush.
Calix raised his head.
At the edge of his vision, the ranks of the Corrupted were splintering apart. The cavalry had driven straight through the enemy lines and broken out the other side. The battle was over. All that remained were the beasts attempting to flee.
"Cavalry, reverse formation!"
With that, Calix drew upon his magical energy once more.
The Mana Stone fixed to the Neural Accelerator flashed grey. His heart blazed like a burning coal. For a single instant, his vision wavered.
Too many forces had been intermingled.
Midra's cold, Kohtan's reverse flow, the chaos energy given by the Gatekeeper. And beyond those, still more things surging wildly within him.
Even so, he did not stop.
Because the battlefield had not yet closed. Opening and closing it rested entirely in his own hands. The world was moving in the direction his fingertips pointed.