A few hours before the climax of Alex and Thunder Wolf's battle.
High above the wolf's domain, the Patrician King hovered silently in the sky. His deep, earthy brown robes, with streaks of golden threads, fluttered against the wind currents created by the violent battle below.
His face, typically a mask of indifference and regal calm, was now contorted with uncharacteristic greed. His sharp eyes, glowing faintly with the authority of his rank, meticulously focused on the earth-shaking clashes between the Thunder Wolf and the unknown figure.
"A legend-rank mana core," he thought, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Such a prize would elevate me beyond my peers. The Earth Clan's dominance over this world will be solidified. No other higher clan would dare challenge us, with it."
His gaze lingered on the epicenter of destruction, where lightning surged and cracked through the skies, and the ground trembled under their power. The battle was drawing closer to its climax. He could feel it—the palpable tension, the sharp spikes of energy. The combatants were reaching their limits. And when they did…
"Whoever survives will already be too weak to resist," the Patrician King mused. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his thoughts racing. "And if neither survives, even better. I will at least be able to defeat one of them, if possible both, and take the cores and claim it as my own."
He glanced down at the swirling black thunder barrier encasing the battlefield. It irritated him that he could not see who the combatants were nor their true capabilities. But it didn't matter. Legend-rank entities were rare, and no matter who emerged victorious, their weakened state would at least ensure his victory.
His face darkened with determination as he prepared to wait a little longer. He had already begun calculating his ambush, but as his thoughts grew darker, a sudden telepathic message broke into his mind, conveying a sense of urgency.
"My lord!" The voice belonged to one of the Earth Clan's elders stationed within the Geb Fortress. "Forgive the intrusion, but we have a critical situation. A beast tide has begun!"
The Patrician King's brows furrowed deeply. "A beast tide?" he replied telepathically, his tone sharp. "What of it? The fortresses should be able to handle the usual numbers."
"No, my lord!" The general's voice trembled slightly, betraying the gravity of the situation. "This is not a regular tide. It is the largest beast tide ever registered. The destruction and tremors from the battle in the Thunder Wolf's domain have disrupted the balance of the surrounding territories.
Most of the magical beasts have abandoned their homes to relocate. The tide includes at least a thousand emperor- and empress-ranked beasts, with millions of king- and queen-ranked ones and hundreds of millions of lower-ranked beasts. They are attacking strongholds across the continent!"
The Patrician King's eyes widened slightly, the first true flicker of emotion crossing his face. "A thousand emperor-rank beasts?" he repeated, his voice low and disbelieving. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, my lord. Every stronghold is under siege. They are requesting reinforcements immediately. Your presence is urgently required at the central fortress. Without you, we won't be able to hold them back without many casualties."
The Patrician's expression twisted with reluctance. His gaze drifted back to the battlefield below, where the ferocity of the combat continued to escalate. The ground was split, forests had been reduced to ashes, and hills crumbled under the sheer weight of their attacks.
This was his chance. The mana core of a legend-rank entity was within his grasp—so close that he could almost feel its power coursing through his veins.
"To abandon such an opportunity…" he thought bitterly, his fists tightening. The allure of the core was overwhelming. It could push him closer to the next rank, granting him unimaginable strength and authority. But the general's words echoed in his mind, a stark reminder of his duty. If the strongholds fell to the tide, it would spell disaster for the Earth Clan And humanity.
His jaw clenched as he weighed his options. He could stay, finish the victor of this battle, and seize the core for himself. But if the beast tide overwhelmed the continent, even the power of a legend-rank mana core might not be enough to undo the damage.
Finally, with a frustrated growl, the Patrician King made his decision. He would delay his ambition—just this once.
"I am on my way," he curtly told the general before cutting the telepathic link. Turning back to the battlefield, knowing he had to abandon this golden opportunity he allowed himself one last lingering glance. He couldn't suppress the pang of resentment that stabbed at him.
With a flick of his wrist, the air around him rippled as he prepared to depart. But before he left, his eyes narrowed. He would finish the battle before it finished itself. A surge of energy crackled around him as he prepared to hurl an attack from a safe distance—something to weaken both combatants, ensuring they wouldn't survive even if they tried.
But just as he raised his hand, the oppressive aura of the black thunder barrier surged as if sensing his intent. A pulse of energy radiated outward, and for a moment, the air seemed to hum with warning. The Patrician King paused, his instincts flaring. His expression darkened further.
"Whoever set this barrier… they knew I'd try something." He cursed under his breath. Turning away, he vanished in a flash of light, heading toward the Geb Fortress and leaving the battlefield to its fate.
….
As the Patrician King approached the Geb Fortress, the scene unfolding below was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. From his vantage point in the sky, the vast land stretching to the horizon was a sea of chaos and destruction. Millions of beasts, ranging from the feral to the monstrous, swarmed in every direction. Their primal roars and thunderous movements reverberated through the air, forming a cacophony of rage and panic that made the earth tremble.
The weaker beasts, driven by instinct, trampled over one another in a desperate bid to escape the devastation of their disrupted homes. Some fought amongst themselves, clawing and biting in an anarchic frenzy.
Others stampeded in blind panic, smashing through forests, hills, and rivers as though nothing could stand in their path. The ground was a shifting mass of fur, scales, and claws, painted red with blood as even the smallest conflicts turned deadly.
The Patrician's sharp eyes saw distant strongholds under siege. Walls that had withstood decades of attacks were now crumbling under the relentless assault. Beasts tore through defenses like paper, their sheer numbers and brute strength overwhelming even the most fortified positions.
But amidst the chaos, there was a chilling sense of order.
Behind the rampaging masses, the true threats emerged. The King- and Queen-ranked beasts strode forward with an unhurried grace, as though the pandemonium around them was beneath their notice. These colossal entities radiated an overwhelming aura of authority, their mere presence forcing lesser beasts to part before them like waves yielding to a ship.
Each King—and Queen was flanked by a retinue of loyal guards—Knight-ranked beasts of their species that encircled them protectively. These Knights moved with precision, their eyes scanning the battlefield for threats, ensuring no harm to their leaders. They acted as the vanguard, their power alone capable of leveling fortresses and annihilating human armies.
Behind them, were the true rulers the Emperor and Empress-ranked beasts, as they formed a secondary wave. Their expressions were filled with calculative intelligence and determination.
Each step shook the ground as they advanced methodically. Their intent was clear: They would claim the strongest territories, topple the humans' defenses, and establish new domains away from the Thunder.
As he descended closer to the fortress, the Patrician King's lips curled into a grimace. He could see his forces struggling to maintain their defenses. Even the mighty walls of the Geb Fortress were beginning to show cracks under the strain. Siege weapons fired in rapid succession, magical arrays flared to life, and Grandmaster-ranked warriors battled valiantly at the front lines, but it was evident they were being overwhelmed.
A general rushed to meet him as he landed atop the central tower, his armor bloodied and his expression pale with desperation.
"My lord!" the general exclaimed, bowing quickly. "The tide has surrounded us. We've received reports that several nearby strongholds have already fallen. The beast tide is spreading across the continent, and we estimate their numbers to be in the tens of millions. We are outmatched and outnumbered!"
The Patrician expression darkened as he surveyed the battlefield from the tower. His gaze lingered on an Emperor-ranked beast in the distance—a massive, lion with a mane of molten fire and eyes that glowed like twin suns. Its roar sent shockwaves across the battlefield, causing human warriors to falter and beasts to rally.
The patrician's mind churned with calculations. The beasts were not just acting out of instinct; their leaders guided them. This was a coordinated migration, a forced shift of power in the continent's balance.
"Send word to all other fortress and cities," the Patrician ordered, his voice cold and commanding. "Mobilize every available Grandmaster warrior. Reinforcements will converge there immediately. If we lose the other fortress, the Earth Clan's dominion over this continent will weaken."
The general hesitated. "My lord, even with reinforcements, I fear we cannot hold against this tide. These beasts tide… their number is unlike anything we've faced before."
The Patrician turned his piercing gaze to the general, silencing his protests with a glance. "We will hold," he said firmly. We have no other choice. Don't worry; I will join when the battle begins to look bad, and assist the others."
He stepped to the tower's edge, his aura flaring as he prepared to observe the fray. His mind, however, wandered briefly back to the Thunder Wolf's domain. Has the battle concluded by now? Was the legend-rank beast still fighting or, has a winner been decided?
He shook the thought away, forcing himself to focus on the immediate threat. The Earth Clan's survival was at stake, and even his ambitions had to take a backseat to the greater danger that loomed before them.
Drawing upon his authority as the Patrician, he raised his hands, and the earth beneath the fortress began to shift and rise, creating additional barriers and trenches to slow the advancing tide and help give the warriors some breathing space, as he had no plans of joining the battle straight away. The ground trembled in response to his power,
The battle for survival had begun.