The Abyss, Sixth Layer, Foundry Citadel.
The scene was apocalyptic, a tableau of magnificent destruction.
The active volcano housing the Scourge Wardens was in the throes of a violent seizure. The earth groaned and buckled, sending tremors rolling through the bedrock. From the caldera, it wasnât magma that erupted, but a geyser of raw, kinetic Scourge energyâa torrent of violent power blasting skyward.
This pillar of energy slammed into the underside of the Foundry Citadelâs defensive barrier, feeding the matrix. The shield dome pulsed with an angry crimson light, countless runes flowing across its surface like digital code, struggling to hold back the sky.
Or rather, what was falling from the sky.
"My Liege, the pressure on the barrier is reaching critical levels," Eparus reported, his voice tight.
He was referring to the anomalyâthe "Gray Snow."
When the fibrous, ash-like substance had first descended, Orion had simply repelled it with a wave of kinetic force. The barrier had gone up as a precaution. But the snowfall hadnât stopped. It had intensified.
Now, a layer of this gray matter, nearly a foot thick, blanketed the dome. It wasnât just resting there; it was constricting. The fibers wove together, heavy and suffocating, wrapping the Foundry Citadel like a silkworm spinning a coffin.
"It is... a disturbing phenomenon," Orion muttered.
"Disturbing" was an understatement. It was nightmare fuel.
Orionâs sensory sweep came back empty. He couldnât pinpoint the Unhallowed entityâs main body. A terrifying hypothesis began to form in his mind.
What if this gray ash is the entity?
Orion thought, staring at the crushing weight above.
A hive-mind particulate? A diffuse organism?
If that is true, how do I kill it? How do I fight a blizzard?
If he stepped outside the barrier, heâd be walking blind into a potential drain-tank scenario. Without a target or a known weakness, sending the Deathly Soul-Reaper avatar out was suicide.
"Eparus, sitrep. Any analysis from your unit?" Orion asked.
The defensive matrix was powered by the Scourge Wardens; they were the technicians here.
"Apologies, My Liege," Eparus said, bowing his head in frustration. "We are insufficient. If we were Arch Lords, perhaps we could unlock deeper ancestral memories, access better countermeasures against the Unhallowed. As it stands... we are blind."
Eparus looked ashamed.
"Itâs not on you," Orion said coldly, cutting through the self-pity. "Notify the First Battalion. Tell them to prepare for emergency protocols."
"At your command, My Liege."
"Emergency protocols" was code for sacrifice. If the energy ran out, units would be liquidated to fuel the engine. It was ruthless, but necessary.
"My Liege," a voice interjected just as Eparus turned to leave. "We might be overthinking the mechanics."
It was Ashreign, the Wraith Knight. Since his promotion to Arch Lord, his intellect had sharpened significantly.
"Go on, Ashreign."
"Itâs not a discovery, per se," Ashreign said, looking up at the choking gray sky. "Just a theory on elemental matchups. Everything has a counter. Abyssal creatures and Hellspawn are weak to Holy and Light attributes. It stands to reason that even an Unhallowed has an elemental allergy."
Orion frowned. "I follow the logic, but that doesnât give us a weapon."
"In my limited experience," Ashreign said, pointing upward, "fibrous material burns. Why not fire?"
"Itâs useless," Eparus snapped, dismissing the idea immediately. "Look at the power source. The volcano is pumping thermal energy into the shield. The barrier surface is scorching hot. If that gray trash was flammable, it would have ignited the moment it touched the dome. Itâs fire-retardant."
"I wasnât talking about geological fire," Ashreign clarified, his gaze shifting to Orionâs hip. "I was talking about that."
Eparus paused. Vex, the Standard-bearer standing nearby, also turned to look.
They were staring at Doomscourge.
The blade at Orionâs waist was forged from the compressed bodies of Doomguards, locking their essence within the metal. It didnât just burn; it carried the conceptual weight of Doomsday Fire. Pure, concentrated destruction.
Orion drew the sword.
Shing.
The blade hummed, and a wreath of crimson flame erupted along the steel. It was distinct from the volcanoâs glowâdarker, hungrier. Orion looked at the fire, then up at the oppressive gray blanket crushing his city.
"Itâs a long shot," Orion admitted. "But weâre out of options."
If they did nothing, the Foundry Citadel would eventually implode under the pressure. He didnât know if the barrier could hold until the Abyssal Ruler returned.
"Eparus, rig the system," Orion ordered. "Weâre going to inject the Doomsday Fire directly into the defensive grid. We need a distribution matrix. If I just stab the core, the whole shield will destabilize from the inside out."
It was a delicate engineering challenge. They needed to create a bufferâa magical manifoldâthat could take the volatile, high-octane fire from Doomscourge and gently diffuse it through the shieldâs capillaries without melting the circuitry.
"Understood, My Liege! We will begin construction immediately."
Eparus rushed off, energized by having a plan.
Orion remained seated on the central spire, sword in hand, watching the crimson flames dance against the dark metal. He looked up at the sky, a strange expression on his face.
"What a terrifying ability," he mused.
He wasnât afraid anymore. He was jealous. If he could command a force like thisâan invisible, suffocating snow that could besiege a fortress without risking a single soldierâhis invasion casualty rates would drop to zero.
A shame I canât loot that skill,
he thought.
Valkorath Realm, Garland City.
The atmosphere here was a stark contrast to the hellscape of the Abyss.
This was the fourth major settlement Orion had established in this realm. He had named it after the Garland Tribe, and the intent was obvious. This city was a gift for Violet.
Following the Slime Mold invasion, the Valkorath Realmâs ecosystem had been ravaged. The native flora needed rehabilitation. To speed up the process, Orion had transferred a significant portion of the Garland Tribe here, leveraging their racial affinity for agriculture and botany.
Building them a city was part of the package.
However, purely from a meritocratic standpoint, this was controversial. Within the Stoneheart Hordeâs strict hierarchy, the Garland Tribe hadnât earned this. They hadnât bled enough on the front lines to justify a fiefdom, let alone a citadel of this caliber.