“Our allies are moving,” said Hereward. “Keep it up!”

“Not a bad effort, even if I say so myself.” Thasvia continued to wave her staff around, generating stacks of sigils that fired away at the translucent barrier. Each of these attacks were actually capable of shaking the continent, which made the fact that she was releasing hundreds of them every second very imposing.

Liamar roared once, and Thasvia glanced at the great god. The Worldshaper had just expressed a question — with such a devastating weapon, how had she been defeated by the Mortal Light Dynasty when they were forced to descend a few years ago?

Gemini pricked his ears.

“I didn’t have this staff back then,” said Thasvia. “And well, being attacked by legions of artillery really sucked. I wanted to replicate these effects with sigils. And it worked, brilliantly.”

“Nice, but can you tell what’s this barrier made up of?” Gemini asked, gritting his teeth as he stopped yet another wall of fire. “How can shots be fired from the inside?”

“It’s the Abyss Sovereign’s divinity, naturally.” Thasvia continued to generate sigils. “That’s why it can shrug off these attacks, since it has very high resistance to lower derivations of energy. But since I’m firing these attacks off with no personal cost save for muscle fatigue and joint pains, it’s a good trade.”

“We should begin our assault too,” said Hereward. “Gemini, you focus on defence. That’s the best use for your divinity so far, since you don’t have experience in cutting down mountains.”

“Mountains?”

Liamar growled, before taking out an axe made of what seemed to be molten lava. With a mighty roar, he shot up into the highest airzones, before an incredible pressure pressed down on Gemini and the others, as a titanic projection of a blazing axe raised itself high.

Hereward lowered himself into a sword-drawing stance a moment later, a blinding grey light blazing at his waist. What felt like a cold blade ran up Gemini’s spine a moment later, and the vision of the entire planet severed into two forced itself into his mind’s eye.

Thasvia’s bombardment ceased at the same time, as the Breath-taker raised both of her hands together. Green light surged outwards from her body, and air howled madly as an emerald boundary divided the battlefield from the approaching allies and the Five Lands beyond.

“To prevent the aftershocks from tearing up Orb,” she said. “Hereward’s also exhausting himself really badly, to prevent permanent spatial damage. It’s likely that you’ll be the main combat force once we take down the defences here, along with the approaching expeditionary troops.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll still use my staff, though. Once these defences are down, it should have a deadly effect on the enemy.”

Gemini nodded mutely. The fire from the enemy emplacements had ceased, as if the troops manning it were cowed by the sheer pressure emanating off the Worldshaper and the Sentinel of Space.

“Let’s bring this festival,” said Hereward, his words a chilly steel, “to a premature end!”

With a world-shaking roar, the gigantic blazing axe chopped down on the translucent barrier. At the same time, an illusory silvery-grey line appeared, one that seemed to bisect the world vertically, through the barrier and the intimidating tower that stood in the middle of the Central Circle.

“Reality,” Hereward murmured. “Invert.”

A stomach-churning wrongness abruptly assailed Gemini, as the colours of Orb inverted. The white sky turned black, while the dark blue waters of the Never-ending Ocean turned into a blinding white. It was as if he was viewing a photo of Orb in negative film, but the urge to throw up vanished as swiftly as it came.

The world-spanning silvery line, the seemingly illusory vertical slash that had apparently sought to cleave through Orb itself, had turned very real, and a lot smaller.

Glass cracked, and the meticulously patterned barrier began to fall apart from the top. At the same time, grey blood erupted from Hereward, as the silvery line broke on contact with the tower that stood at the very centre of the world.

Wiping away the blood on his lips, the Sentinel of Space glanced at the descending axe, his breathing laboured. Now that the Central Circle was unprotected, Gemini had the feeling that this singular attack of the Worldshaper’s could sink the entire continent.

A chilling dot of darkness stepped out of the tower at that moment, and Gemini found his heart trembling. He could tell, even from this distance, that some incredible obsession had descended upon the person they addressed as Abyss Sovereign.

Thasvia hissed. “What on Orb is that? Why…”

Gemini’s eyes stung from simply looking at the Abyss Sovereign. There was something foreign about that small featureless shadow, as if he was the embodiment of another world on his own.

“I get the feeling of madness from him,” Hereward murmured. “And that will of his is insane. Gemini, what monster did you create with your words? What happened to breaking his will?”

“How should I know?” Gemini shot back. “And besides, it can’t just be him. There’s no way. His will was a lot weaker back then. How else would I have managed to stop him from doing stupid things when the Five Lands invaded?”

“I’m beginning to think that you should have killed him back then,” Hereward muttered bitterly.

Thasvia nodded in agreement.

“Well, you know what they say. Whatever doesn’t kill you make you stronger,” Gemini replied. “He would have escaped either way, so…”

“This isn’t just ‘stronger’ anymore, though.” Hereward stared on as the small shadow floated over to the falling axe casually. “Either the Abyss Sovereign is crazy enough to take this attack head on, or the Abyss Sovereign has calculated that he can take this attack head on.”

“Let’s just hope it’s the former, then.” Gemini stared skyward, fixing his eyes on the first confrontation between the Worldshaper and the Abyss Sovereign. Despite the huge difference in size and momentum, the Demon Sovereign had the grim feeling that the Abyss Sovereign was going to win.

Perhaps with absurd ease.