The Oracle Paths - Chapter 1166: Our Fate Ends In His Arms

1166 Our Fate Ends In His Arms

Now that they knew what awaited them beyond the membrane, the Myrtharian Nerds and other factionless Players who had decided to stay displayed grim expressions, barely holding back from retreating. It would be a miracle if even a tenth of them made it out of this confrontation alive.

It wasn’t just about the number of monsters, but their sheer power. The smallest of these creatures was about their size, but the Black Lumyst Aura radiating from their bodies dwarfed that of an average Lifemancer or Soulmancer. In other words, their cultivation stage was at least comparable to that of a Corebearer, as evidenced by the Black Lumyst Core pulsing in their hearts.

To make matters worse, these monsters swarmed less than ten feet away, crawling over the membrane they had just torn. Fortunately for them, these creatures, though lively, seemed to pay them no mind, finding the dying membrane far more appetizing.

Skorgeld, right under the tear, looked up to come face-to-face with one of these spider-like abominations with far too many eyes and legs. The alien creature didn’t seem to notice him, though he was just an arm’s length away.

Ulfar’s son took a sharp breath at the sight, forcefully suppressing the reflex to plant his axe in its forehead. He was on edge, but soon he noticed something,

“There’s something weird.”

The spider had closed all its eyes and was motionless, its head pointing in their direction, but not directly at them. Behind them.

The twins, Skorgeld, and the other Players quickly realized who these monsters were targeting: the deserters.

Their expressions changed dramatically, daring not to make a sound. At the same time, Eris telepathically ordered,

‘Nobody move. These monsters are dazzled by the light, but it won’t last. My prayer is probably why we haven’t been noticed yet. Let’s use the deserters’ sacrifice to sneak in.’

“WHAT?! Have you lost your mind?!” A Player blurted out unconsciously, outraged by the instruction. “I’m not dying following you into this madness. If you’re looking to off yourselves, count me out! Farewell!”

Without hesitation, the man, a horned reptilian alien, flapped his wings violently, stirring up a whirlwind of air, and soared into the sky in the opposite direction.

“This fool!” The other Players cursed inwardly as the fool revealed his position with a phenomenal racket.

That was why some races struggled to join a faction. Their strong temperament sometimes went beyond all common sense, betraying even their own survival instincts.

As they watched him quickly shrink into the distance, widening the gap, the remaining Players held their breath, realizing it wasn’t just the deserter who was in danger from this noisy departure.

Indeed, Skorgeld saw the many-legged creature’s mandibles twitch inches from his face. The next second, the mutant arachnid vanished from sight, reappearing miles behind them well before the sound wave reached his ears.

One of these monsters had officially invaded Twyluxia.

That was all it took for the other monsters to follow suit. The only reason these horrors hadn’t moved was that they didn’t want to venture into unknown territory while blinded. But with one of their kin leading the way, any hesitation evaporated from their primitive minds.

In a blink, a swarm of dazzled monsters numbering in the millions poured into the breach, overturning and trampling the group of Players like weeds. In fact, it was exactly the treatment they reserved for their own species, the larger crushing the smaller without mercy.

Several Myrmidians were tempted to retaliate to avenge this affront, but Nyx sternly ordered through telepathy,

“Keep playing dead if you want to live.”

Those about to attack stiffened, then closed their eyes in humiliation, silently letting themselves be walked over. Some were even unlucky enough to be impaled by a sharp insect leg or slashed by dagger-sharp talons.

A giant black slug reeking of excrement even rolled over an especially unlucky Throsgenian. Besides being one of the slowest monsters, the prolonged contact with its Black Lumyst Aura and the corrosive substance covering its body to aid its sliding nearly cost him his life.

When he could finally breathe, his robust body was nothing but rotting bones and muscles. Except for the Kintharians, almost all others would have ended up as bloodied puddles after such treatment.

When the Throsgenian got up, his mood was foul.

“Are you okay, Worgen?” One of his Beskyrian friends asked with concern, pinching his nose. The stench was just too foul.

Worgen was initially touched by his concern, but when he realized that no Beskyrian had been trampled, all warmth in his heart extinguished.

“…I’m fine.”

At least that was the truth. Regeneration was slow due to the destructive aura, but his species was renowned for its vitality. He wouldn’t die anytime soon.

Counting every head with a sweep of his eyes, Skorgeld nodded in approval, confirming that apart from the deserter who had put them in this mess, they were all accounted for.

“We can talk,” Skorgeld finally announced, before adding immediately after, “But only in whispers.”

All the monsters for miles around had rushed into the breach behind them, and they were alone. For now.

The surviving Players visibly relaxed after realizing they were safe.

“What just happened? Why didn’t those things attack us?”

“No idea.”

Nyx and Eris kept the details of how their powers worked to themselves, unable to provide a satisfactory explanation. At a high level, all esoteric powers could bend logic and perform miracles.

Between the present Beskyrians and the twins, their group had an unusual number of specialists in this category. Just the high luck of the Beskyrians alone was enough to drastically reduce their presence if they pooled their energy. Adding Eris’s Providence to that, it wasn’t so unthinkable.

Still, the twins and Skorgeld furrowed their brows in skepticism. As fantastic as their power was, the fact that none of these creatures had attacked them far surpassed a mere miracle.

“Maybe they’re not just chasing the deserters to devour them,” a Player suggested gravely, but Nyx immediately denied this claim.

“Impossible. Their end truly draws nigh,” she repeated adamantly. “The only reason I can think of is that we did well not to attack them. Some of these monsters may have noticed our presence, but the conjunction of our powers made us appear as one of their own.”

“…And you did well,” a familiar voice suddenly sounded above them. “If you had made the slightest noise or leaked out even a speck of energy in any form, you would be dead.”

Before even turning their heads to identify the speaker, the faces of the twin sisters lit up with joy.

“Hubby!”

The man with ashen-grey hair and glowing orange eyes who had spoken had a terrible complexion, but his seductive and kingly demeanor was unforgettable.

The King of Beskyr had lost a lot of weight since their last meeting. His usually perfectly shaved beard had also grown out, as had his hair. His clothes were in tatters, and although he didn’t smell bad, he looked like he hadn’t showered in a long time.

Regardless, he was still their husband! And for the Beskyrians who had come this far, their king and role model.

Already crying tears of joy, the two abandoned wives could hardly restrain themselves from rushing into his arms. But as they moved towards him, all their instincts went on high alert, halting them in their tracks.

Ignoring the sensation of danger, Eris started to run towards Ulfar again, but her sister suddenly grabbed her arm.

“Something’s wrong. Our fate… ends in his arms,” Nyx whispered with a complicated expression.

Ulfar simply displayed a sad smile instead of getting offended. But soon, his face distorted in rage, an overwhelming killing intent surging from his body. The others then remembered that he was highly Corrupted or he wouldn’t have been sent here.

“S-SCRAM!” he yelled before summoning a majestic white wood bow.

When Skorgeld and the other Beskyrians recognized the bow, their faces turned pale.

“The Reverse Fate Bow!”

This bow was the bane of lucky people and protagonists. Besides firing unavoidable arrows, the artifact could condense one arrow per day capable of reversing the fate of its victim.

Skorgeld, being Ulfar’s son, knew the potential of this weapon better than anyone. For Ulfar to summon this weapon meant he had judged that they were all doomed. The victim of this arrow would see their luck reversed, but their destiny as well, which could paradoxically save them if their life was supposed to end here.

However, he knew his father. The one Ulfar was preparing to shoot was none other than himself. That was the price he was willing to pay to avoid massacring his companions, even if it meant being cursed with misfortune.

“Let’s go,” Skorgeld declared decisively, understanding his father’s intentions.

The twin sisters were stronger than him as Rank 15 Players, but he managed to knock them out easily by channeling the luck of the other Beskyrians. Some kind of mega critical hit.

The other Myrtharian Nerds and factionless Players who had been waiting for this breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly obeyed, crossing back through the membrane without looking back.

Ulfar’s twisted face finally relaxed once the group of humans was on the other side, and he put away his bow. While he was still lucid, he took the opportunity to send a message to his son,

“Tell Jake to meet us as soon as possible. He needs to know that the purpose of this Ordeal isn’t what it seems. We have far less time than he imagines.”

Skorgeld nodded gloomily, then crossed the membrane himself. After his passage, it quickly closed, drawing the curtain on Ulfar’s grave and lonely face.