For a moment, the Avalanche Bringer stopped moving. The barrage of attacks that was shrugged away by the dense mana shield from the titanic skeleton didn't garner a reaction from the monstrosity.
Every crevice of the titan's armor was spewing out heavy amounts of smoke as if the inside was burning. It struck numerous non-believers with confusion.
Those who lost their limbs and cultivation progress due to this abruptly demoralizing raid, were agape whether they would chant a cry of victory or to wail if the Avalanche Bringer brought more trickery of carnage on its sleeves.
The smoke engulfed the giant skeleton, churning from silver into the hue of black as it released a huge shockwave to the surrounding area.
Thunder struck the smoke, the Avalanche Bringer was gone. Numerous Calamities lost their appetite and ran away into the opposite direction with their tails between their legs
The moment passed, their Citadel, their home's beating heart that was being torned out of history had fought back its fate with gusto in a crude match of willpower, and they won, they finally won.
"THE RAID IS OVER!!"
"HURRAAAHHH!!!"
"WE'VE SURVIVED!"
The merriment survivors chanted their praises and hope as they trample the corpses of the dead, both Calamity and their fellow Usurpers.
Out of hundreds, there were only 37 followers of Pallas. Out of thousands, only a few hundred Usurpers survived the raid.
The logistics group began to barge into the former frontline with healing pills and tools. Some of the healers from Pallas Temple had also joined.
To heal, a spellcaster needs to know the structure of the body and organs. Many healers required years of training before they could perform the healing spell, not to mention that there were numerous races with different biology that they needed to keep in track of.
Many also decided to carve their prey to snatch the resources for their own, while some were glad that they could still take a breath for longer in this world.
But is it really the end? The Calamities would never stop to trample everything for their goal, there is no turning back for them, yet, they turned around, giving their weak back to their arch nemesis. It was also the first case of an Avalanche Bringer deciding to deem the war not worthy even though they are the one with the upper hand.
Some Usurpers were too blind with the feeling of safety, while others were paranoid with the thought in their minds.
Why?
It was questioned, but it became an unsolved mystery until dusk came. The Vagant Association spreaded their forces in case that there will be another raid in the night, but nothing came. Although there was a strange pattern exuded from the scouted Calamities.
They stood still, one of the scouts even stumbled upon them in close range but there was no hostility shown from their gesture, as if they were blind and their consciousness was taken. Or it could be a command from a higher ranked Calamity that made them act like an ignorant statue.
Eerily as it sounds, that scout stumbled upon more of them, lining up like a soldier before the war, but as if time had stopped. Until a mysterious entity cut his throat from behind.
The night became a horror. The patrolling Usurpers might deem this midnight as nap time, as one by one, their comrades in arms were affected by an eternal lullaby of their hearts flatlining.
30% of the total people within the Citadel were assassinated, and all of them were cultivators.
Many might turn a blind eye to the corpses that rotted throughout the night. It wasn't their fault as they were restless, still afraid of opening their front door due to the rumors of the killer of the night.
The morning then came, by that time. All followers of Pallas and Vagants have been assassinated, leaving only the undeveloped civilians and workers. This event had taken the life of 60% living beings of the Citadel. Strangely, everyone from the authority was untouched.
They thought that it was the end, until they found a mysterious black box in front of their door. Curious, they glanced at their neighbors who just also had opened their door in utter confusion, with the same black box.
It was foreboding the unbecoming of this entire Citadel. With just a simple flick from someone within the authority building, viruses with a slaving formation were blasted like mushrooms spreading their spores.
"W-what is this!?"
"Mama? Why does the room smell funny?"
"BLAH! Who the hell would make a sick joke like this!?"
Within the center of the flabbergasted Citadel, smoke arose.
A heavy thunder struck the center of the pulsating Citadel's heart, infrastructure crumbled as the weight of a giant menace had flattened them into the ground.
Everyone's heart within the fortified city was sinking with the blood drained from their faces. Paled, their pupils were shaking, any movement they wanted to perform ended up as a twitch and shudder on the arms of their beloved ones.
Numerous Calamities were on standby right in front of the walls, guarding the ants from escaping. In just a second, a scream could be heard.
They wailed, they screeched and held onto their chest as the realization crashed into their reality.
"Greetings." A voice then suddenly boomed into the pitiful scene, the voice of a sneering and raspy young woman. "To everyone who forgot to peruse the newest decrees publication, please seek into the bottom of the black box that was sent into your front door."
One by one, they began to take out the parchment to read the content of the decree. Each of them was written in blood, the very same blood.
'I, Drin Djarrin, will grant Ouroboros the ownership of this Citadel. From tomorrow until the end of time, every life within Gaia Citadel will become the belongings of the new Director.'
Under the name of Ouroboros, MF started her new reign. By conceptualizing herself as the symbol of perpetuity, she wanted everyone to know that messing with her means messing with life and death.
Before her official ownership, Foel had forced Drin to write overnight with his own blood in the office. Every member of the authorities had been converted into marionettes as they gaze upon their leader who spilled his indefinite blood due to the mutations given by MF.
"I'm still amused at how you had the time to change your clothes while we're infiltrating yesterday," Foel said, as she glared dismissively at the lifeless Ferrowl, standing beside her as a subservient servant.
He clenched his fist full of dried blood to the wrists, Drin already knew that resisting was no longer needed.
"What is a leader who doesn't care about their appearance?" MF shrugged. She then leaned into the sound amplifier formation to get back into her unfinished speech. "As you can see, my dear citizens—candidates.
"Fate is fickle. Your ancestors have been hurled into this forsaken world without leave, surviving on the land without leaves. The seed they sowed was fruitious! Truly, the reason all of you are here alive with shelter and bed were the very juice of that hard work and culmination.
"Regardless, I'm sure that all of you here are grateful sheeps. So if you ever think of resisting, please go to your kitchen and grab a knife.
"And carve that naive revolution in your bowels until the surface becomes wet."