Back in Thale City, Elysium, the Abyssal Shades had already overrun a significant part of the area. Fortunately, every city in Elysium was prepared, with Soul Weavers stationed in key positions to defend against inevitable invasions through the Calamity Gates.
Over five hundred mundane soldiers had gathered to defend the city, armed with specially crafted weapons designed to eliminate Abyssal Shades. While it was true that some Shades, especially the stronger ones, were difficult to kill, the weaker ones could be mowed down by the relentless hail of bullets. Still, the onslaught was grueling, and the danger ever-present.
At the front lines, power suits braced against the waves of abominations. These mechanical giants were essential, preventing the Shades from breaking through, but at a steep cost. Controlling the machines was a struggle, especially as the Abyssal Shades, cunning and insidious, exploited any weakness. They moved with unnerving agility, gnawing through powerful alloys like mere candy. Some power suits had already been torn apart, leaving nothing of their pilots but grim memories.
Only a few of these machines operated smoothly—the mechas, the pride of the battlefield. The difference between these advanced creations and the bulkier power suits was unmistakable. Sleek and humanoid, the mechas wielded advanced weaponry—lasers, beams, and light blasts—unlike the traditional munitions used by the power suits. The mechas didn't need to reload, their energy reserves seemingly endless. They were the true stars of the battle, but even they could be overwhelmed by a horde if caught off guard.
Fortunately, the Soul Weavers provided critical support. Some launched long-range attacks, while others bolstered the mundane soldiers, machines, and mechas on the front lines. Without them, the defense would have already crumbled under the relentless assault. It was their presence that prevented massive casualties, though only a small number remained in the rear.
Out of over a hundred Soul Weavers in the battlefield, the majority—more than seventy percent—were deeply embedded within the swarming Abyssal Shades, skillfully weaving through the chaos. These elite combatants targeted the most dangerous foes, those with exceptionally tough hides or devastating abilities. Their battles were far more brutal, often isolated and harrowing, yet methodical. But they were losing ground. Fatigue was creeping in, and the Shades kept coming. The gate had to be closed, or the horrors would continue to spawn. Someone needed to take down the Gate Guardian.
In the temporary command center just behind the lines, chaos reigned. Officers scrambled to oversee the battle, dispatching resources, repositioning troops, and coordinating evacuations. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of the battle pressing down on everyone.
"Where's the mayor? Why isn't he in the city?" barked the battalion commander, his frustration palpable.
"Major, the mayor is on official business outside the city," responded a woman in a crisp business suit—his secretary. "We didn't anticipate a Calamity Gate opening here, let alone a Category 3."
The major scowled. "We never know when they'll strike, that's why we have Tier 3 Soul Weavers in every city! Why isn't one helping now?"
The secretary, realizing the futility of arguing, sighed. "The mayor says he'll be here in six hours."
"We don't have six hours if that gate isn't closed!" the major shot back, hopelessness creeping into his voice.
"What about neighboring cities?" she asked.
"They're claiming 'transportation issues,'" he growled, gritting his teeth.
"Transportation issues?" she repeated, confused.
"It's a polite way of saying they're not coming," he said bitterly. "They're afraid of a chain reaction of calamities, and their Tier 3 combatants refuse to leave their own cities. I can't blame them. Our only hope is headquarters."
Silence followed as the secretary absorbed the grim news. "Is there nothing else we can do?" she finally asked.
The major opened his mouth to reply when a commotion outside the tent drew their attention. Moments later, a striking woman in her thirties, with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, strode into the command center, accompanied by a middle-aged man with black hair and a clean-cut appearance.
The major stood, frowning. "Who are you? We're in the middle of a battle!"
"I'm Ava Hailstein, and my children are trapped in the Abyssal Plane. I intend to conquer the gate with a combat party from your battalion," she declared, her voice resolute.
The major sighed. "Look, I understand your concern, but so are countless others. This is a Category 3 Gate. We can't conquer it without a Tier 3 combatant, and you're only disrupting our operations."
Ava's eyes narrowed. "It's fortunate, then, that my companion here is a Tier 3 Soul Lord, a Rank 1 Soul Armor wielder." She gestured to the man beside her.
The major blinked, skeptical. "A Soul Lord?"
Without a word, Roy unleashed his soul essence, the oppressive aura filling the room. The major, a Tier 2 Soul Grandmaster, immediately recognized the overwhelming power.
He snapped to attention, bowing slightly despite his rank. "My apologies, sir. We'll gladly cooperate in conquering the gate."
Roy said nothing, but Ava took charge. "Good. Prepare all available Grandmasters within thirty minutes. We'll clear this gate as soon as possible."
"Yes, ma'am," the major responded, rushing to issue new orders.
As Ava and Roy stepped outside, she asked, her voice laced with worry, "Roy, do you think they're safe?"
"I can't say for sure, but they're tough, especially Sirius. I doubt he'll fall to the Abyssal Shades so easily."
Ava smiled, though it was tight with concern. "You're right. Sirius will protect his brother. They'll come back." She glanced at the sky before steeling herself. "Let's prepare."
"Understood, boss," Roy replied, as intricate light-blue armor wove itself around his body, covering him from head to toe.
Meanwhile, in the Abyssal Plane, Sirius found himself cornered by an abomination. The creature before him had a humanoid shape but with four grotesquely long arms. Its single, massive eye glowed menacingly, while a maw split into four parts gnashed hungrily. Its gray skin was revolting, and its presence was suffocating.
Behind Sirius was a dark, rushing river, teeming with piranha-like creatures that had shredded a tree branch within seconds. The thought of jumping in made his skin crawl. His only option was to face the abomination in front of him.