Chapter 235 Heroes Of Suntouched Confederacy

The aftermath of the brief, brutal skirmish in Porto Pescar settled like dust in the ruined town. The surviving civilians, huddled under the comforting golden glow of Ceanna’s protective wards, stared with wide, disbelieving eyes at the strange group who had descended like vengeful gods. Dead Merrow warriors, giant crabs blasted to pieces, frozen crawlers – the evidence of the swift, overwhelming power was undeniable.

Alaric maintained his pleasant, non-threatening facade as he continued his questioning of the old fisherman, whose name turned out to be Mateo. Other survivors, emboldened by the safety offered by the Steele contingent, began to chime in, adding fragments to the grim tapestry of the Confederacy’s plight.

“You asked about others fighting back, stranger,” Mateo said, his voice raspy but stronger now, thanks to a cleric’s healing touch on his arm. “Aye, there are some. Sparks of light in the darkness, bless their courage.”

“Not armies,” added a younger woman, clutching a child tightly. “The Confederacy Legions… they pulled back mostly. Said the coast was lost, needed to defend the inland cities from… from him.” A shudder went through her as she spoke of Krýllos.

“But there are others,” Mateo insisted, nodding towards the north-east, deeper into the desert territories that bordered the ravaged coast. “The Desert Wind twins, they call ’em. Zaltar and Zephyrine.”

“Fast as the sirocco!” exclaimed a boy who looked barely old enough to shave, his eyes bright with admiration. “Seen ’em myself! Ran rings around a Merrow patrol that was chasing a caravan. Sand just… exploded around them! Then whoosh! Gone, along with half the fish-faces!”

‘Twins? Sand magic?’ Alaric filed the information away. Interesting, but likely low-level skirmishers.

“They lost their family early on, when the first big waves hit near Oasis Veridia,” the young woman added softly. “Old Man Hemet, the hermit geomancer who lived out past the dunes, took ’em in. Taught ’em the desert’s secrets, they say. Now they just… appear. Help folks escape, hit the monsters where they ain’t expectin’ it.”

“Can’t be everywhere though,” Mateo sighed, the hope dimming slightly. “Just two youngsters against the whole damn sea.”

“And the Sentinel!” the boy piped up again. “Borin Stonefist! He’s holding the evacuation point at Sentinel Pass!”

“Aye, Borin,” Mateo nodded gravely. “Used to be head guard at the Sunstone Temple before… well, before it got drowned by that first freak tide Krýllos summoned. Tough as sun-baked rock, that one.”

“He wields the Hammer of Solara, blessed by the priests before the end,” the woman explained. “They say hitting him is like hitting a mountain. He stands at the Pass, letting refugees through, holding back whatever crawls up from the coast. Merrow, crabs, worse… He don’t break.”

‘A tank,’ Alaric assessed. ‘Likely high defence, probably some form of light or earth-based resilience. Good for holding a position, but slow. Tactically limited.’

“And there’s the Oasis Witch,” Mateo lowered his voice slightly, as if speaking of something uncanny. “Shaila Bloomwater.”

“She lives… lived… deep in the Whispering Reeds oasis,” the woman whispered. “Knew every plant, every creature of the sands. They say when the sea monsters poisoned her oasis, something snapped.”

“She don’t fight head-on,” Mateo elaborated. “Uses poisons brewed from desert flowers that can paralyze a Merrow in seconds. Makes salves that heal burns faster than any cleric I seen, ‘cept maybe yours,” he nodded respectfully towards Ceanna. “Sometimes… sometimes she even gets the sand vipers and dune stalkers to fight for her.”

‘Unconventional magic. Poison, healing, minor beast control,’ Alaric cataloged. ‘Resourceful. Annoying to deal with, perhaps, but not a major power.’

He listened patiently as they shared more fragmented stories – tales of desperate stands, small victories, and overwhelming losses. The emerging picture was clear: isolated pockets of resistance led by individuals with unique skills, fighting bravely but ultimately incapable of stemming the tide led by an Arch-level entity and fueled by the seemingly endless hordes of the sea.

‘Local heroes,’ Alaric mused inwardly. ‘Brave, perhaps. Useful as distractions, certainly. They might even kill a few Sixth Order beasts themselves, saving me the trouble. But they are strategically insignificant in the grand scheme. My goals are different.’

His goal wasn’t saving the Confederacy. His goal was harvesting power.

He turned back to Mateo, his expression still friendly. “These larger creatures you mentioned, old man. The shadows, the tentacles, the cold… Where are they most concentrated? Are there areas teeming with these powerful beasts, places even these brave locals avoid?”

Mateo shuddered again, his gaze turning towards a specific direction along the coast – south-east. “Aye, stranger. There are places… cursed places now. The Kraken’s Maw Estuary… used to be rich fishing grounds. Now…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“It’s swarming,” the younger woman whispered, pulling her child closer. “Not just Merrow. Giant things with too many arms… Hydras that spit freezing brine… Lurkers that rise from the sand itself. They say the water boils with their numbers. Even the Desert Wind twins don’t go near the Maw anymore. Too many. Too strong.”

“And… him?” Alaric asked casually, referring to Krýllos. “Has the Abyssal Lord been sighted there?”

Mateo shook his head emphatically. “No, thank the scorched sands! He’s been further south, they say, crushing the main Confederacy forts. The Maw… it’s just full of his lesser monsters. Though ‘lesser’ ain’t the word I’d use,” he muttered grimly.

‘Perfect,’ Alaric thought, a hunter’s satisfaction settling over him. ‘High density of powerful targets. Sixth Order Hydras, Lurkers, Kraken sub-species likely. Overwhelming numbers, enough to challenge my team. And crucially, no confirmed Arch-level presence. The ideal training ground.’

He made his decision.

“Thank you for the information, Mateo, all of you,” Alaric said, rising. He subtly nodded to Ceanna.

Ceanna stepped forward, addressing the survivors. “We cannot stay, but we leave you with blessings of protection and provisions.” Her clerics moved among the small group, distributing rations Alaric had packed, applying longer-lasting protective seals to the warehouse walls, offering final words of comfort and healing.

Alaric gathered his core team slightly away from the civilians. “New objective,” he stated quietly but firmly. “We head south-east, to the Kraken’s Maw Estuary.”

He saw the flicker of understanding – and perhaps apprehension – in their eyes. They had heard the fisherman’s description.

“The area is reported to have a high concentration of powerful sea monsters, likely including numerous Sixth Order specimens,” Alaric continued. “Precisely the targets we seek.”

He looked directly at Rosalind, Brita, Kara, and Ulriya. “This will be your primary engagement. The numbers will be significant. The threats, powerful. This is not target practice; this is a live-fire crucible.”

He could see Kara pale slightly. Ulriya gripped her orb tighter, determination warring with nervousness. Rosalind’s expression became intensely focused. Brita’s neutral mask remained, but he sensed a coiled readiness beneath.

“Rosalind,” Alaric commanded, “you will retain tactical command of the mage contingent. Coordinate their attacks, manage their mana, ensure effective targeting. Prioritize crowd control and eliminating high-threat targets before they can overwhelm you.”

Rosalind nodded sharply. “Understood, Alaric.”

“Brita,” his gaze pinned her. “Your role is crucial. Debilitation and control. Wide-area freezing effects, shadow bindings, targeted curses to weaken the stronger beasts. Create openings for Kara and Ulriya. Disrupt their formations.”

“Yes… Master,” Brita replied, her voice low but steady.

“Kara,” Alaric softened his tone slightly, but the expectation was clear. “Defense and terrain. Anticipate charges. Raise barriers. Use earth spikes, tremors – anything to impede their movement and protect the casters. Do not hesitate.”

“I won’t, Young Master!” Kara declared, clutching her staff, forcing confidence into her voice.

“Ulriya,” he finished, looking at his utterly devoted maid. “Raw power. Directed force. Water lances, ice shards, blizzards. Focus your attacks where Rosalind directs. Don’t hold back, but don’t waste energy. Precision matters.”

“I will give my all for you, Young Master!” Ulriya vowed, her eyes shining.

He then addressed his mother, aunt, and Saintess. “Mother, Aunt Cassandra, Ceanna. Your role is primarily support and oversight during this phase. Intervene only if a critical mistake is made or if one of the trainees faces imminent, unavoidable death. Let them handle the pressure. Let them learn. Observe their weaknesses, their strengths.”

“We understand, Alaric,” Lyra confirmed, her eyes scanning the younger mages with a critical, maternal gaze.

“They need to be tempered,” Cassandra agreed, folding her arms, her expression sharp.

“My clerics and I will provide continuous support from the rear,” Ceanna assured him calmly.

“I,” Alaric concluded, his voice dropping slightly, carrying an unspoken weight, “will observe. I will assess. And I will deal with any variables that exceed your collective capabilities.” The implication was clear: he was the ultimate safety net, the final arbiter, the one who would step in if things truly went sideways.

“Now,” he said, turning towards the south-east. “Let’s go hunting. Show me what you’ve learned.”

The journey to the Kraken’s Maw Estuary took them through increasingly desolate and corrupted terrain. The devastation wrought by the Sea Monsters was profound. Salt-encrusted ruins, unnaturally frozen patches of desert, and the pervasive, foul stench of the deep sea marked their path.

They encountered smaller patrols of Merrow or packs of Abyssal Crawlers, which Alaric allowed the mage contingent to handle under Rosalind’s command, offering curt feedback after each brief, brutal engagement.

“Kara, your wall was too slow that time. Three crawlers slipped past.”

“Ulriya, good power on those ice shards, but half missed. Focus.”

“Brita, excellent use of the shadow bind, but coordinate with Rosalind’s lightning next time for faster kills.”

“Rosalind, better target prioritization.”

The critiques were sharp, relentless, pushing the four women constantly. They were learning under pressure, their coordination slowly improving, their movements becoming less hesitant.

Finally, they arrived at the edge of the Kraken’s Maw. It was a vast, swampy delta where several desert rivers met the sea, now choked with unnatural fog and teeming with monstrous life. The water itself seemed darker, colder. Strange, glowing algae pulsed beneath the surface. The air was thick with the clicks and hisses of unseen creatures.

Even from a distance, they could see them. Hordes. Merrow warriors patrolled the muddy banks in disciplined ranks. Giant, crab-like monstrosities scuttled through the shallows, their claws snapping. Sinuous, multi-headed shapes – Abyssal Hydras – lurked in the deeper channels, their necks weaving, reptilian eyes scanning for prey. Further out, towards the sea, the occasional massive tentacle would breach the surface before sinking back down.

“High density indeed,” Cassandra murmured, her eyes narrowed. “Sixth Order Hydras, at least three visible. Numerous Fifth Order Merrow commanders. Those crustaceans look like Sixth Order ‘Deep Crushers’.”

“The sheer number is the main threat,” Lyra observed calmly. “Easily several hundred entities within visual range.”

Alaric surveyed the scene, his expression unreadable. ‘Excellent. Exactly what I wanted.’

He turned to his trainees. “Rosalind. Brita. Kara. Ulriya. You see the targets.” His voice was calm, almost casual, but held an unmistakable edge of command. “Your training exercise begins now.”

He gestured towards the teeming estuary. “Engage. Eliminate them. Rosalind, you are in command. Coordinate effectively.”

He stepped back, positioning himself on a slight rise overlooking the estuary, flanked by Lyra, Cassandra, and Ceanna’s group. Ready to observe. Ready to intervene.

Rosalind took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. The responsibility was immense, the scene before them daunting. But Alaric’s eyes were on her. Failure was not an option.

“Alright,” she projected her voice, infused with mana for clarity. “Listen up! Brita, initiate with a wide-area Frost Nova – slow their advance! Kara, layered earth walls along the bank, funnel them towards the central channel! Ulriya, target the Hydras first – concentrated Ice Lances on their heads! I will provide lightning support and target the Merrow commanders! Move!”

The four mages sprang into action.

Brita raised her hands, dark energy swirling, coalescing into chilling frost. With a sharp gesture, she unleashed a wave of intense cold that washed over the estuary banks. A crackling sheet of ice spread outwards, covering the mudflats, slowing the advance of the Merrow and Deep Crushers, causing them to hiss and click in agitation.

Kara slammed her staff down repeatedly. Thick walls of packed earth erupted along the estuary’s edge, rough and uneven but effective, boxing the creatures in, forcing them towards the deeper water where the Hydras lurked.

Ulriya, focusing her considerable power, gathered shimmering water and ice energy into her orb. With cries of exertion, she launched multiple, spear-like bolts of pure glacial ice towards the nearest Abyssal Hydra. Several lances struck true, shattering scales, freezing flesh, causing one of the Hydra’s heads to roar in pain and fury.

Rosalind, seeing the initial plan unfold, began weaving lightning. Crackling energy gathered around her before she unleashed devastating chain lightning bolts that arced between the Merrow commanders, electrocuting several instantly and disrupting their command structure.

The battle was joined.

From his vantage point, Alaric watched intently. ‘Better opening. Brita’s control is solid. Kara’s walls are functional, if crude. Ulriya hit the target, good power. Rosalind’s coordination is improving.’

The Sea Monsters reacted with savage fury. Merrow warriors hurled tridents crackling with abyssal energy. Deep Crushers slammed their massive claws against Kara’s earth walls, sending cracks spiderwebbing through them. The injured Hydra roared, its remaining heads spitting streams of corrosive, freezing brine towards the mages. More monsters surged forward from the fog-choked waters.

“Kara, reinforce Wall Sector Beta!” Rosalind yelled, dodging a spray of brine. “Ulriya, focus fire on that spitting Hydra! Brita, shadow tendrils, bind those Crushers!”

Kara frantically channeled more earth energy, shoring up the crumbling wall. Ulriya unleashed another volley of Ice Lances, forcing the Hydra to recoil. Brita sent ropes of pure darkness snaking out, wrapping around the legs and claws of the Deep Crushers, momentarily immobilizing them.

The fight descended into a chaotic melee. Spells flared, ice shattered, earth groaned, monsters roared. The four mages worked frantically, sweat beading on their brows, mana levels dropping steadily. They were holding, but the sheer number of enemies was immense.

A Deep Crusher finally broke through Kara’s wall, scuttling rapidly towards her, massive claws raised. Kara cried out, throwing up a hasty stone shield.

Before the shield could shatter, Cassandra moved. A blur of azure wind, a flash of steel. The Crusher’s claws clattered harmlessly to the ground, severed cleanly. Cassandra was back in position beside Lyra before Kara fully registered the intervention.

‘Too slow, Kara,’ Cassandra noted silently. ‘Relied on the shield instead of evasion or a counter-attack.’

Another Hydra emerged from the water, flanking Ulriya. Before Ulriya could react, Lyra pointed a finger. A thin beam of concentrated sunlight lanced out, striking the Hydra’s eye, causing it to recoil with a shriek of pain, momentarily blinded.

‘Ulriya tunnel-visioned on her target,’ Lyra assessed. ‘Needs better situational awareness.’

Ceanna’s clerics worked tirelessly, maintaining protective wards, sending out pulses of healing light to negate minor injuries caused by stray projectiles or corrosive splashes.

Alaric continued to watch, impassive. The interventions were necessary, preventing critical failure, but he let the pressure continue. ‘They need to feel the burn. Need to learn resource management under fire.’

Rosalind, panting now, saw her team tiring. “Brita! Can you lock down that central channel? Buy us a moment!”

Brita nodded grimly. She drew upon deeper reserves of power, chanting in harsh, guttural syllables. The water in the main channel began to churn violently, then rapidly froze solid, trapping dozens of Merrow and several partially submerged Hydras in thick, black ice.

It was a powerful display, buying precious seconds.

“Good!” Rosalind approved. “Kara, Ulriya, focus fire on the trapped Hydras! Finish them!”

They poured their remaining energy into devastating attacks on the immobilized Hydras. Ice lances shattered frozen flesh, earth spikes impaled trapped limbs.

But as the trapped monsters died, new, even larger shapes began to emerge from the estuary mouth. Three hulking figures, resembling monstrous, bipedal anglerfish with glowing lures and vast, tooth-filled maws, lumbered forward – Sixth Order Deep Lurkers. Their presence radiated a palpable aura of pressure and menace.

“Deep Lurkers!” Rosalind gasped, her mana running dangerously low. “Kara, wall! Ulriya, ice! Brita…!”

Before the trainees could react effectively, Alaric decided their lesson for the day was sufficient. He raised his hand slowly.

Arcane energy, violet and swirling with contained power, gathered around his fingertips. With a silent, effortless gesture, he unleashed three perfectly aimed bolts of ‘Archon’s Judgment’.

The beams struck the Deep Lurkers simultaneously. There was no explosion, no dramatic sound. The Lurkers simply… ceased to exist, dissolving into fine arcane dust that dissipated on the salty breeze.

The sudden, utter annihilation of the most powerful remaining threats stunned the battlefield into silence. The remaining lesser sea monsters froze, then turned and fled frantically back into the deeper water.

The Steele team stared, panting, at the spot where the Lurkers had been, then back at Alaric, who lowered his hand calmly.

“Engagement concluded,” he stated simply. “Adequate performance. Significant room for improvement.”

He turned towards the estuary, littered now with monster corpses and valuable cores waiting to be harvested. “Retrieve the cores. Quickly. We move out before anything larger is drawn by the commotion.”

The trainees, exhausted but alive, hurried to obey, the memory of Alaric’s effortless display of power a stark reminder of the gulf that still existed between them and their Master. The tempering was painful, terrifying, but undeniably effective.