Devourer

Chapter 222: Clash of Titans

Chapter 222: Clash of Titans

“You think things are bad enough now?” Captain Arantosh deadpanned as he watched that now-infamous towering monstrosity hack the gate in two.

The hive swarmed over the walls, and Captain Arantosh just watched as the defenders panicked. He watched through his binoculars as one soldier was tackled right off the wall, and he fell into the writhing mass of hive soldiers below.

“Bad way to go,” Sergeant Morash muttered from beside him.

The two of them were scouts, and they were currently observing the fall of another fortress. This one belonged to Envy, and they were not doing well. Their mistress Beelzebub was wise enough to see this coming, so they had fortified their borders. This meant they didn’t take much damage, but that was more concerning than comforting.

They didn’t take much damage not because they defended well. They got off lightly because the hive only sent light probing attacks against them. It was plainly obvious from the troop movements that whatever was controlling the hives was very intelligent. They only hit the places that would be the most impactful.

Logistics hubs had been raided and razed, supply caravans had been butchered, and critical staging areas had been struck ahead of the arrival of the main force. Half of the line was starving all across the Plains of Eternal Conflict.

As far as Arantosh could tell, the only reason his side had been spared was that his mistress had planned the defenses and executed them so far in advance that even the hive felt it was a waste of time.

“Ok... this is looking bad,” Arantosh muttered as he spotted a small group of flying demons hurtling towards that massive monster.

“Looks like Leviathan is sending out his Reavers. Let’s see if they do anything to that monstrosity,” Morash added.

The Reavers are elite demons serving Leviathan, the Lord of Envy, known for their precision strikes and mastery in eliminating priority targets. Cloaked in shadows, their shifting faces reflect stolen desires, leaving only despair in their wake. Armed with barbed weapons and unmatched cunning, they spread discord with calculated efficiency, turning allies into foes to fulfill their master’s will.

Unfortunately for them, their foe was a hive monster devoid of envy and desires, impervious to their manipulative tactics. As the Reavers soared in for the kill, the creature released a colossal magical pulse, a surge of blinding energy that tore through the air. The force blasted them from the skies, sending their shadowy forms hurtling to the ground below. They landed amidst the swarming soldiers of the hive, who wasted no time in tearing into them with savage efficiency. Their once-elite ranks were shredded, their twisted forms ripped apart in a storm of claws and fangs, utterly consumed by the relentless tide of the hive.

“Damn, the Reavers did nothing,” Arantosh muttered.

“If that thing turns its eyes to our lands, we are in a lot of trouble,” Morash muttered.

Arantosh shifted slightly in the shadow of a jagged outcrop, his eyes fixed on the monstrous hive beast in the distance. His mind churned with unease, a gnawing certainty curling in his belly.

It doesn’t falter... doesn’t tire. What kind of creature moves with such single-minded purpose? The beast was a living nightmare, a writhing amalgamation of carapace and sinew, its form pulsating with unnatural energy. Its very presence seemed to warp the land around it, leaving churned earth and lifeless husks in its wake.

Nothing has slowed it down.

His thoughts stumbled over that last realization, the memory of those supposed elite warriors being swatted from the air and torn apart like fragile toys. Arantosh had watched from the fringes, his heart sinking as he saw the Reavers get torn to pieces. Yes, he was not expecting them to win, but he was at least expecting a fight.

This... thing, whatever it was, must have been sleeping far below the ground when that blast woke it up. Did his mistress know about this thing? If she did, then she was playing a dangerous game. This was a creature straight out of the era of the Old.

Then a great portal opened and out stepped a towering abomination of infernal iron. The air above the battlefield shimmered unnaturally, a ripple of heat and energy that froze even the Hive Beast mid-strike. Arantosh’s brow furrowed as a flicker of crimson light split the horizon, expanding rapidly into a swirling vortex of flame and shadow. A low, resonant groan echoed across the valley, growing louder, until the ground beneath his feet trembled with its intensity.

The Hive Beast turned toward the disturbance, its eyeless head tilting as it issued a guttural hiss of challenge. The portal tore itself wider, spewing arcs of fiery lightning and thick plumes of smoke. Arantosh adjusted the binoculars, and his stomach twisted at the sight of the massive claw that emerged. It was jagged and grotesque, forged of blackened steel and dripping with molten slag. The claw gripped the edge of the portal, pulling forth the rest of the monstrosity.

The Hell Titan emerged in full, its immense form rivaling even the Hive Beast in size. Its molten eyes flared to life, cutting through the haze like twin suns. Blackened steel plates bristled with jagged spines and chains, and glowing runes carved into its frame pulsed with an infernal energy that seemed to suck the light from the battlefield. The Titan’s movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial, as it stepped forward from the portal. Each step sent shockwaves rippling across the valley, the ground melting beneath its feet.

“Get to the outcrop!” Morash’s voice was strained, his words clipped as he grabbed Arantosh’s arm once more, pulling him with desperate urgency. “We can’t outrun it! Throw up a barrier, everything you have!” Arantosh screamed.

All pretense of stealth was out the window. That blast could kill everything in the vicinity, so there was no point in hiding their magical signature. Their barrier would glow like a bonfire, but a star was about to explode next to them.

They reached the outcrop just as the world seemed to collapse in on itself. Arantosh’s breath caught in his throat, but there was no time to think. Morash was already moving, his hands raised, glowing with the pulsing energy of his magic. Arantosh stumbled into place beside him, scrambling to contribute. His hands shook with the effort, but he too began to channel the raw arcane forces around him, feeding everything he had into the magic barrier they were about to create. The outcrop would block the direct hit, but force like that would still hit them indirectly. The heat, the ether radiation many things would kill them.

The world exploded into light.

The Titan’s core detonated in an earth-shattering blast. The air around them warped, bending under the sheer pressure of the infernal force. The ground beneath them cracked open as if the very bones of the earth were being ripped apart. A deafening roar of pure power swallowed all sound, sight, and sensation. It was as though time itself had been torn asunder, and Arantosh was no longer sure where his body ended and the force of the explosion began.

Arantosh shoved all his fear and confusion aside, concentrating on the magic coursing through his body, forcing the energy into the shape of a shield. He could feel it draining from him, the strain of the spell almost unbearable, but he pushed forward. The crackling energy shot from his hands and swirled around them, forming a dome of blue light just as the blast wave struck.

The barrier flared bright, blindingly so, as the shockwave slammed into it. Arantosh’s breath was stolen from him as the force rattled him to his very bones. The world outside became a chaotic storm of fire and destruction. The outcrop they were sheltering behind shuddered violently, as though the very stone they clung to would be torn from the mountainside. The magic shield buckled, the surface rippling and shattering under the weight of the explosion. They were just trying to block what was effectively the secondhand turbulence from the blast, but it was enough to cause his shield to buckle.

The heat that surged against them was unbearable waves of fire, ash, and molten rock. It was as if the world itself was being glassed, scorched clean of life and structure. Arantosh could feel the heat searing the very air around them, his lungs struggling to find purchase in the suffocating atmosphere. He looked on in horror as lava spewed over their heads from the molten outcrop, the red, glowing liquid pooled over their shield as the stone around them melted.

The roar of the explosion was deafening, the sheer force of it shaking the cliffside, the rocks and earth around them crumbling away in an instant. He could hear the deep, guttural sound of Morash’s incantations, but it was drowned by the tumult outside. The shield continued to flicker and pulse, fighting against the overwhelming tide of energy. The light around them was blinding, and Arantosh had to force his eyes open to see the magic still holding firm, still protecting them.

“Hold it!” Morash gritted out, sweat pouring down his face as he poured every ounce of his energy into the barrier. His voice was strained, his body trembling from the raw effort, but they had no choice. They could not let the shield break.

The seconds stretched into eternity as they fought against the overwhelming power of the core’s explosion. The pressure on the shield built and built until Arantosh felt it would collapse under the weight. He couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of his heart and the endless scream of energy crashing against them. His muscles burned, his vision blurred.

Then, finally, there was a shift. The earth stilled beneath them, the roar of the blast began to fade into a distant echo, and the weight of the explosion began to lessen. The shield flickered weakly, then stabilized. They were alive, but barely.

Arantosh collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his vision swimming with the aftermath of the infernal blast. The shield had held, just barely.

They both took a moment to catch their breaths. They both cast protective enchantments over themselves and gingerly tried to get out of the outcrop. They had no choice but to use flight to escape; the entire landscape around them was just a sea of ether-charged magma.

They tried to gain some altitude. It wasn’t stealthy, but whatever was around them was most definitely dead.

As the smoke and ash began to settle, the world around them was unrecognisable. The land had been scorched glass and ash as far as the eye could see. The fortress was gone, and they could barely make out the form of the Hive Beast lying in the dirt.

Arantosh let out a shuddering gasp of air before shakily reaching for the device on his arm. He was about to send a transmission when Morash suddenly breathed shakily.

“That thing is still alive...” Morash stammered, and Arantosh looked up to see the beast’s tendrils raise up before slamming into the molten ground.

The ether shimmered in the air, swirling like smoke, and the tendrils absorbed it greedily, pulsing with a sickly glow. The earth around the beast buckled and withered, the landscape itself draining as the creature’s wounds began to mend. Flesh and chitin sealed themselves back together with an unsettling speed, cracks in its exoskeleton knitting themselves closed as if the beast were being reborn with each pulse of stolen energy.

Oh, fuck, it’s getting back up...