Southern Territories! Fog-Shrouded Canyons!
A vast landscape of jagged canyons stretched for thousands of kilometers, every surface coated with a perpetual mist that obscured all but the most immediate surroundings. The rocky terrain, once vibrant with vegetation, had been transformed into an alien landscape. Organic matter pulsated across canyon walls, glistening with toxic secretions that dripped into pools of noxious liquid below.
Dominating the central canyon stood the Queen—a colossal, honeycombed structure of living tissue reaching 140 meters into the fog-choked sky. Its exterior, covered in waxy, pulsating membranes, glistened with moisture. Thousands of biological tendrils stretched from its base, burrowing deep into the earth to extract minerals, while others dangled upward like grotesque vines, harvesting mana from the atmosphere.
Silhouettes moved constantly throughout the canyons—some skittering across rock faces with multiple limbs, others lumbering like mobile fortresses, and still others slithering with serpentine grace. The fog occasionally parted to reveal glimpses of armored exoskeletons, clusters of glowing eyes, or dripping mandibles, only to close again and leave the horrors to imagination.
The Queen's enormous form suddenly shifted, biological receptors along its surface quivering with new information. Something had changed in the northern territories, a disturbance through the mana currents relayed by her swarm.
The Queen stretched her consciousness outward, reaching hundreds of kilometres to the north. The psychic feedback confirmed what her receptors had detected—a massive magical construct had fallen. The Summoner Tower, bastion of human resistance for a millennium, had collapsed.
A rumbling vibration travelled through the Queen's body, causing ripples in the pools of toxin surrounding her. It was not a sound but a signal, a command transmitted directly into the hive consciousness that connected all Zergs.
"One of Humanity's walls has fallen," the Queen's thought-voice echoed across the canyon, pulsing through the neural link all Zergs shared. "The stronghold of the Summoners is no more. Their tower has crumbled, and their territory lies vulnerable."
The fog surrounding the Queen darkened as her excitement activated her innate magic, turning day into perpetual night for kilometers around. Thousands of Swarm race paused in their activities, receiving the telepathic message from their progenitor.
"The time for invasion has come," the Queen continued, her thoughts growing more intense. "Wonka City stands defenceless without its Mages. This opportunity shall not be wasted. Move northward, my children. Raze the city, consume its inhabitants, and claim the Summoner territory for our kind!"
The Queen's body expanded slightly, semi-transparent membranes stretching as internal organs produced increased hormonal signals to strengthen her command.
"Every structure shall be demolished, every human devoured, every trace of their existence erased. Leave nothing but poison and darkness in your wake!"
The command reverberated through the neural network connecting all Zergs, but strongest in those closest to Wonka City—the advance scouts that had been probing the Summoner territory's defences for weeks.
"CHARGE! DEVOUR! CONSUME! EXPAND! THE SUMMONER LANDS ARE NOW ZERG LANDS!"
The command struck the minds of hundreds of Grunts positioned just beyond the southern border of Wonka territory. These creatures, standing 2 meters tall, resembled nightmarish crosses between praying mantises and crustaceans. Their olive-green exoskeletons gleamed dully in the misty light, deep brown joints flexing as they processed the Queen's command. Reddish-brown claws, each sharp enough to shear through steel, clicked together in anticipation.
The Grunts moved as one, their synchronised behaviour the hallmark of their hive connection. Each possessed a tentacle-like tail with suction pods that allowed them to scale vertical surfaces or navigate aquatic environments with equal ease. These appendages now lashed behind them in excitement as they began their advance.
One Grunt climbed a nearby tree with terrifying speed, its suction pods allowing it to do so. From this vantage point, it emitted a high-pitched chittering sound that served as a rally point for the others. Within moments, hundreds of its kind converged, an undulating sea of exoskeletons and clicking mandibles.
The swarm began to move northward with alarming speed. Instead of using roads or paths, they utilised terrain features that would have been obstacles to humans—vertical cliff faces, dense thickets, even shallow rivers proved no hindrance. Some scaled trees and leapt from branch to branch, while others burrowed briefly underground, only to emerge further ahead.
Their movement was not chaotic but displayed a disturbing, collective intelligence. Scouts ranged ahead, groups maintained tactical formations, and the collective adapted instantly to any terrain challenge. When encountering an obstacle, such as rubble or a landslide, they didn't climb over it but split into two groups that rejoined on the other side without breaking stride.
Despite lacking individual magic abilities, their physical prowess was terrifying to behold. A Grunt seized a wild deer in its path, tearing the animal apart with mechanical efficiency. The creature didn't stop to feed but continued forward, the killing merely an afterthought to its primary mission.
The hungry ones behind feasted on the deer meat.
The swarm increased its pace as it detected the distant scent of human settlement. Wonka City's doom approached at forty kilometres per hour.
Wonka City! Central District!
The ruined remains of the Summoner Tower had become a battleground. Dozens of surviving mages had rallied, summoning every creature in their repertoire to combat the strange titan that had destroyed their home. The Warhammer Titan stood at the centre of the rubble, surrounded by a menagerie of magical beasts.
A six-headed hydra wrapped its serpentine necks around the Titan's legs, biting chunks from its hardened flesh. Three gryphons dive-bombed its head, talons raking across its face. A pack of hellhounds—lesser versions of the Cerberus—tore at its arms and back, while golems of stone and metal pounded its torso with massive fists.
Blood and crystal fragments flew as the creatures gradually overwhelmed the Titan. One of its arms had been completely severed, and half its face was torn away, revealing the crystalline skull beneath. Steam poured from its wounds as it tried to regenerate, but the constant assault prevented complete healing.
"Keep attacking!" shouted Volmar, one of the few surviving Elder Summoners. "It's growing weaker!"
The Titan stumbled backwards, its movements growing sluggish as more and more of its body was torn away. For a moment, it seemed the tide had turned.
Then, with a sudden surge of energy, the Warhammer Titan slammed both fists into the ground.
Titan Hardening—Forest of Impalement!
Crystalline spikes erupted from the Titan's body in all directions. They pierced through the attacking creatures with devastating precision—through eyes, throats, hearts, and vital organs. The hydra's heads were skewered simultaneously, its death throes causing its massive body to crash into nearby buildings. The gryphons were impaled in mid-dive, their wings still spread as crystal spears transfixed them.
But the hardening didn't stop there. It continued to grow and spread, transforming into a massive crystalline tree that reached 200 meters into the sky. The structure expanded outward, branches splitting and extending like a time-lapse of natural growth compressed into seconds. Each branch terminated in a deadly point, and each point found a target.
A Cerberus, one of the few remaining high-level summonses, was lifted into the air as a crystal spear penetrated its central head and emerged from its hindquarters. Blood cascaded down the translucent structure like a macabre waterfall, the hellhound's remaining heads growling in defiance even as its body disintegrated into mana particles.
"Impossible," whispered Kalina, her face pale with shock. "No creature should have this much…power!"
The crystal tree stood like a monument to destruction, hundreds of summoned creatures impaled on its branches. Their bodies twitched and dissolved, returning to pure mana as their contracts were broken by death.
The situation seemed despairing, but thankfully, the Warhammer Titan had reached its limit. The colossal structure it had created had drained its energy reserves completely. Cracks appeared across its body, spreading like lightning through glass. Chunks of hardened flesh fell away, crumbling to dust before reaching the ground.
With a sound like shattering ice, the Titan collapsed, its massive form disintegrating entirely. As its nape dissolved, a human figure emerged, tumbling onto the rubble-strewn ground.
Willy Tybur lay on his back, staring up at the alien sky with clouded eyes. His body was a map of injuries—deep lacerations across his torso, burns on his shoulders, and most shockingly, his hands and feet terminated in ragged stumps that steamed as they slowly regenerated.
Blood pooled beneath him as he tried to process his surroundings. The buildings around him were of unfamiliar architecture, the sky a shade of blue he had never seen, and the air carried scents that his brain couldn't categorise.
"What... where am I?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. His mind felt fragmented, memories jumbled and disconnected. "This isn't Liberio... not Marley..."
He remembered the stage, the speech, the Attack Titan bursting through the planks beneath his feet. He remembered pain as his body was crushed, then darkness. After that, flashes of strange faces in robes, lightning, and uncontrollable rage.
"Did I... did I do this?" he asked, looking at the devastation surrounding him. The crystal tree still stood, a monument to destruction that his own power had created.
His regenerating limbs burned with pain as new tissue formed, but the process was agonizingly slow. Without the Titan's accelerated healing, his recovery would take hours, perhaps an entire day.
In the distance, shouts of alarm rose from the southern edge of the city.
"Zergs! The Zergs are coming!"
Willy Tybur, once leader of the Tybur family and diplomat of Marley, now lay helpless in a world he didn't understand, surrounded by destruction of his own making, as a new threat approached on the horizon.