Chapter 116: The Gathering Storm
Three days had passed since the Rackshalla Clan, along with their Demonic Beast allies, demon tribes, and evil sect factions, fled the battlefield in defeat. While the destruction in this region had been considerable, it was still far less severe than in other war-torn zones. Here, the allied forces had secured a decisive victory.
The pursuit had lasted for a full day before the allied sects and clans paused to celebrate their hard-earned success. Many were exhausted and heavily injured, but the joy of triumph radiated across the camps. The monsters had been forced to retreat.
Zoro, along with the surviving members of the Black Reaper Corps, was quickly taken to intensive healing wards. Despite his horrific injuries, Zoro had stood tall until the end—unmoving, defiant. Once he was secured in the care of medical experts, he slipped into a deep coma. Panic followed, but relief soon replaced it when physicians assured everyone that rest would bring his recovery.
Three days later, Zoro awakened. Though still sore and bedridden, he was alive.
"Heh, Zoro, you look like trash. Hurry up and get your act together, fool," Ramiro joked, seeing Zoro wrapped from head to toe in bandages.
"Haaa? I could've sworn I heard something useless speaking," Zoro replied with a smug expression, despite the exhaustion in his eyes.
"You bastard."
"I'm glad to see you all still have the energy to bicker—even with half your ribs broken," laughed Joe-Pine, sporting bandages of his own.
The lighthearted exchange brought a smile to those around, easing the tension in the room.
"Anyway," Elton began, shifting the tone, "I've heard most of our forces will be moving to support the next battlefield. That's where the Demonic Beasts and evil sects regrouped after fleeing."
"Of course," Christy responded thoughtfully. "But it's exhausting. Brawlmanica may be our main battlefield, but it's far from the only one. Also It's a large country."
"This entire conflict aligns too well with Prince Hunter's original request," Erica added, her tone contemplative.
Later that day, the next campaign began.
Those still healing—including Zoro—were ordered to remain behind. The rest joined the march.
Due to damaged magical vehicles, injured magical beasts, and wounded cultivators, the journey to the next battlefield took three full days. The frontlines had not calmed in the slightest. In fact, the situation had grown even more dangerous.
Amid the chaos, an unexpected faction arrived, claiming affiliation with the White Star Radiance. It was the Echoing Tribe of the Longbi Clan.
"No way… it's really you guys! Why are you here?" Elton exclaimed, astonished as he took in their formidable presence.
"Daoist Blue Heavens Sword! You've grown again—hahaha!" boomed a heavily armored middle-aged man with sharp snake-like eyes and a long lizard tail. He wore clawed gauntlets, his voice commanding.
"We arrived with help from the tall, scarred man wielding a massive greatsword—said he's the guardian of your group," he explained.
"Him again?" Elton muttered, surprised. That man just keeps appearing out of nowhere…
The new allies did not wear the formal masks or robes of the White Star Radiance, but they announced their allegiance in their own unique ways.
"Glory to the White Star Radiance! Receive this strike!"
"Die for our Echoing White Star Radiance Tribe!"
"Hahaha! Taste this star-like essence magic—refined from our Longbi clan's flame arts! Now perish, demon!"
Despite their eccentricity, the Echoing Tribe's power was undeniable. Fighting alongside Elton and the true White Star Radiance warriors, they tore through enemy lines.
Back within the ranks of the Demonic beasts clans and allies a small meeting was taking place between Mortal Lords.
"We can't keep this up. Our strategy needs to change," growled a Demonic Beast Mortal Lord, his breathing labored.
"Let's launch an all-out attack to break free—then retreat to the Great Fort to regroup," suggested another.
"But that's a major step backward!" roared a third, furious.
"Fall back too far," a Mortal Demon expert said coldly, "and those top experts of the sects will come for your heads—and especially for you Demonic Beasts."
"We wait," rumbled a massive orangutan-like Demonic Beast with fangs and scaled limbs. "With Scorpinack here, and others among us, we may have the means to respond—if things truly turn dire."
Scorpinack, the Scorpion Demonic Beast, grunted in response. He was one of the three sealed Mortal Shedding Realm beasts from the Stone Forest, the weakest of the trio—but still formidable. His peer, Dexatan, the orangutan beast, was close in power and temperament. The third, unseen member of their triad, was strongest—and closest to Him, the mysterious head of the Rackshalla Clan's operations in this region.
As the days passed, the war intensified.
Four more days of brutal skirmishes followed. The Sect and clan coalition maintained pressure, though their enemy's counterattacks grew more savage by the day.
Then, unlike Scorpinack who had delayed until the brink of collapse, Dexatan launched a full-scale counteroffensive. The battlefield was engulfed in chaos.
Despite prior preparation by the allied sects, the Demonic Beasts' assault was overwhelming. Entire formations were shattered. Death swept through the land.
And yet—the counter-attack was just as fierce.
So began a cycle of ceaseless battle—one side countering the other in an endless back-and-forth of death and attrition. Across the vast nation of Brawlmanica, battlefronts erupted like wildfires. Both armies sent reinforcements to critical areas, constantly adapting, regrouping, and retaliating.
This deadly rhythm continued for a month and a half.
By the end of it, all forces of the Demonic Beast clans, Demon tribes, and evil sects had gathered at the same location—The Great Fort, a heavily fortified stronghold referenced by Dexatan. They were much closer to the final stages of their conquest.