"Haha! You got a ticking time bomb strapped to your- Oh, shit!"
Violently twisting mid-air without warning, Ira hurled Myra off his form during one of her drowsy sways. She flew several dozen meters before her red mana stabilized her mid-air. Panting, she glared at Ira.
Ira smirked and continued flying toward the Smiling Tree of Wishes, no longer looking back. Atlas was a little stunned by the split-second decision, but he didn't hate it. It made sense.
'But damn, that was ruthless. I was starting to think they were becoming friendly with each other…' Atlas thought. 'Maybe that he would help her out, but nope.'
Self-preservation, Atlas realized. For the outcome he needed, this was perhaps the best move. Ira was more skilled at mid-air maneuvering than his kin and now had complete freedom to operate. And, reluctant as he was to admit it, Atlas had to acknowledge Ira's skill on full display.
Ira weaved through the battle with ease. Any enemy that came close, he incinerated with small, precise bursts of dragon breath. Within minutes, he was nearing the front lines. Other dragons looked startled and ashamed as the traitor shot past them like a bullet, his breath clearing the way. From Atlas's view, it became a triangle formation, with Ira at the tip, renewing their otherwise stalled progress.
Part of the reason for the stalling was the slowing core of the force, the Primordial Queen. The Smiling Tree had learned who led this force through observation and fallen dragons, and now focused its attacks on her location.
The Primordials around her fought desperately to protect her, striking back against the focused root attacks, harpies, and corrupted dragons attempting to wound her.
"Her presence has become a liability," Atlas said, tapping his fingers on the console. "If she dies, there's no one else with her charisma. Maybe one of the other females, but that is unlikely. The best outcome might be for them to start following Ira instead to survive this battle, if they would even consider it."
And worse yet, their forces were dying faster as time went on. Fewer dragons, same enemy swarm, more losses. The number of remaining dragons dipped below nine hundred, and several more Primordials had fallen defending their kin and females.
"I can't keep losing Primordials. They're my main source of divinity," Atlas said, his expression grim. At this point, it looked certain Ira would reach the Smiling Tree of Wishes.
But how many more would die in the process? He was down twenty Primordials and a hundred and fifty dragons. Twenty less divinity.
-A Primordial has been slain-
Another casualty notification.
His finger hovered over "Blessings of War – Cost: 50", about to press it, when suddenly-
-A Primordial has been slain-
-A Primordial has been slain-
-A Primordial has been slain-
-A Primordial has been slain-
-A Primordial has been slain-
-Fifty Dragons have been slain-
"WHAT?!" Atlas shouted, instantly rotating the RTS view to the source. Red mist surrounded Myra, flowing into her like it had the corrupted dragon eggs, before an enormous red beam, crackling with dangerous energy, shot out toward the Smiling Tree of Wishes.
-A Primordial has been slain-
-A Primordial has been slain-
-Twenty Dragons have been slain-
Friendly fire. The Primordials and Dragons roared in alarm, some in terror, fleeing the lightning-laced shards of red energy, but several were struck down. The Queen's core wasn't in the line of fire, but Ira had come dangerously close to being vaporized.
A large explosion erupted in the distance, followed by a deafening boom. The shockwave impacted the flying creatures, sending many of them hurling to the ground at breakneck speeds.
-A Primordial has been slain (x10)-
-One Hundred and Fifty Dragons have been slain-
"AAAA! MY POINTS! MY FORCES!" Atlas shouted, fingers pulling at his hair. "FUCK! WHY- FUCK! NO WARNING?!"
Wisp silently rested on the console, watching the scene unfold, and Atlas's reaction.
He stared at the screen in shock and horror, his eyes locked on the losses. Dismay and the feeling of 'This is bullshit!' overwhelmed him, and his gaze darted back to the RTS display.
Mangled corpses littered the field. Dragons, permanently deformed from impact, had bones broken and bodies splintered. Many more were yet to die; it was only a matter of time.
Ira survived by colliding with another Primordial during the blast, turning it into a wet, cushiony meat shield upon impact. The females, Queen Celeste included, were tougher than the males and were unconscious but alive.
Atlas focused on his breathing. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Immediately, he opened the Blessings panel.
"A- A heal blessing, AoE!"
-A Blessing has been created-
Healing Aura | Heal all creatures friendly to the Weaver in a twenty-five-meter radius | Cost: 500
"Ten meters?!" Cost, two hundred. And there wasn't any cluster worth that much Divinity, even if he could afford it.
His forehead slammed into the console in frustration.
Faint howling screams of despair echoed across the land, pulling Atlas's pale and dismayed gaze back to the globe's RTS display. The Smiling Tree of Wishes groaned in the far distance. Fruits resembling faces began falling one by one.
The corrupted beings, already swarming the fallen, dropped in waves. The red mist that had faintly resonated from each of them rose into the air. And from the Smiling Tree of Wishes? A massive cloud of red mist billowed into the sky.
The land turned as red as blood through the mist, like something out of a horror story, before it surged toward Myra like tornado winds, entering her body. She glowed a deep hue of red, her eyes a gradient that stood out starkly, and the land around her turned barren and desolate.
-Congratulations! Your first Eldritch Demigod, Myra, has been created!-
"What the fuck?"
"Ahem," Wisp coughed awkwardly. "Stand up straight and clean up your expression, Weaver Atlas. First impressions are important."
"What are you- shit."
"There was no time to warn you this time, Weaver Atlas," Wisp apologized. "This was too abrupt, even for me. Don't worry, however, it is only brief!"
As she apologized, a red mist began to rise from the floor next to him. The galaxy swirling beneath her, as if to mark her entrance, shifted to a ruby-red hue.
A notification pops up.
-Time has been granted to Myra as a reward to speak with her Weaver God-
And from the mist, Myra rose.