WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom

Meanwhile on the other side, The battlefield was chaos incarnate. The once-solid ground was now a wasteland of shattered stone and smoking craters, the air thick with the stench of ozone and burning flesh.

On one side stood Elvira, her robes billowing, arcs of residual mana crackling around her. One stood beside her, issuing rapid-fire commands through the hive mind, coordinating the Krell forces in desperate defense.

Forty Krell warriors braced themselves, their bodies twitching from residual shocks, their armor scorched and dented. The Scouts atop the walls rained arrows, but their attacks barely pierced through the chaos.

And opposite them, 100 Ravagers. But these weren't just any Ravagers. They were led by Storm.

A bolt of pure lightning cracked the sky, BOOM!slamming into the center of the Krell formation. Bodies were sent flying, limbs twitching involuntarily as the energy wreck havoc through them.

Krell Soldiers dug their weapons into the ground, trying to stay upright, but their bodies shook violently, their muscles betraying them. And it wasn't just the lightning.

The ravagers army goes on all offensive forcing them to do their best just to survive.

The traps they had laid? Useless.

Storm's power rendered them meaningless. One by one, thunderous strikes rained down from above—BOOM! CRACK!—blowing apart pitfall covers, shattering spikes before a single Ravager had even touched them.

Elvira clicked her tongue in irritation. 'Damn it…' Her fingers twitched as she held up a defensive spell, shimmering layers of violet mana forming a dome around her Krell forces.

The barrier pulsed, absorbing the devastating lightning strikes, but every impact sent a dull throb through her skull as her mana reserves strained under the pressure.

Her eyes flicked toward the battlefield.

The Ravagers weren't mindless. They weren't charging blindly. They were coordinated, moving like a stormfront. The Brutes were at the vanguard, their hulking forms soaking arrow fire and explosives, while the Spine Ravagers stayed just behind, launching their projectiles. Phantom Ravagers flickered in and out of sight, picking off stragglers when an opening presented itself.

And at the middle—Storm watched.

Its sleek, dark-blue carapace crackled with energy, faint wisps of electricity moved along its limbs. It stood still, but its influence was everywhere. Every bolt of lightning that fell was calculated. Every gust of wind that disrupted her Krell's movement was intentional.

It was controlling the battlefield.

Elvira exhaled, lowering her hands slightly. The moment she did, another bolt came streaking down toward her—BOOM! The sky split apart— but this time, she moved.

With a flick of her wrist, the barrier tilted. The lightning struck, but instead of dispersing, it bent, arcing like a whip and redirecting into the Ravager ranks.

A dozen Ravagers were blasted backward, their bodies twitching uncontrollably as arcs of wild electricity moved across their bodies. Elvira let out a breath, rolling her shoulders as the faint hum of mana crackled around her fingers. A slow, satisfied smile curled on her lips.

"You thought I'd just stand here and take it?" Her eyes flickered. "You're not the only one who knows how to play with lightning."

Elvira wasn't just deflecting it, she was redirecting it. Throughout the fight, she had been watching, analyzing. How did Storm control his lightning so accurately?

Storm attack followed one rule, it always took the path of least resistance. It wasn't just random chaos. It could be led, shaped, controlled.

The moment Storm's attack came down, she had reinforced one side of the barrier with high-density mana while making the other side weaker, creating a gradient that forced the energy to veer sideways instead of dispersing.

And the result?

It struck the Ravagers like divine punishment. But it wasn't enough. Elvira's smirk faded as she scanned the battlefield. They weren't winning… Despite the lightning hitting the Ravagers, she could tell its power was far weaker than when it had struck her Krell army.

Her barrier had bought time, but every second she spent on defense was another second the Ravagers used to adapt. The Krell were already struggling. Sluggish, their movements disrupted by residual static clinging to their armor, their coordination fractured under the relentless pressure.

It wouldn't last.

Elvira exhaled sharply. "One."

The Krell Supervisor's voice rang through the hive mind immediately. "Yes, Lady Elvira?"

"We can't keep this up," she said bluntly. "This fight isn't in our favor. We need to shift to offense before they overwhelm us completely."

One hesitated.

Elvira's patience thinned. "I'm saying we need to sacrifice some to push forward. If we sit here waiting, we'll all die."

One understood immediately. "Acknowledged. I will take action."

The battlefield shifted. Lightning ripped through the field. Wind howled, lifting debris into the air. The Krell were losing ground. But they weren't breaking.

A Brute Ravager charged, its massive claw descending toward a Krell Soldier—only for a Scout to appear from nowhere, using the momentum of its sprint to kick the Soldier aside just before impact.

The Brute's strike landed on empty ground, claws digging into the dirt, before another Scout took its chance—an arrow embedding deep into the exposed joint of its shoulder.

The Brute roared, staggering, but there was no time to recover.

A second Soldier rushed in, spear driving into the wound. It howled, twisting wildly—but then, two more Krell leaped onto its back, stabbing relentlessly.

Elsewhere, a Spine Ravager turned its sights on a Krell Scout—but before it could release a volley, a Soldier tackled it from the side, dragging it to the ground. The two struggled, snapping and clawing, until another Krell ran past, its blade tearing through the Spine Ravager's throat.

Another Krell, missing an arm, didn't hesitate to throw himself onto a Brute's face, blinding it, clamping its jaws around the creature's eyes, holding on even as the massive beast thrashed and slammed itself into the ground to shake him off.

It didn't matter.

By the time the Brute finally threw the wounded Krell off—it was too late.

A second Soldier was already beneath it, spear driving straight through the underside of its jaw. The Brute Ravager gurgled, its massive body twitching before collapsing in a heap.

One's orders were specific. Unlike Ben, who gave broad commands while fighting, One had the luxury of focusing solely on battle strategy, calculating the best movements, the most efficient sacrifices, the quickest way to turn the tide. He didn't need to fight. He knew the moment he stepped onto the battlefield himself, he would be torn apart in an instant.