Multiversal Ascension-Chapter 123: The Divine Envoys’ Might Revealed!

Moving deeper into the camp under the cover of darkness, they navigated past the first line of guards. Naturally, there were additional patrols scattered throughout the area, but the soldiers weren't particularly attentive. After all, the idea that an enemy could infiltrate this far into the camp without being detected was unthinkable.

That complacency dulled their vigilance, making their patrols little more than a formality. This, combined with the fact that only the entrance was properly illuminated by torches, left most of the camp shrouded in darkness. Since it was nighttime, the soldiers avoided bright lights near their tents, preferring uninterrupted rest after a long day of battle.

Taking advantage of these conditions, Mikael and Amelia slipped further into the heart of the war camp, passing by rows of small tents occupied by sleeping soldiers. Their goal was clear—the large tents in the center, where the highest-ranking officers were likely stationed.

However, as they approached their target, the number of patrolling soldiers increased significantly, making it much harder to move unnoticed. When they finally neared the largest tents, the sheer number of guards made further stealth impossible.

Taking cover, Mikael and Amelia exchanged a glance before Amelia whispered, "Do we drop the stealth and begin our attack?"

Mikael gave a firm nod. "We kill all the high-ranking officers in these tents," he said, pointing toward the largest structures. Then, a smirk formed on his lips. "After that, we put on a show of strength to force the rest to surrender."

Amelia nodded in agreement. Without hesitation, the two sprang into action.

Abandoning any pretense of stealth, they activated their aura cloaks. Instantly, their surroundings lit up with the bright glow of their energy—an ethereal blue radiance that contrasted starkly against the dark night.

"What's that blue light?" a nearby soldier exclaimed in confusion as he caught sight of the two glowing figures. However, before he could make sense of what he was seeing, the 'lights' vanished from his view, moving past him at an impossible speed.

"Huh?" he gasped, his brain struggling to process what had just happened. But before he could dwell on it, a scream pierced the stillness of the night.

"Enemy atta—!"

The shout was abruptly cut off, but the alarm had already been sounded. The soldiers near the central tents immediately grasped the situation, their bodies tensing as they rushed toward the source of the commotion, weapons drawn and ready for battle. Yet confusion clouded their minds—how had an enemy managed to bypass their defenses and strike directly at the heart of their command structure?

"Swish."

A streak of blue light zipped past the rushing soldiers, vanishing into another of the large tents.

"What is this sorcery?!" one of them cried out in horror. He had managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the figure within the light—a stunning woman, her beauty only adding to the unnatural terror of her speed. His mind recoiled at the thought that she might be a powerful witch, something beyond their ability to fight.

A second later, his fears intensified as a muffled cry echoed from the tent she had entered.

"It's an assassination! They're targeting our high-ranking officers! Move to protect them!" roared a soldier whose armor bore an emblem marking him as a superior officer. His gear, noticeably more refined than that of the regular troops, left no doubt about his rank and authority.

His shout cut through the confusion, snapping the soldiers out of their stunned daze. In the military, hesitation in the face of an order was unacceptable. Training and instinct took over as they surged forward, their initial shock giving way to a renewed sense of duty. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

For a brief moment, their morale reignited, their movements regaining purpose.

But then...

A flash of blue light.

It moved faster than before, so fast that the soldiers saw nothing but a barely perceptible blur. Then, in the next instant, their commanding officer's head was severed clean from his body. His high-quality armor offered no resistance as the blade sliced through his neck.

Blood sprayed onto the nearby soldiers, who stood frozen in place, horror-stricken. Some collapsed to their knees, their legs giving out beneath them.

"A demon! It's a demon!" one soldier screamed in sheer terror.

But to their 'relief,' the glowing figures showed no interest in them. They weren't the targets. That fate was reserved for the high-ranking officers, who were slaughtered one after another in mere minutes.

By now, the entire war camp had been roused from sleep. The remaining seventeen thousand soldiers were converging on the central area, their collective footsteps thundering through the night. With so many troops mobilizing at once, it didn't matter how skilled the assassins were—escape would soon become impossible.

Yet, just as the soldiers braced to overwhelm the intruders with sheer numbers, an unnatural light burst forth from the heart of the camp. A brilliant blue glow illuminated the night like a beacon, impossible to ignore. It was clear that whoever had unleashed it wanted to be seen.

All movement came to an abrupt halt.

Soldiers skidded to a stop, their heads snapping upward as two figures slowly ascended into the sky, bathed in a radiant blue aura. Mikael and Amelia hovered above them, defying all logic. With a clever use of wind magic, Mikael had lifted both himself and Amelia into the air, making their presence even more imposing.

"They're... flying?" one soldier whispered in disbelief, his grip tightening on his weapon.

Another took an instinctive step back, his face pale. "That's impossible... No human can fly."

The sight before them sent waves of unease through the ranks. In their world, such feats were nothing more than myths—fairy tales meant for children. Magic didn't exist. And yet, here they were, witnessing something that shattered their understanding of reality. Fear began to spread like an infection, sinking its claws into their minds. They were ordinary men, trained to fight other humans, not... whatever these beings were.

And then, Mikael's voice rang out through the night, carrying an undeniable authority.

"Lay down your weapons."

His words reached every soldier, no matter how far. It wasn't just the volume—it was as if his voice carried a weight that demanded obedience. His piercing green eyes swept over the thousands below, his expression unwavering, his presence suffocating.

"We are divine envoys of Seraphis, the Goddess of Purity and Protection. She has sent us here to put an end to this needless war. In her boundless generosity, she does not wish for more meaningless bloodshed."

A stunned silence followed.

Seraphis. The name alone sent shivers down their spines. She was the patron goddess of the Rithen Kingdom—the very kingdom they were fighting against. And now, these so-called envoys had descended upon them, wielding power beyond comprehension.

Whispers spread like wildfire.

"Seraphis...?"

"The Goddess of Purity...?"

Mikael's voice cut through the murmurs like a blade.

"Your leaders have fallen. Your resistance is meaningless. Continuing this fight will only lead to your deaths."

The weight of his words pressed down on them. The undeniable display of power, the effortless flight, and the overwhelming aura they radiated—it all made surrender seem like the only logical choice. Even more, as they glanced around, the truth became painfully clear: nearly every high-ranking officer lay dead.

Some soldiers hesitated, their grips on their weapons loosening. Doubt clouded their minds. The instinct to fight clashed with the fear clawing at their throats.

But, as expected, not everyone was willing to surrender so easily.

"Don't listen to them!" a gruff voice bellowed from the crowd. A heavily armored officer pushed his way forward, his expression twisted with defiance and barely restrained fury. "They aren't divine envoys! This is nothing more than a ploy by the Rithen bastards! Don't let yourselves be fooled—it's just some kind of trick! They're super soldiers, or sorcerers, or something else entirely, but they are certainly not divine!"

Raising his sword high, he roared, "Kill them for the Valden Kingdom!"

"For a moment, they almost had me..." muttered a soldier, more to reassure himself than to convince others. He quickly notched an arrow, drawing his bowstring taut before loosing a shot toward the two floating figures.

His action became the catalyst.

Most of the army clung desperately to his logic, choosing to believe that the figures hovering above them were mere elite soldiers rather than divine envoys. The alternative was far too terrifying to accept. Acknowledging the supernatural meant facing an enemy beyond their comprehension—an enemy they could never hope to defeat.

The majority of the soldiers who had hesitated now steeled themselves, gripping their weapons with renewed determination. However, a glaring problem presented itself—the targets were airborne, well beyond the reach of their melee weapons. Frustration twisted the expressions of the grounded warriors, their anger simmering uselessly as they could do nothing but watch. The archers, however, faced no such limitation. Thousands of bows were drawn at once, a tidal wave of arrows taking flight toward the figures in the sky.

Mikael observed the unfolding situation, inwardly frowning before exhaling a silent sigh. 'So much for a swift resolution... Looks like I'll have to put on a little performance to drive the point home.'

His sharp gaze flicked toward the storm of arrows hurtling toward him and Amelia. In sheer numbers, they could have blotted out the sun during the day. Even under the veil of night, the dense barrage was an imposing spectacle—a wall of death, a force that no human could hope to survive unscathed. It carried an almost primal weight, an overwhelming tide that sought to consume everything in its path.

And yet—

Neither Mikael nor Amelia moved.

They stood still, suspended in the air, watching the swarm of arrows approach with utter indifference. No defensive maneuvers, no attempts to dodge. They simply allowed the onslaught to reach them.

In the eyes of the soldiers below, it was a decisive strike. Thousands of arrows found their marks, piercing straight through the floating figures. The soldiers erupted into cheers.

"Got them!"

"For a second, I almost believed they were really divine envoys."

Even those who had refrained from attacking out of uncertainty began to doubt. Could they have truly been sent by Seraphis? No... If they were divine, they wouldn't have fallen so easily. Right?

The relief lasted only seconds.

As the final arrow completed its descent, the soldiers finally got a clear view of where the two had stood.

Their cheers died in their throats.

Mikael and Amelia remained exactly where they were—untouched, unscathed, and wholly unchanged. It was as if the rain of arrows had never even existed.

A cold chill spread through the ranks. Shivers ran down spines.

Then, Mikael's voice cut through the silence, low and resolute.

"You've made your choice."

An instant later, the officer who had first rallied them against Mikael found his head soaring through the air, severed cleanly from his shoulders by an unseen force. His body remained standing for a brief moment before crumpling lifelessly to the ground.

The archers, having witnessed this firsthand, felt the blood drain from their faces. Panic seized them. They braced themselves for the same fate... but several agonizing seconds passed, and nothing happened.

Hope flickered. Maybe—just maybe—they had been spared.

And then—

A thin red line appeared at the neck of every single archer who had loosed an arrow.

The realization sent a jolt of terror through them. The sensation was barely noticeable—just a faint burning along the skin—but the implications were horrifying.

The divine envoys' invisible attack had already reached them.

At that moment, Mikael deactivated the 'invisibility' function of his aura threads, allowing them to shimmer into view. A soft blue glow illuminated the battlefield, revealing the full extent of what had been lurking unseen.

Threads.

Thousands of them.

Like a vast web spanning the entire war camp, each one glinting ominously in the moonlight. They wove through the air in an intricate, unfathomable pattern, coiling around the soldiers like an invisible cage. And most terrifying of all—

Each archer who had attacked Mikael had a thread pressed against their throat, sharp enough to draw blood but not yet deep enough to kill.

It was a warning. A statement.

A single wrong move would mean instant death.

Author Note:

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