When the Star Fell (X)

Chapter 380

When the Star Fell (X)

Cain felt the burst of energy barely miss him as he hurriedly blinked away. The barely-visible spectrum exploded several miles behind him, though he still felt the energy whack in his back and push him forward a few feet. He appeared ragged and tired, his hair disheveled, clothes torn in several places, reddish hue of blood visible here and there.

He had been fighting for a long time—so long, in fact, that he had lost the track of hours, and even days. It had been days, at least, if not weeks at this point. He had forgotten how sensationally exhausting and demanding long brawls were, and if this was anything, it was a very long brawl.

He rarely went on an offensive, and mostly just stayed back and conserved his Mana while delicately probing and prodding the invaders. Figuring out their potential weaknesses and such would go a long way to helping them with a ground battle, but it was not going all that well. Only on the first day did anyone leave a ship and try fighting him directly—after that, they mostly used ships as conduits for all manner and kind of magic.

It wasn't particularly unique, however, even if it was diverse. He'd seen it all in the Tower prior, and it was clear that the ships were stocked with Mages and similar classes that were channeling their Mana and spells through some items that likely enhanced the overall prowess of a spell. Even he would run dry of Mana if he tried to match just one ship's output spell-for-spell, which likely meant that there were a lot of Mages fighting in cycles.

In the few offensive moves he made, he found that it wasn't just Mages and Mage-like classes. Rather than using the ship's defenses, they deployed standard shields of many tanker classes, diffusing and deflecting his attacks. This meant that they likely had a proper force, outfitted for a full-scale raid battle. As such, they'd also have to treat it as a raid battle.

The difficulty was that, despite being the 'host', Earth would be outnumbered, easily. Not in the number of 'soldiers', so to say, but in the number of those who wouldn't simply die at the mere Mana fluctuations. At best, there were about a few hundred spread throughout all seven Towers that could somewhat withstand and 'be about' while the fight was happening.

The only reason they could close the gap even remotely and had a chance of victory was him, Quinn, and the twins. From what he felt, the armada in front of him hosted three thrice-Awakened in total, just like they had. Those three could be held back by Quinn and the twins, while he could work to support the rest. Alternatively, he could stand his ground against the three and have Quinn and the twins support, but their classes hardly lent themselves to such a task.

On the other hand, they seemed to barely have any once-Awakened, with the vast majority of their force being made up of the twice-Awakened. This was a massive issue as, even if the gap wasn't exactly insurmountable, it was a gulf that only a few could cross. His hope was that the twins and Quinn could dispatch their foes quickly and come assist. Otherwise, he might have to go nuclear—and he'd rather avoid doing so for the time being if at all possible.

Shuffling to the side once again, he dodged yet another attack and retaliated by instinct, though they have gotten into a strange rhythm where it was clear that they were trying to exhaust his Mana reserves. In truth, they would never be able to, not at this pace, anyway. Cain's Mana regeneration was absurd, not just for his level but in general, and drying him out like a well was a project only few were fit to even attempt.

He would never give it away, though—he had consciously started adding longer timers between casting spells as to simulate the Mana depletion concerns. His biggest worry was his psyche—though he was vastly strong, there were still many limitations to his physicality. He still needed to sleep from time to time, not to mention eat and drink—especially after spending himself being concentrated every hour of every day for weeks, potentially.

As such, the trek and struggle continued. Hours ticked on by without any awareness. Time, for Cain, was an abstract in many ways. Having spent a regurgitated infinity within nothingness, spending even a few months fighting would feel like a blink if he simply adjusted himself. But, similarly, he couldn't do it. He had to pretend to be simply an advanced, extremely talented Conqueror defending his world. He couldn't give away more than he already did—that was exactly the point of this probing.

If their intent was to truly steamroll through, they would have long since attacked with all the ships and obliterated him. He would only be able dodge and run away if he didn't want to reveal who he truly was. But… they didn't. They were still probing, trying to find his bottom line, and he was feeding them static, bit by bit. Crudely edging, in a way, but never quite letting them see the end of the tunnel.

It would have to end eventually, that much he knew—and that eventually came some ten days later, when he noticed that they became much more hyper than before. Their attacks came quicker and quicker, with fewer breaks, and were much more concentrated—usually at least three-four ships working in concert to fire off a barrage at him.

Though he could defend credibly, he began to slowly give way to the skills, letting himself be pushed back here and there, as to appear like he was struggling. In a way, he actually was. He had to be extremely careful as a slip-up could cost him dearly. After all, the attacks were all extremely high-level and would be deadly to everyone but him, Quinn, and the twins.

It turned into a dance, soon enough, or like a rhythmic game: he'd duck and dodge and dip in specific moments, and it felt like they would attack in the same patterns. But, those patterns began to change and shuffle and speed up, and he had to adjust accordingly.

Sweat soon began to pour down his face as he struggled to maintain and equilibrium. For every spell he used, they used two—and they weren't giving him much breathing room at all to figure out his next move. They were pressing him and waiting for him to make a mistake. Cain never would, but he had to.

He bought as much time as he physically could without revealing himself. Going any further was unwise as he would risk a major injury—or worse, exposing himself by instinct in the moment of grave danger. Even he, mighty though he may be, was unable to entirely cull human's primal instincts, especially during the key points of danger and alarm.

Letting one of the attacks scratch his side, he forced himself into a spiral and extended it into a free fall. Turning around, he did a quick scan of the landmass and noticed there was something off—in the middle of Pacific… there was a mini continent that shouldn't be there. Comparatively, it was a fairly large landmass, seemingly as large as the entire Eastern coast and then some, and the closer he looked, the more he realized… that's where he was supposed to go.

The land was mostly flat and entirely barren, neither a river nor a tree to be found, but there were decked out spell systems that he only recognized because he knew Quinn's Mana signature. It was her work, no doubt and, like he was an airplane and that patch of land his landing strip, he headed toward it without any hesitation, intending to crash there and lure the invaders in.

He only hoped that the plan was progressing smoothly—that everyone had undergone the cleansing, and that Quinn managed to gather as many people as possible that ought to be able to stay on their feet at least and provide some rear support.

When the next attack 'landed on him', he began careening down with seemingly no control over himself, jetting through the atmosphere en-route to the island in the middle of the Pacific. The closer the got, the more he realized what the general plan was—it was a prayer, effectively, that the invaders wouldn't just employ wide-net and would instead focus on the island with the intent of wiping them out. Most of the defenses were designed to keep those to land near within the proximity, though Cain had no doubt that he'd have to fly around frequently in case they deployed invading forces elsewhere.

He sighed, realizing he wouldn't yet get to rest. For how long, he had no answer—but it wouldn't be short, that much, at least, he knew.