The battlefield had turned into a swirling vortex of fire and blood. The Taoist practitioners under Celestial continued their bombardment, but the Royal forces had adapted. They no longer stared in confusion; they coordinated their fire, using high-frequency laser pulses to intercept the talismans mid-air.
"Crul! The manual line is holding, but we're losing too many people!" Jason roared over the comms, ducking behind a piece of shrapnel as a spiritual explosion rocked the earth. "Requesting permission to initiate the 'Ghost Fleet' protocol!"
Within the Soul Sanctuary, Crul turned her gaze toward Ethan. Her eyes, usually cold and analytical, held a flicker of something resembling anticipation.
Ethan watched the logistics workers—the "laborers"—fighting tooth and nail alongside the soldiers. He saw their sacrifice, their loyalty, and their fire. A dark, proud smirk touched his lips.
