The Borisin warriors stationed inside Dulan Fortress were, without exception, seasoned elites who had crawled their way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Not only was their personal combat prowess top-tier among their notoriously belligerent race, but they were also a rare sight: a unified force fully equipped with standard-issue gear forged by the Rhino-Hound Pack.
Despite this, a heavy, unspoken frustration had been brewing among the defenders.
The reason was simple. After the siege on Crychic's squad concluded, the surviving Borisin vanguard had taken over the local taverns, spitting wildly as they bragged about their glorious combat achievements.
A classic dick-measuring contest had quickly unfolded.
The frontline troops made snide remarks, implying that the fortress elites had gone soft. They claimed the defenders had been living a life of luxury, losing their edge since they hadn't seen the flames of war in ages. It even reached the point where the vanguard dismissively declared they "wouldn't lower themselves to argue with pencil-pushers who had zero confirmed kills."
How could these arrogant elites swallow such an insult?
They were all currently suffocating under a massive chip on their shoulders, just waiting for the moment the Living Planet descended upon the Luofu so they could prove their valor with the boiling blood of the Xianzhou natives.
Unfortunately for them, their end would arrive long before that moment ever came.
---||---
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A piece of trash that slipped out of its cage?"
In the dim corner of a corridor, a Borisin patrol captain spotted his target: a Foxian slave cowering in the shadows, covered in filth and shivering violently.
"Got a nice ass on 'im, too! Go get 'em, Captain, isn't that exactly your type?" one of the guards jeered.
"Yeah! Just the other day he dressed up as a bath attendant and snuck into the men's bathhouse!" another chimed in.
"Even the body wash was warm!"
Amidst the malicious, roaring laughter of his men, the captain stepped forward with a cruel sneer. Reaching out with a massive, furry hand, he grabbed the Foxian by the chin, violently jerking his face up to meet his foul, blood-scented canine maw.
"What's wrong? So scared your legs gave out?" he mocked, completely dismissing the slave as a threat.
The Wolf Toxin emitted by the Borisin exerted a crippling suppressive effect on Foxians. It was a primal, genetic terror carved deep into their DNA.
That is, until an ethereal, melodious flute tune drifted faintly into the ears of everyone present.
Suddenly, everything changed.
The helpless terror plastered across the face of Cangdu, the Foxian suspended in mid-air, instantly vanished.
It was replaced by a sinister grin—an explosive concoction of deep-seated hatred and absolute murderous intent!
His curled-up legs lashed out like a coiled spring. In that split second, claws sharper than any forged blade erupted from his toes, delivering a lightning-fast, vicious kick directly into the Borisin captain's crotch!
"AARRRGH!"
As the eighth-generation leader of the Foxian Resistance, Cangdu was far from weak.
A horrifying, inhuman shriek echoed down the corridor. The captain's eyes bulged from their sockets, his lupine face twisting into a hideous shade of purple.
A tsunami of sheer agony obliterated his consciousness, making him feel as though an invisible broadsword had just cleaved him in half from the bottom up!
"Captain!"
"Filthy scum! You're dead!"
The other Borisin soldiers turned pale with shock. Though they couldn't fathom why the Wolf Toxin had suddenly stopped working, years of brutal training kicked in.
Roaring with fury, they lunged forward, drawing their razor-sharp sabers to strike at Cangdu's vitals.
Their reactions were fast, but the Foxians surging out from the shadows were faster.
"Charge! Kill every last one of these bastards!!!"
With roars fueled by pure rage, burly, red-eyed Foxians swarmed into the fray like vengeful demons crawling straight out of hell. Most wielded crude, makeshift weapons; some fought with their bare hands!
Initially, the Borisin held the upper hand. Relying on their heavy armor, sharp blades, and superior physical strength, they cut down the vanguard of the Foxian assault like a scythe through wheat, even when outnumbered ten to one.
But very quickly, they realized something was deeply wrong with these slaves.
Their fighting style was far too ruthless, far too spiteful. It perfectly mirrored the psychotic, suicidal frenzy of the rebellious White Wolf Pack.
Chest crushed? Who cares! I can still swing my claws and take you to hell with me!
Limbs severed? So what! I can still use my teeth to rip out your throat!
Every fallen Foxian expended their last ounce of strength to tear a chunk of flesh from their oppressors. There was no fear of death in their eyes—only a chilling, near-manic ecstasy of sheer hatred and vengeance!
This wasn't a battle. It was a sacrifice!
They were using their own lives and flesh as fuel to ignite the flames of a revenge that spanned a thousand years of past oppression, and would burn for a thousand years into the future!
Faced with this relentless suicide assault, the notoriously fearless Borisin warriors actually felt fear.
"Maniacs!"
"You're all fucking maniacs!"
The vice-captain punched a Foxian who had lunged to wrap around his leg, sending him flying.
Yet, as the Foxian soared through the air, spitting blood, he still desperately tried to stab the Borisin with his own protruding, broken bones.
Seeing that nightmarish, bloodstained face, an indescribable terror bloomed in the heart of the seasoned, blood-soaked Borisin veteran!
Instinctively, he turned, desperate to flee the corridor that had transformed into a literal meat grinder.
"Then let us ask you..." a voice whispered right beside his ear, sounding as if it had echoed up from the deepest abyss of the underworld. "Who was it... that forced us to become such maniacs?"
The vice-captain's pupils shrank to pinpricks. A cold draft swept across his neck.
He immediately hit the floor and went to sleep, plunging into eternal darkness.
"Hurry! Sweep the area! Strip their armor, take their weapons!" Cangdu shouted hoarsely, wiping hot blood from his face as the last of the patrol was dispatched.
"Stick to the plan! Keep causing chaos inside the fortress! Destroy anything suspicious! Whatever scheme Mangus is plotting, we absolutely cannot let that bastard succeed!"
"YES, SIR!!!"
Deafening roars of agreement echoed down the corridor.
---||---
Meanwhile, at the edge of a massive vertical cavern on the lowest level of the fortress.
Hyacine stood quietly. She hadn't followed Cangdu and the others deeper into the stronghold.
Her slender figure looked exceptionally small against the backdrop of the colossal chasm. Though a hint of exhaustion marked her pale face, her eyes remained remarkably clear and resolute.
It wasn't that Hyacine feared battle, nor was she indifferent to the casualties of her Foxian allies.
Quite the opposite—as a doctor, she wanted nothing more than to rush to the front lines and save as many lives as possible with her medical arts.
But she couldn't. Because she had her own battlefield to hold.
SWISH!
A piercing screech tore through the air.
An arrow, wrapped in an ominous, foul light, shot out from the shadows of an overhanging rock formation above. It was aimed dead at the center of Hyacine's forehead.
This was a bone arrow, crafted through secret rituals by Borisin shamans. It contained the venom of a Toxic Dragon. Upon piercing a target, the arrow would melt into a liquid state, seeping into the bloodstream to cause severe paralysis, debilitating weakness, or outright death.
It was an incredibly precious, single-use consumable. In other words, only the highest-tier combatants were authorized to use it.
Simply put: Sequence Level.
"Little Ica!" Hyacine called out sharply, fully prepared for the strike.
"Doo—doo-doo!"
The young pegasus, which had been standing obediently by her side, furiously flapped its wings. A powerful cyclone surged upward, attempting to deflect the arrow's trajectory.
However, the kinetic force packed into the projectile was immense. The wind merely caused it to stutter for a fraction of a second before it continued its deadly course, tracking her like a homing missile.
But that split-second delay was all she needed.
By the time the arrow landed, its target was gone.
"Master Archer Hasar. I've been waiting a long time for you!"
Hovering in mid-air, grasping the Reins of the Riding Hero, Hyacine looked down from a vantage point at the bow-wielding figure stepping out of the shadows. Her voice was crisp and icy-calm.
As a fellow Heavenly King of the Eclipse Pack, Qiyan's memories naturally contained intelligence on the others. Before finalizing their operation, Fuli had shared this crucial information with his squadmates.
The reason Hyacine had chosen to stay back in this vast cavern was simple: she knew how the enemy would react.
The Borisin defenders might panic initially when faced with the Foxian slave rebellion, but they would quickly deduce why the slaves were suddenly immune to the Wolf Toxin. Inevitably, they would dispatch their strongest elites to execute a decapitation strike.
Rather than wasting time trying to hunt down scattered, rampaging Foxians, it made far more tactical sense to eliminate the source of the rebellion: Hyacine herself.
Once she was dead, the flute's buff would vanish, and the slave uprising would instantly crumble.
To prevent that from happening, Hyacine stayed behind. She waited here—in a sprawling, open battlefield where Little Ica could maximize its aerial mobility.
This was the natural law of the supernatural world: pawns fought pawns, knights fought knights, and kings fought kings.
"Oh? Waiting for me?" Master Archer Hasar chuckled darkly from the shadows. "Little girl, how were you so sure I would be the one to come, rather than my peer, Batu?"
"No matter which of you showed up, the outcome would be exactly the same! Because victory belongs to us!" Hyacine replied righteously, her eyes burning with determination.
"Heh. Small in stature, but big on talk."
Hasar didn't waste any more breath. His figure blurred, melting back into the surrounding darkness.
The next moment, a dense volley of arrows rained down from impossibly tricky angles, enveloping the girl and her mount in a torrential storm of black iron.
"Little Ica!" Hyacine raised her hand, shoving a vial of potion into her partner's mouth.
"Doo!"
Without hesitation, Little Ica swallowed the contents.
A thunderous, surging heartbeat instantly echoed throughout the massive cavern. A split second later, a violent tempest enveloped the pegasus, expanding rapidly outward and violently blowing away the barrage of deadly black arrows.
NEEEIGH!
A streak of pure white light tore through the veil of darkness.
A majestic pegasus, its body seemingly forged from pure starlight, reared up proudly. Its mane cascaded like a silvery galaxy, its wings unfurled in breathtaking splendor, and every hoofbeat manifested radiant, planetary rings.
Every single feather shimmered with the pristine brilliance of the cosmos's birth.
Titan's Vision.
That was the true name of the potion Hyacine had just fed Little Ica. It temporarily super-gigantified the consumer's physical body, massively boosting all related attributes.
After buying it at the Luminary Wardance market, Hyacine had used her extensive medical knowledge to modify the formula, allowing an animal consumer to instantly reach its fully matured, adult state for a short duration.
At the end of the day, Hyacine was kind-hearted, not stupid. She wasn't about to risk her teammates' lives just to heal some injured Foxians.
If she couldn't distinguish between noble sacrifice and tactical suicide, she wouldn't have survived unscathed this long. She always kept a trump card up her sleeve.
This was exactly why she had resolutely accepted the "Liberate the Slaves" mission, fully aware that she would almost certainly be targeted by a Sequence Level combatant.
NEEEIGH!
The airborne pegasus erupted with boundless light, illuminating every inch of the cavernous abyss. This blinding radiance completely stripped away the shadows, leaving Hasar nowhere to hide.
"Quite the light show," he muttered, raising an arm to shield his eyes, his expression darkening.
Hyacine's own aura wasn't particularly strong—she was, at best, a standout C-Rank combatant. The real problem was Little Ica.
Forced into its physical prime and buffed by the Reins of the Riding Hero, the pegasus was bordering on Sequence Level power. Furthermore, through their master-mount contract, their life forces were linked. You couldn't just defeat one, and their combined combat prowess was the sum of both parts.
Could he win this?
Hasar scoffed coldly, drawing his bowstring once more.
Even within the Borisin ranks—and particularly inside the Eclipse Pack—there was a strict hierarchy of class prejudice. To put it simply, in the eyes of those muscle-brained brutes:
Melee combat? Badass!
Ranged combat? Cowards!
But as someone who had reached Sequence Level by sprinting down the path of pure, shameless treachery, Hasar understood how to read a battlefield and exploit weaknesses far better than any of his kin.
He could tell at a glance that Little Ica's explosive state couldn't last. Once the time limit expired, it would revert to its infantile form and suffer from an unimaginable period of debilitating weakness.
Knowing that, why the hell would he engage in a brainless melee brawl like the rest of those savages? Couldn't he just kite them from the edge of the map until the buff wore off?
And so, a bizarre game of cat-and-mouse unfolded within the colossal vertical cavern.
Playing the role of the ultimate cunning hunter, Hasar constantly repositioned himself using the complex terrain, launching arrows that chased their targets like heat-seeking missiles.
Hyacine, riding her magnificent pegasus, danced through the starlight, attempting to close the distance. It looked incredibly dangerous, yet she managed to weave through the fatal strikes by the narrowest of margins every single time.
Minutes ticked by.
"Doo?"
Soaring high above, Little Ica suddenly let out a sluggish, lethargic whinny. Its massive body stumbled mid-air, narrowly avoiding the lethal edge of a Toxic Dragon arrow.
Seeing this, Hasar was ecstatic.
Playing it safe, he still refused to close the distance, choosing instead to lay down suppressing fire for another full minute.
It wasn't until Little Ica let out another distinctly exhausted cry, failing to dodge in time and getting grazed by a poison arrow, that he finally relaxed. Pitch-black venom rapidly began spreading across its pristine wing.
"Shooting arrows is real exhausting work, y'know..." the Borisin sighed theatrically.
Standing firmly at a safe distance, he drew his bowstring back fully, preparing to reap Hyacine's head.
That's right. Even at the very end, Hasar had zero intention of getting close.
A gentle breeze ruffled his fur, carrying with it a refreshing, sweet fragrance.
Wait a minute.
A gentle breeze?
Alarm bells violently rang in his head.
So you finally noticed? What a pity... it's already too late.
A smile of profound relief blossomed on Hyacine's face. She uncorked a sky-blue potion and poured it into Little Ica's mouth.
The pitch-black venom on the pegasus's wing visibly receded in seconds. Reinvigorated, it let out a clear, ringing neigh.
They hadn't just been flying around in aimless circles all this time.
By utilizing her wind-manipulation abilities, Hyacine had subtly guided the ambient airflow within the cavern, forcing it to circulate in a single, unified direction.
In other words, the entire area had been converted into a massive, slow-spinning atmospheric vortex.
And the reason for doing this?
"My martial arts specialties," Hyacine whispered softly, "are Bajiquan and Tai Chi."
Even in the Honkai universe, a martial art with as rich a history as Tai Chi possessed countless offshoots and variations.
One particular branch had successfully merged the dynamic-static philosophies of Tai Chi with the scientific principles of matter-antimatter annihilation. It birthed a unique school known as Iridescent Tai Chi.
The core technique involved storing Qi inside an enemy's body, waiting for the perfect moment to detonate it. The practitioner's energy was split into Yin and Yang halves. The negative Yin energy was injected first, lying dormant. Then, the positive Yang energy was unleashed to trigger it.
The intense mutual repulsion between the two forces generated a terrifyingly destructive shockwave—mimicking an actual antimatter annihilation reaction—blowing the target apart from the inside out.
In theory, it was devastating. But in practice, Hasar hadn't let Hyacine get within a hundred yards of him. Even if she wanted to inject her Qi into him, she physically couldn't.
Or, at least, she couldn't have... if not for Little Ica.
"The Borisin possess an incredible sense of smell," Hyacine explained. "Because you rely on it to track your prey, you unconsciously breathe much deeper and more frequently during combat, inhaling significantly more air than a human."
Thus, using the circulating air currents as a carrier, she had seamlessly fed her negative Yin Qi directly into Hasar's lungs. From there, it had quietly seeped into his bones and bloodstream.
During their supposed "chase," every seemingly desperate charge they made was actually a smokescreen. She had been continuously saturating the giant atmospheric vortex with the corresponding positive Yang Qi.
Now, all that was required was the ignition command.
Once given, the explosive, annihilating power of a near-Sequence Level combatant would detonate directly inside Hasar. And since the blast would originate from the inside out, none of his external physical defenses would mean a damn thing.
"Mr. Borisin... one of my teachers once told me something."
Gently stroking Little Ica's mane, Hyacine's voice remained soft and gentle, yet it carried an undeniable, fatal resolve. "A doctor shouldn't just know how to save lives. They must also know exactly how to eradicate the root cause of a disease."
She brought her hands together in front of her chest, forming a hollow sphere.
Suddenly, a slowly rotating phantom image of a Tai Chi diagram unfurled beneath her feet! The positions of the Yin and Yang fish eyes aligned perfectly with Hasar and the massive energy field saturating the cavern!
"You can't! You can't do this!" Hasar screamed in sheer terror, desperately trying to hold his breath.
It was completely useless. As long as he had a single orifice connecting his internal organs to the outside world, he was entirely defenseless against the impending pseudo-antimatter collision.
"In your next life, try to be a good person," Hyacine whispered.
Her cupped hands snapped together.
RUMBLE... BOOM!!!
Like a detonated Tsar Bomba, Hasar erupted from the inside out with a blinding, apocalyptic flash of light. His entire being was subjected to the annihilating Yin-Yang energy, threatening to vaporize him so thoroughly not even ashes would remain!
Or rather... it almost did.
"When it comes down to it... even linked with that damn white horse, you're still only approaching Sequence Level! I—!" The horribly mangled, disfigured Borisin roared, clinging desperately to life.
But he froze when he met Hyacine's gaze. It was full of profound pity.
Gripping the Reins of the Riding Hero, the girl's lips parted slightly. "Charge, Little Ica."
A new storm—or rather, a new Hya-bao—has appeared! How could she remain stagnant now?
Destroy him, Little Ica!
NEEEIGH!
The divine pegasus threw its head back and roared, transforming into a blinding meteor as it barreled straight toward the critically wounded Hasar.
The combined, full-throttle power of the Anti-Army Noble Phantasm and the pegasus was unleashed.
And this time, they wouldn't be stopped by a blonde, sword-wielding King of Knights holding humanity's highest illusion and screaming "Excalibur!"
---||---
KABOOM!
Sprinting rapidly through the upper corridors, Fuli and Castorice felt a violent tremor shake the floorboards beneath their feet. The muffled, thunderous roar echoed up through multiple layers of heavy armor plating.
"That noise just now..." Castorice paused, her expression tight with worry.
"Don't get distracted." Fuli gently squeezed her slightly cold hand. "We have to believe in Hya-bao. Right now, we focus on the battle in front of us."
"Right!" The young girl pulled her gaze away from the floor, tightening her grip on the haft of her massive scythe.
Their ascent had been anything but a walk in the park. Along the way, they had clashed with multiple elite squads left behind as guards, along with a slew of incredibly stubborn, automated mecha-beasts.
Even though the duo managed to crush every obstacle in their path, it had still burned through a considerable amount of time and stamina.
Fortunately, thanks to the massive, chaotic rebellion sparked by the Foxian slaves on the lower levels, the majority of the upper garrison had been drawn away to suppress the riots. This massively relieved the pressure on Fuli and Castorice.
After one final, breathless sprint, the two finally reached the last floor leading up to the rooftop.
Blocking the entrance to the final staircase was a towering, iron-clad figure.
Batu. The last, and absolutely the strongest, of the Eclipse Pack's Four Heavenly Kings.
His icy gaze swept past Castorice before locking dead onto Fuli's face. When he spoke, his voice was raspy and devoid of all emotion.
"The Brood Lord is waiting for you at the top."
Fuli's eyes narrowed. His hand instantly dropped to the hilt of his Plasma Kagehide as he shot Castorice a covert glance.
Screw the "split up and fight" trope! Time for a righteous 2-on-1 beatdown! Let's end this fast!
But just a split second before the boy could draw his blade...
An overwhelmingly massive, savage, and blood-soaked aura crashed down upon him! The terrifying pressure locked onto him like a physical mountain, pinning him in place!
Fuli froze mid-draw. He let out a helpless, exaggerated sigh and shrugged.
"Welp, so much for the righteous jumping plan. Cassie, looks like I'm gonna have to leave this guy to you after all."
Either Hoolay had taken Phantylia's warning to heart and was absolutely forbidding Castorice—a Chrysos Heir with instant-death capabilities—from getting anywhere near him, or the Brood Lord simply wanted a pure, uninterrupted 1-on-1 duel with Jingliu's disciple.
Regardless of the reason, one thing was clear. If Fuli stayed here and tried to gang up on Batu with Castorice, Hoolay wouldn't just sit idly by on the roof. The fight would instantly escalate into a chaotic 2-on-2 brawl.
And that was the best-case scenario.
In the worst case, if Batu managed to pin both of them down for even a few seconds, a deliberate sneak attack from Hoolay would effortlessly wipe them out. Neither Fuli nor Castorice would survive.
"Please leave him to me, My Lord. I will dispose of him as swiftly as possible and join you at the top."
Equally aware of the deadly stakes, Castorice twirled her massive scythe, gripping it tightly. Her gaze pierced into the massive obstacle blocking their path like the sharpest of blades, and a pale purple aura of absolute death began to bloom around her.
"Be careful."
Trusting her strength completely, Fuli didn't hesitate. He turned his back to the Heavenly King and began his ascent up the stairs toward the rooftop.