The five Yaksha charged straight toward the group of gods. Their movements were swift and precise, their coordination seamless, quickly forming an effective rhythm of attack.
But the gods were no easy foes. If there had only been one or two, they might have been able to manage.
Unfortunately, even Morax himself would have struggled against their sheer numbers.
Twelve gods.
During the peak of the Archon War, the greatest assault Liyue had ever faced involved only seven gods joining forces. Though those gods had brought thousands of followers with them, the oppressive force radiating from these twelve now far exceeded even that.
At first, relying on teamwork and powerful coordinated strikes, the Yaksha managed to gain a fleeting advantage.
But as the battle dragged on, the difference in power between the gods and the Yaksha became painfully clear.
They were running out of stamina—running out of strength.
"We can't beat them! Change tactics—focus on evasion and defense!" Bosacius immediately recognized the situation and called for a change in strategy.
They had thought that after being sealed for thousands of years, the gods' power would have waned enough for them to exploit an opening and strike them down.
They had been wrong.
Though weakened compared to their ancient prime, the gods' numbers alone made them overwhelming.
Twelve gods against five Yaksha—there was no comparison.
They were, after all, merely Morax's subordinates. To kill even two or three gods together would already have been a feat beyond measure—yet now, they faced twelve.
"Bonanus!" Alatus shouted suddenly.
Bonanus, momentarily dazed, snapped back at the sound of his voice—only to see a dark purple ice spike already hurtling toward her.
A flash of lightning burst forth, and in an instant, she was yanked aside.
"Brother Bosacius…" Bonanus whispered, stunned, lowering her head in shame.
Had Bosacius not moved so quickly, that ice spike would have pierced straight through her body.
"That last technique drained you too much. Feeling a little disoriented is normal. Don't dwell on it. Just be careful—we need to hold out until His Imperial Majesty returns."
Bosacius patted her head gently, offering a warm, reassuring smile.
"Yes, Brother Bosacius. I won't lose focus again," Bonanus replied, nodding. She stomped her feet down, and both sides leapt back to reposition.
As Bosacius landed, he glanced briefly toward his waist—where a deep crimson wound was seeping blood. Around it, faint purple markings had begun to spread.
They could not hold out much longer. Fatigue was setting in one by one.
The attacks from the twelve gods were relentless, but the worst part was that they could not afford a single mistake.
Each of the twelve gods had been tainted by the Abyss. Their elemental power shone with a sinister dark purple hue, and even a single hit would mean infection.
The Yaksha were forced into a state of constant, razor-sharp concentration. Their dodges had to be perfect—no grazes, no mistakes, no contact whatsoever.
But the gods' attacks were merciless.
From above, icicles rained down nonstop. From below, sharp rock spikes erupted in waves.
From the void, thunder, fire, and countless other elemental strikes raged endlessly.
Assaults came from every direction, and the Yaksha had to avoid all of them without a single wound.
Under such impossible conditions, their bodies began to falter.
Dizziness and fatigue clouded their minds.
BOOM!!!!!!!!!!
A colossal bolt of purple lightning tore through the pitch-black night sky. The thunderstorm detonated in the midst of the gods, erasing all surrounding attacks in an instant.
Bosacius hovered in midair, encased within a sphere of violet light as arcs of lightning exploded around him.
The Yaksha froze, stunned by the sudden burst of power.
Then, as their eyes focused, their pupils contracted sharply.
Purple blotches had spread across Bosacius's body.
"Haha... sorry, everyone. I got hit," Bosacius said with a grin, scratching his head.
"Well... it's kinda embarrassing, isn't it? The big brother getting hit first. Guess having four arms just makes me easier to target. Hahaha... what a mess."
"My apologies. I didn't set a good example for you all—in fact, I've set the worst one."
"Yeah... I suppose... it's a shame..."
"I really wanted to go back with you all..."
"And I still wanted to have another fishing contest with Alatus—the kind where I only use two hands this time."
"Indarias, bickering with you was actually pretty fun. But your taunting technique? It's terrible. Don't ever use it again—it's just embarrassing."
"Bonanus, you're the one who called me 'big brother' the most. I liked that about you—you've always been such a sweet one. Don't cry, alright? Give me a smile. Big brother loves your smile."
"Menogias... oh, Menogias... you've always been so patient. I've seen mortals mock you, and you'd just smile back. Don't do that anymore, okay? I won't be around to defend you next time."
"I'm sorry. I'll have to go on ahead. But having friends like all of you..."
"My life... has truly been a happy one."
As his words faded, the sphere of violet light surrounding Bosacius burst into a blinding radiance.
His figure was slowly swallowed by the light.
"Brother Bosacius!!!" the Yaksha cried, tears streaming down their faces as they rushed toward the center of the glow.
But the light moved faster, surging toward the gods with incredible speed.
"Let me, as your elder brother, shoulder a little more for you—just this once." Bosacius looked toward them from within the sphere, a single tear falling from his eye.
"Ten Thousand Thunder Annihilation!"
In that moment, the violet light consumed the darkness, flooding the night sky with blinding brilliance. The Yaksha instinctively shielded their eyes.
The explosion echoed across the heavens.
...
At Jueyun Karst, Guizhong and the Adepti were operating the Guizhong Machine to repel the invading gods when a blinding flash lit up the direction of Tianheng Mountain.
That light—it was Bosacius's aura.
The Adepti fell silent. One by one, their hands clenched tightly into fists.
At the Guyun Stone Forest, where Morax was battling dozens of gods, he too saw the light.
And in the next instant, he felt Bosacius's aura vanish completely.
Rage blazed in Morax's golden eyes, threatening to erupt at any moment.
Yet even so, he forced himself to endure, dodging the gods' relentless strikes.
His shield had already been shattered. His situation was no better than the Yaksha's.
Facing the onslaught of over a dozen gods alone was bad enough, and he could not afford even a single hit—those corrupted powers could corrode even divine energy itself.
With no shield left to rely on, Morax could only evade.
He knew one thing clearly: if he was struck, it would truly be the end.
Even burning with rage, he had to restrain himself. He couldn't afford reckless battle.
He was not alone, not unbound.
He had countless people to protect, friends waiting for his return, and a wife who loved him at home.
He had far too much he could not lose.
And so, he had to stay calm—he could not make a single mistake.