The Celestial Sea continued to weep a cold, silver rain—the temporary reprieve secured by Alem's Mystic bargaining. It was a visible scar on the landscape, a shimmering testament to the power of Agape to influence the conscious world of Aye. The downpour had scattered the first wave of Asuras, their Iku-powered forms steaming and stalling in the purified Ase of the cosmic water.
Idan, Omari, and Alem moved quickly, abandoning the relative safety of the gatehouse. Their mission was no longer defensive; it was a desperate attempt to decapitate the invasion before the Asuras could recover from the Mystic-induced deluge.
"They won't retreat," Alem said, his voice quiet against the drumming rain. He had exchanged his cross-legged perch for rapid movement, surprisingly agile for his slim build. "Their objective is absolute destruction, a reflection of the Utupu in their Dapabie. They must be stopped before they reach the main thoroughfares."
The Asura Dreadnought, a grotesque vehicle of raw, engineered entropy, had carved a trench through the earth. Its path was a trail of destroyed plant life and pulverized stone, its passage leaving behind a stench of salt and dark power.
Omari's Ranch
Omari, the Sanguine Cultivator, stopped at the edge of the Dreadnought's trench. With a powerful whistle, he summoned his Ranch. Every Cultivator's roster of tamed animals was a crucial extension of their power, and Omari was rarely without his two companions.
Two figures emerged from the gloom: his pet, a massive, black-maned lion named Kofi, and his mount, a sleek, agile, rhinocerous-sized feline named Pumba. Both were fables—animals functioning on the level of human super sentience—their intelligence a direct result of the intense Ase flowing through them.
Omari placed a hand on Kofi's massive head. His Red Aura briefly enveloped the lion, a surge of focused Faunakinesis.
"Kofi, scout the path. Tell me what they're guarding," Omari ordered.
Kofi's eyes, normally amber, glowed with a brief red light, absorbing the command. He sprang into the trench, his movements silent despite his size. Omari was using Faunapathy to create a direct mental link, seeing and feeling the environment through his animal companion.
Idan's Inner War
Idan, the Mass Monster Warrior, was burdened by the very physique that made him a terror. His muscles ached, not from exertion, but from the spiritual drag of Ase stagnation. He carried his massive training spear, but it felt like a psychological weight, a constant reminder of the Spear of Charisma he couldn't summon.
"I need to be first," Idan stated, his voice a low growl. "I draw the fire. Omari, you secure the path behind me. Alem, I need a clear shot at the Dreadnought's center."
As if responding to the weight of his guilt, a brief spike of Green Hue (fear) flared around him, quickly drowned out by the intense Red Hue of pure, operational anger.
He hefted the Shield of Durability, the Yellow Aura defensive construct now his only reliable weapon. It was an instrument of tenacity, a constant, exhausting commitment to not breaking, rather than the quick, glorious victory he desired. He was forced to fight a defensive war with a tool meant for stoic endurance. This was the painful truth of his Makoma.
The Favor of the Deep
Alem, having received a flash of insight from his Se-ipunnu, needed to negotiate the one weakness of any thing in Aye: its inability to coexist with absolute pressure.
"The Dreadnought is powered by a core of solidified Iku," Alem whispered, pointing toward the end of the trench where the machine was visible, dark and still in the silver rain. "It is drawing its power from the Deep (The Thrum). I need five seconds, Idan, to ask Aye a great favor."
Alem knelt in the cold mud, his blue eyes shut, his entire being focused on the deep, conscious layer of the terrarium base that existed only to annihilate sin. He was asking the Thrum—the place of impossible, obliterating pressure—to notice the core of Iku above it.
(Chi, You know I am not presumptuous. By the grace of Your Agape, I boldly ask this land to grant us the power of the Thrum. Only so we can protect our neighborhood.)
The Trap
Kofi the lion returned in a rush, leaping over the trench wall and landing silently beside Omari.
"They've set a snare," Omari relayed, translating Kofi's Faunapathy. "They've surrounded the Dreadnought with their elite: the Rakshasha Asura slaves, waiting to ambush."
Idan felt a cold twist in his gut. Rakshasha Asuras were the worst, not the mindless shriekers of the first wave, but Asuras who possessed enough calculated malice to employ tactics. They were waiting for him to charge.
"Then we charge," Idan decided, the Yellow Aura of his Shield shining brighter than the silver rain.
He activated his two core Martial Arts techniques: the defensive, low-to-the-ground stance of Wrestling (studied from monkeys) and the focused, explosive power of Boxing (studied from gorillas). He didn't run. He moved with a devastating, controlled lurch, his spear held horizontally to knock obstacles aside, his Shield of Durability held high.
"Five seconds, Alem!" he yelled, charging headlong into the Silver Scar.
He hit the first Rakshasha Asura with a wrestling shoulder tackle that would have shattered a stone wall, using the kinetic force of his massive body mass, not his Ase-powered shield. The Asura, startled, was slammed into the earth.
Alem began to chant, the words not of a known language, but of pure Ase resonance. His Blue Aura flared outward, a beacon in the dark, and the ground beneath the Dreadnought began to subtly hum, responding to the Mystic's desperate call.
The battle had truly begun, pitting the unwavering tenacity of the Warrior's Makoma against the absolute entropy of the Asura invaders.