Rising god-Chapter 127: Which Is Greater

The third mountain’s laboratory was their final target, its scale rivaling the previous two. Wick shattered the entrance with a burst of runes, the rockface crumbling under his power.

Inside, they dispatched the soldiers with ruthless efficiency, their blades flashing in the dim light of mana orbs, while Wick was able to rescue every experiment who didn’t show any signs of explosion. With Wick taking the brunt of the explosion and collapse, Ralph and the Dawnless members were able to escape with the survivors.

"How many?" Ralph asked, catching his breath, the air thick with the stench of charred flesh and chemicals.

"Forty-two," Wick replied, his tracker pulsing faintly.

A Dawnless member glanced at the survivors, many of them children, their small forms shivering in the cold. "But, sir, what do we do with them?"

Ralph’s gaze softened, lingering on the frail figures. Why did I save them? "Haa, I don’t know," he admitted, looking skyward. ’Brother, where are you?’ With the trackers lost, this search was almost vain, but maybe it was a good thing they didn’t have the trackers. He couldn’t bear the sight of his brother turning to mush or exploding.

"Let’s return."

With Wick’s runes cloaking their movements, they transported the survivors through the night, their steps muffled by the forest’s damp earth.

At the hidden mansion, they found the other Dawnless teams returned, their faces grim. The Mistars waited outside, their curiosity palpable. Though uninformed of the mission’s purpose, their movements weren’t restricted, and they’d been probing in their own way.

"Set up tents and space them out," Ralph ordered, striding into the mansion. He couldn’t put them in case one explodes and consumes the other. "What happened on your end?" he asked as soon as they reached the meeting room, and reports flooded in.

Rector summarized, "It was the same everywhere, glass tubes, figures exploding. But a few didn’t dissolve."

"Why were only the sites with non-exploding subjects with researchers?" Ralph mused, his brow furrowing.

No one answered, but an unspoken question hung heavy: What if he was among the exploded? But no one dared voice it.

"For now, we check every location," Ralph said. "We’ll find who we’re looking for."

...

The search intensified over the next three months, spreading into Flameheart’s cities, forests, and mountains.

Clashes with Heartflame soldiers and small armies grew, with the name Dawnless earning fame as a force purging experimental sites.

Naturally, at this point, it was inevitable that the Mistars were aware of their purpose in the kingdom; however, Ralph did not tell them or request their help, and using that time, they carved out their foothold in the kingdom, establishing networks in two months.

Just as the number of people the dawnless saved increased in number, the number of deaths they saved increased. Once in a while, some exploded, sometimes consuming others. However, till the end, none of them showed signs of waking up.

And unfortunately, the dawnless also lost some members along the way, and the reason for their coming to heartflame remained unfulfilled. Naturally, the members became dispirited.

After three months, Ralph called off the search.

"We are going to return," he declared, his voice heavy. The members were happy he called it off before more loses occurred but didn’t let it show.

Days later, the Mistars rejoined, leaving a few executives to maintain their new operations.

Ralph decided to bring the surviving experiments—mostly kidnapped from Solaris, Vodal, and beyond—back to Dawnless, hoping for further clues.

Under the cover of night, they prepared to depart, the mansion’s shadows cloaking their movements. But as they stepped into the forest, they were forced to stop.

"Sir Ralph," the First Executive whispered, his eyes scanning the trees.

"I know," Ralph replied, sensing the assassins and soldiers hidden around the forest.

"Rats," the Second Executive sneered, awaiting orders.

"No one would bury you if you die here," Ralph said, his voice cold and truthful. "So, fight for your lives." He dashed forward, Moonfang gleaming.

"Attack!" the executives roared, following suit.

As they took off, Ralph had already descended on a hidden soldier, who calmly thrust a blade at him.

At that moment, Ralph’s presence vanished. The soldier spun to catch him, but it was too late—ptshch.

Moonfang sank into his neck. Without delaying, Ralph leaped to a branch as a barrage of red and blue flames—burning and freezing—erupted from other hidden foes. ’How does fire freeze?’ he wondered, dodging as blue flame’s ice coated the trees and fire scorched the bark. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

His presence faded again, Moonfang’s arcs of purple energy slicing through the darkness.

"Where’s it coming from?" a soldier screamed, only to fall as another arc claimed him. Ralph danced between trees, stealing their flames with Moonfang’s void-like edge, and redirecting them with lethal precision. With the night and his cloak aiding him, he moved like a phantom.

The Mistars followed behind him, their mist spreading like a storm across the treetops. As assassins skilled in concealment, their techniques were unmatched. The mist choked the air, muffling screams as bodies dropped. Ralph vanishing like a flicker, and a large storm of mist that felled soldiers with each passing made the trees terrifying.

Their advantage on the trees was too overwhelming.

"Jump down!" the enemy leader bellowed, ordering his soldiers to abandon the trees for the ground.

Hundreds of Heartflame soldiers and assassins landed, blades and flames ready.

The Second Executive grinned, lightning crackling across his body. He dove, his fist—charged with draconic lightning—punching through a soldier’s chest. Bang. "Sorry, but you were in my way."

He didn’t stop there. Like a bull, he charged in the fray, his fists continuously raining down lightning on the flameheart soldiers. With each hit he taunted, but eventually, he had to be stopped.

A fiery mace came down with powerful force and struck his head.

Bang.

That power was enough to cave a 5th star soldier into the ground. However, the attacker retreated, stunned that the executive stood unfazed, despite his attack and his body coated in thick scales, reptilian eyes glowing.

"Dragon?" the soldier gasped, blue flames gathering on his mace.

Donto lunged, his fist aimed at the soldier’s chest, but the man dodged. Bang. "Nice one," Donto grinned. "Dodge this, too." His fists rained down, lightning sparking with each blow.

Clang... clang.

However, two other sixth-star soldiers intervened, blocking Donto’s attacks. "Section leader!" they called to their ally, who wiped blood from his lips. "Good, you’re here. Let’s kill him." They charged at Donto.

"I’ve never fought three sixth-stars," Donto mused, recalling his training. Then confidence surged, and he felt he could do it. He steadied himself, his scales hardening, and met their assault.

The First Executive faced a graver challenge: four sixth-star opponents. Their red and blue flames roared restlessly, but he remained calm and took a better approach to the battle.

’Let’s see whose fire is greater.’ He unleashed his flames, dragonic and untamed, clashing against theirs in a blaze of heat and frost.

The forest erupted into chaos, flames and lightning illuminating the night. The Dawnless and Mistars fought with relentless precision, their enhanced bodies and techniques carving through the enemy, and the flameheart fought with formations and combined attacks to remedy the disadvantage they had.

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