Chapter 368 - 368: Weaver of Tides

Sylara adjusted her white moth-silk hood over the video feed to address her sovereign. "The macro-server warlords will eventually launch naval invasions across our borders.

We should compost the ocean floor. I can graft corrosive spores onto the underwater roots of the Omni-Web to create a defensive perimeter reef."

Rubedo rested his chin on his knuckles inside the orbital sanctuary. "Proceed with the operation. Secure the deep trenches before the invaders arrive."

Down on the western coastline, Old-Shell waded into the crashing surf. His calcified obsidian dome functioned flawlessly as a sealed bio-submersible. A very irritated Ash-Drake stomped into the shallows right behind him.

The reptilian beast had just awakened from a ten-year slumber after being tamed in the Southern Vault, and plunging into freezing saltwater immediately ruined his mood.

"Keep your wings tucked," Sludge ordered from his perch on Old-Shell's carapace. The Mud-Skipper elder patted a satchel filled with his newly awakened acid cores. "The Sovereign wants these fungal roots planted deep."

The Vanguard team descended into the pitch-black abyss. Glowing fungal roots trailed behind them to seed the seabed with Sylara's corrosive defenses. The Ash-Drake paddled awkwardly through the dark water, releasing streams of annoyed bubbles as the oceanic pressure increased.

A sudden barrage of high-velocity water spears struck Old-Shell's carapace out of the darkness. The projectiles shattered harmlessly against his fused star-iron shield.

A sprawling aquatic legion emerged from the trenches, featuring manta-ray warriors and armored crustaceans flanking a towering figure composed of swirling currents and bioluminescent kelp.

"I am the Weaver of Tides," the Rank 10 native deity announced. His voice echoed through the water like grinding stones. "You pollute my domain with your fungal filth."

"We are just planting a garden," Sludge yelled back to the hostile god. He signaled the attack sequence.

The Weaver raised his trident to summon a localized whirlpool while his aquatic legion charged forward to impale the intruders. Old-Shell simply locked his joints and braced his dome against the ocean floor. The swirling currents washed over his World-Beast Heart-Core enhanced shell without moving him a single inch.

"Melt them," Sludge commanded his squad.

The Mud-Skipper hurled his acid cores directly into the advancing crustacean ranks. The alchemical payloads detonated in the deep water to release boiling green acid.

The corrosive substance dissolved the enemy armor instantly and turned the manta-ray warriors into bubbling soup within the dark trench.

The Ash-Drake seized the opportunity to vent his extreme frustration regarding the cold water. He opened his jaws to unleash a concentrated beam of thermal fire directly into the current. The intense heat vaporized the surrounding ocean into scalding steam, boiling the remaining aquatic legion alive in a matter of seconds.

The Weaver of Tides stared at his dissolving army in complete disbelief. He dropped his trident onto the seabed and raised both of his watery hands.

"Wait," the Weaver yelled, frantically waving at the Vanguard team. "I yield. You land-dwellers are completely insane."

Up in the orbital sanctuary, Rubedo watched the underwater rout on his primary monitor. The native god possessed a physical body, unlike the player deities trapped in the void, which made him incredibly useful for surface operations. Capturing an oceanic deity offered a significant tactical advantage for future naval campaigns against the global server.

Rubedo tapped a sequence of keys on his terminal to draft a restrictive slave contract. He projected his voice down the neural tether to address the defeated entity.

"You belong to the Red Spiral now," Rubedo declared.

A glowing golden contract materialized in the water directly in front of the Weaver. The document detailed a lifetime of forced servitude under Rubedo's banner.

The Weaver read the strict terms and sighed in defeat. He pressed his wet palm against the golden parchment, allowing the contract to dissolve into a shower of light that bound his physical form permanently to the Vanguard empire.

Rubedo leaned forward on his throne to study the newly bound native deity through the primary monitor.

The Weaver of Tides stood awkwardly on the dark seabed while the golden slave contract dissolved into his watery chest. Gaining an aquatic general provided a massive advantage, yet securing the entire coastline required total naval dominance.

"You are familiar with the neighboring territories," Rubedo projected his voice down the neural tether. "Give me the coordinates of every native god residing in the surrounding trenches and reefs. I want a complete map of their domains."

The Weaver of Tides puffed out his bioluminescent chest and lifted his chin. He crossed his arms over his shifting currents to project a facade of ancient nobility.

"I may be bound to your service by a contract, but I retain my honor," the Weaver declared with a dramatic swirl of underwater kelp. "We native deities share a sacred bond forged over millennia. I will never sell out my brethren to a foreign conqueror."

Sludge rolled his bulbous eyes from his perch on Old-Shell's carapace. The Mud-Skipper elder reached into his satchel and pulled out another glowing acid core. He casually tapped the glass vial against the snout of the irritated Ash-Drake swimming beside them.

The massive reptilian beast was already thoroughly miserable in the freezing saltwater. Recognizing the cue, the Ash-Drake opened its jaws to reveal a blinding cluster of thermal fire building in its throat.

The surrounding ocean instantly began to boil, sending scalding bubbles rising toward the surface.

The Weaver of Tides dropped his noble posture immediately. He raised his hands in a frantic gesture of surrender.

"However," the Weaver corrected himself with incredible speed, "I firmly believe my brethren would greatly benefit from your excellent civilization. It would be selfish of me to keep the Red Spiral to myself. I will gladly provide their addresses, their patrol schedules, and a detailed list of their elemental weaknesses."

Rubedo chuckled inside the orbital sanctuary. He routed the newly acquired coordinates directly to the tactical grids of his Vanguard commanders back on the surface.

"We are holding a local election," Rubedo announced to his generals. "Form a diplomatic envoy and visit these native gods. Present our terms and take their votes. Ensure they understand the consequences of abstaining."

'It is time to claim everything, and I will start with the neighboring territory.'