Three hundred thousand obsidian-scaled serpentkin devotees surged into the divine realm's forest with fanatical fervor, their scaled bodies slicing through undergrowth toward the enemy's sacred nucleus. Witnessing Richard's serpent warriors disappearing into the arboreal maze, Samuel and Chen Hao mobilized their own forces with markedly less enthusiasm. Their troops - cloven-hoofed centaurs and cobalt-skinned bald humanoids - advanced through the foliage like surgeons probing infected tissue, every rustling leaf triggering fresh waves of tactical paranoia.

  William observed their trepidation through a thousand insectile eyes. Without comment, he dispatched twin swarms of 500,000 winged leapworms each to shadow the hesitant armies, chitinous bodies glinting like oil slicks beneath the forest canopy.

  The serpentkin vanguard made first contact within twelve minutes. Through shared sensory links, William watched kobold sentries disintegrate beneath serpentine claws before the real spectacle began. Three hundred serpent shamans began their death ritual, scaled throats undulating as poison glands swelled. Their ceremonial spears struck earth in unison, unleashing a mustard-yellow miasma that engulfed ten square kilometers. Several trailing leapworms became accidental test subjects in the expanding kill-zone.

  William's consciousness flooded a contaminated insect's nervous system. The leapworm's initial convulsions lasted precisely 3.2 seconds before adaptive mechanisms engaged: spiracles sealed behind nano-fiber membranes, hemolymph flooded with neutralizing enzymes. Divine environmental adaptation protocols activated, repurposing 13% of digestive tract tissue into toxin scrubbers. The creature's carapace began secreting reactive biofilm - given three more hours exposure, William calculated complete immunization.

  For the kobolds, no such evolutionary reprieve existed. The fog melted corneas into viscous sludge, transformed bronchioles into necrotic soup. Serpentkin executioners moved through the haze unimpeded, delivering merciful spinal severances to blinded victims thrashing in their own liquefied organs.

  Elsewhere, conventional warfare raged. Centaur phalanxes presented armored flanks to kobold charges, curved blades decapitating attackers with mechanical precision. Still, occasional dog-men slipped through, acidic saliva eating through steel greaves to dissolve equine tendons. Each breach cost three minutes and fourteen lives to contain.

  Samuel's cobalt warriors fared worse. Their pneumatic rifles' hypersonic slugs could vaporize a bear at 500 meters - in this vertical labyrinth, most rounds embedded harmlessly in ancient oaks. Ammunition counters blinked crimson as kobolds exploited visual cover, closing to axe-throwing range. When a frontline unit's pressure reservoirs emptied, the horde flooded through like sewage through cracked concrete.

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  William's probability engines spun. Current casualty projections: 6,812 cobalt warriors lost, 23% combat effectiveness reduction. Acceptable, but suboptimal. He pulsed commands through the divine network. Reserve leapworm swarms abandoned stealth protocols, wings shredding air molecules as they arrowed toward collapsing fronts.

  Ground Perspective - Sergeant Landry's Last Stand

  The granite hollow reeked of ionized air and voided bowels. Sergeant Landry's ten-man recon team had transformed this geological accident into a slaughter funnel - until now.

  "Last canister!" Corporal Veksis slammed his spent pneumatic rifle against stone, barrel warping. "Switching to blades!"

  Landry's retinal display superimposed dwindling ammunition counts over his men's panicked faces. "Status!"

  "Seven rounds!"

  "Dry!"

  "Three left!"

  A rookie clutched his vibro-dagger like a security blanket. "Sarge...are we-"

  "Eyes front, maggot!" Landry's reflex shot vaporized a kobold scout's upper torso. "Divinity's watching!" The lie tasted like copper. Beyond their crumbling fortress, reptilian war-cries multiplied exponentially.

  Then the sky screamed.

  Shadows darker than event horizons blotted the canopy. Landry's augmented vision caught fragmented glimpses: serrated mandibles shearing through kobold bone-matter, chitinous limbs moving faster than nerve impulses. The assault lasted precisely 41 seconds. When the swarm ascended, they left behind an anatomical study in extreme violence - kobolds dissected with surgical precision, their viscera arranged in mocking fractal patterns.

  The rookie gagged. "What...what were those things?"

  "Salvation," Landry lied again, noting how leapworms had avoided all cobalt personnel. Their assault contained disturbing artistry - a femur flayed clean here, a spinal column extracted whole there. This wasn't warfare. This was taxonomy.

  William's voice vibrated through their neural implants: "Advance. Cleanse remaining hostiles."

  As the main force regrouped, Landry studied a headless kobold corpse. The neck stump showed four distinct blade angles - the killing stroke had been postponed until after three non-lethal cuts. Whether this demonstrated restraint or sadism remained unclear.

  Overhead, the leapworm swarm coalesced into a living stormcloud. Ahead, serpentkin poison fog glowed through trees like radioactive mist. Centaur formations marched forward unopposed, their hoofbeats echoing through the sudden silence.

  In that moment Landry understood their true role - not conquerors, but witnesses. This was a gods' duel fought through mortal proxies, each side deploying ever more grotesque masterpieces of bioweaponry. The cobalt warriors, the centaurs, even the serpentkin...all were brushstrokes in a canvas of annihilation.

  William's final command thrummed through their bones: "Converge on the core."

  The forest itself seemed to recoil as three armies - and their nightmare reinforcements - marched toward the beating heart of divine rebellion.