159: Command Seals are overpowered! Forcibly defining the motherland.

With Vlad III's roar that shattered the air, the originally deathly silent glassy earth seemed to be violently kneaded by an invisible giant hand.

Boom!

It was not the dull sound of churning earth, but the brittle shattering of tens of thousands of mirrors breaking simultaneously.

At the moment the falling black rain of arrows was about to touch the ground, countless dark red phantoms tore through the smooth glassy surface.

The first stake collided with the first black arrow.

There was no explosion as expected.

That stake, as thick as an adult's thigh, instantly disintegrated into dust at its tip the moment it contacted the divine black energy.

Followed by the second, the third.

What Arjuna shot was not ordinary iron, but the concept of "Purification" capable of erasing existence.

Those instruments of torture that had just broken through the soil disintegrated and dissipated at a visible rate under absolute force suppression.

The black rain of arrows pressed forward with irresistible force, pushing against the shattered stake remnants, now less than ten meters from Vlad III's head.

Vlad III stared fixedly at the devastating black torrent above, the shaft of his "impaling king" spear groaning in his grip.

He forcefully pressed the spear down again, its tip piercing into the incredibly hard glassy rock layer beneath his feet, sinking half a foot deep.

"For me — GROW!!!"

Hum—!

Even more violent magical energy was overdrawn from his body.

The forest of stakes, already suppressed and forced back, grew wildly once more with this furious roar.

This time, they became denser, thicker, and even bore rust stains as tangible as blood.

But the cost was evident.

Radu Petrescu, standing at the rear, saw it most clearly.

Vlad III's originally solid saint graph was now flickering unnaturally under the intense magical energy output.

It was a precursor to saint graph overload and imminent collapse.

This was the price of fighting on another's home ground.

Forcibly deploying an inherent domain on this glassy ruin, devoid of any "geographical advantage" and even clashing in attributes, consumed several times the normal amount of magical energy.

Radu expressionlessly raised his right hand.

He did not hesitate in the slightest. For a special forces commander who had once crawled out from a pile of corpses, the opportune moment was fleeting; all resources existed solely for the final outcome named "victory."

Even command spells.

"In the name of the command spell."

Radu's voice was hoarse and brief, nearly inaudible amidst the battlefield's thunderous noise, yet it transmitted precisely to the other end of the contract.

"This place, is Wallachia."

Swish!

The first blood-red command spell on the back of his hand instantly burned, transforming into a stream of pure, extreme magical energy that was brutally poured into the faltering figure ahead.

【Guardian of the Nation's Demonic General: EX】, fully activated.

When standing upon the "homeland," all parameters rise by one rank.

Since this is not the homeland, then use the absolute command of the command spell to "define" this place as the homeland.

"Haha... Hahahaha!"

Vlad III let out an arrogant laugh, a release after being filled with power, and a response to the deity's provocation.

"Do you hear it, foreign god! This is our resolve!"

Boom rumble rumble—!!!

This time, it was no longer just localized resistance.

The entire glassified battlefield, stretching several kilometers, completely boiled over at this moment.

If earlier it was merely the stubborn resistance of a few thousand stakes, now it was a world-ending level of crustal movement.

Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of massive pointed stakes, with ear-piercing sounds tearing through the air, erupted from every corner, every crack of the battlefield.

They were no longer passive defense, but transformed into countless bloodthirsty dragons, scrambling to charge toward the sky.

Even Arjuna's endless black rain of arrows seemed somewhat thin before this boundless sea of stakes.

Crackle pop!

Black energy arrows exploded within the dense stake formation, indeed destroying swath after swath.

But for every stake that fell, ten new ones took its place.

This unreasonable "proliferation" stubbornly pushed that devastating divine punishment back into mid-air.

Before the globally live-streamed screens, billions of viewers stared dumbfounded at this scene defying common sense.

The originally smooth and flat ruins of New Delhi had now completely transformed into a thorny hell constructed from blood and steel.

Those thick stakes crisscrossed, some even reaching hundreds of meters high, piercing straight into the clouds, fragmenting the dusky sky.

"Blocked..."

"The hell? This works too? Turning glass ground into their own backyard?"

Battlefield center.

The final wave of black arrows was completely shredded by several main stakes thick enough to require multiple people to encircle.

Vlad III held his spear with one hand, standing atop a massive stake slanting towards the sky.

Looking down from his high vantage point at the distant floating figure, the armor on his chest heaved with intense panting, yet his sharp aura was even more formidable than before.

"What's wrong? Is this all you've got?"

Vlad III raised his "impaling king," pointing the spear tip toward Arjuna across the distance.

"Your 'Purification' doesn't seem as clean and decisive as you imagined."

"Foreign god, your rain of arrows is merely a whetstone for my instruments of punishment! Now — it's my turn to judge you!"

A hundred meters away.

Arjuna, suspended in mid-air, did not respond immediately.

He still maintained his bow-drawing posture, but the deathly stillness in his originally pitch-black eyes was finally broken.

A ripple.

Or rather, a ripple of displeasure at being offended.

In his worldview of absolute binary opposition, the world consisted only of "good" and "evil," "pure" and "impure."

And the man before him, who had covered the earth with filthy instruments of torture, was undoubtedly the epitome of "evil."

"Filthy."

Arjuna slowly lowered the Gandiva divine bow in his hands.

But the space behind him began to emit a grating sound of distortion.

That divine ornament, originally just a fragmented halo, now began to spin wildly, dispersing thick black mist so concentrated it seemed almost ready to drip.

"Such ugly resistance."

"Such impure obsession."

Arjuna's voice no longer merely echoed in the mind; it vibrated the surrounding atmosphere, inducing low-frequency resonance.

"Since the earth cannot bury your sins..."

He slowly raised both hands, palms upward, in a lifting gesture.

Above his head, the originally dusky sky suddenly darkened.

All light was devoured.

Countless black particles began to converge, compress, and collapse above his palms.

An aura ten, a hundred times more terrifying than the earlier rain of arrows was brewing there.

"Then, along with this land you take pride in, along with your laughable persistence..."

The black sphere rapidly expanded, swelling to a diameter of tens of meters in an instant, like a black sun about to fall.

Arjuna lowered his head, looking down at the dense forest of stakes below, his tone icy cold without a trace of warmth.

"...be purified together."