My Wives Are A Divine Hive Mind-Chapter 70: The Crimson Helot

The seed-formed projection trembled once, then split.

The initial window bloomed outward, fragmenting like an unfolding lotus.

Petals of vision diverged and rotated in geometrical layers, each forming a separate view—ten, twenty, more than thirty different screens, each depicting a different angle across Vaingall’s wild terrain.

In every one of those windows, the same pattern unfolded.

Each cluster of invading Crimson Helot now faced its own sentinel—a Blessed Limbo Tier Divine Constructs stood silently before them, one per confrontation, forming a divine cordon that refused to bend.

In some windows, the Constructs hovered like guardian saints, glyphs coiling around their limbs like prayer-brands made tangible. In others, they were rooted into the ground like living statues of judgment, surrounded by terrain already warped under their influence.

Kivas’ eyes narrowed, overwhelmed by the sheer simultaneity of violence waiting to happen. Her eyes scanned left to right, watching the numbers shift, witnessing the outlines of Divine Constructs locking into aggressive postures.

"...Did you make more of them?" she asked, turning her gaze to Samael with cautious disbelief. "And blessed them as well?"

"Yes," Samael replied casually. "There are currently thirty Blessed Limbo Tier Divine Constructs."

Kivas glanced back toward the projection. "So with the five unblessed ones from the first day, that makes... thirty-five total, huh."

Samael nodded. "Correct. I’m still connected to those fives as well."

"I see," Kivas tilted her head. "Those fives were meant to scout the surrounding Vaingall. How are they now?"

"Scattered," Samael said, raising two fingers to trace a slow spiral through the air. "Several, as in, many distortion events occurred after their deployment—geographical restructuring across wide zones and all that. Whole chunks of terrain warped like puzzle tiles. The Constructs were displaced to different corners all over the place that I didn’t expect them to be, which can be both useful and disorienting."

"You’re still connected to them too, I guess it must’ve felt like supervising and sometimes controlling thirty-five people at once." Kivas chuckled "But they’re still intact?"

"Completely. They’re gathering data and transmitting it to me. Distance has no impact on divine propagation."

"Not the link, but the constructs themselves."

"They’re fine, ultimately." Samaael could be seen visibly pouting. "How dare you worry about someone other than me."

"But aren’t those constructs also technically you..."

Then the battle began.

One by one, across all thirty screens, the Divine Constructs moved.

The ground buckled beneath them, responding to their will.

The same earth-bending skill Samael had used to tunnel them out earlier now activated across multiple zones at once. Soil convulsed and swallowed the feet of the nearest Helot formations, ensnaring their front lines in living terrain.

A wave of red robes stumbled, some trying to lift their arms only to find them caught by tangling root-threads that bloomed midair from ruptured earth. Some attempted to retaliate, summoning weapons forged from stolen bone, malformed appendages, tendrils of sinew, or vessels shaped like sacred organs.

The Constructs did not wait for speeches.

In each window, a luminous crescent of pale blue light bloomed from their backs. The blades shimmered into existence—pure arcs of Mana Psyche coalesced into high-frequency weaponry, humming with divine calibration.

And on each screen, the constructs wielded those conjured weapons with an utmost danger to anything other than itself.

The blades cut through limbs, projectiles, summoned beasts, portals, and even spiritual attack and maddening bolts similar to what Kivas had in her skillset.

Flesh parted without resistance. Augmented Helots were cleaved apart mid-transformation. One screen showed a Construct stepping through the erupting viscera of a Helot giant, its blade casually twirling before launching toward another abomination trying to fuse two bodies into one.

Kivas watched all of these conflicts like they were a movie, but the feeling of bleakness similar to that of war and skirmishes never left the nose and ears. freeweɓnovel-cøm

After all, she was connected to all of these.

"Is this really the plan?" Kivas asked, eyes still darting between panels. "Just let the Constructs handle everything?"

"No," Samael answered, her voice turning measured. "That would be pointless. There’s no meaning in letting my constructs fight forever."

"I see... I think I know where this is heading."

"She is buying time for me," Yoiglah stirred. "And almost enough time has passed."

The immense tortoise-like guardian shifted beneath the mass of shrine and soil, causing the ground to rumble subtly. The statue atop his back—a headless Renenutet crowned by a black hole and halo—began to respond.

The air above the statue quivered.

The black hole, once dormant and decorative, began to flicker. Its edges trembled with pulses of silver and violet light, trembling like a heart waking from deep meditation. The pulsing grew faster.

Then, without warning, the void expanded. Its radius doubled, its gravitational aura piercing through the air like sharpened ink.

A deep thrumming overtook the ambient sounds.

Then the light changed.

It rose from the void, a column of transcendent substance spewing upward in absolute silence.

Like a reversed waterfall made from inverted color and sensory violation, the nirvana-like substance ascended, corrupting the sky with every inch it climbed.

The clouds recoiled.

The stars dimmed, even in daylight.

The heavens turned to reflective obsidian.

And then.

It fell.

The sky screamed without sound. A singular dark beam descended from above—wide as a river, sharp as a verdict—collapsing upon one of the Crimson Helot groups in the northwest quadrant.

The moment it struck, the projection shifted. One of the windows vanished in a blink, the battlefield it once displayed now reduced to static divine residue.

An absolute, unspoken annihilation.

Then another beam fell. And another.

Three more windows disappeared in rapid succession, as if reality had chosen to redact their existence mid-frame.

The sky, having delivered its judgment, began to unravel the corruption. The beam collapsed inward, pulling its trail with it like silk being re-threaded. The blackness peeled away from the clouds, returning light to the realm.

The black hole above the shrine dimmed, reduced once again to a silent sentinel orbiting divinity.

Not all of the invaders were killed since some of them were too skillful and attentive, but this should be enough to warn them,

Yoiglah exhaled. Not a breath of lungs, but the sound of tectonic release. "It has been... a while since I last constructed a spell like that."

Kivas rubbed the side of her head. "Constructed? As in—you made that from scratch?"

"It wasn’t a spell I cast," Yoiglah replied with slow weight. "It was one I built. From smaller fragments of skills."

Kivas glanced at Samael, confusion on her face. "Ooooh, is that a thing? I thought spells were skills."

"They are," Samael chuckled. "But constructing a spell is different. It’s not just about activating something within you. It’s bending multiple concepts—skills, divine channels, environmental energy, ritual catalysts—into a unified action. It’s more like crafting a miracle."

"I remember you referring to skill as spells in the past."

"Skill and spell are quite kinda interchangeable."

"But doesn’t that conflict with the law where every word and definition matters in the eyes of Fathomi?"

Samael was too stunned to immediately answer. "You’re not jesting when you say that you never forget."

The screens hovered in near silence, their soft glow casting lattice-shaped shadows across the shrine’s surface.

One by one, they began to go dark—not from destruction, but from completion of conflict.

Each battlefield flickered once, then faded. The Blessed Limbo Tier Divine Constructs hovered motionless amid scattered corpses, twisted robes, and trails of grafted ruin.

Some Constructs held severed limbs still writhing with failed invocation. Others had turned their attention skyward, scanning for threats, but found nothing left.

The Crimson Helot had been hunted to the bone in this land of vain.

They had arrived in coordinated waves, dressed in ritual and conviction, but now their formations had collapsed into ash and fractured devotion. Some had tried to flee, vanishing into Vaingall’s shifting terrain.

But the Constructs followed them like shadows birthed from consequence, culling them before distance could gift them hope.

Eventually, only the echoes remained.

Yoiglah deactivated the projection, and the seed folded into itself, crumbling into a speck of divine dust that vanished into the air.

Kivas exhaled, hand resting on her sheathed Royal Valor. "I assume that is the last of them."

"Affirmative," Samael responded. Her voice held no uncertainty. "No signatures of them are detectable. No anomalies. No camouflage fields. No dimensional layering. Every active node of their invocation network has gone dark, and so is their telepathic channel."

"Then it’s over." Kivas tilted her head back, eyes closed. "Good. That felt like a season compressed into an hour."

Lyenar lowered her hands, glyphs of a still-active blessing unraveling like paper fading underwater. "This will give time for your shrines to reinforce their anchors. The land knows your name now, Kivas Chariot."

"I’d like the land to know me as someone who enjoys naps and safe evenings, not just cataclysmic grandeur." Kivas chuckled, then stretched her arms. "Still. For now, problem solved~"

"Most of it," Samael added, voice softer, almost warning. "I revoke my earlier statement."

Before Kivas could ask what she meant, the air thickened.

A chill ran through the clearing, like time itself blinked.

From the treeline, without footsteps, without rustling leaves, a group emerged.

They were simply... there, as if the mist had condensed into a decision.

Five of them.

Each of them towered at thrice the height of an average human. Their robes were not merely red, but a deep carmine laced with shimmering black tendrils, layered in vertical ridges like muscle flayed and sanctified.

Their cloaks bore high collars threaded with bone lattice. Their masks were different—no longer blank ossuaries, but ornate, sculpted depictions of failed gods. Empty halos, cracked wings, faces fused with eyes in unnatural patterns.

And every movement they made was slow—reverent, sinister.

Kivas immediately drew her Royal Valor. Her hand moved with the precision of instinct, pulling the energy-reactor blade free from its sheath.

The sword shimmered with internal heat, its core cycling in a steady glow. Her other hand flicked once, and the telekinetic crystals from the hilt expanded mid-air, orbiting her like a slowly unfolding defense array.

Lyenar stepped beside her, runes igniting down her arm. Her shrine maiden robes shifted, the threads tightening, drawing resonance toward her palms.

Symbols began forming between her fingers—preemptive invocations laced with punishment and preservation.

From the soil, several more Divine Constructs erupted upward.

The ground opened like a softened mouth, spitting forth reinforcements. Six in total, Limbo Tier, their bodies humming with dormant aggression.

They circled the area in a loose perimeter, wings unfurled and limbs vibrating with readiness. Aetheric light traced their joints, as if anticipating commands that hadn’t yet been spoken from their Divine Hive.

"Speak your intent," Yoiglah bellowed in declaration, eyes sharper than a hawk to those who dared to enter the sacred ground unprompted.

For a moment, the forest stilled.

The air held its breath.

Then one of the Crimson Helot stepped forward. Its mask was carved with the likeness of a forgotten sun god, its design fused with the shape of a furnace, glowing faintly beneath cracks in the metal.

"We’re here to preserve the future."

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