I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse

Chapter 1934: Crushing the Wyverns!

”I bet you can!” The Grand Elder chuckled, a deep, knowing sound that resonated in the quiet hall. He was certain his younger elder was simply playing his cards close to his chest, deflecting attention to avoid becoming the centre of the other eldersʼ scrutiny.

Since Moth refused to divulge the secret, everyone returned their focus to the holographic relay. The display showed Hyeʼs fleet dispersing and reforming with weird ease and smooth moves.

The ships organised themselves into two distinct layers: a vanguard that stood firm to welcome the enraged Wyverns head-on, and a massive secondary force that remained several miles behind, hovering like a silent predator.

”Now!” The moment the leading edge of the Wyvern wave slammed into the frontal force, Hye gave the signal. His rear fleet didnʼt just move; it separated into dozens of independent task forces, each streaking into a pre-calculated vector.

Because this battle was unfolding in the middle of a vast, open sky, surrounding a flying enemy as agile as a Wyvern required a truly special arrangement.

Hye didnʼt leave a single place unattended. By the time the deployment was finished, the Wyverns were no longer chasing a retreating prey. They were engulfed inside a massive, hollow sphere of iron, metal, and shields.

The deployment was executed with an ease that left the Council elders breathless. The sheer volume of Hyeʼs fleet was colossal, and watching them move as a single, cohesive unit made every elder question their own military capabilities. How could a human command such a vast number of ships with zero delay and zero errors?

Moth, however, knew the secret. He had pieced it together from the apocalypse records. Hye had been amassing specific resources since day one: Warrior Tokens. By using these system-linked tokens, he wasnʼt just commanding soldiers; he was commanding extensions of himself.

This didnʼt just allow for the rapid deployment of a huge number of warriors in any environment—it guaranteed total, absolute control.

It was the only way to pull off such a complex spherical encirclement in the middle of a high-speed aerial engagement without the ships colliding with one another, leaving gaps, or delaying in reaching the designated spots on time.

However, another point confused the watching elders. The Wyverns were already locked in a brutal melee with the vanguard ships. To the elders, entrapment seemed redundant.

The Wyverns were legendary for their resilience; being surrounded didnʼt make them easier to kill. In fact, it usually just made them more dangerous as they fought like cornered beasts.

Moth watched the sphere tighten and knew exactly what was coming. This wasnʼt a killing box—it was a taming pen. Hye wanted to control these Wyverns the same way he had subverted the insects. Once he established a mental bridge, the battle would cease to be an attrition war and become a massive recruitment festival.

Moth found himself shaking his head in silent disbelief. The human had progressed through the Hescosʼ homeland with a level of efficiency that suggested he had come prepared—which was logically impossible. No outsider could hunt down information about this world; it was the most guarded secret in the universe.

Yet, even though Hye looked genuinely surprised whenever a new threat like the black sphere in the sky or the Wyverns appeared, his adaptation was instantaneous. He didnʼt know the risks of the environment, yet he acted as if he had been born in it.

The moment the iron sphere was sealed, Hye knew the game was over. He stood in his ship, his eyes glowing with triumph. He unleashed his cultivation technique to its absolute limit. Outside the ship, the black sphere of energy expanded, its shadowy arms reaching out in the thousands.

To sustain this level of output against the crushing atmospheric pressure, he began to consume his bones like a man starving, while simultaneously activating his bone-looting ability to harvest the fresh remains of the fallen Wyverns.

He gave his ships a single, cold order: [Fire at will!]

He didnʼt care about collateral damage. Even if a stray bolt hit a Wyvern he had already successfully brought under control, it wasnʼt a significant loss.

What he truly cared about was keeping the pressure high, forcing the Wyverns to focus on survival so they couldnʼt coordinate a breakout. Meanwhile, he kept his ship circling the interior of the battlefield, acting as the eye of the storm, weaving more and more of the dragons into his web.

After several hours of intense fighting, he ordered the ships that were physically entangled with the Wyverns to break off and retreat. He was confident enough in his techniqueʼs success.

Almost five hours passed in a blur of screeching dragons and humming energy. Finally, Hye felt the resonance change—there were no more wild Wyverns left within his sphere of influence. Without flinching, he gave the order to the grand fleet to cease fire and break the encirclement.

The iron sphere opened, exposing the scarred, smoke-filled battlefield.

[Fly to me!] Hye barked the order both mentally and verbally. He faced the same communication barrier as he had with the insects; he couldnʼt understand the thoughts of the Wyverns, but luckily, he could command them with orders.

He watched with a sense of satisfaction as the sky began to darken. Thousands upon thousands of massive, leathery-winged Wyverns turned as one. They ignored the remaining wild Wyverns that had escaped his grasp and flew toward his flagship, settling into a loyal, terrifying escort.

”So many escaped, tsk!” Hye muttered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face as he watched the distant horizon. He had expected a few hundred Wyverns to slip through the gaps in his net, but as the chaos settled, he realised the escapees numbered in the thousands.

Watching them fly away in a state of sheer panic, straining their leathery wings to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the scary fellow in the metal ship, made him slowly shake his head.

He didnʼt dwell on the loss for long, however. He turned his attention back to the massive congregation of predators caught in his techniqueʼs invisible web.