Chapter V
Part 1: New Allies and New Enemies
Tension hung heavy in the air of the immediate area.
The man at the head of the cavalry unit was a stout-bodied man with a heavily developed musculature. A trait his choice of attire showcased with the exposure of his arms, which were more akin to tree trunks laced with thick cords of muscle.
He had the same dark sun-kissed complexion much like the villagers. He had deep-set worry lines marring his brow above his dark eyebrows. His eyes were dark brown with a sharp stare. Overall the man's face was gruff with a square masculine jawline. These looks were enhanced by the well-trimmed beard, which matched the crop of short black hair atop his head.
He wore a dark coloured undershirt with a sleeveless chainmail shirt. Over this, he wore a robust and well-polished steel cuirass. Large pauldrons protected his shoulder and upper arms. The wide base of the pauldrons was decorated with a thick band of red paint. His broad hands were covered by tanned leather gloves and his forearms were sheltered under steel vambraces. A wide leather belt made sure his earth-coloured trousers stayed firmly in place. Oddly though, he wore a set of plates affixed to the bottom edge of the breastplate to create protection for his waist. On his feet was a set of boots with what looked to be metal reinforcing to the outsole and across the toe of his boots.
From his position at the head of the troop, the man straightened in the saddle and stared at Tiberius with a hardened look.
It was a stare meant to intimidate.
Yet the Dragonoid remained impassive to his gaze.
From behind his helmet's wolven visage, Tiberius met the man's stare with his own. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the Dragonoid was dimly aware of a point of the aggression welling up within. The stranger's stare was meant as a challenge to him, to his dominance. The urge to respond grew in Tiberius, it called to him, it whispered tantalizingly the need to answer its heeding.
The horses grew disquieted.
The beasts neighed and stomped their hooves into the soft earth. Some shifted about as if they could bolt in fear at any moment. Others reared up on their hind legs nearly throwing their riders from their saddles.
At the forefront of the group, the leader's previous stoic appearance was broken as he looked to the equine beneath him.
He tightened his grip on the reins and leaned his weight into the saddle to better stabilize himself. The man wore a look of astonishment on his face at this sudden turn in his faithful steed's behavior. Such a rapid change vexed the man.
After all, these weren't just some farmer's plow horse or some noble's fiddly weekend riding steed. These were trained and battle-hardened warhorses. Horses that were specifically selected for their calm demeanor, even amidst the chaos of the battlefield.
Yet here they were fretting and acting like they were on the verge of panic.
In response, the man's head swiveled as he surveyed the surrounding area. His eyes scanning for any sign of a threat that could have provoked the horses into such a frenzied reaction.
He pulled tighter on the reins, slowly gaining control of the steed's erratic movements. Taking a hand from the reins the man reached out to stroke the stallion along its wild mane, a technique he employed to calm and reassure the equine.
It was something the rest of the Warband soon began to mimic.
Their efforts were rewarded as their equine mounts grew calm with their soft tones and tender touches. It took several minutes but the horses were able to regain sufficient composure. Still, the creatures kept a wary edge about them.
Though the incident left the leader puzzled he put it from his mind, there were other matters to attend to. Shifting in the saddle, the burly man returned his attention to the two armoured figures before him.
"I am the Warrior-Captain of the Re-Estize Kingdom, Gazef Stronoff. May I ask who you are?"
Being addressed the Dragonoid subconsciously squared his shoulders and straightened his posture.
"I am Tiberius, and this is my companion, Yuliana. What is your purpose for coming here?"
Gazef adjusted his position.
"Throughout this region, small villages have come under attack as of recent. It is by the express command of the King, the Warrior Select and I have been set on the task of hunting down the perpetrators of these crimes."
"If that is true, then I would say your hunt has come to its end."
There was a cacophony of murmurs that erupted amongst the horse-mounted men. Echoed statements joined by expressions of shock and confusion.
"What are you saying?" someone in the warband shouted.
"Are you saying you're the one responsible for the attacks on the villages?!"
"No," Tiberius shook his head, "This village came under attack early today. My companion and I put a stop to it."
The news of this incident gained the attention of Gazef.
"Where are the men who attacked the village now?"
"Dead."
"All of them?"
As the armoured stranger nodded in the affirmative, the composed and stern expression of the Warrior-Captain was taken away by one of surprised intrigue.
"How do we know what you're saying is true? For all we know, you could be lying to us and are actually in league with the ones we hunt."
The speaker was a younger-looking man to the leader's right.
He was lean with more of a runner's build than the heavily muscled weightlifter sort of the Warrior-Captain. Atop his head, his shaggy brown hair was well-kempt. His brown eyes were soft with a compassionate look to them. Overall his features could best be described as ordinary and wouldn't look out of place amongst a crowd.
He like his fellow soldiers was garbed in a simple set of armour.
An earthen-toned long-sleeve undershirt with a matching set of trousers. Over this, he wore a chain mail shirt with a metal breastplate. His shoulders were guarded by a set of spaulders leaving his arms with a wide degree of freedom. About his waist was a tasset of hardened leather. Further, he had a set of steel elbow and knee pads. The fronts of his knee-high boots looked to be of thickened leather.
"You would dare to insult the word of my master?!"
A fierce yet distinctly feminine voice called out from the second of the two strangers.
"Calm yourself, Yuliana."
The clear hostility was not lost on Gazef as such he acted quickly to de-escalate the situation.
"Please forgive my Vice-Captain, he meant no offense," Gazef's tone was light yet maintained an air of seriousness, "If we may enter the village to confirm what you say…"
"No," it was a resolute answer that left no opening for negotiations, "My companion and I are strangers to this land. As such your name and titles hold little meaning to us. So what you say could be a ruse and I am not one to merely trust your intentions so blatantly."
"Wha… The Warrior-Captain is beyond…" the speaker was promptly silenced by a simple gesture from Gazef.
The mounted leader visibly relaxed, resting his hands lazily on the front of his saddle.
"Then it would seem we have arrived at an impasse."
"So it would seem."
An uneasy stillness fell over the men. Occasionally a metallic clack would be heard as a horse would chomp at the bit in its mouth. Or the soft clatter and clinks of the men's armour or weapons would sound as they shifted on their mounts.
The Dragonoid thought over the situation. There had to be a way of breaking the deadlock. But at present Tiberius could only see two ways to go about it.
He and Yuliana could engage these men in battle and slaughter them as they had with the others. Or they find some way to verify what they were saying was true.
Either way, something had to be done. Standing around the rest of the day in a field was not something the Dragonoid desired to do.
"There might be a way," Tiberius spoke in a thoughtful rumble, "If you are who you say you are. Then it stands that the villagers may be able to verify your story."
Gazef rubbed his chin, "Yes, that is possible."
"Then it's settled. Dismount from your horse and leave your weapons here with your subordinate," the Dragonoid gestured to the Vice-Captain, "Then you will accompany to the village chief. If he confirms what you have told me then we will proceed from there."
"I understand, however, this sword was given to me by the King. I cannot set it down without his express permissions."
"Mmm very well," Tiberius acquiesced as he regarded the bearded warrior, "But know this, if you try to harm anyone in the village. I will kill you where you stand."
"I accept," Gazef nodded curtly.
Gathering the reins Gazef shifted in the saddle. Freeing his left foot from the stirrup the Warrior-Captain swung his leg over the rear of the horse before lowering himself down.
The Vice-Captain urged his mount forwards, coming up alongside the dismounted Gazef.
"Are you sure it is wise to trust these strangers, sir?"
"At the moment it seems we have little choice," Gazef replied as he continued to straighten his mount's saddle.
"But sir, it could be a trap," the younger man eyed the two strangers across the field, "They could very well be in league with our enemies. I would not find it beyond them to hire outsiders…"
"That's enough Vice-Captain Garro," Gazef's stern tone left no room for dissent, "My safety is a non-issue when compared to the lives of the people within the village. They are our top priority, is that understood?"
"Understood, sir." Garro punctuated his statement with a hasty salute.
Nodding, Gazef handed the reins of his warhorse to the young man. The Warrior-Captain gave his men a final look over before he turned and strode towards the strangers.
Tiberius observed the man's approach.
He indeed carried himself with discipline, something to be expected of a soldier. His strides were measured and methodical. His stoic expression remained in place, betraying none of his inner thoughts.
However, there was something else.
To the Dragonoid's eye, there was a certain stiffness about him. It reminded Tiberius of seeing lower-level salarymen after receiving a promotion.
As just a salaryman their body language was rather casual. But once they got that promotion and moved up in the world. Then their posture and mannerisms tended to become rather wooden. As if they could no longer afford to be so relaxed and had to be serious all the time.
Perhaps it was something similar with this man.
"Shall we go?"
"After you," Tiberius turned, motioning for the bearded warrior to move ahead of him. "Yuliana, should any of these men attempt to force their way into the village. Kill them."
The armoured guardian nodded and returned to keeping watch over the rest of the warband.
The leader's continued stoicism was rather surprising to the Dragonoid. He had expected the man to show a reaction to his commands. Yet he remained unmoved, almost to the point of disinterest. It was actually rather impressive.
Either he really doesn't care. Or he's got one hell of a poker face. I'll have to keep an eye on him.
With the Warrior-Captain several feet in front of him, Tiberius escorted the stranger into the village.
Entering the village, Gazef's eyes scanned his surroundings. His disciplined mind allowed him to analyze the details and reason out what he was seeing.
Though there appeared to be no outwards sign of a battle. The indications that something had happened were there for those who knew where to look.
The soft earth between the houses was littered with footprints, both human and animal. Scrutinizing the trodden ground, Gazef was able to make out clear boot impressions.
Typically villagers would wear flat bottomed shoes, allowing them to better walk on soft ground. These imprints were different, a definite toe and deep heel impressions with a cleft between them. This cleft was there to allow a better placement when seated in a stirrup. This was a feature only found in boots.
Moving along Gazef noticed the series of odd voids in the dirt, places where the ground had been flattened and bereft of disturbance.
To him, it appeared as if something, or someone, had been lying there but had since been removed.
Stranger yet were the large flat-soled impressions. Outwardly the marks were vaguely human in appearance as if someone had trodden the path barefoot. However, they were rather oversized, almost comically so, and were pressed several inches deep into the earth.
It was obvious under Gazef's scrutinizations that whatever had made them must have had considerable weight behind it.
The Warrior-Captain's gaze drifted about the buildings.
The houses looked peculiarly unscathed. Though there were a few which showed trace evidence of fire damage to the thatch roofs. There were broken windows and some with missing doors.
Gazef's keen eye was drawn instinctively to the wall of a house.
Here a long horizontal gash was carved into the length of the stone wall. Reaching out the Warrior-Captain ran his gloved finger along the gash in the rock in passing. The cut was fairly thin and rather deep into the stone with edges smooth to the touch.
Gazef surmised the mark had to have been made somewhat recently. There was no discernable sign of wear on the stone, and no indication of any repair work being attempted.
"Sir Tiberius, was it? I have some questions for you, if I may?"
"Very well, ask them" the Dragonoid's response was short and spoken with a flat tone.
"Those you spoke of who attacked the village. Did they carry with them any banners? Or bear any markings?"
"There were no banners. Though their armour did have symbols on them."
Hearing this interested Gazef, a clue as to the identity of those he had been pursuing.
"Might you be able to describe it?"
"You'll be able to see it for yourself after this is sorted out," Tiberius shifted, resting his left hand upon the hilt of his longsword, "Depending on what the chief has to say."
"Indeed," Gazef paused a moment, "You said you and your companion are newcomers to our lands. Might I ask as to where it is you hail from?"
Tiberius remained silent for a moment, "We come from a land called Asgard."
"Hmm," the Warrior-Captain mulled over the response, "I know of the Argland Council State, but that is not a place I am familiar with. Far from here, I take it?"
"That it is, I assure you."
"I take it you are adventurers then?"
"You could refer to us like that, in a manner of speaking."
Gazef nodded, "I must say your armour is remarkable, Truly I have never seen its like before. Would you mind removing your helmet so that we may talk face to face?"
The sudden proposition caught the Dragonoid off guard.
Crap, I don't want him to see my face. But I can't not take my helmet off, though he'll be suspicious if I don't. Think, think… I have to give him an excuse. But what do I say?
"I am afraid I cannot do that," the Dragonoid altered his tone, attempting to sound more authoritarian, "Just as you are bound by your king's command not to relinquish your blade. As am I bound by my own oaths. I cannot remove my helmet around those not to be counted as true allies."
"I can understand your reasons," the Warrior-Captain halted before pivoting to face his escort, "Then perhaps one day, I will be fortunate enough to be counted as one."
As a sign of trust, Gazef extended his hand.
Tiberius regarded the man for a moment before trusting in his offer and took his hand into his own.
"Perhaps."
The two shook hands firmly, a small test of strength, before releasing their hold. Not waiting for any further reply Gazef turned and continued making his way through the village.
Ha, he bought it! That's a relief.
Stepping into the village square, the two armoured men paused as Tiberius motioned for the other to remain.
Gazef viewed the idea with a healthy dose of caution. But he could see no reason to go against it. So he watched the armoured figure carefully as he moved off.
Being out in the open would make for a prime position for an ambush.
Yet there were no signs.
What he saw instead were shuttered windows and sealed doors.
"This is the man I spoke of, Chief Wyllam."
Turning around Gazef came face to face with his returning escort and an older gentleman.
The older man looked at him appraisingly for a moment, "The Kingdom's Warrior Captain…"
"So is this him?"
"Well, I've only heard stories about him," Chief Wyllam stroked his chin, "But he certainly does fit the descriptions of what I've been told. And he does bear the seal of the Re-Estize Kingdom with him."
"You must be the chief of this village," Gazef bowed slightly as a show of respect to the other man, "Please can you tell me what happened here?"
"We were attacked by knights of Baharuth," Wyllam's face was glum as he recanted the memory, "… And we surely would have all perished if it hadn't have been for the intervention of Sir Tiberius and his companion."
"On behalf of his majesty the King of Re-Estize. I wish to extend our deepest condolences for the losses you have suffered this day."
Surprise spread across the chief's face, "Oh, well, I thank you."
From his position, Tiberius continued to watch the bearded warrior.
I guess what he said was true. Though it's not like I know any better. Still, I guess I could keep my eye on him.
"Then the matter is settled. Chief Wyllam, would you be so kind as to pass along the message to my companion that she may join me."
"Yes, yes of course."
No sooner had the elderly man departed than the Warrior-Captain addressed his armoured escort.
"Sir Tiberius, thank you for saving this village. I have no words that can adequately praise your actions."
But he attempted to show it. Placing his right hand across his heart, Gazef bowed deeply to the Dragonoid.
It was an odd experience for Tiberius.
Since his awakening in this world, every inhabitant of Tyrnaust had made it a habit to bow before him. A show of respect for the one they regarded so highly as the leader of the Creators. He was actually starting to get used to it.
Yet for a complete stranger to be performing such a show of deference was something else entirely.
The apparent feudal nature of the world to which Tiberius had been witness to, told him this Warrior-Captain was likely a man from the upper echelons of society. His rank and the number of troops at his command spoke volumes to this. So to have a man like him bowing to a nobody like Tiberius, it would be akin to having the president of a company bowing before a lowly salaryman of another company.
"There is no need for such platitudes. It is not in my nature to stand idly by and allow such things to occur."
A small smile crept onto the face of the Warrior-Captain, "I see. It would seem that is a trait that we share in common."
Interrupting the conversation was the sound of plodding hooves and clanking armour. A sound that marked the successful delivery of a message and the arrival of those who'd been left behind.
Following the primitive streets came the band of fifty warriors. Striding at the forefront –with a sizable gap- as their substitute leader was the armoured form of Yuliana.
In their passing, the men surveyed their surroundings from the backs of their mounts.
As for the village denizens, they seemed to shy away at the sounds of horses and armoured men.
Bad memories.
Chief Wyllam spent a fair amount of time coaxing people to leave their homes. Still, even then some refused.
The soldiers were quick to dismount and assemble before the Warrior-Captain. He, in turn, wasted no time in barking out orders to his men. The gathered soldiers saluted then dispersed into the village.
The men moved through the hamlet, occasionally pausing to speak with a villager. Others went a step further and made offers of aid for anything they could.
As the men of the warband busied themselves, Gazef had his own matters to attend to.
"Sir Tiberius," Gazef approached, "Can you show me to the remains of those who attacked the village?"
The inquiry was met with a quiet nod from the armoured adventurer.
As he had before, Gazef fell in line with the Dragonoid as he led the way to the dumping grounds. This time, however, they were not alone as the Warrior-Captain was distinctly aware of the presence of another individual traveling with them.
From what Gazef could recall this other individual was female, and though she chose to remain silent during their journey. Her body language spoke volumes to the Warrior-Captain.
Her devotion to her companion was quite apparent for all to see. Her movements were practiced, almost religious, as she followed him. At all times she made sure to stay within arm's reach of the silver armoured figure. There was a certain tenseness that hung about her.
It was reminiscent of his own actions when he had been expecting an ambush.
With their brisk pace, it wasn't long before the trio found themselves moving over the freshly tilled earth of the fields.
It was here amongst the crops that Gazef found what he'd been asking for.
The bodies of the former brigands had been strewn about seemingly as a farmer would scatter his seed. However, there would be no crops to harvest from this planting. There would be only fertilizer for the fields.
Many of the bodies had been gathered into small piles. Though relatively short the stacks were still high enough to reach Gazef's waistline.
It was here the Warrior-Captain separated from his escorts who'd chosen to remain at the field's edge.
A flock of ravens had since descended upon the freshly dead.
The large black birds hopped about, pausing only to plunge their blood smeared beaks into open wounds and tearing away chunks of flesh from the bodies. The exaggerated way the birds moved seemed to convey a level of happiness with the circumstances of being provided with such a feast. Occasionally, a raven would flare its wings and squawk loudly as another would trespass into its chosen space. At times the birds would rear back and kick their taloned feet at one another in a manner similar to cocks in a barnyard tussle. The loser would quickly take flight, leaving behind only the bravest or the most gluttonous amongst them to continue feeding.
One of the birds perched itself upon the helm of a cadaver, bending down it rooted in the opening in the face. Gazef watched as it drew back, a bloody eyeball dangled from its closed beak. Tilting its head the raven gazed at him carefully before it flapped its wings and took to the sky with its prize.
Striding amongst the corpses was a sight Gazef had seen before.
As a veteran of many battlefields, such sights as these had long since lost any shock value for him.
In passing the bearded warrior eyed each of the dead. His eyes scrutinizing their appearances, looking to discern any details of what had led to them being here. From time to time he would pause and gather something that had captured his interest. Through his examination, the clues began to tell him their stories.
Foremost they spoke about how this hadn't been a battle so much as it had been a one-sided slaughter.
A soft rustle, the telltale sounds of dried grass being trampled underfoot approached the direction of the village.
Disrupted from his musings, Gazef turned to face the one responsible.
"Captain Stronoff," the younger Garro addressed his superior, "I have concluded speaking with the men and am ready to report their findings."
"So what did they manage to find out?"
"From all reports, the villagers were able to collaborate the words told to us by the stranger."
Garro glanced at the two figures waiting just on the field's perimeter.
"The villagers told us the foreigners arrived before the midday. Apparently, they spoke with the chief for some time before leaving. Then after midday, the village came under attack by the invaders. Accounts say the attack didn't last long before the two strangers returned and quickly dispatched the attackers."
Gazef crossed his arms, an old habit of his, and closed his eyes as he retreated into reflection.
Leaving his leader to his thoughts, Garro turned away and began to examine the closest of the bodies.
"So our assumptions were right all along. It was Baharuth who carried out the attacks after all."
"Hmm, so it would seem."
"But what were their reasons for doing this?" Gazef looked to the Vice-Captain, "This region is not vital to trade. And none of the villages were of any strategic importance, nor did they contain anything of value to the Kingdom."
"While I doubt we'll ever know their reasons behind the attacks," the Warrior-Captain turned and knelt before retrieving something from the ground. "However, these bodies do tell us plenty about the village guardians."
The Vice-Captain mulled over his commander's words, "What do you mean, Captain?"
"Look at this and tell me what you see?"
Turning the bearded leader extended his hand and the hilt of a sword was offered to him.
Taking the offered item into his grasp, Garro was quickly struck by the fact the sword was far lighter than it should've been. The explanation for this was quite obvious on examination.
The majority of the blade had been broken off leaving only half a sword.
"It's broken."
"Are you sure about that? Look again."
Gazef's questioning tone intrigued the younger man.
Curious as to his superior's meaning, Garro turned over the sword in hand before raising it for a better look.
Certainly, at first glance, nothing about the weapon seemed out of the ordinary –save for the fact that half the blade was missing. But as Garro studied the area of the blade which had broken he came to understand the meaning of Gazef's words.
If the sword had snapped then the blade itself would show indications of the damage done. There should be chips in the length of the blade edge or the blade itself would be bent from the stress it endured. But most telling was where the break had taken place. This edge should be rough and jagged from its uneven breaking pattern.
Yet on this sword, there were no indications of it having sustained any harm.
The half of the sword that remained was immaculate, a clear sign of it being well cared for. The blade showed no deviations, it was as straight as the day it was forged. As for the break line, it was naught but a smooth edge.
It was a revelation that struck Garro like a thunderbolt. The sword hadn't broken, no, it had been cut!
With his mouth agape the Vice-Captain turned to Gazef only to receive a nod that confirmed his thoughts.
The bearded warrior shifted, his body language giving indications for the other man to follow.
"Take a look at these men."
Striding forwards, Vice-Captain Garro stared down at the bodies of several knights strewn upon the field.
His eyes rested on the closest body.
The cause of death was obvious, he'd received a devastating strike that had transected the torso from his left shoulder to his hip. Only the metal of cuirass that had managed to remain intact at his hip was holding the body together.
Edging closer, Garro studied the gash in the metal plate.
Here his eyes found a smooth clean edge as he had on the sword blade. Reaching out he ran a gloved finger along the steel rim. There was no rolling of the metal edge. No jagged serrations to catch his glove that would come from the metal tearing. Only an unnatural smoothness to the length of the perpendicular slash.
From there Garro shifted, turning his attention to the others laying nearby.
The unusual findings continued. The same clean, smooth cuts could be found on the hardened steel plates of their armour.
"What do you think caused these?"
"There are enchanted weapons that are used by high-ranked adventurers. Weapons that can possess an unnatural sharpness. But those blades are exceedingly rare and rather cost-prohibitive to be widespread." Gazef distractedly ran his thumb over another of the bifurcated swords. "But those weapons have limits as they're used to cut tough monster hides not hardened steel. The only weapon I've encountered that could leave such marks would be one of the Kingdom's Treasures."
Tossing the half-blade aside the Warrior-Captain approached a small stack of the dead.
"But there is more."
Here the bodies displayed more odd injuries.
The armour of two men had distinct hills and valleys covering him. It was as if they had been wrapped with great coils of rope and then squeezed so tightly it had crushed the steel beneath it. The flesh of the men was discoloured with blotches and turned a sickening yellow.
Another lay bereft of his arms.
Now it would be easy to simply assume that his limbs had been removed by a strike from a sword or other slicing weapon. After all, the loss of a limb was an ever-present danger on the battlefield. Yet a closer look at the wound pattern did not support that conclusion.
If the man's arms had been severed by a blade then the tissue would show the cut marks. However, the flesh of the wound was ragged and stringy in appearance. This was a sign that the meat hadn't been cut off, but torn from the body.
Lying spread out were a few bodies that gave off a particularly offending odor. The metal of the armour looked to be corroded and melted. There was a runny build-up that was reminiscent of wax flowing from a melting candle. Underneath the armour, the flesh had been dissolved into a stomach-churning soup and exposing the bleached white bones.
One of the most eye-catching was a half-dozen corpses that looked as if holes had been bored through their abdomens. The armour and meat had been burned away like they had never existed.
The pair of warriors could only look over the carnage.
"First there are signs of enchanted weaponry. Then it appears they have great strength, and now it seems they know magic as well." Garro cautiously glanced at the two armoured figures across the field. "What does this mean? Just who are these people?"
"I don't know," Gazef admitted with a level of resignation, "But there is much more to them than meets the eye."
o – o – o – o
The sun had begun to make its trip to the horizon by the time he and his men had arrived.
The unit's main delay had come from the fact that their scout forces had not made it to the rendezvous as scheduled.
The scouts had been disguised as Baharuth knights and sent ahead of the main force to attack a nearby village. These hit-and-run tactics had been utilized by the scouts before. So the plan had been after putting the village to the blade and torch they would leave a few alive to spread the story the group would then report back for the meetup.
The group's commander had strict confidence in his men's abilities.
After all, their unit was one of the six highest orders within the Slane Theocracy's military might.
They were the Sunlight Scripture, a sect whose primary task was concerned with the extermination of demi-humans who polluted the lands.
As one of the Six Scriptures, they were tasked with carrying out the country's covert operations. Being so high in the hierarchy of the Slane Theocracy they answered only to the High Priests of the Theocracy. The Six Scriptures had well-earned reputations, one that was well known throughout the various kingdoms. Although it was made sure that it was only rumours and hearsay that were spread to these far-off places.
To be a member of such an elite order meant their recruitment standards were very strict. As a side effect, their membership levels were not particularly high. Currently, they had only around a hundred members in the unit.
To even be considered eligible for conscription an individual had to be able to cast 3rd-tier divine magic. This stringent requirement severely limited their recruitment pools as 3rd-tier magic was typically the highest level available to ordinary magic casters. On top of that, each candidate had to showcase a sturdy constitution, an iron will, and absolute devotion to the faiths.
Only if they possessed each of those qualities in abundance and passed the examinations would they be considered for membership. These practices marked the Six Scriptures as the elite among the elites.
Currently, it was true that there were some fresh faces amongst the unit. It still hadn't hindered the group from carrying out operations. In this, the men proved their capabilities throughout their actions during this mission in the Re-Estize Kingdom.
The lack of the scout troop's return puzzled him.
Perhaps they had been met with resistance from the locals. But they should have been no match for a unit of highly trained soldiers. Had they so severely underestimated the local people? For a time, Nigun had even wondered if maybe the scouts had run afoul of the Scripture's intended target. But those thoughts were quickly dismissed as the last report put the target and his forces trailing behind them by a considerable distance.
It was this distance that allowed them to set this final trap.
So they had waited for the men to return and yet after allotting several hours for the scout's return, they still did not show up.
Nigun was finally given no choice but to order the unit to move out lest they lost this chance to take their prey.
Nigun Grid Luin was a man of average height and build. His features were rather plain and would not mark him as ugly nor particularly handsome. The sclera of his eyes was unnaturally dark, nearly black. Atop his head was a crop of blonde hair which he had cut rather short. Upon his left cheek was perhaps his one distinguishing feature: a large scar that stretched from jawbone to under his eye.
Now Commander Nigun stood atop a hill sheltered beneath the shade of an old oak tree. Having the sun at his back provided greater detail of the surroundings as his unnaturally dark eyes gazed out at the village in the distance.
He was adorned in the traditional vestments of his order.
Nigun wore a dark set of loose trousers which were tucked neatly into his near knee-high boots. The boots were black leather and polished nearly to a mirror-like shine. His shirt was of the same colour as his slacks. Over these, he wore a long dark surcoat with white trim and several button closures on the left.
About his waist, he wore a wide silver belt. On the left side of the belt were many pouches, while on his right he carried a number of vials which contained a variety of substances.
Over his hands, he had on forearm-length black leather gloves. The backs of his hands and forearms were reinforced with plates of the rare element known as mithril. Finally, there was the set of shoulder pads that were crafted from the same material. The only difference was the metal had undergone a process to change its colour from silver to black.
Though as members of the Slane Theocracy's elite unit, the Sunlight Scripture. All members were donned in much the same manner of uniform. Though there were subtle differences that set them apart.
His men's surcoats lacked the white trim that adorned Nigun's own. The men also wore their uniform head coverings. These coverings were something Nigun had never really cared for. To him, they always looked more akin to a potato sack with a round dish atop the head, and a mesh circle for you to look out of.
It was something a peasant beekeeper would be wearing while tending his insect flock.
Subconsciously he would rub at the mark on his cheek.
The scar was a reminder of the one time in his career when he'd been forced to abandon a mission and flee. Closing his eyes he could still the face of that girl and the jet-black demonic blade she wielded in their battle.
"Those damnable Blue Rose…" he would growl.
Blue Rose, the name chosen by a party of all-female adventurers who called the Re-Estize Kingdom their home.
It had been the group's leader who drew the majority of his ire. Forgetting the fact she was just another heathen who worshipped the false gods. She had the gall to interfere with his mission to exterminate a settlement of wretched demi-humans. But perhaps the most infuriating was that actually believed she was on the side of justice in doing so.
While the healing priests could've made use of their magic to mend his wound without marring his flesh.
Yet he had chosen instead to allow to it heal naturally. This mark would forever serve as a lesson learned from a humbling defeat.
"Everyone, take heed," Nigun's calm tones rose above the surroundings, "The prey has entered the cage. Offer up your faith to the gods."
Everyone in the unit bowed their heads in reverence as they spoke in silent prayer. Had time allowed for it they would have gone through the full hymn. However, for now, only truncated versions would have to suffice.
After the operation was completed the men would take time to properly pay homage to the gods they revered so much.
Their devotion to the Slane Theocracy and the gods was far more engrossed than that of the average citizen. They knew the gods were on their side in whatever they did. For this reason, they were able to carry out such cruel without the slightest hesitation.
This was a duty tasked to them by the gods themselves. To protect and strengthen humanity no matter the cost.
Besides, who were they to question the will of the gods?
"Let us begin."
Raising their heads, the men turned away from their leader.
With lockstep movements, the uniformed men of the Sunlight Scripture began the trek towards the village. As the unit drew nearer the men dispersed in a militaristic fashion to form smaller groups. These squads spread out to surround the village ensuring none would escape.
From his hilltop perch, Nigun watched as his men started to enact the plan.
This was the moment they had been preparing for. Now was the time to spring the trap and bring an end to their hunting games.
Over the past weeks, Nigun had chafed under the stringent conditions of the operation. He and his men weren't used to working such long-term covert missions. For them, the typical mission was a simple matter of deployment into a conflict and then decimate their opponents.
The task they'd been charged with seemed simple enough, the assassination of the greatest warrior of the Kingdom. The man known as Gazef Stronoff, the Warrior-Captain of the Re-Estize Kingdom.
With each village the scouts had ransacked, they had set the bait to lure out their target.
Yet he and his warband had managed to slip through their grasp. If he managed to elude them again it would mean they'd wasted the previous weeks of preparations. To begin the pursuit again was not something Nigun cared to undertake.
But beyond that, it was the lingering stench of failure that would haunt Nigun the most. To have to face the High Priests and the other Scriptures with that hanging over his head. It was not a possibility that he was will to accept.
"Next time… I'd like to ask for the assistance of the other Scriptures. This hunt has been a tiresome thing."
"Hmm, I agree. The priests ask too much of us with this sort of task. We're a specialized unit, our talents are better spent with the elimination of those creatures that threaten humanity. Not skulking about the countryside to hunt some warrior."
"This has been a strange mission for us to be deployed alone. I mean, why didn't we receive the usual backup from the Windflower Scripture? Especially for something as important as this."
"What are your thoughts, Commander?"
Nigun sighed and closed his eyes in a slow blink.
"It is the disappearance of the scout unit that troubles me more."
"You don't think it could have been the target?"
"I have considered that possibility. But no, the scouts were far ahead of his movements. There is no way he could have come upon them so quickly." Nigun turned to address the men, "Once he has been taken care of we shall investigate what has befallen our comrades."
"But the target's reputation is well known even in the Theocracy. What if he carries with him the Kingdom's Treasures…
"It will be fine," Nigun's words were soft, almost gentle. "Right now, that equipment is beyond his reach. He is essentially unarmed and without them killing him will be a simple matter."
The leader of the unit could hear the quiet murmurs of the men around him.
Did the scouts come under attack by monsters from the nearby Forest of Tob? Had they been foolish enough to believe they could take on Gazef and his men against the plan?
But Nigun ignored the talk.
This was not a typical assignment for the Sunlight Scripture.
Instead, this sort of task would be given over to the Slane Theocracy's strongest black ops unit, the Black Scripture. They were the ultimate expression of strength; each member possessed the power of heroes. However, that hadn't happened this time around.
But an interceding event had prevented that from being.
The Black Scripture had been tasked with protecting the holy relic "Downfall of Castle and Country" in their preparations against the resurrection of the Catastrophe Dragon Lord.
While the Windflower Scripture was preoccupied with chasing the traitor who'd fled with the relic of the Miko Princesses.
This left only the Sunlight Scripture to handle the task set before them.
It was merely an odd coincidence that these two matters would have arisen at the same time. Still, their capabilities were more than enough to handle this situation. Nigun felt assured that this task would be put behind them and the unit would soon be on its way back home.
o – o – o – o
From their position on the side of the field, Tiberius and Yuliana watched the Warrior-Captain and his subordinate talk amongst the dead.
As the pair spoke and looked over the bodies, the Dragonoid had to admit curiosity as to what the men were discussing. His interest was piqued when the men would stoop to retrieve something from the ground.
However, these questions would have to wait as soon another soldier came with great haste across the grounds.
"Captain! Captain!"
The soldier's words rang out.
Immediately the warband's leader and his companion turned to face the newcomer. No sooner had the man reached the two than the three fell into a frenzied exchange. The soldier's movements were rather excited when come compared to the other two.
But most of all, it seemed to be following in the trend of the day, whatever the news wasn't good news.
The Dragonoid couldn't help but sigh.
What did I get myself into with this village? Do they have some kind of curse on them or something?
"Rally the men to the plaza and send the villagers back to their homes."
The bearded warrior's baritone voice carried over the quiet of the afternoon. Then with a hurried salute, the third man turned and ran back the path he had come.
The Warrior-Captain and his Vice-Captain wasted no time. Turning promptly the pair began to march across the fields towards the armoured pair.
"What seems to be the problem, Captain Stronoff?"
The older soldier wore a grim and serious expression.
"My lookouts have reported that a group of men are moving to surround the village."
Tiberius remained silent on the matter.
"I suggest that we head back to the village as well."
In mute agreement, the four individuals performed an about-face and retreated to the village. Through empty streets, the group made its way to the center of the village.
Here the warband had amassed and stood awaiting their commander's orders.
"Your commands have been carried out, sir." One of the men addressed the unit leader. "We explained the situation to the villagers and escorted them back to the safety of their homes."
"Very good, now you men should seek shelter. The enemy may be unaware of our presence and numbers, so for the time being we should keep it that way."
The soldiers saluted their commander before breaking up into smaller groups. The squads consisted of five or six men, who broke away from the others and made for several of the buildings encircling the plaza.
As for Tiberius and Yuliana, it was decided they would join the Warrior-Captain and his second in command in taking shelter within the home of the village chief.
The Dragonoid's armour-clad knuckles had only just made contact with the oaken surface before the door was swung open. The home's owner stood partially obscured behind the door, his hands making a series of rapid gestures to usher the group inside.
Gazef was the first to cross the threshold and quickly made a straight line for the nearest window.
Just as the other villagers had done, Chief Wyllam had closed all the window shutters. This didn't bother the bearded warrior as he pressed himself against the wall. Then with gentle pressure, he nudged the shutter open just slightly.
"But…"
Chief Wyllam's words were cut off with a simple gesture from the Dragonoid. The old man nodded his understanding before moving away to sit with his wife at the table. Taking his seat, he laid his hand over his wife's, entwining their fingers to bring a measure of comfort to one another.
"I see them."
Gazef peeked out between the partially opened shutters. The darkened interior of the house helped to hide him from their view.
In the distance, a number of humanoid shapes came into view.
Their advance was slow and deliberate. Perhaps it was a pace chosen to instill fear and demoralize their opponents. In their uniform movements, Gazef could see the discipline on display as they kept a tight even spacing between them.
From what the Warrior-Captain was able to discern it appeared the men were not wearing heavy armour. Furthermore, he wasn't' able to see any weapons upon their persons.
This was a good indicator these men were not melee fighters. Unfortunately, discounting this possibility only brought another to the forefront. The fact these men were so lightly armoured and seemed to carry no visible weapons meant they did not rely on them.
In other words, they were magic casters.
This assumption was all but confirmed by the sudden presence of winged humanoids that came to hover alongside the strangers.
Gazef's keen eyes scrutinized the visage of these beings. If what he was seeing was true then they matched up to the descriptions he'd heard for creatures referred to as Angels.
While many magic casters possessed the ability to magically summon various creatures. There was one group of magic casters made near-exclusive use of as they held a special significance to them.
To the peoples of the Slane Theocracy, angels were the messengers of the gods. As such the magic-focused units of the Slane Theocracy's military made sole use of summoned angels.
This revelation bode ill for Gazef and his men.
Angels and demons, their evil-aligned counterparts, were typically stronger than the majority of other summonable monsters. It was a level of strength that only increased in proportion with the power possessed by the summoner.
An acquaintance of Gazef's had informed him that many of these beings, such as angels often possessed special abilities. Abilities such as those that would allow them to wield magic themselves.
Such a thing would make them daunting opponents to face. Especially for the unprepared.
These angels were unlike any that had been described to Gazef in the past.
With shining armour completely encasing their bodies and the flaming swords held within their grasp. The Warrior-Captain was left with the impression of these being of a higher tier.
At the dull creak of the floorboards, Gazef shifted to find the Dragonoid had moved to stand at the window with him.
Gazing through the crack in the shutters, Tiberius followed the other man's gaze out across the field.
As his eyes fell upon the forms surrounding the village Tiberius found his attention fully focused on the winged angels.
The angels took the form of a humanoid garbed in full plate armour. The armour itself was nondescript and crafted from a gleaming metal. Above their helmeted heads, a golden halo hovered in the air. Sprouting from the being's back were a set of equally armoured wings. While in their right hands all carried a flaming sword.
Those look like YGGDRASIL monsters. Archangel Flames if I am right. What are they doing here?
"Is something a matter, Sir Tiberius?"
Gazef's gruff voice brought the Dragonoid back from his thoughts.
"No," Tiberius lied, "I do not recognize them. Just who are they and what do they want with this village?"
Gazef regarded the armoured figure a moment.
"Well seeing as you are a stranger to our lands, I have my doubts it is you or your companion they're after." Shifting his gaze the bearded warrior again focused on the men in the distance. "And it's obviously not wealth they seek if they came out here. No, there can be only one reason for this."
Tiberius thought on the man's words carefully before coming to the same conclusion as the Warrior-Captain.
This was a trap.
As he thought about it the more it made sense.
The Dragonoid recalled his time in YGGDRASIL where he'd seen similar tactics used by players. Particularly by PKers.
In those scenarios, the PKers would often attack a contact or friend of their intended victim. Then when the target arrived they would spring their trap and go after the new arrival as they tried to aid their friend.
A variation of this strategy was sometimes employed when rival guilds would fight with one another. Here it was the other guild's holdings that were attacked to lure out the players from the defenses of their guild base. Sometimes the guild base itself was the target and the attack merely a diversion.
"So their attack on the village was simply to draw you and your men here?"
"That would be my guess. Those knights that attack were probably an advanced party for the men out there now." Gazef paused, "What troubles me about them is their manner of dress. And the fact they can summon angels. They could only be from the Slane Theocracy… Such a plan would only be carried out by one of the legendary Six Scriptures. Although I don't know which one, it means their numbers and ability are far superior to our own."
Gazef's grim words were met with a stifled chortle from the armour clad female who remained by the wall.
Such a reaction prompted Gazef to glance in her direction.
What had he said to have provoked such a response? Could it be that these two strangers were not concerned by this development? In either case, her response only deepened the mystery which surrounded these two individuals.
Gazef, however, couldn't dwell on such thoughts at the moment. Pushing them from his mind, the Warrior-Captain looked to the waiting adversaries.
He snorted.
The coming battle would have been on a more level playing field had the Noble faction not stripped him of his proper equipment. As it stood currently the warband did not have enough manpower, nor the suitable gear with which to deal with the enemy. To top it off Gazef had no plan on how to deal with the situation.
Altogether they had nothing on their side.
They had played directly into the waiting jaws of the enemy unit. Like marionettes, they had danced to the puppeteer's whims.
"What is your plan to deal with them?"
"Haven't got one," Gazef answered with a surprisingly light tone and a shrug, "But the safety of the village takes top priority."
Turning away from the window the soldier approached the seated homeowners.
"Village Chief, your village has a storehouse, correct?"
The older man looked to his wife with a questioning expression for a moment before nodding the affirmative.
"Good," Gazef nodded, "I need you to gather the other villagers and move them there. Can you do this?"
Again the man glanced at this wife, "Yes, I believe I can."
The Warrior-Captain pivoted rapidly, "Vice-Captain Garro, I want you to accompany the chief and then gather the men."
"Yes, Captain."
At the table, Chief Wyllam squeezed his wife's hand a final time before reluctantly letting go. Rising from their seat the older couple made his way to the door, followed closely by Gazef's second-in-command. It was Garro who opened the door in a gentleman-like fashion to allow them through.
The younger man paused for a moment to look to his superior a final time before slipping out the open door.
Gazef released a heavy sigh.
He turned on his heel and made his way back to his original location by the window. Looking out through the glass, his eyes once again locked onto the waiting group of figures in the distance.
Three robe-clad figures accompanied by their summoned bodyguards.
Thoughts came at a rapid pace as he ran through a variety of scenarios. Each time he came to the same bleak outcome. However, there may have been a way to shift the balance of power to a more even footing.
Shifting Gazef looked to the armoured pair who stood silently in the room with him.
"Sir Tiberius, you said you were an adventurer. Would you be willing to let me hire you?"
"No, I am not a mercenary here for the coin," Tiberius' voice was firm in its resolve, "My defense of the village was in aid of the powerless inhabitants."
"I see…then what if, as per the Kingdom's bylaws, I was to conscript you to fight with us?"
Tiberius took several steps closer to the bearded warrior.
"I am not a citizen of the Kingdom. So your claim holds no sway over me. And should you get the idea to try and force my hand, I assure you it would not end well."
The once placid aura around the stranger was replaced with a threat of malice. The air in the room grew heavy and oppressive to Gazef.
It was a feeling of intense pressure bearing down upon him. He felt a subconscious shiver traverse the length of his spine as his knees threatened to buckle. As a veteran, Gazef Stronoff had been through countless battles. He'd seen death enough times to be a near-constant companion. Yet here, in the presence of this other man he'd never felt so close to death.
Just who is this man?
"That would indeed be unfortunate. We'd be wiped out before ever crossing blades with the gentlemen of the Slane Theocracy."
There came a hasty knock at the door.
Gazef made his way to the door, doing his best to put the feeling behind him. As the door opened Gazef was met with the youthful yet stern face of Vice-Captain Garro.
"Sir, the men have been gathered, and though it took some effort. The villagers are making their way to the storehouse as we speak."
"Very good."
Without prompting Tiberius strode across the room, followed by his companion. No words were shared as the group left the house of the village chief and set out.
The quartet walked in continued silence with only the sounds of their armour to be heard.
o – o – o – o
The storehouse was a large structure when compared to the typical houses of the village.
Occupying enough space to build several houses and surrounded by a simple wooden fence. It served the purpose as the name suggested as the place where the villagers would store various goods. Anything from vegetables and grains, farm implements to the storage of special herbs harvested from the Forest of Tob.
At the doors of the storehouse stood a pair of soldiers taking count of the villagers as they entered the large building. The villagers themselves moved in a slow dreg as they counted and ushered inside.
It was a scene reminiscent of people passing through the turnstile before boarding public transport.
Chief Wyllam and his wife stood at the door by the soldiers doing their best to calm their fellow villagers.
Upon spotting the approaching quartet, Wyllam left his wife and made his way to them.
"Are you sure this is for the best?"
The man's hushed tone spoke volumes of his apprehensions.
"Yes," Gazef answered with his usual baritone, "Spread out through the village it would be harder to defend."
"But it wouldn't also be easier to target." Chief Wyllam retorted.
"Be at ease, Chief Wyllam," the Dragonoid addressed him, "I will be providing further protections to ensure your safety."
The village chief and the Warrior-Captain continued with their conversation for a short time. In the meantime, Tiberius turned his focus to the throng of villagers yet to enter the storehouse.
By now the numbers had diminished but there was still a fair few to go.
Among those still outside was the family the Dragonoid recognized.
The youngest daughter, Nemu, clung to her mother's hand as if her life depended on it. While the woman's husband held tightly to her other hand as the three made their way ever closer to the promise of shelter. Following close behind was the eldest daughter, Enri.
When their turn came to enter the shelter the teenage girl paused shifting her gaze to the wolven armoured figure. Her eyes lingered upon the Dragonoid before she turned away and followed her family inside.
With the last of the villagers safely within the shelter of the storehouse, Tiberius turned to the village chief.
"Now, Chief Wyllam, would you kindly move back several paces."
Though puzzled the older man nonetheless complied. Taking several strides backward he found himself rejoining his wife.
The Dragonoid outstretched his arm.
"[Shield Wall]"
The air between the elderly couple and the quartet of warriors seemed to shimmer for a moment. After the brief flicker things quickly returned to normal. This left the humans rather bewildered as they tried to understand what had transpired.
"Has something happened? I see no change."
"That is where you're mistaken," the Dragonoid addressed the pair of warriors. "Approach and see for yourselves."
Accepting the invitation the warrior commander and his subordinate strode forwards.
Extending his arm, Gazef reached for where he had seen the shimmer. His hand was met by an unobserved and yet solid surface. Gazef marveled at seeing only open-air beneath his palm as he ran his hand along a wall as real as any other.
Moving forwards the Garro mimicked the actions of his superior. Reaching out he laid his hands upon the invisible barrier. He moved his hands in wide sweeping arcs across the unseen surface. Several times he moved to a new location and repeated his actions. Occasionally he would pause to press his shoulder hard against the barrier. There was no give as the younger soldier's feet dug shallow trenches in the earth.
Tiberius shifted his gaze to Wyllam and Annora as the pair soon joined the two warriors in the odd mime act.
This miming came to an end when the group was fully satisfied as to the barrier's integrity.
The husband and wife then said their praise for the protection before bidding the warriors good luck then turned and hurriedly entered the shelter themselves.
Turning back the Warrior-Captain and his Vice-Captain rejoined Tiberius and Yuliana. The expression on the younger man's face showcased more of his astonishment than that of the more experienced Gazef.
"A most impressive display of ability."
The Dragonoid felt a measure of pride at the praise yet he did take notice of the other man's tone. There was a sense of awe but it came with an undercurrent of trepidation.
Gazef offered a small smile, "Sir Tiberius, I again thank you for saving this village."
With care, the bearded warrior removed the metal gauntlet from his right hand. The meaning of the act was understood by the Dragonoid as he followed suit. Removing the gauntlet from his hand, Tiberius extended his hand to meet Gazef's own in a hearty shake.
Gazef was quick to note the iron-like grip and the above-normal warmth of the other's flesh.
"I wish I could express how truly grateful I am to you for continuing to protect these people. And though I know I have no authority to make you do anything. I hope you will continue to protect the villagers no matter what happens to me or my men."
Gazef drew a deep breath.
"I have nothing with which I can offer you in return, yet I beg you…"
"You needn't beg me for anything," Tiberius interjected, "On my honour and that of the Sanguine Dragons, they shall have my protection."
Hearing the foreigner make such a vow filled Gazef with a sense of relief and satisfaction. Releasing his grasp of the other warrior's hand, the Warrior-Captain returned the gauntlet to his hand.
"Thank you very much, Sir Tiberius. Now I have nothing more to worry about here. And I devote myself fully to the coming battle."
"The enemy still outnumbers you and you still plan to face them head-on."
"Yes, had I more men or better equipment then we might have a chance to formulate a strategy. But as we are, all we can do is to charge ahead and hope our prowess will be enough to see us through."
"Foolhardy, but brave," the Dragonoid's low rumbling tone was one of admiration, "For that, I salute you and wish you the best of luck, Captain Gazef."
"And I wish you a safe journey, Sir Tiberius."
Without further words, the bearded warrior turned with his Vice-Captain and strode away.
The Dragonoid and the female guardian stood watching as the pair of human soldiers made their way to the rest of the waiting warband.
Yuliana moved closer to her master.
"My lord, do you truly intend to extend your protections to these people?"
Tiberius turned to regard his companion before he fidgeted with putting his gauntlet back on his hand.
"I gave my word, didn't I? However, while I will protect them, it doesn't be I will do so from here. Those men out there, they appear to have command of YGGDRASIL monsters. And I want to know how they're doing it."
His gauntlet secured, the Dragonoid pivoted and looked on the wake of the Warrior-Captain. Halting Tiberius looked back to his faithful guardian.
"Yuliana, stand close to me."
This was an order the Guardian Overseer was all too happy to comply with. With a few rapid steps, Yuliana nearly pressed herself against the armoured Dragonoid. Unfortunately, the giddiness she felt soon melted away as she noticed her presence seemed to be rather unnoticed by the Lord of Tyrnaust.
Instead, his focus was on other matters.
"[Mirror World]"
Similar to before, a ripple passed through the air surrounding the pair as the spell was cast.
Within YGGDRASIL, [Mirror World] was an illusionary spell of the highest caliber. It was an enchantment designed with the purpose of stealthy observation.
Once cast the spell's caster would be encapsulated in a large bubble. This bubble was a screen that acted similarly to a one-way mirror. This offered a great stealth capability thanks to the bubble's light-bending.
Light was channeled around the spell caster by the bubble's shell. This had the effect of rendering the space in the bubble invisible as no matter the viewer's angle only the side opposite them could be seen. This meant the bubble's occupant's view of the outside was unimpeded. But for those on the outside, they would be unable to see inside.
There was the added benefit to using this particular spell over a standard invisibility spell. Besides offering the occupant some space to move around. [Mirror World] also had limited shielding capabilities. The invisible shell could reflect a decent amount of damage away from its user before failing.
"[Mass Fly]"
A faint aura shone within the orb but went undetected by the outside world. Then with a slight push against the ground both Tiberius and Yuliana took to the air.
Their direction was already determined for the pair as they set out to follow the Warrior-Captain and his warband.
o – o – o – o
The affair of informing his men of the plan had been mercifully short.
Gazef had explained the situation and even given them leave to any who wished to sit out the battle and stay within the village. Yet not a single man had taken the offer.
They had accepted and understood what needed to be done. But most of all they had understood the consequences of what was to come.
Then with a rallying cry, the men had remounted their waiting steeds and set forth from the simple hamlet.
The air around the Warrior-Captain was filled with the thudding hoofbeats of the horses as they raced through the field.
The tension was palpable amongst the men. Even in the animals beneath them.
Through his contact with his steed, the Warrior-Captain had grown to know the warhorse. He knew the eccentricities of the beast and could read its moods just as well as they'd voiced them.
Though animals they may have been, they were far from dim. They could pick up on even minute details that their riders would sometimes miss. Right now they seemed keenly aware of the fact that something was off and yet they rode on. Perhaps it was simply the training that they'd undergone that kept them on course. Or maybe they understood the state of affairs and had rallied to their riders with all the loyalty they could muster, and together they all charged headlong into the waiting jaws of death.
In departing the village, Gazef had noted the men of the Slane Theocracy surrounded the village thoroughly. Yet they had left a sizable opening, there was little doubt that this had been intentional.
All part of their trap.
They had expected the warband to take notice of the apparent weakness and attempt to flee through it. But this was not an escape route, instead, it would funnel the warband towards the main enemy force. Then the trap would be sprung and they would be ensnared.
This would mean the death of his men and himself.
With no other option, they would have to break through the enemy lines. It was a task that seemed nearly insurmountable given the circumstances.
Had the unit have skilled archers with them then they could've been deployed against the magic casters. But none of their current numbers could be said to be anything but average with a bow. This meant they would have to avoid a ranged battle and instead bring the fight up close to the enemy.
The idea of fighting a defensive battle had also been considered.
But then therein lied the problem
There would be a distinct lack of fortifications to protect against the spells the magic casters could conjure. Had they been fighting from the high and thick stone walls of a proper fort then it might have been an option. But then these were not the run-of-the-mill magic users. These were members of the Slane Theocracy's Six Scriptures. It was then entirely possible that even if they had such protections it would provide little help.
Of course, there remained the strategy of hit and run tactics.
Though this was a tactic that Gazef was loath to even consider.
With this plan, the warband would attack the enemy and then retreat. This would draw the enemy into a chase lure them back to the close quarters of fighting within the village. But all this would do would be to place the villagers in harm's way. Completely defeating the purpose of what he and his men were doing now.
But this plan offered the chance of perhaps drawing the two foreign warriors into the fray. Thus forcing them to participate in the battle, although against their will.
This idea caused a knot to form within the Warrior-Captain's stomach. There was a grave danger in provoking those individuals. It was possible that if they were to learn that the move had been done on purpose to get them to join the fight. Well, it could cause trouble.
Gazef's thoughts turned to the armoured man. The bearded warrior had seen a portion of the power at his command when he'd examined the bodies in the fields. Then there was the display of magic he had performed.
If they were to make an enemy of the pair, then all they would accomplish would be trading a difficult adversary for an impossible one.
No, they would not resort to such a tactic.
The Warrior-Captain tightened his grip on the reins and spurred his horse onwards. Pivoting on the saddle Gazef cast a look back at the men riding with him.
"Hit the enemy hard and fast! Draw the sentries from around the village. After that, fall back immediately. Do not hesitate and miss your chance to flee."
The men cheered their leader on with an energy that surprised him.
Gazef furrowed his brow as a frown marred his stern features.
How many, if any, of these men would have the chance to leave here alive today?
While he was prepared to offer up his life in service of the crown and the people of the Re-Estize Kingdom. Could the said be of these men? Their loyalty was to him more than the crown and now they were going to follow him into danger.
None of these men possessed any kind of outstanding skill or special talent. They were just ordinary soldiers who'd trained hard under his tutelage for years now. He'd seen them grow from a rabble of unskilled and undisciplined would-be soldiers. Then transformed into a coordinated and skilled unit that filled him with pride.
It was an honour to have led them
The coming choice weighed heavily upon Gazef's mind. He wanted to apologize to them as much as he wanted to curse them.
His eyes scanned across their faces acutely of the looks of determination which they wore.
They bore the look of true warriors, proud and unafraid.
The men of the warband rode on with a complete understanding of where this line of actions was leading them. Still, they would go freely into the unknown.
"Don't worry, Warrior-Captain!"
"Yeah, we all came here of our own free will. To fight and die by your side, Warrior-Captain!"
"Please let us protect our country, our people, and our friends!"
More rallying cries rang out to fill Gazef's ears and fill his heart with pride.
"Then, forwards onto battle! Tear their guts out!"
Gazef's thunderous reply echoed above the horse's frenzied hoofbeats.
The men spurred their horses urging them to follow the Warrior-Captain wherever he led them. Dust, dirt, and loose grass were kicked up into a turbulent whirlwind by the galloping horses as they sped across the fields.
They could see them now.
Ahead of the warband, the Slane Theocracy soldiers stood at the base of a large hillock. Atop the hill and sheltered under a tree, Gazef could make out the silhouettes of several figures.
There was no doubt in his mind that these were the leaders of the enemy unit. Their positioning was a telltale sign as it was typical for battlefield commanders to positions on higher ground. This allowed them a better overview and thus made it easier to direct their troop's movements.
As the gap between their forces closed, the Warrior-Captain drew a bow from the saddle's side. Though he was by no means the most practiced archer he was confident enough in his skills to try. He drew an arrow from the bouncing quiver and nocked the arrow on the string.
The shuddering and bounding of the dashing horse shook his aim. But still, Gazef took aim. He drew back the string in one smooth and practiced motion as he sighted the target a final time before loosing the arrow.
The arrow flew through the air straight and true towards the head of the nearest magic caster.
For a brief moment, it seemed that the projectile would actually land its mark. But then that hope was dashed as the speeding arrow was casually intercepted by one of the angles.
"Heh, it was useless after all," Gazef smirked.
Returning the bow to the saddle's side, Gazef focused his energies elsewhere. Drawing his longsword from its scabbard, the Warrior-Captain held the blade aloft as he charged ahead.
"Go! Go! Go!"
The Slane Theocracy operatives sprang into action. Beginning their counterattack, they unleashed a wave of spells.
The warband's eyes scanned their surroundings.
Nothing seemed amiss. There were no hail of fireballs, no streaks of lightning hurtling towards them, and no abnormal gust of intense wind.
This put the men on edge, such low profile magic could only mean trouble.
Just then, the horse beneath Gazef shuddered. Its once smooth and rhythmic strides broke before it swerved forcing the other riders to move to avoid a collision. The Warrior-Captian pulled the reins tight in his attempt to regain control. In return, his steed reared up on its hind legs while its forelegs kicking wildly about in the air.
Only Gazef's reflexes were able to save him from being simply thrown from the saddle. But there was little he could do to calm the beast.
The bearded soldier tugged and spurred the equine's flanks with his heels. Still, the warhorse continued to buck and jostle him upon its back.
This abrupt change in the warhorse's behavior could mean only one thing.
This must be the work of the magic casters. They had to be utilizing some kind of mind-controlling spell upon the horse.
Had the spell been directed towards Gazef then he might have been able to overcome its effects.
However, the horse had no such hopes.
Damn cowards.
The Warrior-Captain mentally kicked himself for not picking up on their tactics sooner. Releasing his grip on the reins, Gazef extended his arms placing his palms flat against the saddle, and gave a mighty shove. The force was more than enough to lift the man clear of the saddle and over the rear of the horse.
Instinctively he readied himself for the landing. As his feet made contact with the ground, he bent with his knees and tucked himself into a roll. The sky passed by his view several times before Gazef planted his feet firmly and sprung up into a stance ready to fight.
Freed of its rider, the warhorse bucked wildly and continued to run unhindered.
"Captain!" A passing rider had called out.
The soldier had slowed his horse and leaned over in the saddle to extend his arm in hopes to help his leader. Gazef would've appreciated the attempt had there not been a more pressing concern.
A flash from above caught the attention of the Warrior-Captain.
High overhead one of the summoned angels hovered for a moment. Its armoured form glinted in the fading daylight.
Having captured the creature's focus it turned and bore down upon them with its magical weapon at the ready.
Forgetting about his subordinate, Gazef drew his sword in a flash and stood at the ready. His muscles were tense, he gripped the hilt in a white-knuckled hold. His keen eyes focused squarely on the rapidly approaching angel.
Calculating the moment in which to strike, Gazef waited.
Seconds ticked by and then the moment came.
He flexed his fingers assuring his hold upon the sword's hilt. Springing into action the blade appeared as but a gleaming streak of steel. Making contact the vibration resonated down the length of the blade and into his arms.
Had his target have been a mortal creature, a blow from the Kingdom's strongest warrior would have cut them in twain.
However, this was no ordinary being.
With just about any other opponent this would have been a mortal injury. But the angel's armoured body was made of tougher stuff than a mortal man. Still, Gazef's sword cut deeply into the angel's left side. But in doing so the blade had become lodged fairly deep within the body. As a summoned creature, the angel lacked blood. But the wound instead wept pure mana of which its body was constituted.
The Warrior-Captain could feel it. A force was pushing back against him as his blade was slowly expelled from the wound. Freeing itself of the offending weapon the angel took to the air once again.
Gazef tracked the angel as it flittered about above. Then before his eyes, the leaking gash in the armour began to mend.
The reason for this was clear. Even to someone like Gazef who had limited magical knowledge.
Many monsters had abilities that could nullify damage dealt to them. Though some creatures had weaknesses to particular materials rendering their healing capability moot. So it appeared that the angels too possessed such an ability allowing it to take a mighty blow from Gazef without falling.
Retaking an offensive stance the bearded warrior focused his mind.
"[Martial Art – Focus Battle Aura]"
Energy welled up within the body of the warrior to be channeled into the blade of his longsword. As the energy filled the blade it was engulfed with a crimson glow.
The angel watched from above, sensing an opportunity made its move to press the attack. One more time it dove at the armoured man with its sword of red flame raised to strike.
Gazef's dark eyes gleamed with light, "Too slow!"
With his perception heightened beyond the limits of ordinary humans, he had no trouble tracking the angel.
Gazef pushed off against the ground, he lunged forwards to meet the onrushing opponent.
The warrior's blade moved in a great slashing arc with blinding speed. As before it met its mark, however, this time it did not get stuck. With the full force of Gazef's magnified strength, the sword passed cleanly through the angel.
The armoured being seemed to pause as if unable to believe what had just come to pass.
A spray of golden mana erupted from the angel's torso. The two halves of the angel's body shuddered before hairline cracks spread across its armoured body. Then it burst like a bubble popping and dissolved into a shower of glowing particles.
The Warrior-Captain's moment of triumph was a short-lived one.
Turning his gaze to the enemy casters, he watched as they moved to surround him. Above them, more angels were summoned into being from the ether. The freshly summoned creatures hovered awaiting orders.
The bearded soldier grimaced.
Gazef stood tall, his eyes trained in the direction of the magic casters. Yet his intent was not focused on them. But rather on the track of land behind them. There he could see the cloud of dust kicked up by his retreating comrades.
With that sight, Gazef allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.
As the enemy moved to surround him it meant that they would have to pull men from the blockade. This in turn would weaken their perimeter and allow his men to break through to escape.
Good, now it's just me that will perish. But…
The warrior's gaze hardened with determination.
I won't be going down without a fight.
Yet as he prepared himself for the coming combat. His concentration was interrupted by the echo of approaching hooves.
"You damnable fools. I told you all to retreat to safety once passed the blockade," Gazef shook his head, "Still, your loyalty is beyond words."
Caught off-guard by the returning of the cavalry the men of the Slane Theocracy scattered. Moving rapidly the operatives reorganized themselves to fight off the horse riders.
Those at the head of the cavalry charge were quickly met with the same magic that had been used against Gazef.
Their horses lost their fervor, they wobbled as their legs seemed to turn to jelly, and then collapsed to send their riders tumbling head over heel through the air. Those following were forced to break formation as they attempted to guide their steeds away from their fallen fellows. Lest they be trampled under hoof.
As the magic casters turned their focus to the approaching horsemen, Gazef chose to strike. Sprinting forwards, he endeavored to get close to the casters where he would stand a better chance against them.
In the distance, he could hear the whinnies of the horses and the shouts of their riders.
But not all those shouts were cries of a battle charge. Faintly beneath the warcries, Gazef could hear the shrill shrieks of pain and fear as the angels began to descend upon his men.
From his position, Gazef could see riders being knocked from the backs of their mounts. Others were being snatched up and borne into the air by the winged warriors, only for them to come tumbling back down to the earth.
These sights only served to push Gazef to hasten his pace.
The enemy commander remained in his position behind their lines. It was he who was the target of Gazef's focus and anger. Although the bearded soldier had his doubts that the enemy troops would simply retreat if he were slain.
But Gazef was not about to let the opportunity to remove such a valuable target slip by.
Unfortunately, it seemed the Warrior-Captain's solo charge did not go unnoticed.
A number of angels assembled and placed themselves between their summoners and the coming foe.
By Gazef's estimations, they numbered over twenty strong.
"Out of my way!"
With little alternative, the Warrior-Captain unleashed his ultimate ability.
Intense heat blossomed within his core and quickly spread throughout the entirety of his body. Unlocking his full potential, the bearded warrior broke through the limits imposed on his physical body and stepped into the realm of heroes.
It was through a number of the warrior's own martial arts he been able to craft this apex ability.
The group of angles drew ever closer.
"[Sixfold Slash of Light]!"
The Warrior-Captian's strikes were faster than the eye could perceive. Power flooded his limbs as he lashed out at the closest of his opponents. In an instant, the angels were bisected before their bodies dissolved into countless pinpricks of light.
Regrettably, no sooner had he dispatched those angels than more arrived to take their place.
For every angel cut down by the Kingdom's strongest warrior, the magic casters would summon in two more. Through sheer numbers alone he was fighting a losing battle. Though this was not the only factor to consider. The death of an angel meant nothing to the enemy's overall capability as each was a mere construct and thus expendable.
Conversely, the loss of one man from the Kingdom's warband was a hard-felt blow.
While there existed such magics that could resurrect the dead. Those who could wield such magic were rare indeed. That was not to mention that should the person being resurrected not be strong enough then their body could not sustain the act. It was one of the reasons why only strong warriors had gone through the process.
Still, Gazef could hear the cheers of his men for every strike he made and every angel that vanished in a shower of light.
Another wave of the winged assailants approached.
"[Instant Counter]!"
[Instant Counter] was a martial art that upon use would make the body's reactions near automatic. Posture and stance would be changed without the need for thought. This made counter-attacking an instinctual affair as the body would move on its own rather than relying on conscious decisions. The drawback was this placed immense strain upon the body from the forced hasty movements.
As the first angel pushed its attack the Warrior-Captain's body appeared to evaporate only to reappear behind the aforementioned angel. His counter annihilated the creature into a cloud of glittering dust.
"[Flow Acceleration]!"
Under the influence of [Flow Acceleration], Gazef was bequeathed a short-term boost to the speed of his nervous system. With the increase of the user's reflexes were heightened to the nth degree. This speed also allowed their minds to process information quicker and formulate strategies faster.
However, again there came a downside. Increasing the speed of the brain would lead to fatigue and slowed reactions if overused.
The Warrior-Captain danced with fluid grace around the attack angels. One by one they felt the sting of his blade.
Yet still more were sent against him.
Throughout all this, Gazef felt as if his body was alight with flame. His breathing had been reduced to heavy panting as a result of the accumulated exertions. Pushing through the fatigue the Warrior-Captain prepared to unleash his ultimate technique against the enemy forces once more.
"Impressive, mastering so many skills isn't easy," a voice rose from the enemy lines, "Sadly it won't save you or your men. Summon another set of angels, and focus all your attacks on Stronoff."
The area was lit by an intense blue glow emanating from the ground as more angels were birthed into existence.
At the sight, fear spread its tendrils through the men of the Kingdom. As fear took root it began to affect the warband. Their movements slowed and became uncoordinated. Then their battle focus broke as the glimmer of hope for victory was extinguished from their eyes.
Gazef could only look at his men.
He had known there was little hope before the battle had even begun. But these men, it seemed they still held out hope of triumph so long as they were with him.
Yet now, as they saw the enemy so quickly and so effortlessly replenish their forces. Seeing their commander, the strongest warrior in all of the Re-Estize Kingdom so beleaguered against the opposing forces. It had caused many to see the futility of the situation and all but surrender to their fear.
This isn't good.
This was the only thought Gazef could manage.
With determination blazing in his eyes, Gazef wove through the throng of flaming swords. He parried each thrust and countered with an attack of his own.
Angel after angel was destroyed by his hand and yet his true target remained beyond his grasp.
The man who stood upon the hillock, gloating as he looked upon the one-sided conflict.
Though Gazef was keenly aware of his ever-growing fatigue as it ate away at him.
Individuals of his caliber could typically utilize up to six martial arts at a time. Gazef, himself, was capable of using one more if it was to include his ultimate technique. The downside being the more powerful the technique, the more it would drain the user's focus and stamina.
More basic abilities with effects like improving the body, strengthening the mind, granting magical resistances, or temporarily bestowing magic upon a weapon. Techniques such as those required only minor concentration to use. But stacking them or using one in conjunction with a more powerful skill would steadily wear down the user.
Throughout this battle, Gazef had been forced to utilize each of his skills multiple times over and now he could feel it burning away at him.
As the steady creep of exhaustion seeped through his muscles. As his movements slowed he was left open to attack. Even now the muscles of his arms burned and were growing heavier with every swing of the sword. This involuntary made Gazef adopt a low guard stance as keeping his sword closer to the ground placed less strain on his body.
Overhead angels whirled around pausing briefly to perform steep dives at the men below. With each pass, more of his men fell to the enemy blades and with them so too did his hope for this conflict.
"Bring them all on! Your angels are nothing!"
Gazef's hurled his challenge at the operatives of the Slane Theocracy. It was a blind attempt to bring some relief to his men by attracting the attention of the enemy.
At the man's harsh words several of the Theocracy's magic casters couldn't help but take a step back. However, it was a fleeting moment of fear as the casters then intensified their attacks.
"That's it, men, pay him no heed. It's just the roar of a caged beast as it rattles its shackles. Wear him down then move in for the kill."
Again the scar-faced leader goaded his men on from his position of safety.
Gazef glared at the man. If only there was a way to breach his sanctuary. But in the gulf between them lay a veritable forest of flaming swords and gleaming armoured figures.
Still, the Warrior-Captain battled on.
Bracing himself, Gazef charged ahead as he set his sights upon the scarred man.
An angel at him from the left. The bearded warrior nimbly dodged the thrusting saber, the blade coming so close that he could feel the heat of the flames lick at his skin.
An intense pain caught Gazef by surprise.
The hurt radiated outwards from his abdomen and for a moment Gazef was left to wonder if he hadn't been fast enough to avoid the blow. But this wasn't the piercing kind of agony that came with being stabbed. This was more of a dull general pain like one feels with a hard punch.
The explanation came to him a moment later as an invisible force collided with Gazef.
Impact after impact was felt across his body. A strong blow to his abdomen nearly brought him to his knees. Another to his left leg took his foot out from under him making him stagger to regain his fighting stance.
These underhanded magic casters had resorted to dastardly tactics and were now using invisible attacks against him.
Gazef might have had the chance to avoid the attacks by sensing the air currents. Or by reading his opponent's body language. But facing off against thirty at once, it was an impossible task to keep track of them all at once.
Just keeping hold of his sword was taking a colossal effort.
As the pain began to overwhelm him, Gazef couldn't tell if it was from the over-taxation of his body. Or it was the barrage of the countless attacks that were pummeling him now.
When the invisible barrage let up then another group of angels came at him.
The winged beings were merciless as they attacked him.
The beleaguered Gazef only just managed to evade an attack from behind and parry the saber thrust from the side. With each second he lost more and more of his momentum.
Each blow that landed on him sapped more of his strength. His body trembled uncontrollably and it took all of his concentration just to remain standing.
A particularly hard strike caused his legs to give out. As his knees buckled the bearded warrior collapsed to the ground. As he lay upon the grassy field, Gazef felt the terrible ache throughout his body.
Digging his gloved fingers into the soft earth the Warrior-Captain summoned the last vestiges of his strength.
Bringing himself up to a kneeling position, Gazef craned his neck to survey the battlefield. His eyes fell on the scattered forms of his men laying about the grassland.
At the sight, Gazef gritted his teeth so hard it hurt his jaw.
As the iron-rich taste of blood welled up in his mouth, he spat the crimson liquid upon the parched earth where it was quickly absorbed.
These men had carried out attacks against the innocents of the Kingdom. They had murdered defenseless villagers, all to lure him into this trap. So many innocents had died all because people in positions of power had such loathing for him. To die by the hands of such honourless dogs was not something Gazef could allow.
Calling on some hitherto unknown font of strength the Warrior-Captain slowly managed to rise to his feet. Shakily he stood proudly at his full height.
With every breath he took, his lungs burned. His mind was clouded that it was hard to think. Every fiber of his being ached as never before and called for him to lay down.
Yet it was suffering he was willing to endure. If it meant protecting the villagers and his men then he could endure anything.
"I am the Warrior-Captain of the Re-Estize Kingdom! My heart and soul belong to Re-Estize! I'll die a thousand times over before I lose to the likes of you!"
A smug grin spread across the lips of the enemy leader.
"Yes, you will die here and you'll have only yourself to blame, Gazef Stronoff."
The bearded warrior's eyes were cold with hate as he glared at the enemy commander. The man's calm almost mockingly friendly tone served to stoke the flames of his anger.
"If only you had abandoned these villages after you'd seen it for yourself. You would not be dying here today. But that is your failing. So cease your pointless struggles, lie down quietly and die as a good dog would."
Commander Nigun let loose a deep belly laugh.
"As an act of mercy, I will kill you without causing you too much suffering."
Gazef spat, "If you think that I am so helpless… Then why not come and take my head yourself? It should be… easy like this."
"A baleful attempt at goading me. Truly, you have fallen if you think it would work."
"Then kill me! But leave the village in peace."
Nigun sneered, "Fool after we kill you, we will then finish off those villagers cowering within their homes. All you have managed to do is delay the inevitable and allow them to wallow in their despair."
"Then you'll all die just as your scouts had."
The bearded soldier couldn't hide his smile as he saw his words wipe away the grin from the other man's smug face.
"What?"
The leader of the Sunlight Scripture stared down at the barely standing soldier. His making mention of the scout group pulled Nigun from his revelry.
Was it possible the scout regiment had run afoul of the Warrior-Captain and his men after all?
"You hear me! Your scouts are dead and lie rotting in the fields! You sent those men to their deaths!" Gazef called out, feeling a surge of unmitigated gall, "You may kill me here. But you'll meet your fate just the same when you attack that village."
"Do you think that we would fall such an obvious lie?" the man laughed, "Brazen till the end."
Nigun looked at the Kingdom's Warrior-Captain and the smile he wore and felt his anger welling up within him.
"Angels! Kill Gazef Stronoff."
Two angels rose above the others. Their wings fluttered before they lunged forwards into a rapid dive. Seeing the summoned monsters rushing towards him. The wounded warrior mustered the best defensive stance he could and prepared himself to meet was to be the last fight of his life.
The angels rapidly closed the distance and Gazef braced himself for the coming collision. Yet it never came.
Gazef blinked his eyes in stunned silence at what happened next.
The pair of angels who'd moments ago been rushing headlong at him. Now hung frozen in the air some ten feet away.
Upon their armoured torsos, a golden glint caught his eye. Looking closer, it was a slow trickle of shimmering mana that leaked from a narrow slit in the angel's breastplate.
There was a sudden crack like the sound of glass breaking. Then the air itself seemed to break as a spider-web of hairline fissures spread throughout the gap between him and the angels. It was as if the world had been made of glass as the fractures grew.
Gazef looked on in disbelief as the pieces crumbled, tumbling to the ground where they evaporated into a myriad of tiny glowing lights.
Now more portions fell away like slices of a mirror fell away to reveal a pair of armoured figures hidden behind it.
With the setting sun in his eyes, Gazef had to squint as he focused his eyes. Yet they were silhouettes that he recognized.
"You don't look very good, Captain Stronoff."
"I can't say I feel very well either, Sir Tiberius," Gazef allowed himself a pained smile, "I might have fared better. But my opponents aren't ones to know the meaning of a fair fight."
"Yes, I saw."
The armoured Dragonoid moved closer. As he moved the Warrior-Captain was afforded a look at what had previously been obstructed.
The wounded warrior could see the man's companion. The armoured guardian stood, her feet planted firmly in the soft earthen field, and her arms were outstretched and held in each hand gleaming silver blade. It was these twin blades that held the angels immobile.
Without fanfare, Yuliana withdrew the sword blades with a sharp yank. Then before the angels could react, she'd swung her arms in an arc for a quick diagonal slash.
The Warrior-Captain looked on astounded at the ease at which her blades passed through the angel's armoured forms. It was an expression Gazef had no doubt that was mimicked by the men of the Slane Theocracy.
Men, who looked on in equally stunned silence.
"Im-impossible, it can't be."
Gazef listened to the soft clink of armour at the approach of the other warrior.
Tiberius stood before the hunched-over warrior. His wolven helmet made a slow panning turn as he surveyed the remnants of the battlefield.
Without having to turn his head, Gazef knew what he was looking at. It was disrespectful for him not to look. Slowly the bearded soldier craned his head to see for himself.
As he took in the sight, Gazef felt the need to say something to commemorate the fallen soldiers. But he was interrupted.
"[Mass Greater Heal]"
An emerald aura enveloped the injured warrior and beyond. The glow spread out to encompass much of the grassland. The bodies of his fallen comrades glowed brightly as he did.
Gone were the stoic looks of the Warrior-Captain. Now surprise was etched firmly upon his features.
With the aura came the feeling of revitalization.
A sensation of comfortable warmth spread throughout Gazef. A moment later the pain that had racked his body was gone. It didn't ebb or fade. No, the pain just vanished entirely.
The heavy haze of fatigue that had once clouded his mind and blurred his vision disappeared. Now, in its place, he felt a renewed strength and vigor blossom within him.
The Warrior-Captain stared down at his hands.
The sword in his right hand felt so light to him. Not like the boulder it had just minutes ago. Experimentally Gazef balled his left hand into a fist and flexed his arm. Gone was the tension that had overwhelmed his muscles.
Forgoing any further exploration, Gazef's gaze turned to the field.
The majority of the once still bodies began to move.
Soldiers stretched their limbs, accompanied by grunts and groans. Some erupted into coughing fits as they inhaled deeply a fresh lungful of air. Then the men slowly rose to their feet and set about helping their comrades rise.
"W-what is the meaning of this?!"
Gazef's focus was hastily pulled away from his men to the formerly silent commander of the enemy forces.
Upon the hill, the scar-faced leader stared out at the happenings in the grassland. Though from the distance the look upon his face was hard to make out. Still, Gazef liked to imagine he wore an expression of utter shock and confusion.
"Heh."
The bearded warrior smirked as he turned to face his foes once more. Reaching up Gazef rubbed the bare patch of skin and the muscles beneath between his neck and right shoulder. Bending down he reclaimed his sword and gripped it with both hands. Gazef then placed one foot forwards, almost as if he were ready to lunge, and adopted a fighting stance keeping his blade parallel to his body.
"Now then, let's continue this dance where we left off."
"No," the Dragonoid interjected, "You and your men have fought bravely. But I think it's time you return to the village."
At the other's words, the Warrior-Captain relaxed his stance and turned with a look of disbelief upon his face.
"What? Surely you aren't serious, Sir Tiberius."
Gazef's eyes followed the movements of the silver-clad warrior as he strode passed him and to his original position.
"I am," Tiberius did not turn to address the Warrior-Captain directly. Instead, his gaze was focused on the troops of the Slane Theocracy. "Now you best be on your way."
"But…" the bearded warrior's words died in his throat.
Gazef stood gazing at the back of the armoured Dragonoid. Within him, a deep sense of foreboding crept into the very core of his being. It was the same sensation he'd felt once already when standing in the home of the village chief.
"Go now, Captain Stronoff. See to your men."
"Very well," Gazef gave a sharp nod and resheathed his sword, "Then I shall leave this matter to you."
Still, the Warrior-Captain turned away with a small amount of hesitation. Gazef's instincts were seldom and right now they were yelling at him to flee. Although it didn't sit well with him to leave a fight unfinished. But Gazef knew better than to interfere with powers that were beyond him.
Gazef bowed to the two figures before pivoting and striding away in the direction of the scattered warband.
Watching all this, Commander Nigun was growing rather irate at the thought of the unit's target getting away. No, he wasn't going to get away, not after coming so far. Not after the loss of the scout unit and coming so close to triumph.
"You think you and your little band of rabble can get away from us!"
He paused, turning his gaze to the two strangers who had interfered.
"I don't know who you are. But we'll deal with you after we're finished with Stronoff and his pitiful band… Angels! Ignore those foolish intruders, for now. Circle around and eliminate Stronoff. But first, kill his men. Make him watch it all over again!"
Having heard their master's commands the winged armoured beings sprang to life.
Like a swarm of metallic locusts, the angels set forth.
Their wings buzzed as the angels were whipped up into a frenzy. The mass sailed over the figures of Tiberius and Yuliana, ignoring them as commanded.
The Warrior-Captain whipped his gaze to the sky above as the angels flew overhead. Too high and too numerous for his attacks to do significant damage. Still, he had to do something.
Gazef's hand shot to his side to grip the hilt of his sword. Adrenaline flooded his body, his heart raced within the confines of his chest, and his muscles swelled. Within his mind, Gazef ran through the possibility of using his martial arts against the angels.
Ahead of the angelic swarm the men of the warband scattered. Some sought to find a weapon with which to defend themselves. While others simply sought a way to escape the coming attack.
There came a sound like a thunderclap and a gust of wind so strong that it nearly bowled Gazef off his feet.
Shaking his head, the Warrior-Captain attempted to clear his surprise and regain his bearings. Straightening himself up he could only gaze on with shock at the sight before him.
His men stood motionless, unharmed but seemingly in a daze.
Some of them sat on the ground, Gazef could only guess it was having been knocked over by the gale-force wind. Strangely all wore the same expression of gaped awe.
Following their gaze, Gazef found the silver armoured figure of Tiberius standing before the warband. Within his right hand, the longsword Gazef had seen previously sheathed at his side. Gazef examined the unique appearance of the weapon. His gaze was particularly drawn to the seemingly molten core of the blade. The white-hot metal seemed to flow like liquid down the length of the longsword.
A multitude of lights danced upon the surface of the foreign warrior's silver armour.
It was the intensity of the light and the way it rippled across the armour that soon attracted his gaze. In Gazef's mind, he knew the ambient light wasn't bright enough and its direction wasn't consistent with such an effect.
Lifting his eyes skywards the Warrior-Captian beheld the scene above.
The sky over the grassland was awash with a cloud of glowing dust. This glittering cloud that flittered on the soft breeze was all that remained of the score of angels.
He killed them all! And with an attack, I couldn't even see. His speed and strength are beyond remarkable.
Quickly recovering his composure, Gazef moved with haste to reunite with his men. Rushing forwards he strode passed the wolven armoured protector and soon stood with his men.
"All of you listen up!" Gazef's baritone voice rose above the mumbles and garnered the attention of all. "Gather your gear and regroup at the village."
"But sir, what of our fallen?"
Gazef turned to the speaker, finding it was Vice-Captain Garro who addressed him.
"For now we have no choice. We must leave them here."
Making such a decision was incredibly difficult for the Warrior-Captain. But at this moment, his concern was for the living. There wasn't anything more to be done for the deceased, save for receiving the proper rights for burial.
Still, it was a painful thing to leave the bodies of his fallen comrades behind like this.
Looking about at the faces of the members of the warband, he could see his feelings were mirrored on the faces of many. The sour expressions worn by numerous individuals told of their bitter thoughts on this matter. Though like Gazef, they too knew that this was not the time to dwell over it.
So under the ever-watchful gaze of the unit's commander the men scrambled. They moved across the field grabbing only what they could carry before turning and making a beeline for the village.
"You heard the Captain!" Vice-Captain Garro clapped his hands in time with his words as he urged the men onwards. "Double time it, everyone back to the village!"
The Warrior-Captain was the last to leave the battlefield.
Gazef paused and turned taking a final look back at the pair of foreign warriors. Warriors who now faced the opponents that had minutes ago decimated his unit so easily.
And for one brief moment, Gazef pity for the men of the Slane Theocracy for he knew what was coming.
Turning away he chased after his men, following them back to the village of Carne.
