Chapter 25: Embers of the Battlefield

Rukla Bonecrusher and his party of twenty hobgoblins moved as one, leaping down from the rooftops in a synchronized attack. Their plan was simple yet effective--overwhelm the mysterious figure before he could cast a spell. Even the most skilled mages required time, even if only seconds, to channel their magic. If they could keep up an unrelenting assault, the stranger wouldn’t be able to retaliate with magic.

However, they failed to understand that this mysterious warrior possessed more than mere spells.

Without hesitation, the mystery man drew his sword in one fluid motion. The speed of his draw was so immense that the sheer force of the movement unleashed a powerful shockwave, slicing through the air with a deafening roar. The resulting pressure crashed into the charging hobgoblins, sending them tumbling backwards, flipping end over end, and leaving them momentarily dazed.

Rukla, the leader, was the first to shake off the effects. He gritted his teeth, his sharp mind already analyzing what had happened.

"What in the abyss was that? It wasn’t a magical aura… was that pure physical strength?!" he muttered in disbelief.

But there was no time for hesitation. "Don’t stop now! Keep the attack going!" he roared, regaining his footing.

The hobgoblins obeyed, launching themselves at the stranger once more. The mystery man, however, met each of their strikes with seamless precision, deflecting them effortlessly. Every movement of his sword was calculated, swift, and devastatingly efficient. He wielded no magic, yet his mastery of swordsmanship alone kept the relentless hobgoblins at bay. Their weapons clashed against his, but none could land a decisive blow.

Despite their failures, the goblins had achieved one thing: they had kept the stranger too preoccupied to cast any spells.

Recognizing an opportunity, Rukla smirked. "If we can’t cut him down with steel, let’s see how he handles magic!"

Gathering mana into his hands, he conjured a devastating spell, one that fused fire and wind, complementary elements that enhanced each other The air crackled with energy as he unleashed a roaring torrent of dark, violent flames, streaked with eerie purple embers, straight at the man amid his sword dance.

But before the flames could consume its target, a counterspell arrived and rumbled through the battlefield. A fusion of wind and water, the magic clashed against Rukla’s fiery attack, nullifying it upon impact. The elements reacted violently, exploding into a thick, scalding mist that quickly spread across the area, obscuring everything in sight.

From within the dense fog, a voice rang out.

"Looks like we had the same idea, General Michael," a woman’s voice remarked.

The mystery man--now identified as Michael-- flew a top higher ground, on the rooftop of the same building where the unknown helper stood although at a slightly higher elevation. As he landed his voice rang out. His sharp senses had already detected her presence way back. "I noticed someone with a significant mana pool trailing me earlier… So, it was you, then?" he mused.

Standing on the rooftop, Sharla was astonished to see Michael pass by her unnoticed amidst the dispersing mist below. She smirked. I heard from Commander Azure when our paths crossed in the hallway. After that, I came straight here. But I did not notice you until just a moment ago." Her expression turned serious. "Never mind that--why are you holding back?"

Michael chuckled, shaking his head. "Holding back? Well, miss, I’ll admit these guys aren’t much in terms of magical strength, but their tactics are commendable. They nearly had me on the defensive in melee combat alone. And that last spell of his… If you hadn’t barged in like you did, I might’ve incinerated them all with my light magic."

"Good thing I did, then. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have any stragglers left to interrogate," Sharla quipped back. "You’re welcome." Michael gave a chuckling nod as both were having a flurry of rather witty remarks with each other.

As they conversed, the hobgoblins frantically searched through the mist for their targets. Frustrated, Rukla clenched his fist and unleashed another fire spell, sending scorching heat across the battlefield. In an instant, the mist evaporated revealing all the combatants once more.

Michael smirked as he cracked his knuckles. "Looks like the conversation is over."

Without another word, he and Sharla leapt down from the rooftop, descending into the fray. But as they did, an explosion rocked the area. From the direction of Arc’s location, a violent burst of rubble and purple-tinted fire erupted into the backdrop of the dark starry sky.

Michael's eyes widened. "Arc!" he called, urgency gripping his voice. He turned to Sharla. "Go ahead and check on him--I’ll handle things here."

She gave a curt nod, and as they landed, their paths diverged. Sharla surged forward, weaving through the battlefield with precise, fluid movements. She summoned low-intensity water spells using them to put her opponents off balance clearing her path, and slipping past the goblins with ease.

Seeing her intent, Rukla and two of his goblins quickly moved to intercept. They fired a blazing fire spell at her exposed blind spot.

Michael, noticing the attack, reacted instantly. He raised his left hand, channelling a potent yet simple light spell into his left index finger. A series of brilliant white beams shot forth, piercing through the two goblins before they could react. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless. One of the beams grazed Rukla’s right ear, causing him to flinch. While another intercepted the fire spell mid-course, dispersing its momentum and causing it to fizzle out quickly.

Michael’s gaze hardened as he stepped forward his voice rang out across the battlefield, firm and commanding. "Your business is with me. Let the lady pass."

Rukla snarled, clutching his wounded ear. His eyes burned with rage as he turned his full attention to Michael. The battle was far from over.

The area surrounding the eastern wall was a desolate wasteland of shattered stone and scorched earth, starkly contrasting the once-thriving outpost behind the defensive perimeter. Smoke curled from the ruins of fallen fortifications and buildings, with many stone structures still relatively intact. The scent of charred wood and iron filled the air. Broken weapons and shattered armour littered the ground, remnants of skirmishes fought only minutes before. The setting twilight cast a blood-red glow over the field, illuminating the figures of soldiers hurriedly fortifying their defensive lines under their commanders’ orders.

At the heart of the encampment, a makeshift war table had been set up--little more than a large wooden crate with a map of the battlefield unrolled across its surface. The flickering torchlight made the inked outlines of terrain and troop movements dance like phantoms across the parchment. Commander Azure stood at the table, surrounded by his closest confidants. His expression was inscrutable, his piercing gaze scrutinizing the map with calculated intensity.

“Not even an hour has gone by and they did this much damage already, regardless the response time of the units is still commendable despite the enemy having the element of surprise. Regardless, all the pieces are now in place,” he said, his voice steady, yet carrying the weight of impending battle.

One of his officers, a seasoned knight named Knight Commander Veldrin, stepped forward. A veteran with years of warfare etched into the lines of his face, he studied the map intently before crossing his arms. “The reports are clear--this goblin commander is no ordinary foe. Our forces have held them for as long as possible. But they are now exhausted. The Knight-Captains and Knight-Commanders may still possess the skill to challenge him, but their mana reserves are depleted They will not last long in direct engagement. It appears you have already anticipated this, Commander.”

Azure nodded, already having reached the same conclusion. “That’s exactly why I ordered a full retreat to the defensive line. Our Reserve knights will hold the formation further reinforced by the retreating eastern garrison units. However, only those still capable of fighting at full strength will remain behind and engage the foe head-on. The rest will reinforce the line and recover as commanded.”

Veldrin exhaled sharply. “A sound strategy, but that leaves few to take the offensive.” He met Azure’s gaze, knowing exactly what his commander was about to say.

Azure straightened, his armour gleaming faintly under the firelight. "I will handle the threat personally. Given the current blunder in the base defences, and as I am in charge, I will take full responsibility."

The gathered officers exchanged glances. Some tensed, knowing the risk. Others nodded in silent agreement. Veldrin, however, narrowed his eyes. “Commander, with all due respect, we can’t afford to lose you in this battle at least let us assist you in your endeavours.”

“No, It has to be me. Besides I have already assigned each of you new tasks.” Azure’s voice was firm. “The enemy commander is the linchpin of their forces. If we take him down, their formation will collapse.”

Veldrin let out a low sigh but didn’t argue further. Instead, he placed a firm hand on the table. “Then at least allow me to hold the line in your absence. I’ll make sure no reinforcements get past us.”

Azure gave a small, appreciative nod. “I trust you, Veldrin. Hold them back until I return. Take charge in my stead like always.”

With that, Azure turned, his cape billowing slightly as he strode toward the battlefield alone. The air was thick with tension, the distant sound of clashing steel and monstrous roars growing louder as he approached the frontlines. His sword was already in hand, his grip firm as he prepared to meet whatever foe awaited him.

What lay ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear--this battle was far from over.

Sharla swiftly covered most of the ground and arrived at Arc's room. As she traversed the corridors, she observed the once magnificent hallway, now reduced to a ruin of charred remnants. The purple flames that had ravaged the area were mostly extinguished, their eerie glow fading into the smouldering soot that clung to the cracked walls. The scent of burnt wood and scorched stone still lingered heavily in the air, a grim reminder of the destruction that had taken place.

She moved cautiously, her steps light, bracing herself for the worst. As she approached the entrance to Arc’s room, her breath hitched at the devastation before her. The chamber was in utter chaos, a mere shadow of its former self. Not a piece of furniture remained unscathed, except for a partially broken bed that preserved some semblance of its original form. The Window the walls around it and even parts of the ceiling were blown off.

“Took you long enough, Sharla.”

The voice cut through the silence, making her heart skip a beat. She turned quickly, eyes locking onto Arc, who sat amidst the wreckage. Relief washed over her as she saw that he was still alive, though his condition was far from ideal. His clothes were tattered, his body marred with burns and deep bruises, yet his expression remained unfazed. Despite the scarring injuries, she knew they were treatable—even without magic.

“You okay, boy?” she asked, her tone gruff yet tinged with concern.

Arc let out a dry hissing chuckle, wincing slightly as he struggled to adjust his position. “Ha… far from it. The barrier is out for the count. I’m exposed to mana.” He gave her a pointed look while his hand indicated the dismal condition of the room, his smirk a blend of amusement and frustration. “Do I look fine to you?”

Sharla exhaled sharply, stepping closer as she examined his injuries more closely. He was holding a book in his left hand, his eyes flicking between its pages desperately trying to find something useful. It was almost as if he wasn’t even fully concerned with his well-being but in reality it was completely the opposite.

“Reading at a time like this?” she muttered. “You’ve got some weird habits I must add.”

Arc shrugged, grimacing slightly at the pain in his shoulders. “I’ve got nothing better to do while waiting for my imminent demise. Can't you see I am looking for a cure or a solution in this half-burnt book?”

Sharla rolled her eyes. “Dramatic as ever. Can you stand? We'll have to move you into a new isolation barrier.”

Arc shut the book with one hand, tapping the worn cover with his fingers. “That depends. You plan to carry me if I say no?”

Sharla smirked, folding her arms. “Not a chance. You can crawl if you have to.” Despite her remark, she lent Arc her hand and helped him move.

Arc sighed and attempted to push himself up, his muscles protesting with every movement. His body trembled slightly, but he steadied himself, his expression hardening with determination. Whatever had happened here, it had pushed him to his limit. The real question now: how would he extricate himself from this predicament?

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