As they prepared for the largest battle they had ever faced, Saffron handed Zena a sword as a backup in case she needed to engage in close combat with the enemy. He had promised to protect her until his last breath. Zena felt a slight pang of fear and uncertainty, knowing the high risk of failure, but she tried to push aside those negative thoughts and focus on the task at hand.
The weapon that Saffron placed in Zena’s hand was a large and slim blade made of obsidian, with a warped shape. They wrapped the grip in a strange, white ray skin, providing a secure and comfortable hold. This weapon had a sharp edge on only one side, making it ideal for slicing and dicing, while also enabling Zena to block incoming attacks.
The sword that Saffron placed in her hand had a curved, barbed cross-guard that offered ample protection to her hands and life. Decorative skulls on both sides of the cross-guard suggest that the weapon was a custom order for a prominent figure. The grip was wrapped in strange, white ray skin, and the blade itself was large, slim, and made of obsidian, with a sharp edge that made it perfect for slicing and dicing, as well as blocking attacks. A symbol of true greatness, the sword maker's signature, was bore by the massive pommel.
The emblem of the owner's house is engraved on the blade, which is thought to provide additional strength to the weapon and its user.
Faced with a severe blow from the attack of Feral Lich's army, their forces were now preparing for the most significant battle they had ever faced. Despite this setback, they were more determined than ever to defeat the enemy and return home. Thanks to Dagiel’s efforts, they had secured aid from the Asmodel angels. Zena couldn’t see them anywhere, only the Purity Space Fleet. She turned to Saffron and asked, “Do you know where the Asmodel angels are?”
Saffron’s face paled a few shades as he replied, “You’ll know when you see them. Asmodel angels aren’t involved in wars, but after Dagiel informed them about Feral Lich’s opposition, they helped.” Zena remained quiet, thinking about everything she had gone through since being on the medical schedule. As they advanced towards the enemy’s stronghold, a surge of determination filled Zena. She wouldn’t let her friends’ sacrifices be in vain. She would fight with all her might for their sake.
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The earth quakes under the weight of a massive army, comprising 250,000 soldiers marching forward in unison. Their collective footsteps reverberate through the ground, causing even the fallen to sense the impending onslaught.
Despite the deafening noise, the soldiers converse amongst themselves. Some speak of their loved ones and homesickness, while others discuss their eagerness for the upcoming battle. Despite being a mixture of separate factions, they have a common aim: to defeat the enemy and return home.
The soldiers, amidst the deafening noise, communicate with each other. Some are reminiscing about their homes, while others are eagerly expecting the upcoming battle. Despite their disparate backgrounds, they all share a common aim - to defeat the enemy and return to their loved ones.
They composed the vanguard of the army of eager foot soldiers, armed with spears and large shields, ready to engage the enemy head-on. Following them are skilled archers, poised to unleash a barrage of arrows at short range. Bringing up the rear are the elite soldiers, mounted on fearsome Mammoth-Dholes, ready to charge forward and crush any resistance.
As Zena and Saffron drew nearer, a shooting star streaked across the sky, and a shower of flowers bloomed on the ground before the leading angels. “Behold,” Saffron exclaimed, “the Asmodel angels’ arrival!” Zena closed her eyes for only a moment, and when she opened them again, a tranquil being with luminous eyes appeared before her.
The angels scrutinized the army with a glance that seemed to penetrate their very souls.
They cloaked the air in a shimmering aura of liquid gold wings. The angels’ bodies were lean and muscular, moving with robotic precision, and adorned with only the barest of clothing. In one hand, each angel held a sword, its purpose shrouded in mystery, yet entrancing to Zena’s eyes.
Zena gazed upon the angels’ faces, and a deep sadness etched upon them was hard to miss. Yet, as she turned to Dagiel, she glimpsed hope flickering in his smile. Perhaps, she thought, they stood a chance against the army after all.