“Magus… Please let the others be alright.”

Valerian sighed inwardly - and outwardly, though he was too deep into Roya to notice what his body was doing. He wished he had finished his studies sooner. If he had 18 more years then he would have learned how to check on his friends from this distance like his higher ranking officers could.

As a Soother, his focus had to constantly be on the minds around him. He and the other Soothers had done well to keep the legion calm, although there was some unrest at the centre of the 1st cohort. It was hard to exactly pinpoint who exactly it was that was radiating the emotion; it was a mix of fear and dread but not the kind that people usually radiated when faced with a threat like a Daimons. It was the kind of fear that matched Valerian’s own - fear for someone else's safety. Although, in addition to his own worry for his friends, Valerian was feeling a plethora of fears piling on. Fear of being attacked by Daimons amongst other things, though, that small by comparison to what he thought Ado and Rufus were going through. They were good fighters - better than him, sure - nonetheless, his mind raced with the possibilities. What if they got ambushed or ran into a trap? And even if they did make it out alright in the end, what if they ran into more Daimons the legion might have overlooked on their way back?

“Corvus, your Soothing spell is wearing off,” came the voice of one Soother several rows behind him.

Well that explained it. He turned his attention behind him and saw that his spell was indeed fading from his Mindscape. It wasn’t his turn to rest yet and he wasn’t keen on disturbing the next Soother just yet. Nothing a bit of Focus potion couldn't fix. Finding his vials of Focus potion wasn't a problem for him. A good trick he and others who spent their time looking outside of Tirra learned was doing things with his Tirran eyes closed. That was how he and the other Soothers managed to march with their eyes closed to Tirra. He reached down into his pouch and tipped the vial into his mouth…

Oh no… This one’s empty already?!

Only a drip touched his tongue. Feeling around, he realised he was now down to one full vial.

The memory of him handing Adonis one of his potions appeared in his Mindscape. Part of him regretted giving up that potion in the moment but those thoughts quickly went away when he saw Ado thank him and smile. Wait. Did he actually smile? Alright sure, maybe his recall of events had been slightly embellished but that wasn’t important. Ado was tired and needed it more after all. At least the Soothers could rest.

After renewing the Soothing spell, Valerian took a deep breath and those worries that drifted around him faded out of sight; they were still there but just pushed into the background enough so that he could focus on the job at hand. He remained vigilant until it was finally his turn to rest. And rest he did. He closed his eyes to every realm. Pure darkness. A soothing reprieve for his tired eyes. And thanks to the renewed Soothing spell, his thoughts did not dwell on his fears. It reassured him that Adonis and Rufinus were fine. They were strong. They weren’t the kind of people who’d break a promise either. Yes, everything was going to be fine…

“Val, it’s my turn. Let me rest.” came the voice of the Soother who had been covering for him.

He felt like he had hardly recovered much Focus. The first thing he did was open his eyes to Tirra to check his Chronograph on his gauntlet. The correct amount of chronocycles had passed for him to switch.

Sigh…

He was going to need that extra Focus potion after all. He eyed the others. Quite frankly those in the rows inside had not used any of their focus potions.

“Ex-excuse me. W-Wulfgifu?” he whispered to the soldier next to him.

She looked at him, giving him an odd sideways glance with her red, hawk-like eyes. He could tell without needing to look into Roya that she didn’t like how she used her name. Obviously, she wanted to be left alone, especially from the likes of a Ludcetan like him. He’d have no luck asking her so he looked over to the soldiers on either side of him. Surely they’d be generous? Right? Perhaps they’d be willing to help, but Valerian felt that he’d be bothering them.

“Val? What are you doing? Everyone’s getting nervous again.”

Oh, right.

So he shut his eyes and opened them to Roya, hoping that he wouldn’t have to empty his next vial too soon before they encountered some real danger. As silly as it was, he hoped that there wouldn’t be much danger ahead of him. Ah, but there was no need to worry himself with those thoughts, right? Or was that just the soothing spell talking? Either way, he had a job to do. Just keep everyone calm.

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At the centre of the head, Laevinus was feeling anxious. Minoridaimons aside, this place was far too quiet compared to all the other Daimon attacks. He had expected to at least have encountered Caputidaimons to lead the stragglers. He felt that there must be something big waiting for them. His gut instinct told him that much. If this was the work of the Princidaimon, he wondered if it was biding its time to strike. But why wait for so long? He felt that they were being lured into an obvious trap. But he couldn’t turn back, nor could he just give the order to flatten the city, not with the possibility of survivors and the possibility to learn more about their enemy. The Magisterium was depending on them but at the same time how could he keep his promise to High Magister Flavius Pavonikos?

“Magister Bellaxus?”

The Tibunus’ voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What is it?”

At the very least, the younger Pavonikos was glad that the Magister had responded. There was a tiredness in his mentor’s eyes that had grown progressively worse as they proceeded through the city. It wasn’t the kind that was the result of heavy magic usage - the Magister had been reserving his Focus for when it mattered - instead, it was the kind of tiredness that came with constant anxiety. In turn, it made Pavonikos worry. What was weighing so heavily on the Magister’s mind that the Soother’s spells couldn't ward away?

“Tribunus?”

Pavonikos closed his eyes briefly.

“Magister, is there something troubling you?”

Laevinus didn’t respond right away.

“I’m fine, Tribunus. Why do you ask?”

“You seem on edge. Shall I notify the Soothers to administer a stronger spell?”

“There’s no need,” Laevinus sighed, “Let them reserve their Focus, Tribunus. I can take care of this.”

Pavonikos wanted to press him more but he said nothing else. This was neither the time nor the place.

“Is that all?”

“Er… Yes, Magister.”

The two opened their eyes once again. Pavonikos had noticed a Royan spell faintly fade from Laevinus’ eyes. The Magister was partly thankful that the Tribunus had pulled him up on his visible fear, but part of him was upset at himself for letting those thoughts take hold of him. He had to keep it together, for everyone’s sake.

They had come to a crossroads between four crescent buildings. By design, the Crafts District had many winding paths that led citizens to see more of what it had to offer. Lidantium, in particular, had illusory paths which seemed to lead to one place, only to land someone right before craftsmen or entertainers. There was no straight path from here to the Scholar’s district and normally people would have traveled through the Praeterium Gates dotted around the city. All of the gates were shut off - a defense mechanism during times of war.

“Which path should we take?” asked the Tribunus aloud.

Taking a moment, scanning each direction to find the shortest and surest path to the Scholar’s district, Laevinus finally answered, “Forward.”

It didn’t seem so straightforward at first; the path forward actually led to a balcony section overlooking their destination. There was a great gap between the districts, but Laevinus and the others knew that they could sacrifice a bit of Focus to form their own path.

They passed through the large foundations that marked the Architect’s Sector. Some parts of the incomplete concept buildings retained their initial shape. The rest had become so heavily warped that they almost resembled twisted coral of corroded metal, glass and stone, covered in the same nerves that covered the entire city. Enclosing the space were the two crescent buildings; once lively stalls and galleries where other artisans and craftsmen would showcase their skills and inventions, now empty husks filled with more pulsing flesh. The smell of food and perfumes had long been replaced by the metallic scent of ichor and rot.

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Several of the Draekslanni were beginning to tire already.

“Magister,” Pavonikos spoke up, “The Draekslanni are beginning to run out of Focus. We should let them rest.”

Laevinus scanned around. The eyes of the head were indeed tiring but he didn’t want to stop now, nor did he want to risk letting them rest in rotation as the Soothers had. There weren’t enough Draekslanni in the legion to allow that.

“We cannot afford to lose our eyes, Tribunus. Your hypothesis has been proven that much.”

A tinge of guilt filled Pavonikos. It had been his suggestion that had led to the overuse of the Draekslanni after all.

“But Magister, if we continue like this we may very well lose our eyes. Surely there must be something we can do.”

Laevinus thought for a moment. His Tribunus had a point. If the Draekslanni tired themselves to the point of exhaustion they’d have to continue the rest of the way mostly blind as most of the other legions had done in the past.

“Very well,” Laevinus said, taking out a vial of Focus potion from his pouch.

“To all those who have more than three Focus potions. I ask that you give up one of your vials for the Draekslanni,” he ordered.

Pavonikos nodded. He could spare a few more.

The vials were passed along to the Draekslanni. It would be more than enough to tide them over. At least that's what Laevinus hoped. He knew all too well that anything could happen in a situation like this. What if the soldiers he took those vials from would need them more when it mattered? If there was a reliable spell for foresight then he would have used it now.

He stood by his decision, unable to afford any surprises from Daimons. It was always the ambushes that hit a legion hard. He knew that all too well. His scarred hand began to itch each time he thought about the last time he led his previous legion against Daimons.

No. This time would be different, for they had eyes against the Daimons now.

Straight away, a bolt of lightning shot out from the head of the legion.

“They're in the stalls!” shouted one of the Draekslanni

“There's several in that building!”

The rest were quick to follow. They all began shooting projectiles towards those areas, demolishing the buildings entirely. Like disturbed hornets, the Daimons sprang out from their hiding spots. Minoridaimons scrambled on all fours, casting all manner of spells at the legion, but the legion’s Golden Dome had been assembled, absorbing hit after hit.

The legion began to change its shape from a line to a four-winged formation. The first cohort manoeuvred to the tail end, leaving the 13th at the head. Valerian scrambled to catch up with the rest of the 13th. The other cohorts making up each wing began to spread out, and the Golden Dome spread out along with them.

Several figures emerged alongside the horde. Just looking at them made the Draekslanni from the 13th wince in slight pain. Unlike the other Daimons, these ones were not a mess of nerves but instead had flesh, fur and scales, taking on more stable, chimeric forms.

“C-c-a…”

Valerian’s mouth hung agape, his Soothing spells flickering for just a moment. They were indeed Caputidaimons facing them. As his eyes darted around he discovered three, each leading the legion of Daimons from the South, the East and West...

Then, a fourth smashed through one of the crescent buildings. It charged towards them; a beast with many twisted Monoceri horns upon its headless bulk, shooting a barrage of fire and ice. A multitude of stolen eyes circled each knee upon its many legs. Seeing it coming, the head of the legion formed several thick, spiked walls to slow the Caputidaimon’s charge. Each wall exploded into rubble, sending some of the debris bouncing off of the Golden Dome. A few soldiers noticed that some of the stone spikes had damaged the eyes on the front legs. More spiked defenses rose aimed at the legs of the beast. It stumbled but kept galloping forward, the eyes remained unharmed and its horns were aglow. It had erected its own shield around itself and smashed through the barriers. The 13th began to brace themselves, all concentrating their focus into their part of the dome. The beast crashed against the shield, forming a small crack with the continuous barrage. Valerian felt afraid, but then he could feel the fears of his fellow soldiers. He was reminded of his purpose. He couldn't afford to let his fears get the best of him and watch the rest of his fellow soldiers fall apart. So he closed his eyes again and set forth to calm them down.

Cracks were quickly forming, especially near the Draekslanni who already felt weak from their constant vigilance. The beast continued to push its horns through the Golden Dome until the barrage entered the Dome. Tribunus Pavonikos put his efforts into healing the wounded in rapid succession, numbing the pain of those caught in the crossfire. The 13th receded backward, forced to move the Golden Dome inward to slide away from the horns and patch the holes they had left. Several Minoridaimons had also slipped through the cracks, wounding several soldiers with lightning and pellets of stone.

In Roya, Valerian could see Daimons appearing. Once a Daimon’s physical body had been destroyed, they would slip back into Roya and prey on the minds of soldiers to feast on their emotions or even make an attempt to inhabit their minds - such attempts to possess a human rarely ever worked on non-Maleficari. Right in front of him, Valerian saw several preying upon the exhausted Draekslanni. Their mental shields had fallen just enough that the fallen Daimons began swarming around them. Valerian was quick to act. Steeling himself, he formed a thick wall around them. That wall became impregnable fortresses, insulating their emotions against the swarm of ultraviolet beasts. Here, in this world of thoughts, the possibilities were endless so long as you had control over those thoughts. The Daimons turned their attention to him. At first, he unintentionally let a bit of fear slip through. As they charged straight towards him, he envisioned another spell; memories of being forced to endure constant staring at plain white walls as part of his studies into Kyrus infused themselves with his shield. Repulsed, the Daimons retreated away from him. One couldn’t really kill a Daimon -no one had ever succeeded yet- but they could be warded away with the most unappetising emotions of boredom or calm. Relief and confidence spread through him as he watched the Daimons escape. He decided to push them back further to protect the others from their influence.

One pellet hit Valerian in the chest. He cried out mostly in shock as he was pulled back to Tirra, confronted with more chaos around him. Many others lay at his feet and those around him began to lose their resolve moments after he lost concentration. Some began to scatter; without his Soothing spell maintained, fear took over. They became choice prey for the Daimons that entered the dome. One of the Minoridaimons turned its attention towards Valerian, nerves flicking about like antennae tasting his fear in the air. In desperation, Valerian hastily formed the spell, Fulgruis at the thing. The meagre streak of lightning was easily glanced off of its target. Valerian felt himself freeze up, holding a poorly-formed blade of iron in his trembling hands. Warm ichor trickled down his nose with each painful breath. With each step closer, he could hardly visualise another spell nor will himself to move. He could see its beady silver-slate eyes beginning to glow with an indecipherable violet spell. His last thoughts were of his friends.

I’m so sorry… I failed…

But then he heard a shrill, yet melodic sound cut through the air.

Several feather-like blades of light sliced into the Daimon’s head. The Daimon flinched for a moment but before it could recover, its head exploded with light and it fell backward. Valerian collapsed on his knees, barely acknowledging his wound until he took a breath and felt the agonising pain of ichor filling his lungs once again. Hacking up gold, he struggled to get his thoughts in order enough to use a healing spell until he saw glowing symbols circling his wound. The pain quickly subsided and he could breathe again. He looked up to see the blue-black neck of a Monoceros and the Tribunus’ glowing eyes over him.

“We need you, Soother. Get behind the others!” ordered Pavonikos.

That was enough to snap Valerian back to reality. With a firm nod, he stood up and scrambled several rows inward. He wasn’t sure if they were going to make it… No, he and the others made a promise. He was going to make it. Everyone else was counting on him, so he couldn’t afford to panic. After downing another vial of Focus potion, Valerian shut his eyes and poured all of his Focus into calming the others.

Meanwhile, Tribunus Pavonikos was still at the front, tending to the wounded whilst running down Daimons with their Monoceros companion, Cyane. They looked at the scene before them. The 13th was being pushed back, barely given a chance to strike as all of their focus was on maintaining their side of the dome. At this rate, the Caputidaimon was sure to shatter the shield down eventually. Pavonikos gritted their teeth as they wracked their brain for a solution. They couldn’t hold out like this forever.

Laevinus’ heart skipped a beat when he turned his attention over to the head of the legion. Looming over the 13th cohort, one of the Caputidaimonii had smashed its many horns hard against the Golden Dome with a resounding bang. He felt stuck, wanting to gallop forward to protect Pavonikos. But he couldn’t leave when his soldiers needed him too.

“Magister!”

His eyes were torn away from the head of the legion. They were attacked on all sides from an immense number of Daimons, but what caused the legion the most trouble was the Caputidaimon leading the attack from the South; a hound-like thing with many heads. It barked orders at the lesser Daimons surrounding it whilst the other head's eyes were aglow with an indecipherable spell. The Daimons within its many views led by it seemed to pulse with terrifying strength as each head focused on them. Their shields were more difficult to break let alone crack. If this continued, the soldiers would tire and more Daimons would bleed through.

Then, Laevinus caught sight of a bolt of his soldier’s lightning spell ricocheting into one of the heads. The head was quickly fried and the Daimon was momentarily stunned. Did it not have a shield? Laevinus noted. He wondered if it was solely focusing on enhancing the other Daimons around it. Perhaps that’s why it spent most of its time hiding behind the Minoridaimons.

“3rd division! Fire at the Caputidaimon!” came his order, loud and clear to the cohort in front of him.

They followed, apart from the cohort in front focusing on cutting down the Daimons biting at the shields. None of the soldiers could get a clear shot of it as it pounced to the cover of the other Daimons, several heads ate up the dead or dying to form a new head, as if it were an awful mix between a hydra and a warg. But with each head that they cut down, the strength and shields of the Minoridaimons momentarily weakened. Using the small window of opportunity, the other divisions met the Daimons at the front of the Golden Dome with Brightsteel and the full fury of the elements.

Laevinus gritted his teeth. They couldn’t keep this up. Not with this many Daimons. He could see the Duxii of the other cohorts struggling on their respective sides.

No. I can’t let that happen! Not again…

Shaking off his doubts he focused on the Caputidaimon once more. It had perched itself up high within another newly raised structure where ranged Minoridaimons had taken cover. The building was made of some kind of jagged rock cut in organic patterns. No matter how many times the legion shot down the building, the Daimons would just re-erect it. Laevinus’ eyes narrowed. If they could change the environment in their favour, then so could he.

“1st Cohort Monoceri, prepare to cast Nebelos!”

The mounted soldiers and their Monoceri stood to attention. Laevinus ordered the 3rd to hold their fire, watching the Caputidaimon carefully. It finally stopped moving, standing at the highest point of the building whilst shielded by other Daimons. From there, it could Focus on more Daimons below it.

“Now!”

At once the horns of the Monoceri flashed as brightly as their own eyes. Gold mist formed right around the occupied structure. All of the ichor in the air was drawn towards the Caputidaimon no matter where it went, until the North of the battlefield was covered in a thick fog. Sure enough, the strength of the advancing Minoridaimons dwindled and all of them were quickly defeated with ease. Once the mist had cleared, the Caputidaimon was met with the sight of its forces thinned out. The creature’s heads began to snarl as its stolen eyes met Laevinus’ own.