[1st Fleet of the United Continent's Shield: The 8th Hour, Aboard the VI Emperor's Abstinens]

"I was wondering how they intended to pay us," one of the mercenaries grumbled.

"Don't worry about getting paid," Artemis grit her teeth as she spoke, "The alliance won't break a deal with the living."

Those around her either grunted or nodded in agreement, but no more words were said. Waves broke before the bow of the galley, and the beat of drums synchronized with the pulling of oars in an oceanic dirge. The shade below the canopy that overhung the forecastle darkened beneath a floating fortress that advanced at a slightly faster pace than the fleet.  No national military worked aboard the many monoremes sent forth, instead, their soldiers laid amidst the charred husk of a once great city, waiting for a weakened enemy to besiege them.

Artemis herself was aboard a bireme on the left flank. There were triremes in the center of the diamond, but even the elite aboard them would do little but buy time against the fully mobilized demon army. The better decision would have been to concentrate all their forces on defence, forcing the enemy to fight at a disadvantage, but politicians never understood warfare outside of gaining three Ps: profit, prestige, and power. This particular decision was made with the first P in mind, the idea being that mercenaries won't ask for money if they are dead; a method that allowed a costless reduction of potential threats both near and far.

An elf walked beside Artemis, her gaze flitted over the winged crest embossed upon her chest plate before returning to her eyes.

"Demon subjugation, repelling invasion, or..." the elf prompted Artemis to fill in what her clan, Valkyrie's Fist, had been officially contracted for, "Administrative aid?"

"Elimination of the Demon Lord," Artemis saw no reason to withhold any information, "The entire clan is spread amongst the formation to ensure success."

The elf smiled to herself, turned to face her head on, beaming luminously as she replied, "Try not to take 300 years this time, okay?"

All unease faltered,

distress could only decay;

her eyes heaven's gift.

Artemis barely concealed her unexpected levity by forcing herself to reply.

"We never fail."

"Then I'll be in your ca..."

The sky blazed with concentrated mana. Blinded for only an instant, there wasn't a single living member of the assault that didn't doubt their eyes as what pulled into focus was not the one sky they knew all their lives, but a bifurcated heaven, divided by an impossible tower. Overhead, the floating island accelerated.

The demons' summon had insulted the Angelic race that dominated the skies. No one present had expected them to be so easily provoked, but as their towers, even without the advantage of a floating continent, had outclassed history's mightiest stronghold in height, there was no precedent. That fortress was their best defence against the enemy's dark magic; the orders to row harder echoed across the rolling waves.

Not allowed to hear the comforting sounds of their own defencive barriers, an unnatural tone shook the fleet. It began low, rose steadily higher, held, and lowered again. It seemed to repeat with no end; a herald of unknown threats. Artemis overheard that the base of the tower was just becoming visible on the horizon, and estimated it would be a maximum of 20 minuets before the fleet could engage, although the floating fortress would arrive long before then.

An aura of death began to emanate from area beyond the tower which grew by the second. The Demon Lord had probably sacrificed his entire army in order to gain control of that tower, perhaps to counter the floating fortress that rapidly approached. As if to confirm that the tower had, in fact, pierced the very heavens; staccato, thunderous roars echoed across the expanse, and meteors rained down upon its base. Stone, ice, lighting, and fire rained upon it from above. Great waves clawed and pulled at its base, and for an instant it was encased in thick ice before quickly shedding the cover under the heat of the sun, all the while, bellowing its mournful song.

An unknown voice could suddenly be heard, male, baying, it spoke briefly, changed language and began again. A voice called out to turn back, not from the tower, but from their own. Similar pleas began on the other boats around the same time, all claiming the tower wasn't the enemy, and that they needed to turn back. An alliance inquisitor revealed himself, beheaded the speaker from behind, and demanded the galley advance. His head exploded not even a second after he finished gesticulating, as if the defencive barriers had not even existed.

The Demon Lord's mana imprint vanished before anyone had time to react to the sudden deaths aboard their galleys. They had been lured into a trap. The barrage of sound crescendoed into a deafening roar that seemed to shake the world by its very foundations. Artemis had no idea what kind of tricks the demons had pulled for this to happen, but it had worked. Unfortunately, her job was to kill a Demon Lord that was no longer present, and she had to survive to harbour any hopes of completing the request.

Seeking, at least an acknowledging nod from the elf beside her, Artemis turned to find the elf staring into the sky, her visage twisted in terror and disbelief. What lay in her view was the sight of the floating fortress, shattered in the sky, raining down from overhead.

A powerful blast of wind magic knocked Artemis back to her senses, as well as off the bireme. A warm, misty sensation was the last thing she felt from her savior as she plunged into the disturbed waters.

[??? : ??? , ???]

Artemis rocked so gently she almost fell back to sleep. Light seemed to form oddly soothing blobs, and she embraced a warm comfort, and pressed it against her chest. Damp warmth kept her safely aloft as the smell of rot, dried blood, and salt conjured up images of a congested galley, the sound of thunder ominous in the distant skies.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Halt!"

Alerted by the nervous shout, Artemis tightened her grasp on the warm thing as her eyes slowly focused. A near inaudible grunt of complaint emerged from the one carrying her, before she was set on her own two feet. It was only then that she was able to confirm that she had been carried out of the water by other survivors. Normally, Artemis could confirm the presence of living beings nearby by their mana concentrations, but the two who saved her possessed less mana combined than a single grain of sand. Their hair, darkened by the waters to a shade more grim than a reaper's shrouds, unsettled all. Artemis unconsciously edged away from the two.

"Who are you?" called a male elf with gold trim on his green uniform as he cautiously stepped forward, bow raised, "Are you with the 1st Fleet?"

Artemis opened her mouth to respond, but decided against it when the elf stepped past her without a second glance. The male and female with black hair held their hands out in a gesture of surrender. Other elves that were guarding the area encircled the two, uncertain of how to deal with the unnatural pair.

"Speak," the first elf gestured with his bow, "Or I shoot."

The two shared a quick glance to the sound of bowstrings tightening, only for the male to sigh, and the female to smile confusedly at the elf before her. Neither spoke, their hands devoid of weaponry, water dripped from their soaked forms; lit by magelight against the nighttime winds.

"Human survivors are to be taken care of by the Tectus faith," a woman clad in simple robes had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, "I hope you understand what that means."

If the elf wanted to be more obvious in his disdain for the woman he would have had to spit, "These 'things' are not human."

"How are they not?" the Tectus follower tilted her head to emphasize her question, "Do they not have heartbeats? Are they not standing? Does not the cold make them shiver?"

Artemis took a closer look at the two, and indeed, they appeared to be normal humans, humans whom the cold affected. If she had been looking at them on a good day, and if they had a more natural hair colour, Artemis would have seen the two as a normal couple with a military background. She began to wonder what relationship the two shared, but didn't get far in her musings as she was interrupted by the elf's justification.

"You didn't ask if they were alive. They aren't, so I'll stop their walking for them."

He re-aimed his bow.

"Did you claim them to be undead?" the Tectus follower began, "We can check the bodies for traces of necromancy if you really think so, but if you happen to be wrong, I'm afraid the alliance will have to execute all elves involved for betraying us to the demons."

All but the three elves closest to the one with the gold trimmings lowered their bows, and stood back since none of them wanted to risk their posthumous reputations. Gold trim turned to face the Tectus follower, in that instant, the black haired duo surged forth. 300+ years of training against magically empowered opponents had done nothing for the elves that found themselves assaulted by the world’s least powerful lifeforms. They were the opposite of ghosts: all physical movement and no malice. Their movements were almost double the expected speed without using mana, and the complete lack of killing intent had them practically invisible as they drew knives and closed on the elves. If Artemis hadn't been watching them closely, she too would have missed the movement.

The male one positioned himself so that gold trim was between him and the other archers, and the female one did the same with the unsuspecting elf girl on the far side of the follower of Tectus.

"They are allowed to fight back." the follower of Tectus smirked from under her hood, "And I can assist them."

Had the elves been paying attention they would have only been subdued by the fastest of warriors, but it was too late, and the humiliation had already taken place. Red faced with rage, the elf with the gold trim cast his bow to the sand, and stomped away with his entourage in tow. The strange pair concealed their knives, and Artemis decided to thank them for pulling her out of the water before they left.

"Half-elf," the Tectus follower barked, stopping both Artemis, and the duo from turning away, "Come with me."

The Tectus follower then gesticulated at the two with black hair, wanting them to come as well.

The woman led them beyond burnt walls and into one of the old fortifications that had done so little against the first demon invasion. Simple beds lay in neat rows, staffed by many women in simple Tectus robes. A few hand signals later, and Artemis was alone with the woman in a separate room.

"So," she began, "Runa, I'm not too aware of your clan's history so I apologize for not knowing your... number."

"I'm surprised you even know about our renaming traditions, but Runa is only for...", Artemis' voice caught in her throat.

"... for last survivors, I know," the woman removed her hood, revealing her gentle, green hair, "My name is Esmeralda."

Artemis was not as speechless as she felt, "I'm the fifth."

Esmeralda let out a low whistle, "Runa V it is."

Artem... Runa (she refused to be numbered in her own thoughts) was unused to her new name. Runa would not die. Runa would not fail. Runa was the head of Valkyrie's Fist. Valkyrie's Fist was to kill the Demon Lord. Runa couldn't kill such a powerful being by herself.

Runa needed a plan.

"I didn't ask you here to so we could discuss names," Esmeralda returned her hood to its previous position, "I'd like to offer you a job."