Duke Felspar appears from the corridor leading to the main gate. Heavy infantry rushes into the yard. The enemies cower, moving behind one another as only one of them uses his artifact at once. They flee melee combat but are allowed no such luxury.
"Their walls have fallen!" Felspar roars, his voice reaching over the ramparts. "Have no mercy for these traitors! In the name of the King, let none survive!"
Fire crashes next to Althea, igniting the metallic beast's blood. A man appears from its top and climbs down the other side. A powerful impact on the brow twists Althea's head. She glances to see a man aiming a long artifact at her from one of the inner stronghold's towers.
She jumps on the burning metal beast and slices through the base of its head. Sheathing her sword, she heaves the head by its artifact and spins on herself. With a final throw, she hurls the hunk of metal at the tower, breaking its outer wall. It crumbles, losing one stone after the other until the entire tower collapses.
"They try to flee through the hole in the south wall!" Felspar bellows. As he turns to face his men, Althea sees his missing left arm, blown off at the shoulder. He aims his blade at the next gate, in the direction of the fort's core. "Take to the stronghold! Deny them their retreat! Make them pay in blood for each of our fallen comrades!"
The shimmer around Althea's blade turns to solid light parkoured by cracks of white lightning. The world's colors return more vibrant than before, her enemies still highlighted with red. Armand said he only heard of Vow of destruction once. It rewards its user for every slain enemy until a threshold where it unlocks its full potential.
Althea realizes that, in the thrill of battle, she forgot about the duke's son, or even the other knights. She looks back and sees none of them. The rare few who found their way here all bare different markings. They are the last survivors of their squads.
The world feels slower to her; she sees it in all its details. Every drop of blood drawn by one of their artifacts splashes distinctly in her sight. There is a mechanism to them, a cycle in which each attack ejects a brass cylinder. The more she looks at it, the less it feels like magic. Thirty attacks, and then they need to exchange a part. The artifacts near her emit no aura, and neither do the ones they hold.
Deafening thrums echo from the portal. New enemies pour out from the tear in reality, motioning for their fleeing comrades to go behind them. These ones advance towards the heavy infantry, laying down a tempest of projectiles from bulkier artifacts. They show no fear. Even when charged, they methodically aim for the joints, feet, hands, and neck.
Archers enter the yard from the gate's corridor. Marquis Vandris appears with them, several healed wounds visible on his chest. Seeing them exposed to the enemies' attacks, Felspar motions for them to dive to the ground. He bellows, "Form a shield wall at the edge of the breach! Vandris, turn their ranks to ash!"
Althea breaks into a run to join the wall. Felspar stops her with the flat of his blade. "Go to their inner stronghold; that's where their champions will be," he says. "Vandris and I will block their path through the portal; you make sure none of them remain in our backs."
"And Cinderis?" Althea asks, glancing at the dragon.
"One world-ending problem at a time," Felspar says. "Go, champion of the light. Make your god proud."
His words ring hollow to Althea, nothing like the pride it triggered hours ago. She cannot linger on this feeling and shakes it off to give back into the thrill of battle. She nods and turns around, breaking into a run towards the next gate.
Vandris summons fireballs in his hands. He aims above the shield wall and fires them. They arch and fall beyond his men, detonating to liquid-like fire that sticks to its victims. Metallic spheres fly to him; with a gust of wind, he sends them high into the air before they explode.
Stepping away from any ally, Althea feels like she can trigger the abilities she restrains when her comrades could be hit. With her mind, she focuses on a ring she wears and triggers its power. 'Aura of conquest,' she thinks.
She breaks through the next door as if it were made of straw. Enemies fire at her, but after an instant they cower behind cover, groaning in pain. Her aura strikes them with blades of Ether, cutting shallow gashes in their flesh.
The power of her ring extends along her crackling sword, coating the blade in an additional layer of Ether. She swings at their positions in a dance that propels waves of energy. Each strike cuts through their covers and bodies, spreading past them into the ground, walls, and buildings.
Althea pushes onward, her body a blur of motion. The fort's walls shake with the force of her strikes, each resonating with a disintegrating hum. The enemies in her path scramble to evade her, their strength reduced to nothing in the face of her power. Every time they regroup, she's already upon them, her blade cutting through their fortifications.
Their ranks break as she intensifies her aura. Some fall into a maddened frenzy as fear presses upon their minds. Those who would have fought back now flee, the air alive with their despair.
As she reaches the last inner gate, it explodes. The detonation sends her rolling to the ground, shrapnel hitting the few she spared. Her blade escapes her grasp and stabs itself into the ground. Two figures appear from the vanishing dust. The woman of the duo emits a powerful aura. Althea rolls to her feet and lunges at them to leave them no time to act.
Althea stops midair, lifted by a spell, before she can grab her sword. With her hand extended towards Althea, the woman barks an order to the giant in sand-colored armor beside her.
He jogs to Althea and grabs her sword from the ground. He seems unaffected by her aura. The woman's spell spreads Althea's limb to the sides, opening her to her underling. 'Resolve,' Althea triggers, sensing panic growing in her mind.
Althea focuses Strengthening on her right arm, forcing it to aim at the woman. If she can level her fingers at her target, she can unleash her only offensive spell. At twenty meters, it is still possible to hit her even through metal gauntlets.
The giant poses himself for a thrust at the mail joining her chest and legs. A thrum fills the air; the woman gasps as a sword impales her in the stomach. The blade's angular inertia throws her to the ground.
Althea falls from the spell's hold. Her own blade misses its target but still cuts her side. She jabs the man in the face, sending him reeling. Following up, Althea joins her fists and strikes on top of his skull. She feels his spine's disks crushing each other; he falls to the ground.
The woman stands. She removes the blade and sears the wound with a Flamme spell. Althea looks back to see Armand running towards her, still far away. The woman casts another spell and runs back to the tower, her steps eased by winds dancing around her.
'If I capture her, we could learn their tactics,' Althea realizes. She runs after the woman, entering the stronghold right after her. The woman extends her hand behind herself and unleashes a torrent of fire in the stairs. Althea shields herself from the blast and continues, parting the flames with her shield.
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They reach a large room opened by large slits in the walls. The woman stops, her back to a wooden crate from which she pries a metal cylinder. Colored ropes link it to the crate's insides.
Althea sheathes her sword, ready to knock her out with a punch. She approaches slowly, her shield up, tensing her arm to keep it aimed should the woman levitate Althea once more.
The metal birds scream as they arc around the fort. Cinderis dives after them, edging close to the stronghold. One after the other, they pass through the portal, vanishing from sight. Cinderis' wing crashes into the fort, beneath Althea.
Althea tumbles in the rolling room, feeling gravity losing its grasps on her as the building falls. She's ejected through an opening, unable to catch a wall to stop herself.
Althea's sight spins, her side burning with pain as she's bent by the winds. The howling filling her ears grows louder as the ground approaches. She crashes into a rock, hurling its shards into the air.
Althea groans, her vision doubling as her fingers dig into the surface of the rock she crashed into. A flash of light fills her sight; she looks up to see the portal's gaping maw in front of her. The sky above the desert she sees lights up with streaks of light. Explosions paint the night in fire and smoke, their thundering impact echoing delayed.
A line of metal giants, square beasts thrice the size of any cart, spit abyssfire that churns the air and splits the sand. Above them, the looming silhouette of a titanic bird circles like a vulture. It roars with countless firebolts, striking distant spots with blinding explosions. Fireballs spit out from its sides, descending upon their horrifying battlefield.
Althea coughs blood. She forces herself to stand, her muscles screaming in protest. The woman's corpse lies close, crushed by the crate she leaned on. Althea is hurled backward; something exploded past the portal, projecting her with an unstoppable force. Althea rolls into the mud. She tries to breathe, but her lungs refuse, unable to draw air as her sternum expands with pain.
Althea's mind races. She has seen horrors before – twisted creatures summoned from dark rituals, monsters who feed on children – but nothing like this. These enemies all wield powers Mages need years to equal. Their beasts tear men apart, besting even their most precious armor. And through the portal, she sees them raining death from the skies.
She staggers to her feet, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her. The ground trembles with the pounding of their war. Althea's ears ring, her senses overwhelmed. Her chest tightens as the realization sinks in. Her world is doomed; no nation, not even hers, which prides itself so grand, can stop them.
A woman wearing scorched rags steps past Althea to walk towards the portal, blazing red hair floating behind her. Her bare feet melt the ground to slag, sending radiating heat.
"Not even four centuries," the woman laments. She yawns, closing her eyes despite the danger in front of her. She turns her head towards Althea and smiles. "Hello, little Paladin. Why are you staring at me like that?"
The inconceivable number crowning the woman freezes Althea in place. Hundreds of thousands of people died by her hand. Yet Althea's talent doesn't warn her of any bloodthirst from the woman.
"Who are you?" Althea manages to ask.
"Your civilization ought to keep better records; it would be respectful to remember your heroes," the woman says. She breathes in, and Ether rushes into her, creating a temporary void around them. "I am Rhaelyra."
Althea's mind rushes to childhood bedtime stories. Rhaelyra Eboncrest, the adventurer who died to end Cinderis' carnage. Her companions long died of old age, and yet she looks as young as Althea. She says, "It's you I saw atop Cinderis. The stories said you killed it and that you died in the fight."
"Her?" Rhaelyra asks. She turns towards the dragon landing far behind them, crushing the trees, her wings spreading to hide the dying sun. "Ignivara is her daughter; Cinderis is dead."
Somehow, despite the carnage and imminent threat, that news relieves part of Althea's worries. Seeing the dragon so calm after her carnage, as if waiting on her mistress, makes her seem harmless. Well, as harmless as a castle-sized dragon can be.
"I will give you some time," Rhaelyra says. A spell reaches her from an enemy. The projectile melts in the air, its remnants splashing harmlessly against her skin. "Soon, I'll sleep again, and it will be up to your people to stop them. My kindred who opened the portal is slumbering for now, but when he wakes up, he will open the others."
"When? And how do you know? Who is he?" Althea asks.
"The Ether told me; you should try to listen to it. Now watch. You must not despair for your state; you have the potential for what I will show you." Rhaelyra extends her arms to the sides. The fires of the fort rise as ribbons of red light, drawn to her like to the center of a storm. Her voice strengthens, echoing not through the air but through the Ether. "By the blood I was given, I claim her strength as mine. Let my mortal form be no more; that I may purify the world by her flames. So, her crimes may one day be repaid. Dragonheart."
The air trembles as all the Ether Althea can sense rushes into Rhaelyra. Fire spirals around her, forming a vortex of molten streaks. The ground around her liquifies; it turns to glowing red magma. Her body changes. Scales of deep crimson emerge along her skin, gleaming like gemstones. Claws, glinting like steel, replace her fingertips. The fire molds into blinding wings and tail; it vanishes, revealing the red, scaled limbs.
Her eyes are the last to change. The pupils narrow into slits, their natural green replaced by burning flames. She takes a step forward, and the ground quakes. The man who shot her bursts into blue flames; his form vanishes in an instant. Her form radiates an oppressive heat, bending the air into shimmering waves.
She turns toward the portal. Rhaelyra raises a clawed hand; an inferno swirls into it, coalescing into an orb of blue fire. The fireball surges forward with a blast that drowns out every other sound. It passes through the portal as a streak of light. Its explosion rivals the dawn, bathing them in a light so brilliant that Althea has to shield her eyes. When the glare fades, the desert is no more. Blue fire covers the other side of the portal, licking through it at its edges.
Althea does not find Rhaelyra; she vanished amidst the flash of light. Ignivara, as Althea remembers Rhaelyra calling her, flies off north, her form already turning distant.
Duke Felspar passes through the ranks holding the breach in the fort's wall. Removing his helmet, he stares at the portal with wide eyes. Blood covers one of his eyes, seeping through his temple.
Armand and marquis Vandris join him, soon imitated by thirty soldiers of all callings. Some fall to their knees, their bodies realizing the gravity of their wounds and exhaustion.
"Is it… everyone?" Althea asks. She glances at the clearing in front of the fort. Bodies litter its mud, and none seem to move. They form a mass of bloodied leather and armor as large as their army was hours ago. She falls back, sitting on a rock behind her as her stomach churns.
"There are wounded we can still save among them," Armand says. He grabs her forearm, pointlessly tugging on it as he lacks the strength to lift her armor. "Get up; we have to help them."
"I can't," Althea mutters. Armand freezes at her words. She cannot see his face through his helmet, but she can still read his confusion. "Something happened to me. I… died on that field. Whatever brought me back stops me from calling upon his Ether. I can't heal them!"
Felspar glances at his missing arm; he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. "None of our healers survived. We will scavenge for their potions and give them to those who need them the most. The rest will have to wait for our return to the camp. Lieutenant Viremont, take half of the heavy infantry and clear the fort. Take prisoners if you can; we need to know more about their world."
Althea watches the duke's calm resolve, his composure maddeningly stoic. She grips her knees; a void inside her grows deeper with every breath. The god she knew as her guiding light feels impossibly far away, unreachable. Even without this curse, what he did, for the greater good it may be, makes her angry. Angry at his betrayal not only of her but of all those who lie dead in the mud.
The cries of lingering soldiers outside the fort claw at her soul. Felspar and his men move through the carnage, triaging who they can. Every scream, every shuddering gasp for air feels like an accusation. Finally ready to see, to have an absolute confirmation of her state, she opens her status.
Althea Drevoss
Lv.20/20 (Paladin) Human
Lv.9/30 (Ascended – Adjudicator)
Strength: 30 Charisma: 17
Dexterity: 15 Perception: 23
Constitution: 27 Willpower: 28
Intelligence: 14
Talent
Killers' tally
Second oath
Titles
Ascended
Ascended skill – Melee weapon (long sword)
Basilisk huntress
Dungeon conqueror (B)
Dungeon conqueror (C)
Dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
Ghoul huntress
Griffin huntress
Harpy huntress
Human huntress
Imp huntress
Kin slayer
Kobold huntress
Lesser demon huntress
Mistress of the hunt
Ogre huntress
Saurian huntress
Abilities
Aura of conquest (F)
Aura of sanctity (F)
Banishment (E)
Divine oath (Seraphel) (D)
Endurance (D)
Ether ward (D)
Purify (D)
Resolve (D)
Spellcasting (E)
Strengthening (D)
Toughness (D)
Vow of Destruction (F)
Alteration
???