Blood and guts flew across the field and stained the purple horizon with crimson. Screams of fury and pain rang out alike in a cacophony of death that overwhelmed his senses, even as he swung his glaive again and again. Cutting through monstrous flesh with ease only to get stuck on bone. The first years had been thrown into a crucible of war that none of them quite expected. Hours of combat had exhausted them with only the vague outline of a stone fortress growing ever closer present to motivate them.
They were safe briefly after the Devil attacked, the battle scaring off most creatures nearby both strong and weak. Most of their progress was made in that timeframe. Once they got far enough, the beasts returned, both furious and frightened; they attacked the youths viciously. At first it was the weak, mortal beasts. Then the Fera smelled blood, and returned for their prey.
Creatures of varying sizes trailed their group, eyes falling on the slowest of them and the wounded. It took too long for Ryke to feel their gaze, as most took him as one of the hardest targets. He pierced through the head of a wolf-like creature and tossed it a few feet through the air with one swing of the glaive, and mid turn discovered the sight of the people behind him.
Monstrosities easily the size of men were leaping out from the dark and biting the heads off their fellow candidates. Their group of a few dozen teens had been cut down by the attack on the platform, and now further cut down to a measly eight or nine in one moment. Neither Caius or Darriwil had noticed in time to save any lives, preoccupied with cutting through the beast horde in front of them.
Slamming the base of the glaive into a creature's head, he slashed through another beast with his blade and rushed towards the back of the group, his golden eyes practically lighting aflame at the sight. Some of these people were his acquaintances, few were his friends, but he knew every single one of them. Each a spark of life with their own futures- much like the beasts killing them. The haft of the glaive blocked the horns of a bull-like creature and used the momentum to force its head into the dirt. His arms shook as the recoil travelled up his arms and his expression changed.
In one swift movement Ryke brought the head of the glaive back up into the air and slashed it downwards, his arms never stopping even as the Bovine Fera clashed with it over and over. Every blow made his bones creak and his muscles ache, but only a few here were far enough into the Ignitio Realm to actually fight back. The fire in his eyes blazed as he forced the Bull’s skull back into the dirt and gave up the idea of using his glaive; the swing wasn’t fast enough at this range. Ryke reeled his arm back and punched out towards its eye socket. He felt the beasts skull collapse beneath his armoured hande before his arm sank into a tender, flesh like substance.
Pulling his white, goo-covered gauntlet out of the Fera’s skull, he surveyed the battlefield once more. What was once a moving battle had now become an entrenched siege, the horde of smaller animals keeping them stuck here. Vigilance had prevented any more teens from being killed by the Fera, but he could still feel the wary gaze of the hidden creatures within the shade of the forest.
Ryke looked for those with polearms, only a couple others besides himself, and called them over. Their weapons were superb for fighting many as one, and that was their best bet right now. They needed to get moving again or they’d be tired to death within the hour. The polearm wielders would stand on the outside of the group and handle the overall horde, while the rest would come out from the formation to attack the Fera when they appear.
Each slash of his glaive would cut down four or five small beasts, and the spears picked off the stragglers one by one. Every rare moment a Fera attacked, they’d see Darriwil or Caius dart forth to handle it themselves. The swordsman would fight head on, showcasing his strength far above the other candidates, while Caius would kite the beast until help arrived, tanking blow after blow. Casualties had ground down to a halt but exhaustion was setting in. Their only hope was the silhouette of the Bastion slowly growing larger and larger in their sight, no longer hidden by the stone forest.
The walls slowly came into view, towering stone behemoths that stood well above anything he had seen in Jekan. Each brick seemingly a story tall and just as wide, it went as far as the eye could see in both directions. Easily six stories high, the wall felt impenetrable. Unbreakable. Immovable. Ryke could see the glowing runes and lines that flowed across the stones surface, some he could recognize. Thinking about the amount of time and energy alone made his face pale.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He could see a gate somewhere down the wall, just as immense as the wall itself. Two stories high and made completely from a metal he didn’t recognize, the entire wall left Ryke stunned. He’d have taken a moment to admire it if not for the horde of beasts still trailing behind them. The boy didn’t know why the creatures were so persistent in their pursuit to earth them, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to help as many of his companions survive as he could.
Closer and closer to the wall, he noticed more and more beasts growing hesitant and scared behind them. Something about the Bastion deterred them and the fighting had gotten much easier; especially as the youths grew into fighting with their lives on the line. Many didn’t survive, but those who did had begun to thrive within the bloodshed.
By the time the group reached the gates their attackers had long since given up, allowing a brief respite as they sat against the wall. Nearly an hour had passed before anyone had the energy to scream into the gate for help. Caius shouted as loud as he could through the metal gates, his voice echoing through and into the open behind it. Very quickly the group realised no one was at the gate, leaving them to simmer in silence. Alone.
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An ear piercing howl rang out as two figures blitzed through the sky and landed in front of the gate, startling the group of candidates resting there. The sigh of relief that came afterwards was a great contrast to the stern look Sigmar gave them all after he landed. It took mere moments for the first teen to see the body in Sigmar’s arms, and then the sight registered for all of them there. Sigmar and the Sword Instructor both returned relatively unharmed, but the body of the Blade Instructor in the Lanista’s arms had a hole blown through its chest. His eyes were still open, the light of defiance slowly dimming even now, as if he refused to die.
But his breath had stopped.
Ryke especially could see that no vitality was present within his body. What was once a proud Centurion wearing his Aurelius Flame like armour with a strength that shadowed the world now lay dead. His light extinguished, the body cold. The excitement the trainees felt was quickly overshadowed, and the guilt crushed most of them. One student held back tears. Ryke tried to speak up.
“He-”
“Died fighting a Devil.”
“-saved us..”
“Yes.”
Sigmar frowned, clearly intent on ending the conversation there and handing the body off to his fellow instructor. Ryke saw the man leap into the sky and up over the wall, astonishing the few who escaped their guilt. The booming voice that soared through the sky after that made them equally as terrified.
“Lotus! Escort us back from the gate. Now!”
The Lanista’s figure came shuttling back down to earth and landed softly on the ground beside him, Ryke’s eyes struggling to withstand the wind. He could see his instructor surveying the area around them with a frown, and then his eyes lingering on each of the remaining candidates; their wounds couldn’t escape his eyes.
“Let’s hope more made it to the other gate. Those with wounds impacting movement, step forth.” Sigmar stated, his eyes glancing over the two who came forward. “Those with injuries affecting their attacks, step forward.” The old warrior frowned when he noticed one more student arrive in front of him. Nine students total had survived of his group. A few students didn’t come down with them and left the Ludus, leaving a total of 36 in the First Year. Ryke’s expression shifted when he realised just how many they might have lost. How many of them he knew.
Nausea overcame him, sitting down to calm himself, he kept quiet. Another few hours passed and Sigmar never jumped back up the wall, while the Sword Instructor simply remained watching the tree line. A couple students would strike up conversation every once in a while, but overall silence reigned supreme in their little gathering.
No one even reacted when the gate slowly opened, it’s impossibly heavy weight slowly lifting up into the sky above them and disappearing into the thick black stone walls. The earth itself shook below them at the shift. Ryke couldn’t tell how such a thing was being lifted, but he knew it couldn’t be easy. More than anything though, he wanted to be the man that could do it.
Sigmar led them through the gate once it raised high enough to let them all through, revealing a marble road leading past the wall into another forest of stone. Through the trees Ryke could see a City of Grey, the Bastion itself. At the gate a crowd was formed, waiting for the group to slowly walk up the road. When they finally got there they were greeted by one figure, standing out from the rest with a grin.
“The Stone Lotus Praetorian welcomes you to the Bastion”