Chapter 120: Day of Reckoning: Dawn III
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Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence and depictions of gore that may not be suitable for all readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
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There was no prelude to the attack. Avery had simply been on the ground, fighting his heart out, when he heard shattering glass, and his world was enveloped by fire.
When the barriers broke, Esmeya was sent vomiting on the walls, the shock reverberating through the mages and sending them to their knees as their cores were drained. The master of the guild fell onto the floor, barely holding herself up with her hands, as her stomach emptied itself onto the stones that filled her field of vision.
The stain didn't remain for long though, when the waves of heat from the battle spilled over and turned even the sweat on the mages' foreheads to vapour.
A moment after the pain struck, Avery tried to draw in breath. His skin, which had been hot before, was now being cooked off his very flesh, and he sharply drew in air, only to regret it. He felt it when the heat touched his teeth, but by then it was already too late.
Breath so hot it could almost melt metal entered his lungs, and if he was capable of it, Avery would have screamed. The people around him were less lucky, not even wearing visors, as some of them had their eyeballs boiled within the sockets.
It was incomparable, pain harsher than anything he had felt before, and Avery felt his knees buckle before the flames receded. The damage had been done, and the scorching heat remained, making breathing impossible, but from underneath his visor, he saw.
He watched, as Lucia plummeted from the sky alongside a spear of fire, overtaking it, and shielding Iris as the flame dug into her body. He watched her fall to her knees with tears in her eyes, and it filled him with fury. His legs were shaking, barely letting him stand as it was, the muscles on them charred, but he remained standing nonetheless.
Only to witness a third spell cast by Scarlet, a torrent of fire that shot out, over the walls, and into the city proper.
Stormbraver burned.
As though someone had tossed kindling to a hungry fire, it consumed the houses, and the screams reached Avery's ears. His pupils contracted, and he felt his heart drop. His gaze rose to the sky, where the figure of Scarlet shook. Was it with laughter or with weakness? Did it really matter?
The man remained standing as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. "No," he mouthed, not a noise leaving his lungs. The flesh of them was seared and sticky, unable to draw in air. His skin was bubbling and blistering as he stood, and looked towards the northerners ahead of him. They were looking just as miserable as he was, but it was not an excuse. None of it was.
Their first prince, a young adult, in his mid twenties, had been fighting Avery up until now, alongside a few other heroes. They'd stood further away, one of them a mage who had put up a shield for them, and they seemed even better off than most of their army.
Avery's lips moved, not a sound leaving them, as his vision blurred. "You took my city from me," he mouthed.
He didn't know what else to say. It wasn't just the city. They took his people, his seekers, and his friends. They took the lives of those he swore to protect, breaking his oaths on his behalf.
And all for what?
"Pay," he mouthed, soundlessly.
Slowly, his knees stopped shaking. No air entered his lungs, the screams growing more quiet and distant, as the rushing of Avery's blood through his veins became the only sound he heard. His skin hissed as he moved, steam rising from it as the muscles he called on set into motion, even given the terrible shape they were in.
"This monster..." he heard one of the northerns whisper, but their talk soon stopped. Avery had kicked, and they now lacked a head.
His armor stuck to his body like glue, having burned itself onto him. Every movement hurt, but Avery didn't relent. Steam left his mouth as his saliva evaporated, burning his tongue.
The seeker was silent, by force rather than by choice, and took another shaky step forward. Someone tried to attack him, but before Avery even realized it, they dropped dead on the floor. Had his leg moved? His arm? No matter.
Another step forward, and he saw the mage who shielded the prince and his cohort flinch back. One of the northerners closer to him raised a shield, thinking it might stop Avery.
It did not.
After another step, Avery staggered to the side, barely catching himself and raising himself up. His legs hurt so bad, at least in the spots he could still feel them, but he was slowly losing that feeling. He wouldn't fall, though.
"Pay," he mouthed again, to the prince, still not drawing breath as he staggered another few steps closer.
Then, they were within range, and Avery knelt down. From his belt, the fumes of evaporated potions entered his nose, mixed into a concoction of drugs that should kill a man on the spot.
Avery stood, then leapt at them, and before the mage had a chance to chant a spell, he had set foot on her. The heavy shoes he worse impacted her chest, breaking the ribs beneath and more. She was dead before she hit the floor. Avery withdrew his bloody boot.
One of the cohort swung a sword, but it was met with Avery's leg in mid air, and once again, the guildmaster claimed a life. One more kill later, and it was just him and the prince.
He looked so scared.
Slowly, Avery leaned forward, until his face was inches from the prince's, and he grabbed the young man's throat with his misshapen hands. "Why?" he mouthed, not a sound leaving his lungs.
"You... monster," the prince whispered, in between gasps for air.
Monster? Was he the monster now? Avery wondered for a little while, his mind feeling cloudy, but his decision had already been made.
Fine then, he would be the monster he had to be.
His second hand laid itself onto the prince's throat, and he clamped it shut, the gargles of the man not reaching his ears until he was dead.
Tossing the body aside, Avery still stood. He was going to kill some more now.
That was what monsters did, after all.
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Scarlet smiled at her newest work. For a narrow few moments, as the spells keeping her in the air flickered out, she watched the city light aflame, the fire biting through houses as the wind spread it around. Her little crimson gift to them seemed to have arrived well.
When she began falling, she turned her attention to the battleground below, seeing dozens upon dozens of charred remains. Some people still stood, but it didn't matter. What would they stand for if their capital burned?
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She hoped those damn bastards of the council died. What a joy that was, imagining those old assholes scream and burn. They deserved it.
In the middle of the fall, she turned to her other target, the priestess' attendant. Scarlet didn't know her name, but she knew that her and Lucia were close, and that was enough. Seeing the picture there, seeing the person who took her arm slumped in the arms of someone who was crying, felt strange.
It was, after all, quite close to the revenge she wanted, but shouldn't the roles be reversed? Ah, what a shame, truly, what a shame that was. She wished she could see the priestess grief-stricken instead.
Her thoughts were rudely interrupted when her body struck the floor. She had no mana left, her core entirely drained of everything, and her fury had subsided as though the glow on a blade when it was quenched. In those moments she felt quite... fulfilled. The bloodshed she'd caused was quite something, yes, something she would certainly be remembered for.
Slowly, she opened her status window, and her eyes opened wide. A grin spread onto her face. A new alias, another name people would remember her as. "Firestorm", one too great to brave. It was acknowledged by the northerns, she had planted the seed for it before, now it was time for the southerners to know it too. Poetically, it made her want to give another speech.
Somehow, she felt reinvigorated. Perhaps she'd gained a level and had some stats restored, given the satisfaction she'd felt that certainly was worth quite some exp. Well, she'd better put the energy to use.
"My friends!" she yelled, her voice echoing across the battlefield, as she laid on the soil. All heads snapped to her, faces filled with rage and fury, some with tears, and other barely even faces anymore at all.
"Today, it is our victory!" her smile went ear to ear, a bright grin on a dying, blood-smeared face. It looked so childlike and happy, one could have mistaken it for a good smile.
"But we are not done here!" she cried, raising up an arm she didn't have. From nothing, the flames she had grown so accustomed to over the last sputtered into existence again. They writhed around each other like living snakes, coiling into the empty air and forming the shape of an arm again, a monstrous one, but an arm nonetheless.
"Die with me today, comrades!" she called. "Let your blood soak this place, and let those who have made us suffer, suffer. Then, in death, let us besiege another battlefield together, let us bring war now to the very gods!" Her fingers closed around the sun, and the subsiding roar of the flames was replaced by the roar of her people.
"Firestorm," they chanted. "Fi! Re! Storm!"
And with a smile, Scarlet closed her eyes. She was going to go to another battlefield soon. Her arm fell to her side, and she enjoyed the last rays of sunlight on her face.
Now, she would die a peaceful death.
...
Where was the sun?
For a moment, Scarlet opened one of her eyes to see what was ruining her moment. "Who the fu-"
Those were the last words to ever leave Scarlet's mouth, as Avery withdrew his boot, splattered with blood and brains.
He felt the rush of experience give him a level or two, as his flesh knit itself together, some of his injuries closing, and letting him draw a deep breath again. The stench of sulphur entered his nostrils, and fueled his rage further.
"SEEKERS!!!" his voice roared across the battlefield, now that his lungs could draw air. It was loud enough to drown out the northerners' cheers, loud enough that the shockwave seemed to quiet the fire raging in the city.
Silence reigned for a moment, heads turned to see his blood-covered figure. "EXTINGUISH THE FIRE!!"
It was a sensible command, and the last one Avery would give this battle. For a few precious moments, no one reacted, but soon, their thoughts snapped into place and they moved. Dozens of people who could still move running towards the city.
Esmeya snapped back to her senses on the wall, wiping her mouth half heartedly as she understood what she needed to do. Before the other mages, setting an example for them, she began to drink mana potions, enduring the burning of her own stomach acid in the back of her throat and the terrible taste it brought to her mouth.
She shakily rose to her feet and began to chant, flinging water and more water on top of it. Wind mages rose to stall the air, fire mages began absorbing the flames, and earth mages poured dust and dirt on them. The seekers joined their efforts, carrying buckets from the lake or casting spells themselves, some even using stamina to shape the water itself.
Rondo, who'd barely awoken after being caught up in the brunt of the attack, commanded the guards to leave the battlefield and help extinguish the fire, too. Those who couldn't walk were carried. He himself received the support to get back behind walls from Kaga. She walked a bit faster than the old man would have liked, wanting to get back to the battle herself.
Marcel began tending to the wounded as their makeshift camps were overrun in moments. Gilah slung water, and Elliot beat down the fire alongside her.
Seeing that, the northerners couldn't stand still, charging for the city to finish the job and finally burn it down. They would follow Scarlet and bring war to the heavens, and avenge her, too, by killing that damn monster bastard!
After all, the army that had stood in their way was gone now, right? It was one man, how could it be so bad?
Avery frowned at them, drawing a shaky breath and steadying his footing. This was his duty, his calling.
One man stood in the path of the army that came to raze a city to the ground, and thus, once more, a battle began.
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However, for now, one other thing needs addressing. Sometime before the final conflict, before the army charged at the man, an amount of time that was neither short nor long had been spent crying.
In the backlines of the army, long since deserted by the northerners, Iris was holding Lucia's body in her arms and wept. She wept into the shoulders of the love she had lost, holding on tight as the priestess' blood covered her hands.
Lucia didn't want Iris to cry. Well and truly, she didn't.
The two women felt the heat of Scarlet's last spell wash over them, even as its target was somewhere else entirely. It was so hot, that for a while, Iris didn't notice the building warmth of Lucia.
But as the seconds passed, and her crying grew louder and quieter again, interrupted by shaky breaths, eventually she couldn't deny it anymore. For some reason, Lucia's body was warm.
The priestess herself felt strange. Her thoughts were so cloudy, she almost couldn't hold onto them, but all she could see was Iris being sad. Why was she crying so much? What had happened?
Then, the memories of the last few seconds came back. Right, she was dying. But then, there was a new Skill she had gained.
Beneath her eyelids, Lucia's pupils narrowed. Slowly, feeling returned to her body, and with it, pain did. Her face twitched, the hold she had on her body almost vanishing from the feeling of a hole in her stomach, but hearing Iris' crying, she held on.
Very slowly, as heat rose within her, Lucia moved. She laid a hand onto Iris' head to calm her down, then she grit her teeth and endured. She focused, felt the flame within her and how it had changed.
Finally, its evolution was there. The Skill had been maxed out for a while now, but it lacked direction, or so the system said. What luck that she had managed to find that direction now.
But would her mana really hold out as her flesh knit itself together?
As Lucia thought so, she heard chanting from the battlefield, about a storm? Then silence. And during that brief moment of silence, she felt a rush of invigoration course through her.
To Lucia, it was clear what happened a moment later. Scarlet must have died, and some of the credit went to her, awarding her experience, and a level for it.
She didn't hesitate. before she had the chance to think, Lucia ignited her mana, burning through her stamina, and finally fueling her fire with the love she felt, too. That was the nature of her flame, after all. When it burned more, the emotions it was linked to grew brighter, too.
Second by second, she clutched onto Iris more tightly, the sobbing of the other woman now stopping as she felt less and less blood leak onto her hands.
And finally, the bleeding stopped, then Lucia opened her eyes and lurched forward, barely avoiding the ground as Iris caught her with surprise. Her rosey eyes shook as she tried to speak, only to be interrupted by frantic coughing as Lucia could barely hold onto herself, each bit of air that left her lungs carrying blood with it.
She could breathe, she could finally breathe again!
For a long few seconds, Lucia coughed as hard as she could, before drawing in one shaky breath, then a second, wiping away a hint of the blood on her lips.
"Y-You're... alive..." Iris said, looking at her face, stunned.
Lucia paused, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes too, as she drew Iris into a long hug. "I am."
Sadly, the moment was not meant to last.
Somewhere towards the city, they heard fighting again, the world around them finally beginning to drift into their awareness, as the ringing in their ears subsided.
Then they saw it.
Droves of northerners, any who still lived, charging towards a city that was lit on fire.
Their reunion could wait for now. They were needed.
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Avery frowned.
The amount of enemies that decided to come at him was large, even by his standards, and he still felt every muscle in his body protesting.
Not that it made him stop. With an iron will, Avery beat down every single complaint his body turned in, and instead forced himself to move. He lashed out with his left leg, splattering blood, then his right, and his right again, since two people were close to one another.
Occasionally he would retreat a step, sometimes go forward by one, but mostly he went side to side, leaping and killing over and over and over again. After only a few minutes he was already drenched in blood, and he slowly began to full lose feeling in his appendages.
After his dance with the horde had continued for multiple minutes, Avery began to slow. He could barely hear them anymore, the blood rushing so loudly in his ears, and his vision was blurry. He wanted to lay down and rest so badly, but he instead stoked the anger within him.
They'd burned down his city and slaughtered his seekers. For that, he would make them pay.
Again and again, he forced his battered self to move, until eventually, he felt the pressure on him lighten up. Instead of being faced with six people at a time, the number reduced to two. He looked around, trying to make out who may have come to help him, and he saw them.
Radiant white flames, condensed into arrows, as well as a bit of wind rushing against his skin as someone he couldn't see moved quickly, as well as a stupidly long weapon carving through droves of enemies.
"Finally," he said. "Thought you'd never get to work."
An army of four fought to keep what remained of the city standing.