Vyra rose from her nestbed, stretching her muscles and enjoying the infant rays of sunlight. Nerun came quickly to deliver a cup of mint tea, with which she revitalized her parched throat. Once she felt ready for the day, Vyra stepped outside her war dome and looked for her mother.

“Well?” she asked.

Oolga grinned wide and nodded. “The fire is lit.”

Vyra’s lips twitched as a tingle of excitement jolted up her nervous system. “… I would either want to launch an ambush or make careful preparations if I were them… I’ll attack them tomorrow if they haven’t attacked me already by then.”

“You don’t mind catching them on the back foot?” Oolga asked. “What if they don’t put up enough of a fight?”

Vyra smiled and shook her head, nurturing a burning wrath in the pit of her stomach. “Objectively, I lost the proxy war.”

She wanted a good fight, but she also wanted to win. Giving King Claymore too much time to scheme would be unwise. A day would have to be enough for them to sort out a basic strategy and bring their teamwork up to par.

Oolga pouted. “You’re still young, my baby. Momma can teach you how to run circles around people like him.”

“Which is why I’m putting you in charge of the army,” Vyra said. “While I fight their leaders, you lead the main clash. Annihilate them all.”

The Mayhem Orc’s eyes brightened, and she laid her hands over her mouth. “You’re such a sweet, thoughtful girl, baby.”

Vyra chuckled and walked away.

She spent the rest of her day in leisure, considering some of the tactics her opponents might use against her and how she would react to them. She did a bit of light training as well, but kept her body well-rested and her mana supply near full. Last of all, she daydreamed about the twin joys—carnage and romance—that waited at her doorstep.

***

It was a cloudy, windy day. No signs of rain though, fortunately. Vyra’s ethereal wings were spread out behind her and the heavy breeze played with her ropes of blood-red hair. She took a deep breath in through her nose and conjured a muddy-green orichalcum lance in her hand.

She was flying within sight of the harpies’ main camp, and soon their queen flew up to meet her, carrying Claudius Claymore in her talons. Vyra was slightly curious that his crown was absent.

Interesting. Leather armor and no crown. Was he wary of my earth magic? His bow and sword are an oversight then.

She narrowed her eyes. No, wait. They look metallic, but my magic isn’t detecting any… Is that dragon bone? She smiled wider. There will be spoils to collect after this battle.

“I am Orc Lord Vyra,” she declared proudly.

“I am broodmother Titania, the sky queen,” the harpy said curtly. “Why are you here without your army?”

Vyra’s smile widened another fraction. “Not to negotiate.”

Titania scowled but Vyra ignored her and looked down at the human. “Well met, King of Claymore. I am looking forward to painting the ground red with your innards and parading your obedient corpse through my palace.”

The crownless king showed her a pale smile. “Fuck you right back then.”

She grinned ever more viciously and then charged forward. Titania immediately took evasive action. Her flying speed was fast, and likely would have exceeded Vyra’s if she wasn’t carrying Claudius as well. Because she was, Vyra didn’t even have to throw her weapon to attack; she could just catch up to them.

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Her first thrust aimed at the harpy queen’s spine. She was coming from behind. Neither opponent was in a position to block.

In a split second decision, Claymore grabbed one of Titania’s ankles and punched the other one in the tendons, forcing it to release its grip. Their balance immediately careened to the side, and the crippling blow became a mere gash in the queen’s side instead.

While they were off balance, Vyra aimed another thrust at the queen, aiming for the only leg holding up her partner, but a sudden electrical charge formed in the sky and locked directly onto her lance and other metal ornaments. Vyra’s body involuntarily stiffened, and she tasted blood in her mouth where she’d bit her cheek. When she regained her motor functions, the wound was already healed and her enemies had made some distance.

Luring me away from the collateral damage? She thought, lapping up the blood inside her mouth.

Vyra chuckled and summoned an armor made of stones then resumed her pursuit.

When Titania reasserted her grip on the king, they had elected to hold him facing backwards. He had a clear view of Vyra and loosed several arrows in quick succession to disrupt her chase. They were well positioned to corner her. Rather than slow herself down, Vyra swerved to dodge two of the arrows and let one hit her armor. It made more of an impact than she expected, cracking the stone surface and drawing a small trickle of blood.

The arrow heads, as she sensed them, were made of magical metals, likely salvaged from Andorin’s lost equipment. She would have a hard time manipulating magical metals when they were traveling at such quick speeds… but if she could get closer and deal with the quiver…

Vyra repaired the hole in her armor and continued her pursuit. To offset the lead her opponents had gained, she threw her lance. A bolt of lightning came from the sky and struck it, killing most of its momentum and allowing the pair to dodge. Vyra waved her hand and the lance changed direction to follow them, accelerating again. The second time, it was sent hurtling away by a burst of air, out of her reach.

By then, Vyra had already summoned a stone lance and made up some distance. Another volley of arrows came for her, more continuous this time, and she was forced to let several of them hit if she wanted to catch up to her opponents. Her stone armor cracked and shattered in several places and she threw her stone lance.

A chain of electricity traveled into her body using the arrowheads, but one of Titania’s wings was clipped at the shoulder. By the time Vyra came to again, she grinned and noted that the enemy was moving noticeably slower now. She mercilessly yanked the arrows out of her body and threw them aside charging toward the enemy once again.

***

Oolga shut her eyes and listened to the sounds of clashing blows and thunder growing more and more distant above. It was predictable that the enemy would want to spare their people from the collateral damage of their fight. It was a noble enough choice.

They would still suffer though.

The mayhem Orc opened her eyes and looked around. The whole army was marching. They walked across the swamp, frozen solid by water mages and covered in sand by earth mages to prevent slipping. As the procession progressed, more water solidified ahead of them and melted behind. In the center of the movement, a boat rowed, melting the ice as it went thanks to the aura of shimmering heat around its prestigious occupant.

Oolga’s body flickered uncontrollably with fires of excitement. Of the other people on board her vessel, two were rowing while one was in charge of keeping the boat from catching alight and sinking.

They arrived at the opposite shore shortly after the three royals had vanished from sight and sound.

“Fire mages, burn down those nests.” Oolga ordered. “Then everyone kill them as they flee.”

Soon, great plumes of black smoke were rising from the spherical nests. Sticks were burning and mud was baking, leading to entire sections breaking off and crashing to the soil below.

At the same time, the occupants were escaping to the sky. Harpies surged into the air like freshly loosed arrows, clutching Claymore archers in their talons. The archers rained flaming shots downward in retaliation.

A barrage of magical attacks were hurled up at the sky. Most were deflected by bursts of wind, but some hit their targets. The bird women crashed down from the sky and the warriors swarmed them and their tagalongs in ruthless dogpiles.

The barrage continued and the archers switched from firing arrows to managing the wind shields. The harpies were free then to rain thunder down on Oolga’s army.

Thanks to the damp soil, each electrical attack surged over a greater distance. Oolga noticed that and raised one foot into the air, bringing it down in a devastating stomp that surged with flame and heat. It traveled through the mud as a shockwave, baking it dry. The lightning became a more manageable burden for her soldiers.

Quantity over quality, the battle turned into a slug-fest. Each side utilized magic liberally to attack and defend, and bodies fell on both sides at a fair clip. Oolga breathed deep the smell of ash, blood, and ozone. Cackling with glee, she raised a hand and sent a great plume of fire into the sky. The distance was far, so most of the harpies managed to dodge out of the way or deflect a glancing blow with wind magic, but some charred corpses hit the ground around her feet.

“For the Orc Lord!” she roared, her chest bursting with joy. “For the War God!”