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The pillars above were still for a moment, resisting Orion’s order. Each weighed tons, behemoths in their own right. Regardless, the monstrous pillars cracked, the slits in them shining glints of light into the shadows below. They fell instantly, plummeting down with a petrifying force. The moment was too overwhelming for most men to react as they stared up, their legs frozen below. Then the pillars smashed into the ground, sending up mounds of dirt as the barrage began.
It was alike a nightmare as the gory crash landings sounded out like thunder, continuous thunder beating the earth. The pillars’ shadows which had covered the battlefield was now gone, and in their place was an incorporeal darkness, one which fed off the pain and misery around.
When all hope seemed lost to both sides of the war, a radiant light burned through the inky black. The light was dazzling but brought warmth to all who saw it: a dangerous warmth. With no warning, the light grew rapidly, soon revealing itself as a burning ball of magma. Just as it was about to shoot forth, a green feather snaked out of the rubble and into the fireball.
In response, the fireball jolted and shook, growing volatile by the second. Then the green feather retreated, escaping back to the rubble, and the fireball exploded, splattering thick goo into its surroundings. This molten lava was so hot it devoured the flesh of any it touched, the screams only faltering as the dust cleared.
On one side were the foreigners, their leader, Shrien. He stood amongst his men, easily distinguished by the five green feathers revolving around his body. He had smooth ebony skin and stood in a tensed soldier’s pose. Despite this, his head was cocked upward and the disdain from his eyes was tangible.
On the other side was the Piros Household, alongside the remaining Imperial Army. The Imperial Soldiers had taken the brunt of the foreigners’ ambush so their numbers were thin and injured. Still, they had nothing to fear with the tyrants at their back. In the middle of this cluster was a man with one foot in the grave and a winding red beard coiled around his body. The man was slim-built, but this did little to hide the tyrannical aura he released. He was Azar, the head of the Piros House, and also the one who had released the fireball, before being intercepted by Shrien.
Azar glared at Shrien with enough venom to kill a titanbeast. However, he soon slid his anger towards the figure walking out of the dust.
Grinning, Orion strolled out from the dustcloud, coming to a stop as he assessed the two other leaders. Neither of three moved while this happened, even though violence sang loud and clear around them.
“Gentlemen,” Orion said in faux modesty.
“Zakari,” Azar screeched out, his frame shaking.
“El pero weael,” Shrien proclaimed state-of-matterly.
While Orion had no idea what the man meant, he had heard Joiroa enough to know it was the same tongue. Joiroa had also told Orion the best way to stop Shrien’s plans was to kill the man and to take the key he held under his clothes. This key was a transporter, and when activated, would release the teleporter, which they could then destroy. The reason Shrien hadn’t left the teleporter in some hidden spot to continuously spit out new soldiers was because it required a ridiculous amount of resources to work, and his latest attempts at procuring those had been foiled by the Piros.
What Orion wanted to do to Azar was a lot simpler: kill him. After which, he aimed to kill the remaining family elders to make sure the family would only crumble from now onwards.
Unsurprisingly, Shrien was the first to break the tense ceasefire between the leaders. The green feathers floating beside him were simply twirling one second, but in the next they were spearing towards Orion. Azar immediately joined this assault as he cast a fire cage around Orion, locking him in place. While Shrien and Azar hated each other, they were both smart enough to acknowledge Orion’s dreadful power after his arrogant display.
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The green feathers pierced through Orion’s flesh, and the fire cage closed in, tightening around his skin. But instead of blood and flesh, steaming water poured down as his figure turned to ice.
His two enemies reacted quickly, scanning their surroundings with fear. Moments before he was caught by their searching eyes, he leapt out of the ground as if it was water, a dagger of ice in his hand as he lunged towards Shrien.
The foreigner smirked at this attempt and sidestepped, taking hold of Orion’s wrist before thrusting down. But instead of hearing the satisfying crack he had expected, he instead felt ice crunch in his hand. Just as he realised he had attacked another clone, a biting pain flared through his back. He screamed as he rushed away from the source of pain, mule-kicking back with all his strength.
This attack made contact with Orion but failed to make the Zakari recoil. Instead, Orion snatched the foot with his left hand and used Szu on it as well, cracking the flesh and peeling the skin. Here, he let Shrien go and watched the foreigner trip up in distress, simultaneously setting up an ice barrier to block Azar’s attack.
Orion ignored Azar and walked up to Shrien, kicking the man down, before using another burst of Szu on him. The pain he was inflicting didn’t please him at all, no, it was the power that pleased him. These were men who he had once been warned against, fearsome characters who always felt so out of reach. But now they weren’t!
Hoping the momentary respite meant Orion had gotten distracted, Shrien edged away, pulling himself forward with his arms. He failed, however, as a blade of crystal ice tore through his neck, decapitating him.
Then, Orion turned his attention towards Azar, who had been setting up a grand magic spell all this time. Orion had willingly let the old Piros do this…
Finally, Azar ended, striking the ground with his open palms. The ground under Orion cracked, similar to when Szu was used on it, only this time gold-coloured lava seeped out, scorching the very dead ground they spread across.
Orion leapt back, realising the lava was forming into a fearsome beast. When it fully formed, it turned out to be a pure lava phoenix with beady eyes. Giving Azar no time to react, Orion strained his mind, forming countless ice chains across the ground, all of which shot up towards the phoenix to latch on.
The ones that hit pulled down on the phoenix, giving the majestic beast a rude awakening as it began to violently struggle against the growing number of chains clutching its feathers. Azar transferred as much of his energy into the phoenix, helping it continue its hopeless fight, until an ice crystal blade flew towards him, taking his head cleanly off with his mouth agape. The phoenix fell shortly after, screeching in madness and indignance.
After this was over, Orion stood in silence, merely overlooking the rest of the battle. Seeing both leaders had fallen, the remaining combatants had retreated, especially from him, but he knew they wouldn’t get far. This was it: he had reached the peak of power, and yet he found himself as unsatisfied as before. The gore and screams around him somehow broke through his tough shells, reminding his core who he actually was.
“Last mission,” he whispered to himself in response, as if convincing himself, “Last mission,”
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Watching the sunrise, Orion wrinkled his nose at the stench around which he had made. Looking at the circular, metallic key he had looted from Shrien, he crushed it. Thick plumes of mana escaped the key and formed in front of him, creating a dark entrance akin to that of a cave’s.
He waited awhile, Joiroa and Kora at his side. Seeing nothing had happened after several minutes, he sighed, nodded at Joiroa, and put his left hand on the entrance. It took less than a second for the entire doorway to collapse, releasing a strong gust of magic that would have normally wiped all three of them from existence. But it didn’t as Orion formed an ice shield in front at a similar pace to which the gust broke it down, the pattern carrying on for a whole minute before the ferocious wind abated.
Then, the trio stood in silence on the top of a dune. The battlefield was visible from their vantage, its ugly sight a smear on the land. The sight tore at Orion’s numb heart, though ultimately failing to do any damage. What disgust or fear could he feel when it was caused by him in the first place? Still, it relieved him as he turned around,
“Final mission. I’m done now,” he said, feeling the weight lift off his soul. His conscience, although tainted, felt like a fresh breath of air for the first time in months.
“Last one,” Kora repeated his sentiment, although her words were thick with regret and sadness. Not for the victims, of course, but for the craft itself. She was a Cruorem, a high vampire; Orion knew with certainty she would miss her wild and violent days in the future. But he knew she wouldn’t return to it, in respect for him.
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