Fear was an old companion for Oliver. He had known it when his village’s hunters failed to return, and the elders feared a powerful monster had claimed their land. He had felt it during the frantic flight to safety once the Incursion’s presence was confirmed. He had been afraid when his mother told him he needed to find work to help feed his family.
But now, watching what should have been certain death approach his mentor, Oliver didn’t feel afraid.
Expectant. Worried. Trusting. Anxious. But not afraid.
The airship’s cannons opened fire, and the very air was rent asunder. The atmosphere lit up, and Oliver couldn’t see anything for a moment.
And yet, he didn’t feel fear.
The first shot went wide. The hill the Revolutionary Army had used as an encampment just a day before ceased existing in a fraction of a second.
There was no thunderous explosion. No debris raining down. The hill was just gone, a bubbling, smoking crater of superheated earth in its place.
It had obviously been a demonstration shot meant to intimidate the rebels. Oliver couldn’t see anyone who wasn’t impressed with the firepower, but equally, no one seemed ready to surrender. People trusted their commander with their lives. If Sir Leonard Weiss didn’t think they should be afraid, they wouldn’t be.
It was as simple as that.
After two long minutes in which Oliver could imagine the airship’s crew’s confusion at the lack of a response, the cannons started glowing again. Sir Leonard finally moved, bringing his sword to stand before him in a classic ready position.
It looked like he was going to take the attack on.
Oliver watched in rapt attention from his position next to Lady Jean, his breath catching in his throat as the airship's cannons charged up again. The mana drawn to the weapons was visible, a tangible force that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. The air hummed, thickening with magical weight.
Despite the mounting tension, Sir Leonard remained still, his eyes fixed on the approaching threat.
The cannons fired. Beams of concentrated mana shot forth with blinding intensity, their sheer power ripping the air apart. The landscape was illuminated in a harsh, otherworldly light, and Oliver's vision went nearly white again. Desperate not to miss anything, he forced an excessive amount of mana into his eyes, sharpening his sight despite the overwhelming brilliance. He would not, could not take his eyes off his mentor.
Sir Leonard took a deep breath, his movement almost in slow motion, chest rising and falling.
Then, with a focus that bordered on the divine, he opened the floodgates to his own mana. The battlefield seemed to hold its breath as an immense presence descended, pressing down with a weight that dwarfed even the airship’s might.
Light visibly materialized around him, forming a radiant halo that crowned his head and shoulders. His sword gleamed with ethereal brilliance as he raised it high. The mana swirling around him acted as a beacon for a hundred miles, and all creatures stopped to witness it.
Sir Leonard brought Dyeus down to meet the oncoming beam. The world seemed to freeze for an instant, the clash of powers hanging in the balance.
Then, in a stunning display that Oliver would have believed impossible if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, the beam was cleaved in two. The attack meant to annihilate the Revolutionary Army split and arced harmlessly to either side of the protective dome. They carved deep furrows into the earth, extending hundreds of feet and leaving smoldering trenches in their wake, but the army remained untouched, the shields not even disturbed.
Oliver's heart pounded in his chest, awe mingling with euphoria coursing through his veins. He could barely comprehend the sheer scale of the feat he had just witnessed.
Sir Leonard stood firm, the Light around him only increasing in intensity rather than dissipating after what should have drained any other mortal.
Cheers swept through the army once sight returned to the men and they realized what had happened, the soldiers shouting chants of "Freedom!" and "Hero! Hero!"
Expecting their leader to win and seeing it happen were different things, and the effect on the morale was palpable; every soldier seemed to stand taller, their resolve steeled by the miraculous display.
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Oliver saw Lady Jean look up from the corner of his eye, so he followed her gaze and noticed the Griffin Knights moving erratically in the sky. Their graceful formations faltered, and they flew with a disoriented, almost panicked urgency. He turned fully to the Archmage, who had calmly stood beside him through it all, almost as if she had expected it.
“The sheer power used by the airship must have damaged the griffins' senses,” she explained without looking away, her voice carrying over the din. “The intense mana discharge has practically blinded them, even if Leonard deliberately avoided hitting them. They must be quite vulnerable.”
As if on cue, spikes of shadow erupted from the ground, launching upwards with unerring precision. The Griffin Knights, already struggling to maintain their bearings, were caught off guard. While some managed to avoid being hit, several griffins were struck, and their riders were thrown from their saddles in a stunning display of power. Oliver gasped; everyone knew griffins were resistant to third-tier magic, and no one would make such a foolish mistake. That could only mean that what had to be a hundred Master-tier spells had been launched all at once.
Lady Amelia had taken the field.
With the initial volleys done, the battle commenced in earnest. Two of the Revolution’s greatest against an entire Corp of the Royal Air Force.
The Griffin Knights, recovering from the initial shock, dived towards the army, raining spells in an attempt to break through the shields. However, Lady Jean's protective wards held firm, the spells fizzling harmlessly against the translucent dome.
More shadow attacks surged upward, each strike meticulously targeting those who exposed themselves to attack and thus could not outmaneuver the spikes. Every spell that connected downed a griffin, but Oliver noted, thanks to his still-running enhancing spell, that the creatures were deliberately not killed. Instead, they disappeared alongside their riders just before they hit the ground, taken away in a burst of shadowy magic.
Even in a momentous battle like this, Lady Amelia was thinking of the future.
Oliver’s attention was forcefully turned away as his senses were almost overwhelmed by a sudden increase in the ambient Light.
Now glowing like a star, Sir Leonard leaped into the sky as if gravity could not hold him. He swung Dyeus, sending a mighty crescent of energy hurtling towards the airship.
The arc of power clashed with the ship’s shields, cracking them visibly.
They were quickly repaired thanks to the airship's crew scrambling to maintain their defenses, but that a single, almost casual strike could damage them was sure to make the men rethink their choices.
Oliver watched his mentor float in the sky, wings of golden mana holding him aloft. He could feel the army’s awe and joy turn into reverence.
Today will have consequences far beyond what a victory should bring. Even the fact that Sir Leonard can tank a hit from a heavy airship will be secondary to what the men are seeing now. This is stuff from the realm of legends.
An aerial duel ensued, with Sir Leonard engaging the airship relentlessly, almost chasing it down. His every strike forced the crew to consume more resources to keep the ship in the air. The airship fired more beams, weaker but faster than the initial blast. Sir Leonard easily batted them aside, demonstrating overwhelming skill in the face of what should have been an unbeatable opponent.
The army below watched in awe as their Grand Marshal continued his assault, wearing down the airship's protections with every strike. Oliver could imagine the strain on the enemy crew; their movements becoming frantic, their mana crystal reserves depleting under the relentless onslaught, forcing them to begin tapping into their own power lest they fall out of the sky.
The airship, in what should have been an unthinkable action, turned sharply in the air, picking up speed as it steered away from the battlefield, heading back toward Treon. The sight of the vessel that was the pride of the Royal Air Force fleeing sent the soldiers into a frenzy. Their chants grew even louder, echoing across the plains, surpassing the explosions above their heads.
But Oliver didn’t let that distract him, pushing even more mana in his eyes in what he knew was becoming a reckless move. Sir Leonard, almost impossible to see now amidst his radiance, became a streak of light. With a final, powerful thrust, he crashed into the ship's shields.
The impact was catastrophic; the shields shattered in a blinding explosion, creating a massive shockwave that flattened the vegetation for miles around.
The Revolutionary Army remained untouched, protected under Lady Jean's shields despite the devastation.
Oliver felt a sharp pain in his eyes and touched his face, only to find his fingertips stained with blood. The strain of witnessing such overwhelming power was too much, and he had the presence of mind to dispel the enhancement, hoping to prevent permanent damage. He didn’t want to explain to Sir Leonard why he needed to be given his sight back.
A dizzy feeling took him then, and Oliver knew he really had exaggerated. It would be very embarrassing to pass out now, not even having been involved in the fighting, rather than during the multiple times he was in battle, especially since it was near Lady Jean, but his mana didn’t answer his calls for a pick-me-up.
Even with his vision dimming, he saw the airship tilting, its once-majestic form now a falling wreck, lacking its main mast. Small figures fell alongside it, and his last thought was that the Air Force must have been cheated out on the safety spells.
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“This has to be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever seen. Honestly, you might have to take a ship to Brander and change your name.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. Yes, he was pretty annoyed with himself for going into Mana Down to power a sensory-enhancing spell. He had already been told off enough.
Hector’s ribbing only served to make him more annoyed with himself, though he decided to take it in good humor. He had been pretty foolish, after all.
“I heard they put great importance in how men dress and wear their hair there. It’s probably best if you don’t come, or you’ll cause a diplomatic incident.” He replied, earning a snort.
Hector was surprisingly able to take what he dished. He was a good sort.
Still, that didn’t make the excitement he felt at what he had witnessed fade one bit. An electric sort of energy had taken the camp during his forced convalescence. While Oliver had been forced to stay in the infirmary longer than he needed, he hadn’t minded too much, having spent his time speaking with the rank and file soldiers who came by to get their injuries looked at. Well, that and weathering Hector’s wit.
The victory against the Air Force, especially the stunning aerial duel between Sir Leonard and the King Vasily Class airship, had lifted the revolutionaries’ mood from assured and expectant to beyond ecstatic. The Captains had to hold the men back from directly charging at Treon’s walls lest they be turned into red mist by the towering wards that had been raised soon after the airship fell.
Oliver still hadn’t been able to talk with his mentor beyond a short exchange of words after he woke up, but he suspected he knew what he was thinking.
Now that the biggest obstacle left was gone, the only thing holding them back from a direct assault was the wait for the intrigue behind the city’s walls to bear fruit.
Dominance had already been established. The Navy—which could rightly call the shots now that it was the only public force left—hadn’t made a single foray out of the harbor. The might of the revolution was uncontested. This was why, when everyone was expecting Sir Leonard to lead the charge, he would strike from the back.