Chapter 53:

Cort clenched his jaw as he heard the pretentiously loud sound of drums reverberate throughout the battlefield. ‘I suppose some things never change…’ He thought to himself.

Over the horizon, vague figures began appearing, few at first, but soon it was made abundantly apparent that their numbers rivaled that of Sirocco’s forces.

All around him, Cort could feel every adventurer inadvertently gulp, and he could understand why. Above the approaching army, a carriage even more flamboyant than that of Clint’s appeared. The carriage was colored a bold red and plumes of flame emanated from behind it; Cort was reminded of rockets from his old world.

Then just as suddenly as it appeared, the red carriage stopped a distance away from Clint’s carriage; and following its lead, the army under it also stopped.

The carriage’s door exploded out and smoke gushed from within it; once the smoke swirled away, an imposing man appeared.

Cort had once read a book regarding the influence of Origin on a magician’s mannerisms and vice versa. The short and the long of it was basically that Origin both influenced a magician’s overall vibe while also being a product of it; it was a kind of positive feedback cycle that served to further intertwine Origin to a magician’s being.

A textbook example of this would be the man standing before Sirocco’s army. He was tall, dark-skinned, and covered from head to toe in bulging muscles. Much like a roaring flame, this man seemed too fierce to even touch, that was despite the ever-present mocking smile that dared one to do just that.

The man stood, back straight, as he scanned through the forces of Sirocco, his eyes similar to a predator studying its prey. Finally, he cracked a smile before bursting into uproarious laughter. The thunderous peal of laughter resonated within the ear of each person standing against him. Some of the fainter of heart outright passed out, while even the bravest grit their teeth as if being pressured.

Then just as the battle before the battle seemed lost, a calm voice interrupted his laughter, cutting it apart despite being gentle.

“That’s enough, Borris,” Clint said as he magically materialized, facing the imposing man.

“Clint…” Borris said, his voice deep and baritone. “Don’t mind me, I was just admiring the fresh blood,”

“Whatever, I don’t have much time, let’s do this like last time,” Saying that, Clint brought out a chair and sat mid-air, a teacup suddenly materialized and he began taking sips from it.

“Storage ring…” Cort muttered as he stroked his own ring discreetly. He noticed how Clint did not seem to use an Origin stone to activate his ring and he recalled something Old man Carson mentioned previously.

“Sure!” Borris said before uttering another peal of thunderous laughter. Preferring to stand rather than sit, the large man adjusted his posture to a more lax position, before calmly regarding the battlefield.

An awkward silence spread as no one said anything.

Just as Cort began wondering what was going on, he heard the soft-spoken yet firm words of Clint. “What are you waiting for? Begin!”

“Yes, sir!” Virtually every wind palace soldier said before they began issuing orders. Though different in minute ways, each bore the same basic meaning:

“Charge!” Borris growled at his army.

The war began.

…………………………………………

Rine was nudged awake from his dazed state as the people behind him began pushing him forward.

Confused, he turned to his side where Calvin stood, sword brandished and chest puffed.

Noticing his comrade’s gaze, Calvin turned to Rine as a look of slight worry appeared in his eyes. “Are you ready Rine?”

“Y-yeah!” Rine replied a little listlessly.

Rather than fade, the worry in Calvin’s eyes only intensified; “Just stand back with Roe, and focus on not getting hit.”

Rine nodded and to his side, he felt that Roe was looking at him.

Meeting the young magician’s gaze, Rine heard him say: “Rine, let’s do our best!”

“Yeah!”

“Move out! Protect the defenders! Position A” Cass screamed at her party, cutting their conversation off.

““Yes!” Both Calvin and Roe responded before expertly getting into formation.

Thanks to the training they underwent in Sirocco, Rine managed to follow along as both his team and a secondary vanguard unit encircled a team of defenders.

Doing so, Rine recalled his lessons in battle strategy. The crux of this war would be relying on things called “Tents” Though simple in name, their function was anything but as they served as both a shelter and, even more importantly….

“Clash incoming, ready yourselves,” Cass’s stern voice awoke him from his thoughts, and directly in front of his team, a similarly formed group of Fire-lands adventurers charged at them.

The collision was intense as both Cass and Calvin, the two most fore-front members of their team locked swords against the enemy.

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Calvin, despite his robust stature, nimbly dodged the swinging sword that aimed to take his head. Using the momentum from his side-ways dodge, he carried through with an attack of his own, hoping to be quick enough to catch his foe off-guard.

Unfortunately, he was too predictable. Reading his intent, the man he was facing off against stepped back slightly before sending a kick out.

Calvin grunted as he pushed through the surprise attack, only to be met with a seemingly random punch that came out of nowhere. He reeled back as he spat out the blood from his mouth.

‘These people fight too weirdly!’ he complained to himself as he recalled the teachings he received from Sirocco.

[The warriors coming from the lands of fire have a rather unique fighting style,] The instructor said before continuing [Rather than adhere to a strict pattern like our sword techniques, they rely more on their instincts. Much like the barbarians of Stark, when they fight, they employ the entirety of their body. Furthermore, their quick reflexes further establish their reactive fighting style, making them extremely skilled at adaptation. The best way to fight these men is to copy them. Vary up the techniques you use and switch them about. A side-effect of their quick reflexes, and their heavy reliance on them, is that they are susceptible to feints, so use those freely. Finally, watch out for their teeth; they bite…]

Calvin screamed in pain as he continuously bashed his foe’s head in. Unfortunately, each attack only further drove the man’s teeth into his flesh. Thankfully he had managed to steer the man’s attack away from his main objective which was Calvin’s throat, now the man was latched onto his shoulder.

“Cass!” He yelled for his teammate, unfortunately, she was in a similar position.

Faced with no other option, Calvin chose to improvise. His face hardening, he grabbed the man by his hair and pried him off, tearing a good chunk of Calvin's flesh away with him. The latter didn’t mind however and instead of retreating, he advanced further into the man’s embrace, so as to hinder the opponent's sword, and shockingly slammed his forehead against the bridge of the man’s nose.

Blood now freely flowing from the man’s dazed face, Calvin followed up with a sword strike.

The previously dazed man suddenly woke from his state and lifted his sword to parry the blow while also striking out with his other hand.

Unfortunately for him, Calvin already knew that the man was just pretending to be dazed and thus prepared beforehand. His sword magically retracted back as if never intending to strike, and instead of attacking, he dodged under the man’s wide swing so as to end up behind him.

Realizing his mistake, the man chose to instead attack with his elbow, but he was a step too late.

Calvin’s sword swung up in a clean arc, severing the man’s arm clean off.

“Got you!” Calvin roared as bloodlust overtook his eyes.

…………………………………………

Similar scenes of grotesque violence appeared throughout the battlefield, rendering Rine numb.

He stood there aimlessly with a blank look on his face. It was almost surreal as if the whole thing was a dream. Watching the young men and women he had come to know come to blows against people he had yet to meet, he felt conflicted. All at once, the reality of his situation came crashing down, nearly bringing him to his knees. As he looked through the battlefield, he could see countless adventurers killing one another. Aside from that, some mourned the loss of their allies, while others celebrated the increasing value of their badge points. Each kill raised one’s value apparently.

Just how many of these lost lives had families of their own? How many sick sisters, grieving mothers, or heart-broken fathers would result from their demise. And for what? To serve them?

To the side, he could see groups of Wind palace soldiers grouped up with those of the Fire palace; they seemed to be getting along.

The two mismatching scenes, one of chaotic bloodshed and another of playful bantering, were jarring, to say the least. Their contrast so strong it further sent Rine’s mind reeling.

Worst of all was above. Above the messy hustle and bustle of this chaotic battlefield was the serene scene of two men leisurely discussing matters as if on a picnic. One was sitting sipping tea while the other stood with a sneer on his face.

‘What were they talking about?’ Rine asked himself, not really caring for an answer.

Unexpectedly, it seemed Clint sensed his gaze. The perfectly collected man looked toward Rine with his characteristically calm smile and winked.

Rine, in return, blinked in confusion and after opening his eyes, Clint was no longer looking toward him.

“Haaah” He sighed. “I’m beginning to hallucinat-”

“Rine!” The red-haired youth jumped at the sudden call for his attention and he turned toward Roe who was frantically waving his hands about while chanting what seemed to be a spell

“Roe?” Rine muttered before realizing what had happened. His attention was once again yanked to the front where he sensed a dense amount of Origin coming at him at blistering speeds.

'Wind Blade!' Rine thought in a panic.

But just before the spell hit, another one activated and a sudden wall of fire appeared before Rine.

The two spells met and the force of the impact sent Rine flying backward, mostly unharmed.

“You idiots!” He could hear Cass say mid-flight.

“Those fucking bastards damnit!” The other warrior of his party grunted.

“Rine! Roe!” Calvin said frantically as he struggled against his opponent, wanting to come to their aid.

Rine paid no heed to any of this, however. He even ignored the sneering face of the man who had attacked him. What he focused on was the brightly smiling face of Roe.

And the wind blade that tore into his torso.

…………………………………………

Cort moved with haste as he took a spike and hammered it into the grassy ground. Other warriors mimicked his actions and soon two wind magicians came and covered the spikes with a large cloth. After tying the cloth to the spikes, the magicians then began chanting a lengthy spell. Moments later, the cloth flew up high reaching the height of eighteen feet. After reaching its maximum height the make-shift tent began glowing in green light and soon the light spread to the surroundings. After reaching a specific distance, the borders were finally set.

“Boosters…” Rine remarked to himself as he bathed in the green light. He could feel his body grow lighter and muscles grow tauter.

These tents were a derivative of an invention made long ago. Back then it came in the form of a totem; regardless they both served the same purpose, they buffed the army who set them up while, on rare occasions, debuffing the enemies.

Walking inside the tent, Cort could see that it was much larger than it appeared on the outside. It was large enough to hold the entirety of his team, which was the tent’s other main objective. Soon they would be joined by a wind soldier designated to them and the four magicians of the two vanguard teams assigned to them.

But what interested him more than that were the symbols etched beneath the cloth that made the roof.

“Inscriptions…” Cort muttered in intrigue.

“What are you looking at?” A sudden voice stole his attention.

Looking over, Cort saw Amelia approach him with an obviously fake smile. She tried her best to look calm, but it was painfully apparent she was worried for a certain couple of people, and she had every right to be.

“Nothing mu-” But before he could complete his sentence, he was interrupted by what seemed like an inhuman screech.

The two looked at each other briefly before dashing outside.

Once they exited the tent, Amelia gasped in shock. “R-rine?” She asked herself doubtfully.

Cort sported a similar expression as he regarded what looked to be a man burning in fire, only instead of shrieking in pain, it was laughing.