Chapter 62
It was when the sun was fully choked out by the dense and dark clouds that the two forces met. The adventurers gave out impassioned cries as they deftly rammed their forces down the palace soldiers’ throats. Spells whizzed about and the sound of clashing metal would have been deafening had it not been drowned out by the desperate war cries issued from both sides.
The palace soldiers were no less fierce as they met the violence head-on and though the gap in numbers was massive and leaned heavily against them, they were still confident in their chances. For every palace soldier killed, dozens of adventurers would be dragged down too. Rivers of blood flowed freely through the battlefield before turning to vapor when meeting fierce flame and being blown away by sharp winds.
“Aaaahhhg” A maddened cry rang out as an adventurer wielding a nearly broken spear leaped from the corpses of his fallen comrades and swung down heavily with his weapon. The attack was successful as it fully pierced the palace soldier, deeply embedding it into her neck.
The maddened warrior screamed in hollow victory before being beheaded by a wind blade conjured by a nearby palace magician. The head barely touched the ground before it was incinerated by the nearby flames of a madly raging adventurer.
The fighting was intense and wild, the most dominant force was that of the fire palace who slaughtered their way through the masses feeding their fires. The adventurers, to their credit, were unfazed, and they continued to mindlessly swarm around the flames in hopes of suffocating it. The most passive force by far was the wind palace who hovered about the field like silent scythe-wielding specters; their attacks were precise and fatal and their kill count rivaled the Fire Palace’s. A fact made all the more impressive when taking into consideration the fact that a considerable chunk of their force was hovering around Clint in a protective formation.
Borris stood in the center of this madness, continuously spouting out verse after verse of his spell. But every now and then he did spare some time to grimly look toward Clint, who stood amid his people, seemingly unaffected by the surroundings.
“Coward!” He growled before turning his attention to the instigator of this mess. The masked man.
Seeing the nonchalant pair of eyes studying him back caused his fists to itch, but he gathered his patience and set his sights on finishing his spell. That being said, it wasn’t as if he was completely out of options…
…………………………………………
Cort’s brows furrowed as he stared Borris down. He had hoped to use the chaos to escape with Rine, but the chances of that happening now seemed slim.
‘My plan worked a little too well…’ Cort thought as he let go of the sword that was still plunged into Rine. He did not dare to pull it outright in fear of causing the magician to bleed out and thus actually die.
Just as the sword left his hand, his eyes turned sharp. A distance away, barreling toward him, came three fire palace soldiers; a magician followed by two warriors. Judging them from afar, Cort knew at once that he was in trouble.
And the foremost warrior’s actions instantly justified his feelings.
Unsheathing his sword, the warrior smiled viciously and his weapon lit aflame with a fire-like Aura.
Cort advanced forward, taking the fight away from Rine’s body, he lightly touched his ring and after the faint light, a bow materialized; in the next moment, Cort had already sent a barrage of arrows toward the trio.
The foremost warrior smiled lightly and, with a flash, he slashed forward as a wave of flames instantly engulfed the arrows aiming at him. After the wave passed, nothing remained of the arrows save for falling ash.
Cort did not let this display discourage him and he continued to ceaselessly fire arrow after arrow.
Just as the warrior was about to continue swinging, he felt a hand grasp his shoulder; looking behind him he saw the magician in his party hastily chanting.
Confused, the warrior chose to ignore the interruption and once again swung mightily with his sword, but this time his face hardened after the attack.
Out of the fire emerged an arrow whose tip was blackened with what looked like rot. On closer inspection, the warrior noticed that the hazy blackness that covered the tip was actually the masked man’s Aura.
“Shit!” The warrior exclaimed as he hurriedly stepped to the side, but it was too late. The metal tip crumbled and the arrow exploded directly in front of the warrior's face.
But instead of tearing meat, what came after was the sound of cracking glass. As the smoke cleared, a barrier made of flames appeared, half-broken, around the warrior’s face.
“Tsk. Thanks,” He said begrudgingly.
His comrade, on the other hand, did not reply as he was busy chanting. A second later, the magician raised his hand upward, palm to the sky, and uttered. “{Fireball Volley!}” Dozens of small fireballs materialized above his palm before scattering. Each individual ball deftly made its way through the air, intercepting an arrow.
The sounds of explosions rang out and mini fireworks went off mid-air as Aura and magic clashed.
Cort had no time to enjoy the view as he was too busy dodging the excess fireballs that made their way toward him. Instead of retreating, he chose to advance.
“Die!” The foremost warrior exclaimed as he made contact with a wide sword slash.
Clank!
Instead of flesh, the sword met metal, and the warrior realized that Cort had replaced his bow with a shield.
The warrior scoffed and channeled his Aura. The bright flames instantly began melting the metal, a few moments more and the sword would cut all the way through.
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Cort made no effort to change anything and merely stood in place, blocking.
Excited by the prospects of ending the fight, the warrior laughed before doubling down in force only to be surprised by a sudden lack of support.
‘What?’ The warrior thought as he watched Cort abandon the shield in order to step to the side.
‘Idiot!’ The warrior smirked and immediately shifted his sword away from the shield and toward the masked man's direction.
There seemed to be no room to dodge and the warrior was confident that this would be the end
That was until he saw it.
In the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of a raging bundle of flames that shot toward him like a bullet.
The fireball, intending to hit Cort, missed due to his skillful movement. And the result was a loud sound as the spell met the warrior’s face head-on.
Cort on the other hand never stopped moving and, after pulling out a sword from his ring, he hurriedly parried the dagger that seemed to suddenly appear behind him.
Holding the dagger was the final member of the trio. An ordinary-looking man with an impassive expression on his face. Unlike his brutish teammate, this person gave Cort an actual sense of danger.
“Oho, you actually sensed me. Impressive,” The dagger’s inscriptions began glowing and it burst into flames as the man talked.
Cort’s sword began buckling under the force. “Unfortunately, you’re still too green,” The sword shattered apart and the dagger continued forward.
Faced with no other choice, Cort sharpened his bloodshot eyes and the world slowed to a crawl.
Intense pain radiated from his temple, but he pushed through it. Now seeing clearly, Cort realized that he had a very small dodge window so he immediately began tilting his head away from the attack. Even with his inhuman reaction speed, he still felt the sword easily pierce his mask as it dug into his cheek, drawing blood that instantly burned away.
Not willing to take damage without reciprocating, Cort twisted his upper body to the side; simultaneously dislodging the warrior’s knife from his face while also winding up for an attack.
Seeing this, the warrior skillfully took a step back and away from Cort’s range while also slashing forward as a wave of fire shot out.
Cort abandoned his attack immediately and took out another shield from his storage just as the enemy’s attack landed. The collision pushed him back a couple of steps and his shield was ruined. If that wasn’t enough, he was also almost out of the Aura he had been barely able to gather when looking after Rine. It seemed that using the storage ring took up more effort than it seemed.
“Tsk, I’ll have to end this soon,” He mumbled to himself as he retrieved another bow from his ring and took aim. But when the dust from the collision settled, he seemed surprised to see that the warrior he was just facing was now gone.
“Good fight,” He heard the words whispered to his ear behind him as the warrior suddenly appeared once more, blistering knife aimed toward his throat.
“Yes. It was,” Cort’s surprised expression faded as he leisurely took a step forward. Behind him, the corpse of the warrior fell on its back, making the knife that stuck out of its chest obvious for all to see.
“And then there was on-” Cort’s words caught on his throat as he suddenly caught sight of the fire palace’s magician he had just been facing being beaten senseless by a group of adventurers.
Cort smiled, but it was hidden behind his mask.
He stood there, immersed in the familiar chaos of war, fully taking it in. Whatever the world, violence was the same. Yes, guns were replaced with bows and bombs with magic but so what? War was war.
It was just as he making his way toward Rine that he sensed it.
Heat.
Looking toward where Borris once stood, he was shocked to now see a mountain; no, mountain was incorrect, it was a volcano. One on the verge of an eruption. And hovering brazenly above it, on his carriage was Borris and what remained of his lackeys.
Before Cort could react, he felt the earth explode as lava and ash erupted from the angry edifice.
Squinting his eyes against the ash and struggling to see amid the choking darkness it brought along, Cort could barely make out another horrifying sight.
As the thick liquid cascaded downward, various figures looked to be running along with it, striding across the flaming surface with ease. The fire did not seem to burn them, rather, it was as if it protected them.
And first in line among them was Borris whose now burning chariot rode atop the magma as if on land.
Worse yet Borris’s destination was clear.
“You brat!!” His booming voice radiated out as he rushed toward Cort with all the momentum in the world.
The latter stood with his mouth agape.
Unexpectedly his mind wandered far back into his past as a rookie in Root. One particular exercise saw the children simulating war; only with real guns and even more real casualties. On one such day, the higher-ups at Root thought it would be fun to introduce a new element to the “Game”; a tank.
The sight of such a metal behemoth crushing children under its wheels as it ran amok in the battlefield etched itself into his mind.
Suddenly, he felt insignificant. An ant facing down a tiger stood fairer chance than him.
As his eyes sharpened and the world slowed, warning him of his impending demise, he had more time to reflect on his naivety. He now realized how brazen his previous claim was. This war was different.
“What am I doing?” He asked himself out loud. Finally, the ridiculousness of his situation dawned on him. He was now in another world embroiled in a war that had nothing to do with him, protecting an upstart who was likely to die before accomplishing anything decent; all under the behest of an old pervert.
He sat numbly on the floor beside Rine, tired out of his mind and done with everything.
“So be it,” He said while smiling. But the smile faded as he noticed a slight, laborious movement beside him.
Looking over he saw Rine who was trying his best to stand. At some point, it seemed like the young magician had been able to dislodge his sword as made clear by the gaping wound that vomited a constant stream of blood he sported on his abdomen.
“Interesting,” Cort felt his evaluation of Rine rise slightly.
“So you still have some fight in you,” Standing with ease, Cort reached for the kid, helping him up.
“Do your thing then,” He said before letting the magician go.
Rine wobbled slightly at the sudden loss of support, but he remained upright. Once stable, he looked around as if assessing the situation before staring inquisitively at Cort who looked just as miserable as he. Seeing that Cort had no intention of moving and glancing at the bodies of his unconscious friends, Rine nodded. He started mumbling the words to a spell as he stared Borris down defiantly.
Cort watched this impassively but deep within he was moved, it was no easy feat to stare certain death in the eyes and still stride forward. Contemplating on the matter momentarily, he finally came to a decision.
With a sigh, he picked up his now discarded sword and stood beside Rine. What little remained of his Aura channeled smoothly into the blade.
The two young men stood shoulder to shoulder, one masked and the other bold, one burning with righteous flames while the other seethed with unending darkness.
“Wait!” Borris barked as he saw the now standing Rine. Confusion filled his face but it was too late now, what was left of his ravenous dogs had already caught the scent of blood and the flowing magma was too hot to stop.
During all of this, the fighting around them had not ceased either, even as hell descended on this patch of Himmel, the fires that burned within the adventurers' hearts only burned brighter.
Cort suddenly squinted as he felt something suddenly appear before Rine and him.
It was a woman donning a fox mask.