Miles found himself captivated by Raid's white, glowing sword, unable to resist its metallic allure. But held his curiosity, deeming the current circumstances unfit for such questions. Still, his mind wondered. White, or colorless aura, as others refer to it, often dismissed as myth, now danced before his eyes for the first time, leaving him pondering its effects, if any at all. Was this brilliance a mere ornamental rarity, or did it bear significance tied to the unique essence of Raid's artform?
Aura selected a specific color seemingly at random the very moment an artform came into existence. The reasons and mechanisms behind this phenomenon still remain a mystery to this day. Many believe, if only superstitiously, that an artform’s color is somehow directly associated with its character, namely an artform’s unique flow and tendencies.
"They're here," Raid said, his expression tense. “Those dome things, it's magic, right? Must be. I say we stick with the current plan until the mages intervene, but keep watch for anything resembling a spell.”
“How would you tell? I don't know what a spell looks like,” Jace inquired.
“Me neither,” Raid admitted. “Anything that looks suspicious I guess.”
"Raid, have you faced mages before?" Miles sought to know.
"This might be my first. What about you?"
Miles smirked wryly. “Almost at the cost of my life long past, during the 8th Campaign. I rudely discovered they excel in close combat as well.”
“Huh?” Jace and Raid echoed in unison.
“Wait, hold the fuck on. You're telling me they can fight us in close quarters as well? Really?” Raid said in disbelief.
“I mean, that's what almost got me killed. I assumed they fought like slingshots. While I can't be certain about all of them, the ones I faced sure as hell bruised me black.”
Raid suppressed a sigh, reining in his facial urges to frown. “Alright, listen. We'll all conserve our dancers. If those magic fuckers get anywhere near us, we send the hounds.”
“That's if they don't have too many flankers, which I doubt. Can't conserve dancers with owls flying around.”
“Hey, lovely conversation and all, but we'll have to cut this short,” Jace interrupted. “We'll just improvise on the go, got no time for plans. They're already starting to move, or are we just going to sit here and watch?”
“Call it Miles,” Raid said. “I'll give you the honor.”
Miles heaved in a deep noisy breath before bellowing, “Spearhead Strike Package! Advance!”
A flash of blurs, and everyone within the strike package vanished in an instant. Their hazy forms darted across the field at breakneck speeds as the enemy knights did the same. Brilliant trails of light tore through the air, breaking the sound barrier, flying overhead the advancing knights as the slingshots began their ranged duel.
“No quarter!” Miles roared, leading the charge. “By fate’s grace, guide them! Guide them to hell!”
Raid cast a quick glance over his shoulder, ensuring every member tagged behind him. Nova, in close pursuit, raced directly behind, followed by Marcus, Nolen, and Carter. Turning his focus back forwards, Raid's face tensed with expectation, his sword aglow with intensifying aura. A small, green, luminous pebble smoothly skipped across the grass-laden ground, halting almost at Raid's feet.
“Grenadier! Dodge!” Raid shouted, swiftly sidestepping the pebble in alarm, putting distance between him and the impending explosion.
Nova kicked the pebble, an instinctual action met with immediate disapproval from Raid and Marcus. A deafening explosion erupted, fortunately at a safe distance, courtesy of Nova's quick thinking. More pebbles came, this time four at once, flying in from above.
“Spread out!” Jace commanded. “Raid, I think that grenadier has you locked! Mason, Joseph, hound that grenadier now!”
Raid cursed under his breath. Dodging another pebble just in time, he felt the shockwave resonate through his aura. The once-straight line of their advance now resembled a chaotic dance, zigzagging and changing direction sporadically. The grenadier had singled him out, drawn to the conspicuous white blade he wielded, a distinction he was accustomed to.
Unbeknownst to Raid, his role in the main battle and subsequent rearguard, coupled with an exceptional kill count, marked him as a prime target for the Imperial knights. Oblivious to the fact that the formidable force responsible for the casualties was, in reality, a duo, Raid and Nova, and not a solitary figure. The Imperials relied on fragmented, mostly dubious eyewitness accounts. The repeated references to Raid's distinctive color led them to believe he was a lone force to be reckoned with.
Raid's eyes tracked a pebble as it sailed through the air, narrowly missing him. An immediate, resonant thud followed, and the pebble ricocheted back toward the grenadier who had thrown it.
“Nova, in Yore's name I swear! Evade! You're a flanker! If one of those explodes while you're mid-kick, you'll lose a leg!”
“My aura will hold!” Nova shouted back in defiance, to Raid's annoyance. “Contact close, breaking off!”
In a sudden burst of agility, Nova shifted direction, veering left in a wide arc. Her plan? Flank back in once the real struggle started, and it did, in a spectacular clash of knights. The initial meeting sounded like the heart of a storm, thunderclaps echoing as the linked weapons collided. The air rumbled with every exchange. Auras crashed like titans, with each knight striving to shatter the other with force capable of obliterating iron-clad gates as if they were mere paper.
Destruction unfolded swiftly. The once-vibrant green field they fought over, lost its hue within seconds of the initial contact, exposing the rough soil underneath. Craters scarred the earth, words sang, and the quiet that had thrived here days past lost all meaning. The knights moved at a blur, a vibrant spectrum of colors emanating from the mixed concentration of diverse armforms. Two knights, with locked swords, one pushing against the other in a struggle of wills, refusing to yield even an inch of ground. Their inhuman strength manifested as they enhanced their bodies with ever-increasing aura. The ground yielded beneath them, forcing a temporary parting before they reengaged, this time in a display of swordsmanship.
Raid found himself fending off a three-on-one onslaught. He parried a jab from one in front, all the while keeping a keen eye on the second approaching his side. Simultaneously, the third left his vision as the Imperial knight attempted to flank him from behind. Defensive action engaged, he expertly blocked attacks from two different angles before his aura reacted from behind.
“Fuck!” Raid swore, kicking the first to no effect as he attempted to counter the second in sudden desperation. His blade, a breath away from its mark, missed entirely.
Behind him, the third Imperial knight halted mid-swing, a fist interrupting him by smashing into his head. A rapier followed, thrusting into the knight's back. The Imperial knight pivoted, attempting to ward off further assault from Nova. Weaving through a poorly aimed counter, Nova struck with escalating aggression, shattering the man's defenses. His aura cracked, and as he tried to withdraw, Nova, relentless, closed in. A burst of movement, her blade compounded, and in a hasty trade, his blade met her chest as hers found his neck. His aura broke. Nova sidestepped a desperate swipe, her opponent's futile attempt to stave her off. But with a swift roundhouse kick, she sealed his fate, and his head vanished in its entirety.
"You good?!" she yelled, her eyes landing on Raid, who had somehow managed to turn the tide by nimbly incapacitating one foe and was now gaining the upper hand against the other.
"Yeah!" Raid shouted. "I got this now! Thanks for the save!"
Nova expressed a brief smile before she darted off once more, her focus on seeking out a new, unsuspecting target.
Raid deftly dodged a thrust, countering with a precise cut to the knee. The knight, determined to defend, attempted to block. But Raid executed a sudden, fluid shift in the blade's trajectory, seamlessly transitioning it from its previous path. In a swift motion, he raised it above his head and brought it down with a flash, slamming it into the man's neck. The strike landed hard, cracking the knight's coverage but failing to hit flesh. In retaliation, the knight targeted Raid's chest, eyes ablaze with the desire for revenge. Hastily, Raid linked his left hand, grappling the knight's blade. Undeterred, Raid went for the neck once more, this time with resounding success. The knight's aura shattered, leaving a trail of blood in the air as Raid's blade tore through the man's neck. Instantly kicking the body away before gravity even bothered to take hold.
With a brief respite, Raid took the opportunity to assess his surroundings. His position as an officer imposed additional responsibilities on the battlefield. Despite his personal battles, he had to ensure his unit, or team rather, followed the plan. The luxury of fighting as a lone warrior had long deserted him.
Spotting Nolen and Carter struggling, Raid couldn't risk losing more of his knights. Nolen and Carter were still considered trainees, integrated into the military structure before completing their training due to the high demand for knights. From a rational standpoint, if they were short on knights even before the war commenced, the prospect of securing replacements would be grim should he emerge from this battle unscathed.
"Carter, Nolen! Stick close to Marcus, support each other, or bless your death!" Raid's commanding voice cut through the chaos.
Recognizing that he stood out, drawing too much attention, Raid understood the need to allow his comrades room to breathe. Nolen, Carter and maybe even Marcus, would just die faster beside him. If it wasn't Nova fighting alongside him, he believed he'd fare better fighting alone. As a spear rudely entered his field of vision, Raid parried with precision, greeting the wielder whose eyes burned with hatred.
Nova briskly dispatched another Imperial knight, already back on the move before the body even landed. She searched patiently, seeking out those who were weakened and paid her no attention. Weaving through the chaotic fighting, she remained ever mindful of her reserves. Occasionally, a lone challenger or two dared to strike, but with agile finesse, she would skillfully evade, speedily distancing herself until their attention shifted elsewhere.
In the periphery of her vision, she discerned an enemy knight, visibly wounded and favoring a missing arm, making a desperate dash toward the Imperial lines. Recognizing an opportunity, Nova accelerated, intending to eliminate the struggling foe before he reached safety. Her strides glided effortlessly over the terrain, each step a gentle tap, gaining momentum. The once coarse soil beneath her feet transformed into a carpet of grass, signifying her departure from the frantic battleground. The kill would be swift, allowing her to promptly rejoin Raid and the others. Eager anticipation fueled her hastened pace.
The wounded knight, aware of Nova's approach, turned to face her with his remaining arm raised in defense. Nova focused on his neck where he intended to block, before she deftly altered her blade's trajectory at the last moment. A wide cut to the leading knee preceded a decisive thrust to the chest. The man's aura remained inert as he crumpled to the ground in a fetal position, succumbing to death.
Pausing briefly to catch her breath, Nova observed the apprehensive Imperial Infantry a hundred meters away. Their formation already stirring from her gaze alone. As she prepared to return to the main fray, a cloaked swordsman emerged, leaping from the infantry ranks. Unusual in appearance, devoid of any recognizable Imperial uniform that she knew, his blade lacked the customary glow. Nova, momentarily perplexed, analyzed the potential threat.
In the brief seconds of contemplation, the cloaked figure, visibly furious, baring his teeth beneath the hood that concealed the rest of his face, charged toward her at a speed far slower than a typical knights. Was this figure angry because she had just so mercilessly killed an injured knight, seemingly defenseless as he sought refuge amongst his own? Despite an unsettling feeling, Nova decided not to underestimate this new and unknown hazard.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Facing numerical disadvantage, Nova acknowledged the precarious situation of her side. Recognizing the potential threat posed by the cloaked man, she deemed it imperative to alleviate any additional pressure from the Imperial side. The figure represented an unpredictable variable. In the realm of uncertainty, swift resolution was paramount, lest it became a perilous unknown or a Fair Maid's favor. She altered her course, advancing towards the uncanny assailant. Swift and focused, she locked onto her target as the cloaked figure prepared for the impending confrontation.
She extended her blade, its tip pointed forward, meticulously adjusting its position to ensure that when it struck, the entire weight of her body, combined with the velocity of her flight, would elegantly propel it into the man's body. Mere moments from reaching the hooded figure, her sword tip met an unseen barrier. A momentary light blue hue unveiled the protective sphere, revealing its outline. Her speed plummeted, diminishing to a mere third of her intended force, and a mix of confusion and restrained shock played across her features. Yet, the extensive training she bore allowed her to cast aside this momentary disruption almost instantly, and she pressed on, seemingly unaffected by the encountered obstacle.
With her momentum and planned impact stolen, she switched to rapid jabs, but he skillfully evaded each one with ease, countering with his unlinked sword. Nova, anticipating no immediate threat, permitted the hit, dismissing the airborne blade as she focused on discerning an opening in the hooded figure's elusive maneuvers. The sword reached her shoulder, prompting her aura to react, and a force akin to a tidal wave engulfed her. Her aura fractured, and she was forcibly flung backward, Nova's widened eyes betraying her surprise as she felt her reserves dive like no other.
As she fell, the hooded figure raised his free hand and directed it at her. A small flame materialized before his palm, and an enraged proclamation followed, "Cleanse in the fire, you disgraceful rat!" A wall of flame burst from his hand, hurtling towards her. Nova, seemingly impervious to the scorching heat, casually got up as flames immersed her form, her aura acting as an impenetrable shield before she leaped out of the fire, landing at a safer distance.
"A mage, huh?" Nova remarked, dripping with insulting nonchalance. "In case you didn't know, fire doesn't fare well against us. It would have to be considerably hotter than that. Unless of course, you only amount to this much?"
Her confident facade concealed internal uncertainties. The risks were substantial, her knowledge of mages and their arcane arts was nonexistent. Caution was imperative, yet time was not a luxury she could afford with allies counting on her support. Fortunately, this mage seemed to be the emotional sort, perhaps something she could make use of, perhaps not. Above his head, arrow-shaped projectiles materialized, twelve in total. Gritting his teeth in rage, he launched them at her. Nova, ever nimble and unpredictable, danced around the projectiles as they embedded themselves in the ground, creating eruptions of dirt. She maintained a wary distance, acutely aware of the potential threats.
With ranged and melee capabilities and his actual strength unknown, Nova pondered how much aura it would take to defeat him and what abilities he might possess. How dangerous was this situation? She couldn't risk wasting too much aura on a single opponent with an entire fight behind her. The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on her. He needed to be eliminated, if not out of caution alone. The fate of the core relied on the success of the strike package, already under heavy pressure from the Imperial knights. What havoc could an unknown mage wreak? Were there more lurking in the shadows? Swift, calculated action was vital. He needed to be neutralized quickly, and with the strength he displayed earlier, she couldn't afford to gamble. A class came to mind.
She dislikes using this class. Well, she dislikes a lot of things in her artform, but one can't change their artform once learned. She had used it before, but only as a tryout, never in actual combat. However, it was what she required right now. With composed focus, Nova initiated the process of reabsorbing all aura back into her reserves. The radiant glow of her sword gradually waned, as one by one, every bodily enhancement was also meticulously peeled away, leaving only her altered physique and diminished coverage to safeguard her moral soul.
The risk was great, though the process would consume a mere two seconds at most, her intuition assured her that the mage wouldn't attempt to end her life within that brief span. Bound in a static stance, bereft of her best defense, evasion, and unable to immediately tap into her reserves while triggering the technique if he so chose to attack. Thankfully, the mage displayed a newfound caution, content on watching whilst in subtle recalibration of strategy in response to his now subdued emotional turbulence.
The 13th Unorthodox Class of the Water Spider Art, Blood Spider, was the only class explicitly warned against in the manual, stating implicitly only as a last resort, for reasons that were never explained. It came with a massive benefit: the increase in aura efficiency and effectiveness, allowing one to drastically decrease its consumption. How it was able to do this, even she didn't know, a mystery she was still investigating. Her flow abruptly changed, her body felt lighter, even weightless for a moment, as if aura was an innate birthright rather than acquired, an indescribable sensation. This class allowed her to recklessly use more aura, take more chances, without the danger, thus naturally increasing her overall strength.
In an abrupt surge, her aura cascaded through her body, reigniting dormant functions. She unintentionally linked her aura, her sword now glowing brighter than ever. A jolt of extreme emotions ran up her body, teeth clenched in a fierce internal struggle for control, pupils dilating, and her mind shrouded in a surprise haze. Employing the Blood Spider carried a detrimental byproduct, the primary reason she had shunned it until this moment: an insatiable and intense bloodlust. Difficult to restrain, and only worsened with time.
If left unchecked for an extended duration, suppressing the class becomes almost impossible, almost as though the artform takes on a will of its own. It was a mental battle, a clash between Nova's will and the autonomous nature of the artform. In the instance where a user succumbs to dormancy, unable to exert the necessary control to quell the bloodlust, then the sole recourse would be to deplete their reserves entirely. The Blood Spider requires the continual presence of aura in their system for its functioning. Easier said than done when one loses control over their own body.
Nova thought she could deal with the consequences. No, she was sure. It was temporary and entirely mental. All she had to do was keep an eye on her bloodlust, control herself, then everything would be alright. Just like in practice. She was confident she could suppress its effects. This will save her reserves as she dealt with this mage, an invaluable benefit. Reserves is a knight's sole lifeline on the battlefield, and Nova couldn't afford its waste.
She drew in a deep breath, her eyes locking onto the mage. He readied his sword, growing tense, sensing something amiss. Preparing a spell, he observed as Nova took a single step, then vanished. And before he could react, a blur, his barrier collapsed, and impact! His chest crunched, his augmented frame buckled, and he was sent airborne like a ragdoll.
“Oh?” Nova said, impressed or amused, it was hard to tell. Even she wasn't sure. Maybe both. “That hit harder than I thought. If a simple kick did this much, then I wonder…”
Nova walked with casual grace to the fallen mage, currently retching and clawing at the ground, wheezing for breath. Her unstable mind fought between reason and insanity. Withheld laughter, a smile. She found his struggle oddly entertaining, while simultaneously disappointed or displeased? Why had this mage been a source of concern? Why was he a threat again? What was she worried about? Wasn't there something she needed to do after this? Ahh, it didn't matter.
“My, this is quite disappointing. Get up. I expected a fight. Don't tell me I wasted all my thoughts on this.”
The man tried to rise, his right arm pushing against the ground as his left gripped his chest. Blood tainted his mouth, organs crushed, functioning solely to cause pain. He was surprised his heart still functioned at all, it felt like it wanted to burst, an agony he couldn't articulate. Her feet softly stopped two meters away. Shivers overtook him as their eyes locked. Hers gave a warmth, not frigid or indifferent, but a warmth akin to the gaze bestowed upon a playful dog of sorts, seeking its master's attention. Yet, a sense of detachment lingered in those eyes, much like observing a trail of ants, sufficient to capture someone's interest but fleeting, lasting only a few seconds. Then realization dawned because he too, gave this look countless times, in his experiments, the ones he barely considered life. He was her plaything, scarcely commanding her attention, but just in this instance, he retained it. A being she'd forget once she gazed elsewhere, currently entertaining enough to delay that moment. A living, breathing toy.
The bloodlust from the Blood Spider was highly selective and specific in its effects. Like all artforms used by the Ashern, they were artificially constructed, allowing meticulous crafting of specific traits, techniques, and styles. However, they came with many disabilities and side effects that stubbornly resisted eradication. After numerous failed attempts to purge the Blood Spider of its bloodlust, the thoughtful creators decided to modify it in a way that provided some utility.
Her bloodlust thrived in a combat environment, obviously, as the name implies but only more so, amplifying her senses far beyond her current best enhancements. It was so sensitive that it approached the threshold of pain, overwhelming her with a torrent of sensations that her brain struggled to process. Exacerbating the challenge of fighting the bloodlust with the continuous distraction that was her body's overreaction to every perception. She could perceive even the slightest vibrations in the air, whether originating from her own movements or elsewhere, though this was more likely hallucinations than concrete reality.
Instinctively, her head faintly shifted to the left, anticipating a threat long before her conscious mind grasped the danger. A luminous projectile, bathed in a soothing blue, whisked past her, barely grazing her reactive aura.
"Was that magic?" she asked herself. Her eyes, alight with the prospect of new intrigue, scanned for the source.
The man heaving before her, teetering on the brink of demise, now offered little value. Now she needed something else to sustain her interest. Had she known he was so fragile, perhaps she would have spared him a lighter kick, extending his fleeting existence. Wait. Why would she do such a thing? Why not? Right? Her mind started to hurt. Maybe she shouldn't overthink. Just act.
Spotting a small outline of another hooded figure hiding behind the mass of infantry. Her eyes remained on her new target as she manipulated the sweat beading on her skin, gathering it in her left hand, forming a droplet of water poised between her middle and thumb finger. A flicker of anticipation shimmered in her eyes as she readied herself for the next move, her stare now gradually returning to the wounded mage.
The mage strained to find words, a desperate attempt to stall the inevitable and plead for mercy. Regret clawed at him, questioning the folly of his impetuous decision to avenge the fallen knight. Immersion tightened its grip, echoing the cautionary whispers of his comrades, a solo endeavor had been his undoing. Anguish fueled by the memory of the allied knight's pitiful demise swelled within him, yet now, he faced a similar, undignified fate. Time was his only ally, a fleeting hope that his fellow mages would weave a spell to snatch him from the jaws of death. However, the simple act of speech proved an agonizing challenge, his lungs rebelling with each attempt.
In the silence between breaths, he pondered the irony of magic, a delicate act of maintaining passive spells whilst sailing the active. A craft committed to the unbridled exploration of limitless possibilities, guiding a person to transcendence only to witness them relinquish every ounce of authority, reverting to a mere mortal upon the forfeiture of their arcane might. The memory of her kick recurred through him, compounded by the humiliating realization that decades of devoted study and magical mastery was being eclipsed by a northerner, who appeared to be barely half his age. With a primal cry, he summoned the strength to utter a single word, "Stop," before a merciless force extinguished his feeble flame of resistance.
Nova propelled the droplet with a flick, and with blistering velocity as it transformed into a shard of ice mid-flight, penetrated his skull. Inside, it expanded, carving a sizable cavity as brain matter and bone fragments exited with what remained of the ice shard. His head recoiled violently before his lifeless form crumpled entirely to the ground.
By this point, Nova's thoughts drifted far from Raid and the others, the idea of returning fading into oblivion. Her focus now honed on the thing that had playfully poked at her earlier. A barrage of projectiles, luminous blue orbs, shot towards her from the opposing mages. Effortlessly, she dodged them all, each landing with explosive force around her, casting dirt upon her uniform and hair as a frown creased her brow. Nova, with fearless abandon, lifted her sword high, recklessly infusing it with excessive amounts of aura. The resulting brightness spilled across the battlefield, visible for all.
"By all the gods," Marcus murmured under his breath, locked in a fierce struggle with two Imperial knights. The blinding light that suddenly bathed the battlefield unveiled itself, while frustration at being hopelessly outmatched rushed through him. He fought not just for survival but to defy the encroaching defeat that threatened to consume him.
Marcus found himself compelled to steal glances at the newfound star, a luminous blue brilliance that, despite the intensity of his struggle, demanded attention. In the midst of a battle that allowed no room for distractions, he couldn't help but be drawn to this particular celestial display. As Marcus grappled with his opponents, the star stirred an unsettling urge within him. And then comprehension struck, a sense of dread washing over him as he recognized the person responsible for creating this radiant light.
"Raid! Raid!" Marcus's voice rang with desperation as he frantically scanned the tumultuous fray for Raid's form. Amid the chaotic dance of blades, he continued to hold off his relentless aggressors.
Raid paused at the urgent call, pivoting towards Marcus. He saw that the old man needed his help. "I'm coming Marcus!" Raid's roared with a promise and charged towards Marcus's position.
"Nova! Light! Light!"
Raid abruptly froze, his gaze immediately drawn to the brilliant blue light, akin to a dying star's final, dazzling display. Its strength was blinding, making it almost impossible to gaze directly upon. Though shrouded, the silhouette of its creator was unmistakable.
"You’re joking…" Raid rasped.
He had completely ignored its appearance. The fighting in his immediate area had just ended, and he was too immersed in reforming the fatigued knights to assist the others. The vibrant mix of colors throughout this entire fight thus far had made him completely disregard it as nothing but a distraction. He had put great trust in Nova and her independent actions, assuming she could take care of herself just fine. Confident that if she ever got herself into a difficult situation, she would naturally seek him out.
"What is she doing all the way over there?" Raid's words betrayed a mix of concern and disbelief. His face paled the moment he saw the light descend, striking the Imperial front line. The streak of light effortlessly cut through the rows of infantry that formed it, leaving behind a bloodied path of bodies. He saw her run into it before his mind could totally process what she just did.
"Hell! Marcus, take over! I am going to Nova!" But before he had the chance to leave, an urgent cry echoed from behind.
"Get ready! More are coming!" The warning from a Kin's knight shattered the brief respite, thrusting Raid back into the maelstrom.
Raid's expression twisted into a blend of anger and annoyance, a volatile mix barely contained. Three Imperial knights, like predators, leaped to block his path. Flexing his sword and assuming a determined stance, Raid's frustration manifested in a fury. “Out of my way!”