Nova raced ahead, trailed by the footsteps of hundreds of soldiers. Behind her, the remnants of five fire groups struggled to keep up. Two of the groups were at half-strength, while the other three were ruined, their ranks decimated. Exhausted and with only two surviving officers and roughly a dozen sergeants among them, Nova clicked her tongue in annoyance and frustration. She knew it wasn't their fault that they were moving at a snail's pace. Her discomfort stemmed from her lack of experience in combined arms warfare, as she was more accustomed to working with fellow knights and not friendly infantry.
This was Nova's first real battle and war experience. Before this, she had only dealt with bandit patrols and small-scale raids, primarily alongside other knights. Fighting alongside infantry and cavalry was a new challenge, and she had yet to fully appreciate their value. Additionally, her previous experience in domestic security tactics and procedures didn't prove as helpful in a battlefield environment.
Her military education had instilled in her a theoretical understanding of battle tactics, her role, and her responsibilities. But mere knowledge paled in comparison to firsthand experience. Fortunately, Nova's leadership skills were well-honed, at the very least, not all the experience she had gained thus far were useless. Leading a few lost lambs was within her capabilities, but once this little shepherd's work was done, she felt the urge to tear Raid a new one.
Nova's expression contorted with unease as she cast a wary glance over her shoulder. A sense of restlessness gnawed at her, a gut feeling she couldn't ignore. She tapped into her reserves, feeling her aura surge and course through her veins, perceiving its flow. Her run came to an abrupt halt as she enhanced her entire lower body to spring high into the air, executing a fluid 180-degree spin to survey the vast assemblage of soldiers trailing behind her. Some of the men were struggling to keep pace, their haggard faces betraying exhaustion, a few were outright lagging behind.
Landing with a resounding thud, Nova immediately issued orders for the pace to slow, allowing the stragglers to regroup. There was no room for pause, she couldn't permit it. The entire right flank was now in full retreat, some units disengaging entirely while others, like Nova's, maneuvered into position for a rearguard action. Gaps were forming everywhere as the once-defined battleline crumbled. They were currently sprinting across an open field, with nothing but grass and slightly uneven terrain. Isolation loomed like a specter, they were dangerously exposed, with no supporting units nearby. If they were to engage in combat now, it would be like lambs to the slaughter. They needed to reach their destination as soon as possible, where it would be safer.
Nova's mind continued to drift, entangled in a web of persistent worries. Suddenly, a cacophony of voices erupted from the rear, jolting her back to the present. She eased her pace to a brisk jog, eventually coming to a halt, her curiosity piqued as she turned to face the source of the commotion.
"What is it?" she demanded, a hint of impatience in her voice.
"Ma'am, I think we've got cavalry! Look over there!" exclaimed a nearby officer.
"Are they friendly?" Nova inquired sharply.
"I cannot say Ma'am. The distance makes it hard to discern insignias or banners, and their colors are unfamiliar. They could be the Kundis, who sport a similar blue and white scheme."
"Kundis cavalry doesn't wear any white, only their infantry does that," she said. Enhancing her vision, Nova beheld glistening silver plate armor, large rounded shields, and two majestic golden dragons against a serene light blue backdrop on their banners. "No… They're Lemfords, heavy cavalry."
"Gods be damned! Men, tight order, spears out! Thank fate this day, she has blessed us with our deaths!" the officer barked, rallying the troops.
"By our graves!" the soldiers shouted in response.
"No, keep going, get to that treeline. I'll deal with them. Don't slow down, avoid combat, that's an order!" Nova shouted.
"Ma'am but we can still fight," the officer protested.
"You fight when I tell you too!" she yelled, slamming a finger into his chest. "Don't engage, you have your orders! You'll have plenty a chance to earn your grave!"
The officer frowned, "Understood Ma'am, I'll lead the men in your stead, bless your hunt."
"May fate guide you, don't die on me. Now go!" Nova commanded, her voice firm, before breaking away from the group in a flash. Within seconds, she accelerated to a blur, her body pulsating with aura. Her reserves were about a quarter, but it was more than enough to deal with cavalry. Her keen eyes meticulously assessed their numbers and equipment.
"Roughly a hundred of them," she murmured, "easy."
As the cavalry drew near, their pace suddenly slowed, indicating a growing sense of apprehension as they likely deduced her identity. Just moments before the imminent clash, Nova swiftly seized her half-empty canteen securely fastened to her wrist, wrenching it from her belt. With a fierce throw, she sent it hurtling ahead. Directing her aura with practiced precision, she imbued it into the water within the brass container, causing it to detonate, unleashing a dense mist that enshrouded the vicinity as she disappeared into it.
"Halt! Halt I said!" a rider bellowed.
Despite the warning, two horsemen failed to stop in time, plunging headlong into the mist.
"She's a knight! Scatter and retreat! Avoid engaging in comba—" before the speaker could finish his sentence, a decapitated head flew from the mist, propelled by an unseen force. Striking with deadly precision, slamming into his shoulder, knocking him from his horse and crying out in pain. Nova emerged from the mist, another head grasped in her right hand, its helmet still firmly strapped. The torn neck showed its brutal removal, not by a clean cut but by sheer, overwhelming strength. She flung the head at another horseman, it struck his chest with such force that it bursted on impact, sending him hurtling from his saddle without a chance to protest.
With a predatory grace, she leapt at an oncoming horsemen charging at her, his spear poised for attack. Nova struck his chest with a kick as his speartip landed on her shoulder, her aura immediately reacted, shattering the speartip. Her kick however, caved in his chest plate, crushing his ribs and vital organs, leaving him incapacitated. In a fraction of a second and before he could comprehend what transpired, her fist slammed into his face, severing his head from his shoulders as it partially exploded, brain matter and skull fragments spiraling through the air.
Drawing her rapier as she descended, the blade emanated an azure glow. The instant she touched down, Nova instinctively widened her stance, lowering her body's center of gravity, assuming a battle-ready posture.
Two more horsemen bore down upon her, she planted her foot firmly, tensed her shoulders, and with a twist of her waist, swung her rapier through the air with lightning speed, leaving behind a trail of light, her arm moving at a blur. In a blink of an eye, the two horses fell, their heads separated from their bodies, and their riders cleaved in half horizontally at the abdomen. Nearby, other horsemen also fell, an unforeseen yet welcomed consequence of her attack.
Among the distressed ranks, a commanding voice cried out in panic, "Shit! Fall back! Scatter! Do not engage the knight!" standing out amongst the panicking soldiers, distinguished by five long feathers beautified in blue and white on both sides of his helmet, likely signifying his status as an officer. Though tempted to deal with him, Nova dismissed the idea.
Surveying the scene with a sense of detachment, she observed the chaos she had wrought. The whines of wounded horses, their riders or those who were still alive stumbled and ran. One remained behind, missing a leg, crawling on the ground as he bled out, shaking and crying, calling for someone to help him, cries that fell on deaf ears as his comrades left him. Nova sighed, boredom quickly growing as she allowed the fleeing enemies to depart, their faces etched with fear.
"From hearts once pure, darkness led, where dreams now rest, forever dead. In silent prayers, the fallen lay, their hopes and dreams forever caged," she whispered.
She wasn't sure why, but this moment reminded her of that poem. There was no meaning behind it, just a moment of impulse, from a book she had randomly picked one day in her family's library. She vaguely remembered its title being War's Harvest or something similar, a collection of poems by some obscure author who had been two centuries dead. Her memory was quite hazy, she had read so many books that she wasn't sure if she was getting the details muddled up or had forgotten it completely. But it didn't really matter. It held no importance to her.
She absently watched on as the only rider left behind quickly bled out, by now, he should be going into shock, with a main artery cut like that it wasn't long before he died. She turned away, slowly drifting into thought.
Her goal had been met, with the cavalry gone, the infantry was safe, at least for the moment. She needed to return, there was no point idling around here, if they encountered any other problems she needed to be there. If she decided to run now, she should be able to catch up to them in no time, they weren't far, she could still see them. Glancing back at the cavalry, she remained vigilant, ensuring no signs of a renewed assault presented themselves. Doubtless, it was prudent to double-check.
Until something caught her attention, and she narrowed her eyes, enhancing her vision. Two men, quite far, and moving abnormally fast. Their swords emitted a radiant glow, an unmistakable sign of their identity.
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Nova swore, "Imperial knights," she said, the words rolling off her tongue like acid. Were they after her or the infantry?
Should she run? A two-on-one situation right now wasn't ideal, her fighting style or class weren't suited for a direct and long confrontation. However, the infantry would be at risk. She could attempt a bait, but would they take it?
She was aware that Imperial knights favored attacking non-knight targets, such as infantry. Their tactics made them more akin to shock troops. Their goal was to win the battle by exploiting weaknesses in the battleline. This stood in stark contrast to her clan's and Kundis Alliance's knight doctrine as a whole. Who instead, employed their knights as a counter-defensive force. Their foremost objective was safeguarding fellow units, particularly the infantry, while effectively handling enemy knights and avoiding unnecessary and risky engagements.
Their doctrines clashed, but she understood why each side had chosen its approach. Nova was deeply skeptical, if not entirely convinced that any form of baiting would prove ineffective, in fact, all attempts made during the battle itself had been unsuccessful. She still considered it an option regardless of its proven ineffectiveness because it had been hard-wired into her training as a tactic. Utilized to deal with knights from other clans, rather than a foreign invading force like the one currently occurring.
Flanking on her own in an open field presented a daunting challenge. As the Imperial knights drew nearer, Nova weighed her limited choices, her current reserves was too low to safely fight two-on-one. To make matters worse, she couldn't discern the strength or class of her opponents. If either of them was a dancer, she'd face a tough challenge. If both were, she'd be in grave danger.
If one of them was a flanker however, then even if she wanted to, baiting would have been doomed from the start. Ensuring her survival, let alone protecting the infantry would be difficult. Her inner conflict swirled like a storm, the stark reality of her own vulnerability setting in. Even if the bait worked, her reserves might not last long enough for a successful escape. Her opponents likely had full reserves, giving them an advantage in endurance, regardless of her speed. The outcome appeared bleak, leading her to reluctantly accept that her only option was to try and defeat them before she exhausted her reserves.
Had there been no infantry to protect, she would have chosen flight over fight the moment she saw them. But fate was unkind and now she found herself cornered with no easy way out. If the fight progressed to one of attrition, she'd undoubtedly die. Knight tactics of numerical advantage tended to wear down their opponents, it didn't matter how strong a knight was if they bled their aura dry. Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip on her hilt, inwardly acknowledging that this might rank among the dumbest decisions she had made in quite some time.
"Can't run, Can't bait, Can fight, but with chains tied. Fine. This will work, I'll make it work," she uttered. "Fate guide them for I embody death."
The two Imperial knights parted ways, planning to attack her from both sides. Determined not to let that happen, she dashed forward, aiming for the one to her left. The gap between them closed in an instant. Her assault was quick and focused, honing in on his neck with lethal intent, but he parried the attack. Swiftly, she ducked under a horizontal cross, countering with an upwards thrust, which he promptly parried as well.
She launched a forceful kick squarely at his chest, catching him off guard and disrupting his composure. In an instant, Nova spun, confronting the other knight coming from behind, their blades locked for a moment before she gracefully flew back, creating distance, if only for a moment.
Are they both strikers? she wondered, it wasn't the worst pairing. Undeterred, she dashed forward again, hoping to keep initiative. In knight combat, the one that closed the distance first often held the advantage no matter how minor. A fierce exchange of blows ensured. Every time she focused on one knight for more than a moment, the other intruded, resulting in loud, sharp, thunderclaps as their blades clashed. One of them always made an effort to attack from behind, draining her reserves and fueling her frustration.
Their synchronized attacks pressed her into a corner, and she found herself shifting to a more defensive stance. Parrying and evading more often, her attacks, once aimed at defeating her opponents, now focused on creating space and preventing them from overwhelming her. Nova's mind raced, analyzing their movements, seeking any weakness she could exploit. No matter how she moved, one of them was always behind her, it prevented her from making any proper attacks, or risk a hit from the back. She parried a vertical slash and followed up with a frontal kick, but the knight blocked it with the flat of his blade. Clicking her tongue, she channeled her aura into her right arm and back, attempting a powerful thrust that landed a hit on his head. However, his aura reacted to protect him, nullifying the attack.
Nova felt a sudden vibration on the left side of her head. At the corner of her vision, she caught glimpses of a blade already departing, having just struck her. If she were an ordinary person, her head would be sliced in two by now, but her aura absorbed the blow. The hit must have been heavier than she thought, as it depleted more of her reserves than expected. She evaded the next attack, but her assailants persisted, their relentless pursuit leaving her with little respite.
The art of knight combat relied on agility and evasion as they battled at superhuman speeds. Unlike regular infantry, knights couldn't incapacitate each other with just one or a few strikes. Their auras provided a crucial layer of defense, making it arduous to breach their opponent's coverage. The strategy revolved around draining the adversary's reserves, landing blows while avoiding direct hits. How solid a knight's aura coverage was depended on the individual and their artform, but the goal was to avoid getting hit at all. Considering the destructive power a knight had, the sheer amount of force a coverage absorbed to protect its user meant reserves would naturally plummet after each attack, and if the coverage wasn't strong enough, it might even crack or temporarily break. However, there are of course always exceptions to the rule, the art of killing another has always been anything if not fluid. The rules of combat only exist because they've been proven effective after all. In this case, in Nova's case, the hardline emphasis on fluid movement and evasion does apply to the majority of knights in this era.
Unfortunately, Nova was losing. She had begun taking hits, and her reserves were now dropping at an alarming rate. She was at a disadvantage; sustained engagement wasn't her specialty, it was theirs. Her artform excelled in short exchanges, flanking maneuvers, and precision strikes, none of which she could perform right now, especially backed so hard into a corner like this. They did everything they could to limit her movements, keeping as close to her as reasonably possible, boxing her in, making it too risky for her to even commit an attack, or risk leaving herself exposed. She was completely defensive now. The fight had entered its attrition stage the moment she lost her momentum and went defensive. Taking hits was no longer sustainable, she needed to end this now.
She clenched her teeth, her mind racing. This might be the riskiest shit she has done in a while, but she has to commit. Right now, only one class came to mind that seemed remotely feasible. The others required too much aura, some just weren't useful in the current circumstances, some demanded time and vulnerability, both of which she could ill afford at present.
As one of them lunged forward, she seized the opportunity and flowed more aura into her sword, fortifying her wrist, enhancing her lower back and legs, while concentrating the energy to the tip of her blade. She embraced the strike, his sword connecting with her chest while she aimed at his neck. Her blade clashed with his aura, but she refused to relent, pushing through with sheer determination until it finally penetrated his defenses. The blade met flesh, he staggered, dropping his weapon, and falling to his knees, clasping his hands against his neck.
Nova spun, unable to evade or block in time, and received another hit. Her coverage cracked, almost breaking as the tip of the blade grazed her neck. Observing his comrade fall, the Imperial knight flowed an unrestrained torrent of aura into his weapon, compounding it. In response, Nova mirrored his resolve, rallying every ounce of aura she had left into her blade, compressing it. This was it, all or nothing. With a wide horizontal swing, the knight charged at her. With narrowed focus, at the last possible moment, she ducked. In a fraction of a second, she entered a stance, lowering her body as far as possible without risking a fall.
The 2nd Orthodox Class of the Water Spider Art, Firebreak. The most aggressive combat stance she had, forgoing all defense, even cannibalizing her own coverage for more aura. She struck with unyielding force, breaking through his aura and severing his left leg at the knee. She seized him by the neck as he fell, lifting him back up. He choked, his eyes wide in shock.
"Hey," she said gently, her voice chiming like a silver bell, "my condolences."
His hands trembled as he fought to wrest her iron grip off him. She thrust her rapier into his ribcage, impaling his very heart. His mouth widened in a silent gasp as she released him, his body crumbling to the ground. Nova's gaze remained fixed on his convulsing form, a quiver coursing through his fingers as they clawed at the earth, his eyes wide and uncomprehending.
For a lingering moment, she stood over his writhing body, a statue of cold detachment. Her attention then shifted to another figure. The other man, still alive, desperately attempting to staunch the downpour of blood with his bare hands, his flesh and attire stained in crimson. Nova's voice, as dispassionate as her gaze, rent the oppressive silence. "Want me to end it for you?" Her presence loomed, her brown eyes devoid of emotion as they bore into him. He emitted a guttural, indecipherable response, weakly pushing away from her with his feet.
Witnessing the blood seeping through his trembling fingers, Nova observed the rapid ebbing of his life force. The bleeding was quite dire, there was a very good chance she had hit one of the carotid arteries. Receiving a small rush of dopamine, she smiled for a job well done. It seemed like that medical crash course on human anatomy had been unexpectedly useful. The doctor that taught her might cringe at how she was using the knowledge though, saving lives by killing others might be a good excuse no?
"Have it your way," Nova intoned, her voice lacking obvious empathy. Kneeling, she continued, "Let this be your resting place. I won't taint it. Enjoy your last moments, for all it's worth."
His gaze, unfocused yet desperate, remained fixed on her, the light of existence dimming in his eyes. He clung to his wound, his strength waning with each passing second. Rising slowly, Nova regarded him as one might an inconsequential stranger. "Bless your death, knight, and may the Fair Maid treat you well. Farewell," she murmured, her words a whisper in the wind. Turning away, she permitted herself a sigh, lightly rubbing her neck. Her fingertips grazing the superficial wound that scarred it, she winced as it stung.
She was lucky, any longer and she would have been drained completely. It was her first brush with such rapid depletion of aura, a result of absorbing strikes. The style of fighting she employed wasn't suited to her strengths. Consequently, she had to compensate for her weaknesses by expending much more aura than usual. Unless her strength grew substantially, she couldn't afford to fight like this again without any risks or disadvantages. Nova flexed her shoulders, the feeling of discomfort and strained nerves still present. It had been a while since a fight had made her feel this way. She had believed the fear of death no longer affected her, viewing it as a sign of weakness, but it appears that wasn't the case. She forced herself to calm down through slow, deep breaths, wishing never to experience this sensation again. Well aware that by allowing it to fester, it might cost her something precious one day.
She raised her hand, gazing at her palm before it balled into a fist. The Water Spider held many dangerous classes, which endangered both the user and the opponent. She had never truly grasped the practical application of consuming one's own coverage, but it proved beneficial today given the state of her reserves. Nonetheless, she was reluctant to employ this stance again, it made her feel vulnerable, something she despised. Vulnerability, its familiarity served as a haunting reminder of her childhood, a chapter of her history she sought to suppress, for any reminder of that past was enough to unsettle her. An experience she preferred to avoid whenever possible.
She lifted her gaze to the sky, the three emerald stars still defiantly piercing the daylight. Nova began to stride, hastening to rejoin the others.