The Alliance invasion of the city of Dursk had been going smoothly. The sapient beastkin's armies were bred for war, with powerful physiques to match. They had natural-born weapons that the human invaders lacked, and possessed sharp senses surpassed only by the most powerful amongst the humans. And still, they were slowly losing.
The Torinian armies had responded quickly to the sudden attack on one of their city, sending multiple armies to bolster the one stationed at the city, and also counter their enemies. They had fought tooth and nail, with broken ships raining down from the sky like rain and devastating explosions going on here and there. But still, they were being slowly ground down.
The problem wasn't from any lack of fighting prowess. They had the strength to match, and even surpass the humans. They had the speed to outpace the humans by far, and they also had the stamina to outlast the invading humans. But what they lacked that the humans had in abundance was ingenuity, and deadly savagery to match. While the beastkins mostly showcased their own brand of savagery in martial combat, the invading armies showcased theirs in the constructs they brought to the battle.
Acid rains that burned holes into their bodies. Alchemical reagents that painfully peeled off the beasts' furs and all kinds of scales– one of their pride piece – which lowered morale. And other constructs that interfered with their high sensitivity. All these were specifically modified to only affect only the beastkins.
And then the hive showed up.
Large, deep tunnels opened up surrounding enemy lines, spewing out thousands upon thousands of the seven-foot-tall creatures, with a matte black chitin that reflected the sunlight off of it. The common drones moved like their tiny cousins, crawling on the ground and cutting through soldiers with their mandibles, while the elite – The Monarchs and above – stood on their hind legs; their remaining four legs were turned into weapons of mass destruction, with scythe-like blades of terror jutting out of them. From their abdomens came needle-like stingers that excreted paralyzing agents that would later begin liquefying the insides of any victim the caught. The air parted as Red chitin Spirit lords, almost twice the size of their black-chitin siblings, flew out into the sky, snapping their sharp mandibles to intimidate their enemies. Their scythe-like arms swished through the air eliciting a horror-inducing whooshing sound.
In minutes the arrival of the ant swarm led to a shocking turn of events where a few minutes ago the winning Alliance had been slowly grounding the Torinian Soldiers, and now that same Alliance was surrounded on all sides by an army of ants twice their numbers. Combined with the Dursk defenders, the Alliance were vastly outmatched.
This led to the physical interference from the Spirit lord commanders, resulting in an equal response from their counterparts. Again, they were still vastly outmatched.
But they fought on nonetheless.
The Spirit lords' interference turned the battle's mortality rate from a forty percent chance of survival to nearly zero as powerful techniques began flying around.
Thousands were wiped out in instants as dodged or deflected Spirit lords' stray techniques landed on the lower realm fighters. Although the Shields helped – Specialized Monarchs who were trained in minimizing the damages stray Spirit lord techniques caused during large-scale battles – but their grueling works only prolonged the inevitable. Soon, they would get tired and drained of energy, and then everyone would all die.
Slowly, the Alliance was pushed back, slowly being squeezed into each other, and the Hive–Torinian Alliance tightened around them like a noose on the neck.
And then he arrived.
All the Spirit lords felt it, and even the Monarchs sensitive enough. They felt the imminent spatial arrival. The losing Alliance shouted in joy and relief as they knew who was coming, while fearful tension broke out amongst the Torinian and hive defenders. But still, they fought on. After all, they had the numbers.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Until he finally appeared.
Dark Grey hair fell onto a long, silvery grey battle coat that accentuated power and regality. His stormy grey eyes took in everything as his battle spear calmly swished around.
His aura spread throughout the battlefield and beyond, bringing with it the chilling feeling of the long arm of death.
"Didn't I promise a response to anyone who sided with the Solarians, or did you think I was joking?"
His calm-spoken voice reached every ear, carried around by his power. It didn't crash down like thunder, or grounded like multiple crushed boulders. It swept through the wind like a coming apocalypse.
A desolation.
His first attack wiped out a sizeable portion of the hive's western flank, completely turning them into broken, scattered body parts.
The second wiped out another portion of the hive swarm, leveling the earth into miles-wide craters. There weren't even any recognizable body parts.
The third technique combusted the Torinian backlines, dousing the air with the smell of mouth-watering roasted meat.
And the fourth technique completely razed down a terrifying portion of the enemy's fleet, dropping flaming ships out of the skies like flies.
In just a few moves, he had obliterated close to a hundred thousand enemy soldiers, more than the Spirit lords who had been battling for hours.
Seeing this and fearing for the worse should he continue unchallenged, a portion of the enemy's spirit lords detached from the opponents they had been ganging up on, heading to counter Damien.
He didn't mind. Raising his spear tip to the sky, light flashed, and then grey-constructed spikes came flying out, gunning for the approaching spirit lords.
Now, unlike the Torinians, the Hive lords weren't built sturdy. They won their battles through sheer numbers, not the quality of their fighters, so Damien's energy-dense attacks were able to do more than significantly damage them. For every three Hive lords that approached him, Damien managed to wipe out one in his attack. This was a severe disaster that would have taken other kingdoms years to recover from, but the hive, amongst its many perks, could regain its full force in a little over two decades. And for Spirit Lords, that was a very short amount of time.
Damien moved like disaster incarnate, swift and with brutal force. He tore through their heads, thorax, and their pincered abdomen In a deadly attack sequence that destroyed them; all the while he continued to Bombard their SkyShips with hundreds of starfalls and breath of destruction.
It was well known that an average Hive Lord would lose every time against another Spirit lord of equal tier outside the Hive, which made it easier for Damien to deal with them; What they lacked in quality, though, they made up for in quantity.
Damien slashed, putting half his overall physical strength into the blow, and tore through a Hive Lord from the elbow–downward. He continued, moving in between and dealing out devastating blows, putting terror into the hearts of those witnessing. When Damien was done, a significant portion of the Hive's Spirit lords on the battlefield had dwindled. The remaining were either too damaged to fight any longer and had already sounded the call for retreat, or they were busy fighting the Alliance.
"You! We know you, and it is an honor to fight against someone of such caliber," A beastkin called out, stepping up opposite him while five more gathered behind her.
Damien looked at the tigress, with a silver-white coat with dark stripes as black as night. Her chest was bare while a dark red material, the color of dried blood, wound around her waist. Black beaded chains rattled around her waist as her long tail gently swished around. On both her arms were also obsidian-colored bracers that glinted brightly in the sky. Around her neck wound large silver beaded chains. All of these pieces of jewelry were powerful treasures, no doubt, judging from the aura they emitted.
"If you know about me, then you know that to stand against me in arms means death."
The tigress brought her two arms forward, squeezed into a fist. She gently brought them together, closely but not touching. "This one is called Hjera Nikku, and this one would be honored to die at the hands of a Great chieftain such as you. Helping our retreat will be a bonus."
Damien knew who a Great Chieftain was: a being considered powerful enough to lead the other Chieftains of their various clans. There was only one Great chieftain in the Torinian kingdom, and she had undisputed authority over the whole Kingdom.
Damien nodded, "Then I hope Ever–Warring Father welcomes you into his Everlasting war."
The woman's eyes misted. "Thank you."
Behind his six opponents, the air howled and the world turned red as six Astral images manifested.