Chapter 49
To Command a War
Asher chose the Wooden Staff.
Though it was of the ‘worst’ starting quality, as it were, there was a good reason why he still chose it: because the other two were both melee weapons. One of them was a silver halberd and the other was a deft pair of extension claws. If he was ever to endure the capacity of 20,000 deaths, it would be from a distance and hidden within the smoke of brimstone and fire and not up close, in front of his eyes, where he’d see each flicker fade right before him.
But he didn’t make the choice immediately, settling himself first.
Looking over the de-grassed hills embossed with blood and death, as well as beyond the sights of death where the helmed soldiers marched forward, seeming fearless, he felt rather jocund, in a way. Of all the ways he saw his life unfolding, this was by far the most interesting. As it went, people often died the way they lived, and he was certain that mantra would have followed him. And yet, here he stood, alien to the world beyond his comprehension, a marionette a-dancing. But he’d felt it, from the start, even knowing that he was just a toy... desire for death eluded him.
It was there, meandering in the depths of his mind, but it was quiet and unassuming, hidden and as though bereaving. Desire for life, on the other hand, was a fire fed repeatedly, and it now burned bright and hot.
Asher closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath ‘till his lungs fell full and letting it go. Opening them back up, the world became a faint shade brighter though he was certain it was just in his head. He finally made his choice of weaponry, and the world unpaused.
It waited not for further acclimation--the silence was immediately overburdened with the inflated sounds of death and life all twined in a sonorous melody of battle. His shoulders were bumped repeatedly as the armored folk descended the hill, rushing through the kicked-up dust. The winds billowed gently and softly, unheard beneath the sounds of war, caressing his cheeks.
As he was distracted, his arm instinctively raised the Staff and a coalesced ball of fire flew, shattering into a figure in the distance that Asher couldn’t even make out. But... whoever they were, they were felled. Just like that, he’d killed the first. He bitterly mused that he could just let the Staff fire automatically and be clean of the curse of death, but it was for naught.
The world suddenly quaked and rattled, forcing him to look up to the sky where he saw flashes of light blink in and out of existence repeatedly, briefly spattering into semi-whole figures still fading. It was a battle raging in the sky, he realized, and not just one--there were several, repeatedly causing deafening sounds and collisions that shook the entire world.
Beneath them, he felt tiny, once more recognizing that he could not hold anything all by his lonesome. Gritting his teeth, he let it all go--the inhibitions, the fears, the guilt, the insecurity, the unwillingness... he wanted to live, to breathe, to sleep and wake up, to see the world beyond the invisible chains, to be free.
Raising the staff of his own will, he aimed the balls of fire toward the battling rear of the opposing army. He wasn't the only 'mage', as it were, far from it--there were hundreds roaming the rears of both armies, firing all manner of magic. A bolt of lightning strode just twenty feet past him, splitting apart one of the armored soldiers. This prompted him to start moving left and right in uneven patterns, making it difficult to be hit. Even if most magic, he gathered, likely had a homing feature of some sort, it was better than being a stationary target.
It was difficult to comprehend the scale of it all, even for Asher--hundreds died every few seconds, but the battle line never moved. It was dead set in a point, stretched out for seemingly miles in both directions, never moving back and forth. Every time somebody died, there was another immediately there to replace them. Whether fear lorded over any of them, none showed it, bravely embracing the calling of death.
And when the piles of corpses became too large, mages on both sides would use some manner of magic to clean it up--he'd just witnessed one such pile lifted in the air and flung back and away, nearly a thousand corpses filtering through the sky like macabre dew, shadowing the sun for a moment. Asher's heart stopped and froze for a second as he witnessed it--the weight of life, upon these hills, was inconsequential... as was its worth. Chances were that the armor those people were wearing would be more missed than their flesh and blood.
The world paused and he leveled up. He hadn’t even noticed, not truly; though he ‘knew’ he was killing somebody in the vast distance, under the deluge of smoke, dust, ash, and the litany of other spells flying around, it was all but impossible to see where the scorching balls of fire coalesced atop his staff were flung to.
Wooden Staff [UPG+1 -- New Effect!]
Level: 2
Effect: Shoot a fireball in the direction you are facing, dealing damage to an enemy. The fireball homes in on the first enemy in its trajectory. Has a 1% chance of exploding on impact, dealing damage to everyone within 2 yards radius.
New Effect: Every three kills of the weapon cause the carcass to explode in a deluge of pear-sized fragments of fire that fly out within a small radius, dealing 1 damage and causing ‘Burn’.
Damage: 2
Stolen novel; please report.
Attack Speed: 1 attack per second
The other two choices included a base increase to Damage and a boost to Health. However, as he had what he felt was an absurd 300 Health, and as he'd much rather speedrun the weapon's evolutions until it became useful, he went ahead with it.
The war, once more, resumed.
Though he tried his best to follow the trajectory of the balls of fire, it was still almost impossible. At the same time, he wondered just how he would have even been doing any killing if he had chosen a melee weapon. Their rarities, most likely, were just a ‘noob trap’ as it were. From the looks of the frontline, he’d be fighting to get within the range, let alone collect heads.
He'd 'only' killed 18 so far and has been just over a minute. However, it would speed up--and exponentially so--with the levels. What he wanted the most, by far, was a Dash. More and more, he saw the vast level of destruction imbued within a lot of the spells that were exploding around him. Just a few moments ago, a bolt of lightning fell from the clear sky and undid a person into a plume of drifting ash.
Though he suspected that none of the spells he could see would one-shot him, he'd still rather not test the theory if possible.
He fell into a lull, rather strangely. Though he was witnessing something that broke his understanding of the word 'conflict', he felt somewhat divorced from it. He was at least a few hundred yards away from the central line of soldiers pinned against each other in a desperate bid to push the line that cannot be moved, observing as though untangled from it all. But he quickly shook himself out of it, for more reasons than one. The next level up came and with it the first 'tough' choice. One of them was Movement Speed which he did not need at the moment, one was the weapon's next upgrade, and the last was a spell he hadn't gotten before.
Humming Song [Uncommon]
Effect: Raise the morale of all of your allies within a 1-mile radius, increasing their damage, defense, health restoration, and mental threshold by 15% for 8 seconds. Note: The kills they acquire while under the buff will also count towards you.
Level: 1/1
Cooldown: 15 seconds
-- You may set the spell to cast automatically, or you may use it per your desires if off cooldown --
Asher hesitated--not because the spell was bad; rather, within the context, it was absolutely amazing... but that was what caused him to pause. It was too good, as it would guarantee at the very least fifty-ish kills every fifteen seconds, seven if the cooldown would start as the spell was used not upon the buff’s expiration.
Ah, fuck it, it’s just one level...
He stopped hesitating and picked it, resuming the battle. Almost immediately, and without his say, his lips parted, and a voice that was not his own belted out a high-pitch note for a moment. The very next second, inundated roars of fervor caressed the sky as he watched the line, just for half a blink of an eye, move. It was little, almost imperceptible, but the line moved. It was immediately moved back, however, restored to its original place.
Kills began to pour in right after, dozens upon dozens. From the looks of it, the song affected potentially thousands of soldiers, but due to the nature of war, just a small portion of them were actively engaged in battle.
A gust of wind suddenly stirred next to him as he glanced to the side where a figure appeared--it was a golden-haired man atop nothing, floating just a few inches above the ground, his appearance divinely beautiful. Gem-like, silver eyes all but glistened like elysian artifacts. Bereft of expression, the man stared at him for a moment before his lips parted.
“O’ thy cordial woe, weep louder,” he spoke in an angelic voice. “Mine distant lambs are deaf still.”
--Interference detected!
--Prevention... impossible.
...
You have been temporarily blessed by ???.
Divinely Command -- increases the range of all your buffing skills by 100,000% and their effects by 30,000%.
...
Calculating...
...
Due to the limitations of humanly flesh, the Blessing has been adjusted.
-- Hymns of Bereavement -- increases the range of all your buffing skills and abilities by 600%. Uncaps the number of allies that can be buffed at any given time. A random Ability has been further Blessed...
Humming Song -- cooldown now begins upon the spell's casting rather than the buff's expiration
“Hm,” the expressionless face changed ever for a moment, frowning as he looked up toward the sky. “Gods lament my flesh still. Forgive me--but my lambs shall become thine limbs and blades.”
“... forgive--” just as Asher wanted to ask and free himself of confusion, the world paused once again as the man disappeared. He did not disappear before the world paused but after it. It was the first time Asher saw anything or anyone move, causing his heart to stir and goosebumps to overwhelm him. No, wait, did Qyne ever move while the world was paused?
Not nearly as much as the red-tinted window in front of him, however.
Due to anomalous interference, an additional Anomaly has been selected to re-balance the Stage.
...
Battle of Ellidson Hills clearing conditions have been changed.
...
Previous conditions have been removed. A new condition has been added.
...
Win the Battle: As a newly appointed Commanding Officer of War, lead the armies of Prince Aeon and achieve victory.
...
Further conditions have been modified:
-- Your Base Weapon has been changed from Wooden Staff to ‘Commander’s Blade’. Only General & Commander-oriented abilities will be offered for the future level-ups. Your rewards, should you complete the Stage, will be awarded based on your performance.
For the duration of the Stage, the armies of Prince Aeon will show absolute Loyalty and will obey all orders with the exception of any that would be against the Prince. Armies of Duke Wattar will be wholly hostile and they shall aim for your life. You will always have access to live figures of the number of soldiers on your side.
Army Strength: 3,698,777 (3,000,000 Reinforcements on the way; Estimated time of arrival: 3 days)
“Right,” Asher mumbled, still wholly in denial. “Three million. Sure. Yep. Should have just become a fucking loser... swear to God, if the reward for clearing this shit isn’t at least a fucking mansion, I’m becoming a loser. Fuck it.”
Though Asher was peeved and annoyed and wholly overwhelmed, he wasn’t terrified. It was hardly because he was confident in succeeding. Rather, it was because he didn’t forget the Scroll this time and, unlike with Qyne, he wouldn’t be back here regardless if he used it or not. As such, he made a choice to try--if the worst happened, he could just run and, with it, likely abandon his dreams of becoming a ‘Shepherd’. This, he chose, would be his final trial--if he managed to clear it, whether through the abstract notion of ‘luck’ or through his own wit and vigilance, he’d champion to forging blade and let go of his fears and insecurities for now and for forever. And if not... he’d fade back into shadows and live out the rest of his days in silent admittance of incompetence and failure, as one wont to.