The Forsaken Hero

At Luxxa’s words, I surveyed the battlefield once more, my eyes drawn to the banners of the Church and the seemingly endless ranks of white-cloaked soldiers. After casting Mana Storm, I’d been content to watch as the Last Light Company carved its way through Brithlite’s forces, but the Church’s involvement changed everything. They demanded our full attention.

Now they were on the move, breaking ranks and marching toward the front lines where the battle raged. Their mages raised their staffs and wands, incantations filling the air, and hundreds of magic circles materialized.

But it wasn’t these mages that worried me most. It was the powerful presences I sensed stirring, the seventh-level inquisitors. We couldn’t allow them to remain unchecked.

”Alright,” I said, climbing onto Fable’s back. ”Let’s move.”

”We’ll be right ahead of you,” Korra said with a wink. ”I’ll see you on the battlefield.”

Gayron flashed an eager smile at her before launching into the air, leaving a crater in the earth. Their souls thrummed with power as they both employed magical techniques, wreathed in water and flame, respectively.

”Battle maniacs,” I muttered, shaking my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. Still, their antics helped ease my nerves, and I took a deep breath, relaxing my grip on my staff.

”The rest of you be careful,” I cautioned, looking back at the Star Guard. ”I might not be able to counter everything they throw at us, and if one of their seventh-levels breaks through, you’ll be in danger.”

”You don’t need to worry about us, my lady. Simply do what you must; we’ll take care of ourselves,” Luxxa assured me, saluting with a confident smile.

”Right,” Jenna chimed in, a carefree grin on her face. ”This might just be the thing I need to finally break through. I feel like I’ve been sitting on the edge of seventh level forever.”

Gith simply nodded and nocked an arrow to his bowstring.

With a final deep breath, I braced myself and leaned into Fable’s powerful form. ”Alright, I’m ready,” I said, my voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and dread. ”Let’s–ahhh!”

My scream swallowed whatever was left of that sentence as Fable lunged forward, my grip tightening instinctively as we soared through the air. In the blink of an eye, we were hundreds of feet above the battlefield, the chaos below a blur of motion and color. Soldiers looked up, their faces etched with shock as we crashed into a fort. The impact released a shockwave that obliterated the walls, sending cascades of earth and stone high into the air.

The fortified walls crumbled like sand beneath Fable’s claws as he leaped and raked, releasing a burst of raw mana that devastated everything around us. Soldiers screamed as they were flung aside, their bodies shredded by the sheer force of his presence. The few structures that had remained standing were now reduced to rubble.

A squadron of soldiers, driven to a frenzy by the Heart Crest, rushed towards us, spears poised. But before they could even reach striking distance, Fable casually swiped a paw, launching an ethereal, razor-thin line of mana at them. It appeared harmless at first, but it sliced through their ranks with ease, as effortlessly as Bethiv’s devastating techniques. Their legs kept on pumping for a while, aided by the mana coursing through the veins before they collapsed as one in a bloody heap of torn, ribbonlike flesh.

Several other groups of soldiers charged us but met the same grisly fate as the first, leaving us surrounded in blood and core. The thick, coppery stench was overwhelming against my delicate senses, and I covered my mouth, suppressing a wretch as tears stung my eyes.

Just as the last Brithlitian soldier fell, my peripherals filled with white. Blinking away the excess moisture, I looked around and found us surrounded by church soldiers. They wore identical armor of polished steel and flowing white capes. Their gauntlets, pauldrons, and helmets had sharp, spiky details, and their weapons glowed with enchantments of sun and fire magic–magic to kill demons.

Fable wasted no time sending another few claw strikes sat them, but before his mana could tear them apart, a figure dropped from the sky. I caught a flash of sunlight as he raised his shield, taking Fable’s attack head-on before everything turned white. Black dots danced across my eyes as I shielded myself from the blinding light, wincing as it elicited a reaction from the sunpurge, sending a thrill of pain across my skin.

When my vision cleared, I found myself gazing at a gleaming figure clad in shining armor and wielding a crested shield and spear. Instead of the traditional white cloak, he wore one of scarlet, billowing dramatically behind him in the swirling remnants of mana.

”Greetings, traitor,” he boomed, his voice strong and clear. ”I am Rathon, High Inquisitor of the Divine Throne. I wouldn’t normally indulge in conversation with filth, but for you, I’ve made an exception. Surrender yourself and your staff, and I can ensure your army will be welcomed back into the fold from whence you have torn them.”

The High Inquisitor’s soul blazed like a miniature sun, radiating an overwhelming seventh-level power. His aura washed over the battlefield, bringing with it the full intensity of the sun’s rays, causing my sunpurge to itch with a relentless burning. His armor and weapons gleamed with the power of sixth-level enchantments, a stark reminder that even without resorting to magical techniques, he could pierce through wards below the seventh level. As physical objects, Adaptive Resistance would offer little protection against them.

He raised his spear in a majestic gesture, but even as he opened his mouth to reiterate his demand for surrender, his eyes widened in shock. A flicker of flame caught my attention as something slammed into him, moving with such blinding speed that both attacker and defender blurred into a whirlwind of motion, spinning off into a nearby hill.

A familiar presence settled beside me, and I glanced over to see Korra standing there, wreathed in a shimmering, watery aura. An intangible, translucent dragon coiled around her arm, gathering mana until the very air trembled with its power.

”Tsunami!” she cried, lunging forward. The dragon rode her fist as she slammed it into the ground, unleashing a seventh-level magical technique. The earth shattered in a hundred-foot radius, throwing soldiers off their feet. Before their struggling bodies could hit the ground, a sound like a crashing wave split the air, and cascading torrents of water erupted from the fissures.

The waves swelled to monstrous heights, blotting out the sky as they surged forward, consuming everything in their path. Thick ribbons of mana laced the currents, smashing through armor and stone with terrifying ease. Entire battalions vanished beneath the churning waters, their broken and battered corpses rising to the surface like flotsam.

In a matter of seconds, the relentless tide had scoured nearly a quarter-mile of the battlefield clean. The waves gradually receded, sinking back into the earth and evaporating as the mana that sustained them dissipated. Korra straightened slowly, the mana still swirling around her outstretched arm, and flashed me a triumphant grin.

”Not bad, eh?”

I stared at her, then at the utter devastation behind her. Was this the true potential of a magical art? It had eclipsed the raw destruction of Bethiv’s technique, nearly rivaling the power of Mana Storm, an actual seventh-circle spell.

”T-thanks,” I stammered, my eyes still wide with awe.

She shrugged, raising her hand and summoning another translucent dragon. ”Don’t thank me yet,” she said, nodding in the direction the High Inquisitor had been flung. ”Gayron and I will take care of that bastard and keep him off your back while you do something about those mana cannons.”

Low booms echoed in the distance as the weapons in question discharged again, followed a second later by a deafening explosion. I flinched as several shockwaves rolled over us, my shields flaring as they absorbed the energy.

”Right,” I said, nodding. ”Thanks.”

She smiled one more time before dashing away after Gayron and the Inquisitor. I turned to the city walls, which were a good deal closer after Fable’s leap, and urged him forward. He streaked across the ground, weaving between disoriented groups of surviving soldiers, until we came to a large crest directly opposed to the city’s main gates.

Several mana cannons swiveled at our approach, releasing their charges directly at us. I closed my eyes against the rising glares of their beams, feeling a cold chill run across my flesh as they detonated around us. Adaptive Resistance warmed my soul as it surged out and absorbed them all, letting us break through the explosions unscathed.

Fable came to rest atop the crest, lowering himself enough for me to slip free. I stumbled on the landing but quickly caught myself and summoned my staff. Several high-level spells shot From mages on the walls toward us, but I allowed my wards to fend off whatever Adaptive Resistance let through. It sapped a bit of my strength, but the mana was nothing compared to the oceans within me.

We were mere hundreds of feet from the city, well within range of every enemy mage, mana cannon, and archer. Fable had carved a path through their ranks, but they’d closed up behind us, leaving me isolated just within enemy lines. Even now, soldiers marched towards us, shields raised against any magic I might unleash, their mages already chanting incantations. We were cut off from our allies and surrounded.

Exactly where I wanted to be.