The Forsaken Hero

Another explosion drew my attention away from Korra and Gayron towards a battle raging much closer to our position—two battles, in fact.

In the devastated ruins of a nearby fort, Kahlen was engaged in a fierce duel with a High Inquisitor. The man wielded two greatswords with blades longer than I was tall, his movements effortless despite the heavy plate armor that covered him from head to toe, leaving only his glowing golden eyes exposed. The tips of his swords trailed shimmering ribbons of light, a lingering sword-slice effect that could cut for nearly a minute after the initial strike.

Kahlen, however, appeared utterly unfazed. He stood with his arms folded, a bored expression on his face, as his four swords fought the inquisitor independently. Each blade glowed with different elemental power, weaving through the net of sun magic the inquisitor erected to strike at him directly, effectively suppressing his every move.

Occasionally, the inquisitor would unleash a powerful technique or maneuver, knocking a sword away or shattering it completely. But to his dismay, Kahlen would simply gesture with a finger, and another sword would materialize in its place.

After watching the one-sided battle for just a few seconds, I couldn’t help but shiver. They were both seventh-level, yet the disparity in their power was undeniable. The inquisitor could likely endure far more punishment than Kahlen, but that only made him a slightly tougher punching bag.

It was so one-sided that I had to fight the urge to pity his opponent. My every instinct screamed that this was unfair, that Kahlen was just toying with him. But another glance at his opponent, at the cruel gleam in his golden eyes, banished any lingering sympathy. These were inquisitors, the very embodiment of the Church’s cruelty and oppression. The memory of their blades and torturous magic still haunted my nightmares even now, and at times, I awoke in the night trembling, with tears trickling down my cheeks. They deserved whatever pain and suffering Kahlen could inflict upon them.

The second battle raged on my other side, amidst the clashing armies. The Star Guard, minus Kahlen, fought alongside several squads of the Last Light Company against an entire battalion of Church soldiers led by a seventh-level mage.

The mage was a middle-aged woman clad instead in long, scarlet robes with intricate gold embroidery. Her hair was elaborately styled and adorned with gold thread, and she carried herself with the haughty arrogance of nobility. Likely some kingdom’s prized prodigy, not an inquisitor I was expecting.

Regardless of her origin, her magic was formidable, a terrifying blend of lightning, shadow, and wind. She used darkness spells to cloak her troops’ movements, then struck from within the concealing shadows with bursts of compressed air or crackling lightning.

Several of the Last Light Company’s soldiers had already fallen to her unpredictable attacks before Luxxa charged into the fray, her body glowing with a protective aura as she used a magical art to absorb the incoming spells and redirect their energy to her shield.

A few arrows whistled overhead, piercing the shadows and striking true. Several sharp screams echoed from within the writhing darkness, followed by a series of secondary explosions as the magic Gith imbued in his arrows detonated, dispelling the mage’s concealment.

When the darkness cleared, dozens of soldiers were scattered around the craters where the arrows had landed. The mage stood in the center of the carnage, her lips twisted in an irritated frown.

She muttered something under her breath, likely a curse or a generic insult, as nobles were prone to do, and waved her hand. Seven magic circles blossomed around her, crackling with lightning, focusing the mana in one concentrated point. A massive arc of lightning leaped from her palms, cutting through several of our men to strike directly at Gith. Their screams tore at me, and my heart leaped in my throat as it lashed out at the ranger.

The ranger dove aside, but even his magically enhanced reflexes were too slow. The lightning collided with my wards, sending a shudder through the Nexus. My magic clashed with her sixth-level spell, barely holding. Cracks spiderwebbed through his wards as Gith rolled to his feet and loosed another arrow at the mage.

Jenna, who had been chanting all this while, finally completed her spell. A storm of lightning rained down from the sky, blasting small craters among the surviving Church soldiers. It was a sixth-level, large-scale destruction spell, so it had little effect on the warded mage but decimated the rest of her battalion.

With a battle cry, Luxxa led the remainder of the Last Light Company against the mage, forcing her to devote more energy to her shields. Occasionally, she unleashed a potent offensive spell, but her movements grew more frantic and desperate as her shields began to flicker.

I watched the fight for a few more seconds before diverting some of my magic to adjust the wards in the Nexus. The battle had revealed some critical weaknesses, especially regarding high-level magic. I’d yet to learn any personal protective magic above fifth or sixth level, meaning I couldn’t fully defend against attacks that Adaptive Resistance, which was also at sixth, couldn’t absorb.

To address this, I purposefully lowered the effectiveness of my wards, adjusting them to only absorb a certain amount of power before letting the rest through. The Star Guard was strong, and if sixth and seventh-circle attacks were blunted, they could adapt and survive.

Satisfied with my work and that none of my competitors were in mortal danger, I allowed myself to focus on the finishing stages of Grand Aegis. My mana wove a complex tapestry across the battlefield, binding each of our soldiers’ souls to the star atop my staff.

The Last Light Company was positioning themselves strategically, anticipating the completion of my spell. Meanwhile, the enemy was growing increasingly aggressive. The appearance of such a massive magic circle was undoubtedly unnerving, but for some reason, they were holding back. The mana cannons had all but ceased firing on me, deeming it futile, and even the sixth-level soldiers I could see seemed to be avoiding me.

It seemed like good luck, but I knew there was no such thing on the battlefield. I had yet to sense Verity’s gaze on me, and even if she tried to watch, I had a prototype spell that should block her. So, from their perspective, I could be casting a spell that would decimate their entire army. They should be doing everything in their power to stop me.

As another agonizing minute crept by, my anxiety intensified, my tail twitching restlessly behind me. My eyes darted across the battlefield, searching for any sign of the impending trap. My companions were holding their own, locked in fierce combat with the seventh-level threats, and our army maintained a relative advantage over the positions they’d secured.

Then, a low thrum rose above the din of battle, barely audible at first. It grew rapidly, until the very air seemed to vibrate, setting my teeth on edge. It was familiar, itching at the edges of my memory, but it wasn’t for another second that I realized what it was.

”Fable, up!” I cried, voice high pitched with tension as I looked up myself.

The constant explosions, ash, and smoke of the countless spells cast had mixed with the clouds to create a flat, gray veil over the battlefield. It was like a stormy sea hanging inverted over the land.

Somewhere above, the clouds churned and parted, revealing a dark silhouette. My eyes widened, tail going stiff, as the same flying ship from my vision sailed through the gray, descending to hover ominously above the battlefield. Its mana cannons glowed, already charged, and the sheer number of powerful souls on board made it practically radiate with energy. Three souls, in particular, stood out, their intricacies marking them as heroes.

I glanced at my unfinished spell, my lips tightening into a grim line. Why now? Couldn’t they have waited just a little longer? I was so close to finishing it, but if I resolved the spell now, it would leave nearly three thousand soldiers without my protection. With the arrival of the airship, that would be a death sentence.

The airship shuddered as its cannons discharged simultaneously, the sheer force of the blast rocking it back several dozen feet. Their projectiles slammed into the Last Light Company below. Several mages managed to react, casting defensive spells, but three of the blasts landed unhindered, killing almost a hundred soldiers instantly. One of them even exploded directly on top of me, though it was, of course, absorbed by my Adaptive Resistance.

While the city still had about half of its mana cannons operational, the eight on the airship had a much better vantage point, firing directly over the mages on the front lines protecting the rearguard, striking our vulnerable reserves and reinforcements. It wouldn’t be long before they destroyed any momentum we had gained and the church forces inevitably pushed us back.

Another agonizingly slow few seconds passed as the mana cannons recharged, their ominous hum filling the air. Before they could unleash another volley of destruction, one of the hero souls stepped forward, taking their place at the front of the airship. Even from this distance, I could make out a small, petite figure with flowing golden hair.

She raised her staff—a beautiful thing of ivory, entwined with a single, leafy vine and topped with a flower whose petals held a shimmering emerald—and seven magic circles appeared, lighting up the darkened sky.