The arrays burned first, the soldiers and mages died immediately after. The solid enchanted stone and metal of the garrison held fast, but when the Origin Flames died, only a charred plain remained.
The soil was blackened, steaming from the lingering heat. A line of gurgling molten lava was all that was left of the border wall.
The soldiers of the Empire stared in horror at the scene. Not just because the Chalal stronghold had endured centuries of harsh conflict just to fall in the span of one breath. But also because the Origin Flames were still violet.
With the battle with the World Tree approaching, no one wanted to waste mana or the focus necessary to conjure Primordial Flames for an oversized pebble.
"That way!" Lith pointed at the horizon and took flight followed by the living storm.
"Good gods, did you see that?" Said one of the border guards, a young man in his early twenties.
