Belphegor Argul the fifth led the rebellious assault, with six of his half siblings. He wore his blonde hair, shaved on one side, and the other long, to his shoulder. He like many of his other siblings, all inherited Begron's innate gifts. Tall, broad shoulders, an abundance of Arcane energy, and an affinity for Light magic. However they would not win this war, following the orders of their soft Uncle. Stall tactics, diversion tactics. Divide and conquer, he said. The very idea made him scoff. Kal'Nar should never need to resort, to such weak tactics. 'This war should have been over the moment, we arrived.' He met with the other commanders, each of them clad in their Wyvern armour, each with a hundred warriors. "Are we ready to attack?" He asked. The others nodded, wielding their war bows. "Good. Let us finish this war, once and for all." He said raising his war bow. They saluted each other and begun their march.
Lyn and Gwyneth stood on the wall together. They stood in silence, enjoying the gentle breeze and cool air. Lyn had removed her cuirass for a more mobile leather vest, and chainmail. Abandoning her sword and shield, for two study vambraces. Gwyneth's armour reflected the bright moonlight. Lyn stood with her arms behind her back, her short rose hair fluttering in the wind. Gwyneth fidgeted in her position, clearly uncomfortable. Lyn shot her a glance. "What is it?" She growled. "Nothing." Gwyneth replied, clearing her throat. Lyn let out a long sigh. "Gwyneth, you're acting like a smitten little girl. What is it?" She snapped.
Gwyneth felt a jolt run through her. She awkwardly ran her hand, through her hair, scratching the back of her head. "Thank you, for fighting with me." She blushed. Lyn shook her head tittering. "Anything else you want to add?" She asked with a smile. "I like your hair..." Gwyneth said bashfully. "It looks really nice on you." Lyn gave her a look of disbelief. The Butcher, rendered a bashful mess, trying to compliment her. However it was sweet of her. The last time she had short hair, was the day she met Hendrik. "Thank you." She replied. The two of them shared an awkward silence. "Do you think Aerith's plan will work?" Lyn asked. "She was the reason, we won the first war. I trust her." Lyn took a seat, on the ledge of the Fourth ring, dangling her legs. "What are you going to do when this war ends?" Lyn asked. Gwyneth gave her a light chuckle. "I wouldn't even know to begin." Lyn gave her an incredulous look. "Not going to become Yamada's Sarang, and live peacefully on Yamata?"
Gwyneth reeled back in shock, her face bright red. Yamada was barely half her age, and an incredibly taboo act. "Well, I didn't make him mine, or tell him I was his. Besides...he chose the path of a Forsaken Knight. He'll lose himself eventually, and there's nothing I can do to stop that." She said glumly looking to the moon. Lyn slapped the back of her head. "Ow!" She winced, rubbing it. "What was that for?" She frowned at the smiling Lyn. "You're an idiot. If you think Yamada is going to let himself turn, that easily. He's pulled himself back from a full transformation, and never once complained about your ludicrous training regimen." "That still doesn't change the fact, I'm his master. I did something incredibly taboo. I doubt he'll want to be with me-" Lyn slapped the back of her head again. "Ow! Stop slapping me." "Stop being an idiot."
"You think Yamada, cares about what's taboo? Or caring about what strangers think of him? The boy is a fucking Forsaken Knight. He probably doesn't even know what that word means." Gwyneth pouted at her, rubbing her stinging head. "You're afraid of getting hurt again." Lyn said dolefully. "So, you're making excuses to not be happy." Gwyneth bowed her head solemnly. "What about you? Any plans to settle down after this war?" Lyn shook her head. "Wouldn't know, what to do with myself either." Gwyneth gave her a sly smile. "You and Axilas, would have some magnificent looking children." Lyn's eyes bulged, and she looked away. "I've seen the way, he looks at you." Gwyneth said, playfully nudging Lyn with her shoulder. She responded by playfully punching Gwyneth in the arm. "Shut up." She said, failing to hide her smile.
"Grand Knight Lyn, Grand Knight Gwyneth." A knight called out. The two of them quickly rose to their feet. "Report." Lyn asked with a stern voice. "No activity from the tree line. In fact, it looks like they've pulled back even further. The Enk mages, spotted several of their squadrons, moving further back. Before their creations were destroyed." Gwyneth and Lyn shared a concerned look. "Should we go investigate?" The knight asked. "No, it's too dangerous to fight an Elf in the dark. Stay vigilant." Lyn said. The knight saluted her, and returned to his post. "It smell like a trap to you as well?" Lyn asked. Gwyneth nodded. "Skora's transformation, would scare of Artaraxus or Tuskdran, but not Kal'Nar." "I'll go and warn Skora and Soel." She said walking to the ledge. She stopped at the ledge turning back to Gwyneth. "By the way." Gwyneth spun around. "You always looked better with long hair. It really fits your angelic goddess motif." She said, before leaping off. Gwyneth blushed, stroking her hair, that touched her nape.
Belphegor and the others entered through the tunnels with the others. He inspected the walls, smooth with reinforced stone pillars. The tunnel was almost ten metres wide. The Artaraxus Earth mages, were definitely vital to winning the war. To cut off the Citadel off from a source of fresh water and fish. They simply needed to enter the caverns, and siege the city in the dead of night. Belphegor took the lead, navigating the others, deeper into the tunnels. A hot steam started to fill the tunnels, everyone of them grew uncomfortable. Sweat beads filling their armour. The air became thick and humid. The taste of salt filled their mouths, stinging their nostrils and eyes. 'What was happening down here?' He thought moving onwards. Belphegor kept a brave facade, his helmet off. Hoping to invigorate the others, but all he wanted to do, was turn away and wash himself.
"Brother, perhaps we should turn back. There is clearly magic being used here to make this steam." Another Commander said, resting his hot gauntlet onto his pauldron. "We will return as a laughing stock, and prove to our 'Uncle' that we aren't worthy of the Argul name." Belphegor shrugged his arm off. "We move forward." He growled. "I am not afraid of steam or anything el-" A gurgled roar, followed by the explosion of a geyser echoed through the cavern. Everyone froze in place. They all shared the same thought. 'What the fuck was that?' The steam in the area became even thicker, visibility reduced greatly. Belpheghor stuck his hand out, opening a Fire gate. He began to suck the heat away, giving everyone a sense of relief. He cleared his throat. "As I was saying. I am not afraid of anything."
Pushing onwards, they entered in a cavern lit by several lanterns. A sense of dread filled them. Beside them was a boiling cauldron of water. Boiled and blistering fish floated atop the water, their flesh slopping off. Another gurgled roar erupted, followed by the eruption of a geyser caught their attention again. They were closer to the source. Belphegor swatted away the steam. An elf warrior noticed shards of Deiridium embedded into the ceiling of the cavern. He shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it. Belphegor drew his long sword, his Fire gate becoming a strain to keep open. However the heat had become unbearable. The ground beneath them rumbled, with another gurgled roar. Only this time, the water became calm, yet steam continued to rise. Belphegor cautiously dipped his long sword into water. His blade hissed in the water, and wheezed. He quickly withdrew his blade, seeing the tip warped and stained a glossy rainbow.
They all sweated profusely from their pits. Panting and wincing with each step and breath. The scalding salty steam, infused the air. Belpheghor entered into a larger cavern, with no scalding steam wafting in the air. He and the other commanders rushed in, ripping off their helmets, taking the most relieving breaths ever. Cool and light they felt invigorated, before releasing their soldiers had been sealed behind a wall of Earth. They suddenly heard the sound of screams, with pinging metal ringing out from behind it. Belphegor rushed back to the wall, raising his long sword. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Lyn said, emerging from a dark tunnel. The eight them spun around quickly drawing their weapons. "Cin's just fell asleep. He'll only get worse over the next few hours." She said inspecting her nails.
Belpheghor scanned Lyn, leering at her up and down. 'Grand Knight Lyn. Her head, will earn me a spot in the upper city.' He smirked at her. "That's quite alright they were all disposable anyway." He said with a cocky attitude. "You really think there's gonna be a corpse left to transform?" She said smirking back at him. "There are eight of us, and only one of you. Surely you don't expect to defeat us all? We are all children of Begron Argul." He declared proudly. Lyn broke out into a giggle. "I fought your father. Well, I should say. I was there when your father was pushed back. When I arrived at the battlefield. He had already defeated the Xenarith brothers. Broken Fervias and Yssac. Murdered legions of our knights and mages." She said pacing back and forth. "When I arrived with my knights. I saw a man standing along, surrounded by death, bathed in the blood of an entire army." Lyn came to a stop, stretching her neck and cracking her knuckles.
"Oh? And what did you do to our father?" Belphegor asked intrigued, and snidely. "On that day, I watched Gwyneth fend him off, allowing our forces to retreat. I was incapacitated after throwing two swings." The Commanders all shared a concerned glance. Why would she volunteer such information to them? She snickered. "From that day, I devoted myself to learning, and mastering the sword and shield properly." Belphegor gave her a confused stare, squinting his eyes at her. "And your weapons are where exactly?" He asked. The Citadel used Enk magic to store their weapons in their capes, for ease of access. However she wasn't wearing one. She wasn't even wearing proper armour. A nearly barbaric outfit compared to the standard armour the Northerners wore.
"Oh, I threw them away. I hate using them." She flexed her fist, unfurling it and curling it. They all bellowed a chortle. Who would throw away their weapon? Losing their defence and range advantage. "Why would you do that?" Belphegor asked chuckling. "Because, there's nothing that beats the thrill, of feeling your enemy's bones breaking on your knuckles." She snarled with a sinister smile. They reeled back surprised and shocked. "Shall we begin?" Lyn punched her palm. A commander charged in first, maul raised high above his head. Lyn dashed in, leaping into his range, driving her fist through his throat. His visor and helmet ripped off with a high pitched shriek, as Lyn's fist gored through the gorget. His hoarse shout, turned to a blood gurgling gasp. The others watched Lyn shake the blood off her fist with disgust. As their brother collapsed, clawing at his throat. She shot Belphegor a smile. "I'm guessing you're the leader of this little group. You'll die last."
He winced stumbling backwards. His skin bumped and hairs standing on edge. "G-go...GO!" Belpheghor stammered. The other's charged in. One swung his maul down, from up high, with a Light gate embedded on the face. The gate begun to glow white hot. She smirked at the sight. A common tactic, she had seen a thousand times. To blind your blocking opponent, before connecting. However if you weren't a master of Light magic. You were a threat to everyone except yourself. Lyn spun clockwise, striking his maul off course, with a spinning elbow. A bright light filled the cavern behind Lyn. She took glee, hearing their groans. She spun back around to see, the commander frozen in place, assessing the other's rubbing their eyes. Lyn planted her sabaton through his cuisse, using it as a stepping point, and drove her knee through his skull.
Belphegor watched his brother's skull deform with a sickening wet crunch. His helmet infusing through his brain, with fragments of bone and grey matter flying through the visor. Lyn made short work of the disorientated Commanders. Dispatching them each with a single blow. Belphegor trembled seeing his brothers die. The sound of their bones crunching, the metal shrieking as it ripped apart, and the splattering of blood, rung in his head. Lyn approached him slowly, covered in the blood of his siblings. She stood in front of him, only reaching his chest. He stood frozen in place, trembling with his sword scratching back and forth against the ground. Fear had sunk its fangs and claws into him. Thanatos was right. The Grand Knights were to be feared, and never to be underestimated. She reached grabbing his chin, and pulled him down. "What's wrong?" She asked. "Are you scared?" She whispered. He slowly nodded, dropping his weapon. "Good, boy." Lyn gave him a gentle slap across the face a few times.
"Now. Left or right?" She asked. He gave a her confused whimper. "Leefftt oorrr riiight?" She asked. Belphegor only gave a scared whimper. "Both it is then." Lyn threw Belphegor face first to the ground. Before he could scramble to his feet. Lyn stomped her sabaton down, through his kneecap. He howled in agony, bursting into tears, reaching for the remnants of his kneecap. Lyn flipped him over, and planted her sabaton through his other kneecap. Belphegor shot up, clawing at her leg. He groaned in between his whimpers, crawling away from Lyn. "I did ask left or right." She said approaching him. With tears running down his face. Belphegor prayed for forgiveness, begging for help. Why didn't he listen to his Uncle? Why did he do this? Why- He stopped seeing Soel standing over him. "Lyn. Aerith wanted one alive." She said annoyed. Lyn threw her hands up in the air, annoyed at Soel. "What? He'll live."
Soel rolled her eyes at Lyn. "Come on, you fucking cry baby. You haven't even met the scariest woman in the Citadel yet." Soel opened a hole in the ceiling, exposing a candle light chandelier. She launched the three of them upwards. Belphegor's eyes bulged, and he soiled his pants, comprehending his surroundings. Crippled, crying and alone. Belphegor found himself sitting in front of Encara and Aerith. Lyn threw Belphegor onto a seat. Terrified beyond belief, he felt nothing as his broken legs dangled beneath him. Lyn and Soel bowed to Aerith, before leaving the room. "Do you know, who he is?" Aerith asked. He slowly nodded. "And do you know who I am?" He nodded again. "I'm sure you've heard all of the tales about him?" He nodded again. "Well, I can promise you that all the stories you have heard of him, if nothing else. Has been watered down." Aerith said softly.
Encara branded Belphegor with a Blessing and a Curse brand. His legs healed instantaneously. The pain disappeared. Suddenly his body curled in, he fell off the chair writhing in agony. His body on fire. Belphegor opened his eyes, to see his veins bursting under his skin. Aerith snapped her fingers and the pain disappeared. Belphegor gasped sitting up, and clutching his chest. Sweat dripped down his body. "Now that you know, your pathetic life, is in our control. What are you going to do little Elf?" Aerith asked. Belphegor slammed his forehead into the ground, kowtowing to the both of them. He sobbed, gritting his teeth. "Please, don't kill me! I will serve the Citadel!" "Ha! Knew he would break in the first hour. You lose Encara!" Aerith declared proudly. Encara scoffed. "This doesn't count. Lyn captured a weak one." He pouted. "Oh don't be such a sore loser."
Belphegor was silent. They were making bets? At a time like this? Amidst a war? With the might of three kingdoms at their door step. They continued to be this light hearted? How? Aerith snapped her fingers at him. "Speak fast and clearly. I'm very tired, and you're very replaceable." Belphegor perked up, sitting up obediently on his knees. "How does the horn work?" Aerith asked. He took a nervous gulp. "I don't know..." He whimpered. Aerith pursed her lips to a line, nodding glumly. "I swear! None of us know how it works." He begged. "Then who would?" Encara asked. "Uncle Thanatos. He is in charge of the first wave." Belphegor lit up with joy. "Yes, capture him! He's weakened with only one arm, and then you can-ARGH!" He collapsed to the ground, the Curse brand pulsing with Arcane energy. "Speak when, spoken to." Aerith snapped.
Encara ceased the magic, and Belphegor let out a whimper, with some saliva. "You said, first wave. How many more waves are coming?" Aerith asked. "Ul'lanna said, there was nearly 700,000 of you warriors coming." Encara said. He snarled at the name. The Elf that betrayed them. "That fucking breeder, doesn't know-AHHHHHH!" He shrieked, feeling his bones creak and snap. Encara hoisted Belphegor up by his hair. "Unless you want to become the next Immortal. I suggest you don't piss him off." Aerith said. "Now, you said there were waves. How many are in each wave?" She asked as Encara tossed him to the ground. "One hundred thousand each. There...there are ten waves coming. Each one stronger than the last." Aerith and Encara shared a fleeting glance, anxiety filling them. Was he telling the truth?
Belphegor broke into a maniacal cackle, seeing their anxious expressions. "You think this is our main forces?" He scoffed, defiantly rising to his feet. "These are nothing but test subjects. Warriors that were bred too late, barely trained and fed. Made simply to test the effectiveness of the horns." He shot them both a sinister grin. "A million soldiers march upon you. Ready to exact vengeance upon you." He hissed at Encara. "Our greatest warrior has yet to arrive." Encara and Aerith were silent, filled with dread. If Begron Argul was to appear. The Citadel would fall. "Prizola Argul. One of the seven High princes marches towards you." He hissed. The two of them shot each other a confused look. "Who the fuck he is?" Aerith asked bluntly. She took the second wind from Belphegor. He stammered to find his next word. His momentum gone.
Aerith shrugged at Encara. "Are we supposed to know, who the fuck that is?" She shook her head in frustration. "Break his legs for me." "Wait-" Encara snapped his fingers, and Belphegor fell to the ground screaming in agony. His legs twisted in different direction, his body weight collapsing atop his shattered kneecaps. "Honestly. Did he expect us to know, who they were?" She asked annoyed. Encara lazily shrugged his shoulders. Encara snapped his fingers and the pain disappeared in Belphegor's legs. However they were still twisted and contorted. "Before you go off on another tirade. Explain to us, why we should care. And why did they get you more excited than a, thirteen year old boy seeing tits for the first time?" Aerith snapped. "They are father's first ever children. They inherited all his gifts." "Oh?" Aerith asked, surprised by the confidence and trust in them. "So, where are these great warriors?" She asked.
"The others have gone to conquer Artaraxus." "And what of Prizola?" Encara asked. "Prizola has already left for the Silver City." Aerith spotted Encara's brief unease. "Why is he going to the Silver City?" Encara asked. "He and his one hundred servants will siege the Silver City." 'One hundred...servants?' Did they hear him right? "You mean soldiers right?" Aerith confirmed. Belphegor shook his head, wincing at his mangled legs. "Prizola is one of the seven high princes. He alone will destroy the Silver City. And when he is done with them. He'll march to destroy Tuskdran." "You are a son of Begron. Yet you hold them in such high regard. Why is that?" Aerith asked, opening a Wind gate. "I told you not to use any Arcane energy. A Blessed's order." She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm only going to use a little." Invisible blades shot out from the gate, slicing apart the straps that held Belphegor's armour and clothes together. He scrambled trying to cover himself.
"Rigor." Encara chanted. Belphegor went stiff, unable to move his body. His jaw locked shut, and he screamed with all his might. Desperately trying to thrash and kick. Encara pushed him down with his foot, exposing his bare back. Aerith noticed the tears streaming down his face. A large branded scar of '862', stretched across his back. "That's an odd birthmark." Aerith said, cocking her head to the side. "Ul'lanna said, Begron was asked to make, as many children as possible." Encara said. "You're telling me he has over 862 children?" She asked in disbelief. "I'm not telling you that. That brand is." Encara snapped his fingers releasing the magic. Belphegor scrambled to cover his brand. "Just kill me already!" He shouted, face flushed and full of tears. "Why are you sending these high princes to destroy the kingdoms, helping you to defeat us?" She asked, inspecting his reaction. "The magic used to facilitate the breeders. It worked too well. Kal'Nar has become overrun with the low born." He said disgusted.
"And now, you're kingdom is running out of resources." Aerith said, rubbing her face. Her frustration boiled to the surface. "Now, with so many citizens being treated like shit. They've begun to succumb to the Draken curse, and threaten your kingdom." She sighed. Belphegor nodded. "And now I have to fight in war, because your incestuous king and queen, wanted to pick a fight with him. Did I miss anything?" She asked, with bulging eyes of fury. He shook his head. "Is there anything else, we should know?" Encara asked. "This brand...my number. They didn't give me this at birth. We're given our numbers based on our strength. I am not his 862nd child." "What number is Prizola?" Encara asked. "Seven." Encara clenched his jaw. "Alright, I've got what I need. How about you?"Aerith asked. Encara nodded. Belphegor took a breath of relief. His torment and humiliation was over. Encara clapped his hands together.
Belphegor winced at the blinding light, and opened them again. He stared into the darkness, seeing the horizon, under the moonlight. He spun around slowly, seeing the Fourth Ring behind him. "You're letting me live...?" Encara winced, giving him a dower expression. "Not exactly." He said, patting him on the shoulder. Belphegor's face contorted to confusion, and then to horror, as the Curse and Blessing brands raced across his body. "Decay and heal for eternity." Encara growled. Belphegor fell to the ground writhing in agony. The first eternal agony felt from the transformation, was the victim's skin rotting. The second agony followed shortly after, the victim's muscles would snap and tear. The third agony was, their bones shattering into jagged fragments. The fourth and last agony could only be felt, once the victim became accustomed to the cycle, of death and rebirth. That they could never truly live with the ones they loved, or die with them.
Encara let out a deep breath, trying to control his breathing. Even casting his magnum opus on one person, made him feel exhausted. He hoisted Belphegor to his feet. "Walk, and be a message to your fellow Elves." He said pushing Belphegor to walk. He feebly crawled away, snivelling and reaching out for help. 'Everything hurts. Every time I blink, I get a glimpse of everything, before my eyes burn out. This will last forever...?' "Only death and pain, await those who attack the Citadel. And you will be proof that that there are far worse fates than death." Encara growled. He watched as Belphegor crawled away naked, snivelling and begging for help, akin to an infant trying to find their parent. He looked west, towards the Silver City. "Please be safe, Jacara." He prayed.