January 1731 City of Ber, Province of Ciresia, Osterian Empire.
"Long enough to kill you."
Schneider's ring glowed, His saber slashes down, Falk leaps back, untouched, his arm forward as the fire that came after, exploded in his direction.
The force pushes him back before he stabs his sword down with strength, his eyes never leaving the grinning expression Schneider held as his eyes glowed, the wind quickening around him before he dashes in for another bout.
Schneider raises his saber to guard.
Falk then dashed inside his range, Left, right, up. Three rapid strikes push him back.
Each strike, fire explodes as the two magic make contact. Their eyes on one another as their shield crackle from the strength.
Falk's eyes then illuminate, the wind around him picking up pace before he dashes at speeds Schneider can't follow.
With such advantage, another series of rapid strikes hits his barrier, powerful winds slamming along with it, strong enough for it to shatter like glass, Falk grins.
The rapid movements that followed left Schneider gritting his teeth, blood spurting from his arm, a large gash on his chest.
He then waits for another strike before he sidesteps. With fire condensing unto his saber, exploding into a fiery light as he pushed him back with a mighty slash.
"You're pretty fast." Says Schneider, blood dripping from his mouth.
His eyes roam his surroundings as Falk jumped back. Falk's shield now shattered as he gasps for air, his expression tired before he clenches his sword and explodes into another dash.
Their sabers clash and their magic fizzles, the two men mentally exhausted. With a quick spin, Falk strikes, their sabers sparks and Falk suddenly falters, his rapid movements catching up with him.
Schneider notices this and unexpectedly kicks, the strength of which was enough to slam him onto the ground, coughing up blood as he held his stomach in pain.
Though before Schneider could even finish him off, thunderous sounds erupt behind the Osterian lines, something that instills panic within him at the realization of what was about to occur.
He looks around to see his men locked in the melee and locked in a disorganized fight. A perfect opportunity for a charge of cavalry.
Falk took this momentary distraction, his eyes glowing green as he stood up, his saber coated in magic before he slashed, a wind blade forming at the edges, unleashed.
He gives him a mocking grin as he jumps back, retreating behind the lines, "Good luck."
With those words followed chaos. A line of cavalry bursts through the Osterian lines. Sabers raised as the retreating infantry opens them up a path.
Forst could only look in horror as they butcher their way through, cutting through his men like butter, sacrificing their own to be trampled under their charge.
A group of cavalry then directs themselves to his position. He narrows his eyes, ready to defend himself as blood drips from his arm.
It took a few tense seconds before they could get in his range, but the moment they do, a metal bullet traveling at high speed whizzed past by him. His eyes widen as he falls back with a relieved smile.
"Took you long enough." He mutters.
"Vanguard! Hunt down their officers! Break off mage support and move out!"
With those words a captain clenches his reins, ripping through the melee as they hunt for the symbols defining their positions.
"Sir! A colonel!" A man shouts, pointing at a man, whose saber burned in blue flames.
Those words were enough for the captain to turn, his shield shimmering into existence as he prepares to fight.
Though as they inch closer, the man falls, exhaustion seemingly taking over.
A soldier laughs, "Ha! It looks like a fre-"
The words he was about to utter was stuck in his throat, due to the lack of any voice at all.
His hands suddenly reach for his throat, as blood drip in his hands, his eyes blurry as he fell to the wayside, a hole opened in his throat.
The captain widens his eyes in shock before shouting to his men, "Enemy mages!"
Unfortunately for him, such things arent enough, the metal bullet picked up pace as it weaved through them, killing each one through a hole.
A hole in the chest, some in the throat and through their ears, each one a deadly strike as they helplessly fumble their way, hoping to dodge the intricate magic before them.
The captain clenches the rein of his horse as he looked around, trying to find the enemy mage only to come forth with the man, with brown hair and brown eyes, hands forward as it weaves through the air, the metal ball following his every movement.
He raises his arm, fireball forming in his hand, knowing such magic would require too much concentration to hold a shield.
Unfortunately for him, hundreds of Drissian has arrived, in their hands, muskets, unleashing a storm of bullets that would strike against his shield and the men behind him.
He shakes his head, turning away from the screams of horror and despair, trying to find a way to at least take out a good mage in their ranks only to be stopped by a terrifying view.
The sky was dotted with hundreds of fireballs, each one aimed at the incoming lines of cavalry.
It was a catastrophe, a disaster, the fireballs descend down to earth consuming the world in their explosion and halting any charges they have planned.
He gives out a defeated smile, the sheer difference in strength now apparent.
So, now knowing death to be close, he charges with a roar. His mind made up, his will finished.
He gathers every bit of mana in his surroundings, his system breaking from the pressure, his will and focus keeping whatever mind he has left as the fireball in his hand explode in size.
He will help his nation in his dying breath and kill mage of such skill before he could ever kill more men like him, as a last service to his empire.
Sadly such thoughts weren't enough, a metal ball striked behind him. His shield buckling before it shatters, leaving his chest open as his vision blur and his fireball launches.
His last moments nothing but satisfaction.