It was then Fate realized that the man's blood was steaming. Instantly, things clicked into place.
'So, that's what it is.' He probed the man with his psychic senses to be sure. 'Smart bastard. He's using his Divine Energy to heat his blood, increasing his speed and strength a few notches.'
Fate met the man's now bloody grin with a confident smile of his own. 'But don't think I don't notice that your reserves are dwindling. You can't use your Divine Reach with my aura spread out as it is, and I'm steadily whittling away at what you keep inside yourself. You have about…'
He did some quick calculations, getting a rough estimate. 'Five minutes. Let's kill you in two, shall we?'
Fate lunged forward, closing the distance with a thrust of his blade. The man snapped his war axe into position, causing Fate's Miao Dao to rebound off of it. Fate went with the flow, using the rebound to bring his blade under his armpit before slashing diagonally, meeting the downward swing of the man's axe with the flat of his blade.
The impact pushed both weapons away from each other, Fate's going down to his right and the man's axe going over the latter's shoulder.
The other man recovered first, placing both hands on his axe and slashing downward just a hair faster than Fate's upward swing. Instead of intercepting Fate's blade, however, the Fractured man aimed for Fate's head, his eyes blazing with hate and glee.
Fate's smile turned into a smirk. He slipped into his Manifest Power's intangibility, letting the axe go right through his head and torso. When the axe was in his chest, he clamped onto it with his Divine Grasp and spun, stopping his Manifest Power once he was no longer in the same space as the axe.
He brought his sword around in the spin, the blade cutting straight through the man's neck and sending his head flying. Fate let go of his hold on the axe, allowing the decapitated body to slump to its knees, then fall onto its side. He bent over, wiping the blood off his blade with the corpse's shirt, then took stock of the battle.
All around him, soldiers were embroiled in life-or-death battles, a chaotic mess of metal and flesh that would've made it impossible to distinguish friend from foe if their armor weren't color-coded.
The air was filled with the screams of the dying, the grunting of immense effort, and an incalculable amount of clanging from spears meeting shields and swords meeting other swords.
Everywhere within a thousand feet of him was affected by his aura, friends and foes alike finding their Divine Reach useless and any external-projecting Manifest Powers quickly dwindling in power. In other words, they were mortals. Only those lucky few whose Manifest Powers affected only themselves could still use them, although even those were steadily weakening as Fate sapped their Divine Energy.
Surprisingly, General Ferdind was still able to use his own Manifest Power, his Dark orbs continuing to reap life after life. Fate caught glimpses of another person, within the roiling mass of the Fractured's army, that seemed capable of doing the same. Fate didn't think much of it; there would always be counters to everything.
He suspected General Ferdind was relatively unaffected – although his Divine Energy WAS being drained, albeit extremely slowly – because his own Manifest Power revolved around leeching from others.
Besides probably knowing how such an interaction worked, which would help General Ferdind resist Fate's aura, the General's ability required such a little amount of Divine Energy, due to the orbs taking what they needed from the affected, that the man could easily throw those orbs for months on end before running empty without Fate's influence.
The man was formidable, to be sure.
Fate cast around for another opponent, but found that everyone was already engaged in battle, besides the teeming horde of Fractured jostling forward through their fellows, trying to get to the fighting. The battle had been going on for less than ten minutes, so both armies were currently pressed against each other, the vanguards hacking and slashing at each other while those behind them waited for their turn.
The only exceptions were the pockets devoid of people, like the one Fate was in, where Embodiments who could still utilize their Manifest Powers fought against each other.
The rest of the armies simply bent around these pockets, knowing they would likely be unable to affect the outcomes of the fights inside. Instead, they gave them wide berths as they fought others similar in power to themselves.
Thanks to Fate, the Fractured were at a disadvantage. Even though each and every one wore thick, heavy plate armor, only a scant few had weapons, the majority of them confident in their Divine prowess.
The Venlanz troops meanwhile were all equipped with light or medium armor and a weapon of some kind, many with maces, cudgels, or flails designed for the express purpose of killing an armored warrior.
Fate supposed it made sense. The Venlanz and the Fractured had been at war for thousands of years; Venlanz was sure to find ways to break through the Fractured's thick armor. Meanwhile, all the Fractured had to do was strengthen their Manifestations. After all, the majority of their enemies were mortal.
Taking all this in and failing to find someone to engage in single combat, he instead looked at the wall of Fractured in front of him, moving around his little clearing like water against a rock. He shrugged, charging in, cutting and slicing with every step.
Sadly, Fate's sword turned intangible when he did, just like his clothes and whatever was in his pockets. He assumed it was some kind of subconscious action, like breathing. His body automatically adjusted for whatever he was holding or wearing, but unlike breathing, he couldn't consciously control it. At least, not yet.
Long story short, he could attack with his sword or be intangible, not both. So, he did what he thought best. He cut his way into the horde of soldiers, slicing their exposed necks – seriously, why did none of them wear helmets? – and leaving a dozen bodies behind him before he sheathed his Miao Dao and turned intangible.
Now untouchable, he started using his Divine Grasp on the surrounding enemies. The hearts of the Embodiments were often too robust from strange cloaks of Divine Energy shielding them, which Fate made a note of to learn about, so he had to improvise.
He took his two knives out of his boots and tossed them in the air, making them solid once they left his person, and took hold of them with his Divine Grasp.
Then he took a page out of his Master's book, becoming a whirlwind of steel.