A few miles north of the ruins of Balkan.
The first checkpoint.
"How's it looking? Anything new?" General Thramdael, a dwarf, asked as he stared across the empty field of dead grass that lay at the foot of the wall he stood upon.
"Nothing sir, they haven't moved an inch." A dwarven soldier replied as he brought the ocular device he held in his hands down by his side. "I just don't understand sir, what do you think they're waiting for? Have they figured out it's a trap?"
Thramdael didn't reply immediately, he just continued to stare at the army he saw in the distance. He looked down at his side and saw that his hand was shaking. He tried to stop it, but he didn't have the strength to do so. This man, a general of Anglest's military, felt sick to his stomach. "How would I know?" he scoffed as he walked away from the ledge, "Just tell me if they come closer."
Thramdael walked a few feet but stopped in his tracks as he stared at the people around him. Manning the wall in every direction were dwarves clad in armor. Each dwarf had stocks of metal rods they would fling as artillery if the enemy's army got too close.
"Why?" Thramdael spoke to himself, "Why is it just us?"
The first checkpoint had nothing but dwarven soldiers. There wasn't a human to be found for miles, not even the head of the military, General Sonia Krimm, was anywhere to be found.
This made Thramdael anxious, and doubts began to brew within him.
We're dwarves like him expendable?
Or was it because they were the strongest?
Why should they have to fight a war by themselves when the humans are the true target?
"Guh-" Thramdael caught himself, "No, I shouldn't think like that. We're all one people." Ever since the message the government received from Rant was released, a separatist faction began to brew within the kingdom full of dwarves. Of course, the message wasn't released to the public, just the higher ups. Unfortunately, it still found its way to the masses. Frustration began to brew within the dwarven people since this would be a war that they fought by themselves, all for the protection of a different race.
Even though they shared the same kingdom… even though a month ago, the people of Anglest could smile and laugh together, things had changed drastically. As nearly every gifted dwarf within the kingdom was drafted for war, the people were forced to face the possibility that they may lose their loved ones in the coming weeks.
This is a kingdom that hasn't properly seen war for two centuries. The people have grown complacent and forgotten the cost that comes with defending your kingdom. Thramdael was no stranger to these feelings, as he had to leave his wife and newborn daughter behind to join the front line against the Chosen. He even thought back to when he was approached by some of the dwarven members of the government, and he replayed their traitorous words in his mind.
Thramdael shook his head as he walked, "No… we're all one people. We're all-" He froze as he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. When he turned to look, he saw his wife waving with his baby in her other arm. When he blinked, they were gone. He felt lightheaded as his pulse began to quicken. He felt his stomach turn before someone yelled at him.
"S-sir! Come quick! They're moving!"
Thramdael had leaned over, feeling nauseous, but he turned to meet the soldier who had come to fetch him.
"Sir? Are you alright?"
Thramdael felt unsteady but he quickly stood back up.
"Get General Krimm on the line," he said as he gulped.
"Yes sir!" The soldier turned around and ran out of sight.
Thramdael took a moment to collect himself before stepping outside. He slowly made his way to the wall and took in the sight ahead of him.
Somewhere close to ninety thousand soldiers were marching towards them from the south. A living, breathing, wall of flesh a little over two miles out.
"Sir! It's General Krimm, here," the soldier handed the object to Thramdael. It was a device that allowed communication through wires in the ground. It was the same technology as the city line that was supposed to be constructed from Balkan to the capital before its fall. Now, it was being used to relay every bit of detail from the front lines and receive orders from the capital.
"Thramdael, can you hear me?" A woman's voice came from the device.
He breathed in deeply before bringing it up to his mouth, "Loud and clear. What now?"
"Are the bombs in position?"
"Yes ma'am. We'll let them walk right over them before we disintegrate the back half of their army. From there, the artillery should be able to pick off the rest in short order."
"And they haven't taken to the skies yet?"
"No ma'am. The bombs sit right at the edge of our artillery's range and they're closely approaching it. The moment I hit the trigger; we should be able to rain hell on the rest of- huh?"
"What's wrong?" General Krimm's voice could be heard coming from the device.
"They stopped. Their front line halted about a hundred feet before the first line of explosives."
"Hmm… Did they figure it out? Your men left no trace on the surface when they buried them, did they?"
"No ma'am, of course not. I saw to it myself, I made sure that-"
BOOOOM!!!!!
The ground erupted in a hellish fashion. The heat irradiating from the cloud of dust and fire forced the dwarven soldiers to take cover behind the ramparts of their wall.
"GAH!!!!" Thramdael covered his ears as he felt the shockwave run over them all from the first initial blast. Pieces of rock and earth began to slam down all around the checkpoint and the trees recoiled back from the blast.
BOOOOM!!!!!!!
The ground shook a second time as another array of explosions launched from the ground sending dirt and fire into the sky.
"What's going on!? Thramdael! Report!"
The chain of explosions that had just been set off, the bombs that were used, these were the most powerful weapons the country of Anglest had within their possession. It used up nearly every stockpile the country had left of powder in order to create these earth-shattering bombs, and the brass of the military planned on taking out the Chosen's army without losing a single soldier in the process.
The checkpoint sat in a valley between two mountains, and the field to the south of them was nothing but a flat empty plain. It was like the checkpoint was a mouth that led into the 'body' of the mountains that sat between Balkan and the capital. This was the only real path an army could take, and since half of the Chosen didn't have wings, it only made sense that this was the way they would go.
Between there and the capital, there were only two 'real' checkpoints. The majority of Anglest's forces sat there at the first checkpoint, with the rest split up between the last checkpoint and Crale. If this place were to fall, the last stand would be held at the edge of the mountains that sat before the capital. If they were also to fall, the capital would have no more ground to defend itself on. Their walls would be the only thing remaining.
Sounds of cracking rang out as the many trees in the forests to their sides snapped in half due solely to the wind pressure.
BOOOOOM!!!!!
A third and final set of explosions rang out as the final line of buried bombs exploded from within the ground. The military had only tested these bombs once due to their dwindling supply of explosive material. However, they knew of their incredible power.
Still, nobody could've estimated how large of a force all of them would've had when dozens of them all exploded at once. The soldiers were still cowering behind the ramparts as the final shockwave ran over them, sending blistering heat and blinding dust their way.
"Thramdael! Report!" General Krimm's voice rang out as she yelled from the other side of the line nearly a hundred miles away.
"T-the bombs went off early!" Thramdael yelled, unable to regulate how loud his voice was as his ears continued to ring. "I-I don't know how, I hadn't set them off yet!"
"Tch! Dammit!" General Krimm's anger could clearly be heard through the speaker, "What's the damage? Did it at least catch their army in the blast?"
Thramdael wiped the dust from his eyes as he tried to prop himself up. His knees felt weak, and his body couldn't sit steady as he dealt with the shock from the explosions. It took him a moment, but he was finally able to peer his head over the rampart and he saw nothing but dust. He couldn't even see past three hundred feet and the mid-day sky began to darken under the brown cloud that began to form over their heads.
"T-there's no visibility, I can't even see the army." Thramdael spoke, still trying to catch his breath. Thramdael shoved his hand down onto the floor and it sank into the castle rock. Within seconds, he was able to see thousands of feet ahead of the walls, but he saw nothing. There was only shattered ground and melted wires from the bombs' connectors. "Ma'am, should we fire artillery?! There's nothing on the ground but they might've gone airborne through the smoke!" He yelled out.
"Do it." She spoke firmly.
Thramdael stood up tall and looked at the soldiers around him. None of them were seriously hurt, only a few had cuts and bruises from the blowback of the blast.
"Men! Prepare to fire!" He yelled out. The dwarves rushed into action, and it was like the checkpoint had become alive once again. The soldiers all began to pick up their metal bolts en masse and they infused their magic into them.
Thramdael looked around and saw hundreds of shimmering metal bolts begin to sit in the sky overhead them all, slowly growing in number. Seeing this array of artillery above him wiped away the fear and worry that had overtaken him. Even though they were in the dark and the bombs had gone off early, he felt that nothing would survive a torrent of metal this large. And so,
"FIIIIIIIIIIIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He yelled out at the top of his lungs.
FWING
The ear-splitting sound of the artillery traveling through the air at supersonic speeds echoed across the silent mountain walls at their sides. Within seconds, the bolts disappeared into the dark cloud of dust ahead of them, poking holes into it like a knife through cloth.
Thramdael looked around at his men, waiting for one of them to signal contact, but there was nothing. Because of the nature of dwarven magic, anything made of metal or earth could be manipulated and brought under their control. All they needed was to touch it with their body and they could push their magic through it. What this means is that even though the bolts had left their hands, they still had control of it. Even though it would become much more difficult to keep a stable connection to the object the further it flew, the dwarves could at least tell if their bolts made contact in the air even though they couldn't see them.
But there was nothing once again. Not a single dwarf spoke up and Thramdael felt a wave of panic rush over him.
"Why!?" He screamed internally, "Why isn't there anything?! Are they not pushing forward?! Are they going around to our sides?!" He looked to his right and left, but he saw nothing. The cloud of dust was mostly in front of them all and he could see if they were going to be flanked. But, again, there was nothing. "Why!?"
"Sir!!!! I've got something!" A dwarven soldier yelled out close to Thramdael's left.
This was one of the strongest and most talented dwarves within the military. The range from which he could stay connected to an object was much further than those around him and he could tell where it landed. Most of the dwarves here had lost connection with the bolts while they were still in the air, but this guy had felt his hit the earth. He threw his hand wildly towards the south and it began to glow. He was funneling everything within his body into strengthening his connection with the bolt and he closed his fist as the magic spread out across the ground from the point of impact thousands of feet away.
"I can see the front line!" He yelled out, being able to feel the ground underneath the enemy army's feet within the smoke cloud. "They haven't moved an inch from before! They're still barely outside of our artillery range!"
"Dammit! What the hell is going on!" Thramdael spoke before he noticed the shocked look on the soldier's face who had just given him that information.
"S-sir, there are dwarves with them! Gah!" He brought his hand back like he just felt a shock to his hand.
"Explain!" A woman's voice could be heard from behind Thramdael. At some point, he had dropped the communication device and another soldier was operating it for his superior.
The soldier turned and spoke into the receiver, "I was able to see a large chunk of the army's front line when I ran my magic through the ground and there was something close to a dozen dwarves clumped together at the head. I could never mistake them, their weight on the ground and the backlash I received when my magic ran beneath their feet. They even destroyed the bolt I was using to funnel my magic through."
General Krimm went silent on the other side, but it didn't take her more than a few seconds to piece it all together.
"Are they hostages?" Thramdael asked with an anxious look on his face.
"No… the bombs." General Krimm spoke softly, "There's no other way the Chosen would've known where the bombs were, let alone be able to set them off."
"T-that doesn't make any sense, why would the dwarves-"
"GENERAL!!!!! GET DOWN!!!!"
"Huh?" General Thramdael turned and he only saw it for a second.
There was a red glow emanating from deep within the wall of falling dust and it had cleared enough to the point that they were finally able to notice why the Chosen hadn't advanced.
"Oh my god…" Thramdael spoke in disbelief before the entire base was wiped off the face of the earth. The mountains exploded in a red fury as the blast coming from the south slammed into the castle walls. The explosive power from all of the bombs was brought to culminate into a single point and redirected forward. The military of Anglest had vastly underestimated the power of their own bombs, but they had also underestimated the Chosen. They didn't have a complete understanding of their full array of abilities, but this was one of them.
All of the Chosen had come together to control the explosive power and even add their own extra might to it. Through the will of a creature that stood nearly forty feet tall, the blast had shot forward and killed all three thousand of the dwarves at the checkpoint in an instant. In the smoldering remains of the checkpoint sat a gaping hole that carved into the mountain for a couple hundred feet.
As the forests atop the mountains became engulfed in flame as the fire spread, a single Chosen soldier stepped forward as he took in the sight.
"Ahh…" Rant writhed in ecstasy, "Beautiful… it was so… ahhh," he shook in pleasure once more, "That was truly a work of art, my beloved Monarch." The small, robed creature removed his hood and turned towards the colossal beast at his side. In front of Rant stood the Monarch, the strongest warrior of all the Chosen, he was also their leader.
He was a terrifyingly large creature and the shadow he cast could engulf buildings. The wings he began to spread cleared all of the dust surrounding them. All three of his hands were glowing red and the very air was being warped from the sheer amount of heat that emanated from them after the blast he had unleashed. What remained of his fourth arm, the upper one on his left side, was nothing but a shoulder, but he didn't even need it to be as unwaveringly strong as he was. Truly, he was one of the strongest beings on this earth right now, and he was like a machine geared towards destruction.
He never spoke nor showed emotion. He would barely react to the others around him, even to Rant, but he never stopped marching forward. With the God-given purpose to destroy the human race, he needed nothing else. At Least, that's how Rant always interpreted it.
"My lord," Rant kneeled before him, his purple robes swaying in the wind, "Your guidance-" he tried to ask before being cut off.
"W-we did what you asked, now let us go-"
FWOOM
Rant had snapped his fingers and fire had shot up from the ground, incinerating the dwarf that had interrupted him.
The group of dwarves behind him fell backwards as they watched their comrade be reduced to nothing in the blink of an eye.
"Wh-what the hell! Y-you said you'd release us!!!!" One of them screamed out.
"My children," he turned towards the dwarves, "A promise is a promise, especially one made before the eyes of God. I will let you go, but… NO ONE!!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, flame filling his hand, "NO ONE MAY DISRUPT THE MONARCH WHEN I ASK FOR HIS GUIDANCE!!!!! IT IS THROUGH HIS HAND THAT WE MOVE FORWARD, THAT WE CONTINUE TO PURGE THIS FILTHY WORLD!!!!" He yelled as the ground shook and blood sprayed Rant's face.
The Monarch had decided to walk forward, and he crushed the dwarves beneath his feet. At this, the fire left Rant's hands and he fell to his knees and lowered his head before him.
"M-my lord… I see, I-I was mistaken. There is no leniency for those that would dare cause disarray before your presence. I will take this lesson to heart." Rant began to pray before he noticed that the Monarch had already left his side. He was walking forward; towards the remains of the checkpoint they had just destroyed. Rant noticed the Monarch gave a slight glance to the east, and Rant took great care to interpret the hidden meaning behind the Monarch's actions.
"I see, thank you. That is a brilliant plan, my lord," Rant spoke as he stood up, "We're moving." He clenched his fist and looked at the tens of thousands of soldiers behind him, "To their capital!"