The gnome and the other soldiers led Raz and Oakina back towards the army camp a short distance away. Stepping into another clearing in the woods, the god observed numerous fires and makeshift tents spread around the open space, where groups of weary soldiers huddled together, cooking bits of food, repairing dented and worn armor, or lying flat on their backs attempting to get a bit of sleep. The men looked half-dead, with a few of them even sitting there with blank, faraway looks in their eyes. As if to represent the army's sorry state, a single banner that depicted a white dove against solid navy-blue rested against one of the tents. Oakina took her time to whisper to Razaranje that the banner represented the Grand Duchy of Cloud, and that the other mortal nations all had banners representing themselves as well. The dove, a pretty, yet meek bird, was apparently a good representation of Cloud.
As they walked deeper into the camp, Oakina stopped by a whimpering soldier who was clutching his elbow. Bending down, the priestess asked him what was wrong. Apparently some of his tendons had been severed in a previous battle, although a combination of shock and a desperation to retreat had made it so that he was unaware of the extent of his injuries until then.
"Soft Touch," Oakina whispered as she laid a hand on the man's forearm, where a gentle white light glowed from her finger tips and passed into the limb. "This spell will ease your pain and jump-start the healing process, but I don't have time to patch it up good for now."
"T-thank you, ma'am," the relieved soldier sighed as he clutched his arm.
Smirking, Raz was well aware of the existence of mages. Long ago, the gods and goddesses used to regularly meddle with mortals, often times rearing children with them. These demigod children usually possessed similar powers to their divine parent, although weaker in strength. The demigods would then pass these powers onto their own children, and so on until a sizable portion of mortals possessed some sort of mage blood in them. Upon asking if mages were still common, Oakina explained to the god that most mages took up high ranking places in the military, with most countries relying on their mages as a sort of powerhouse to bolster their forces.
"Alright, Lady Oakina, it's time for you and the injured to get going," Silverbell instructed, before turning to the weary soldiers. "And men! It's time for us to move out. Our homeland is only a few kilometers behind us. We must hold off the enemy for as long as possible."
"I'm not going, Corporal," the priestess replied as she mindlessly latched onto the deity next to her. "I trust Lord Razaranje. If he says he'll help us, then I believe him."
"I still doubt that this wild man is a god, but if he wants to fight with us, then I'm more than thankful," the gnome reiterated, before glancing again at Raz, who was shaking the blushing priestess off of him. "If our chief medic is going to cling to you, then you'd better protect her, sir."
"None of you have to come if you don't want to" Razaranje stated flatly as he put his hands to his hips and looked off into the distance. "Now direct me to these Grove people that you want me to vanquish. I have a fiancé waiting for me."
"Right…is that kilt going to be enough armor for you?" The gnome grinned, referring to the god's black, metal kilt while he rallied the rest of his troops.
"Huh? Jarnon, god of the forge, made this for me as a gift," Raz replied, running a hand over the light, yet solid skirt. "I'm pretty sure no mortal weapon can harm it, as if I even need that."
As Corporal Silverbell finished readying the troops, Oakina stuck by the god as he stood around waiting for them to move. The tired soldiers looked demoralized and frightful of the task at hand, but none the less, still rose to their feet and formed up. Raz counted 74 soldiers total, which amused him when the priestess explained that at its height, the Cloudian 4th army numbered 15,000 in strength. Confidently in command, the short gnome donned a dented tin helmet and led his men forward, leaving only the injured and those unable to fight behind.
Razaranje followed them, with the formation eventually hitting a dirt road and then marching on to what looked like the forest's edge. They emerged into open field moments later, where they abruptly held position as Silverbell roared that this was where they would make their last stand. Brushing past the small formation of weary soldiers, with the priestess following him at his heels, Raz spotted their enemy.
Marching in neat blocks of 250 men, the much-larger Grovan force approached the forest from about 2 kilometers away in 10 different formations, supposedly spread out to ensure that not a single Cloudian escaped. Their troops wore full suits of copper armor that shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun, while a solid helmet covered most of their faces. A long iron spear was wielded by each of them, and a large rectangular shield was held in their second hand that were so long that they obscured a large portion of the wielder. Several of the soldiers wielded tall banners that depicted a red trillium flower against a white background, the apparent symbol of the Grove Republic.
"Alright men, this is it," Silverbell hissed. "Don't move until you can see the whites of their eyes. Once in range, give them everything you've got. Your backs are to our homeland—let us die a glorious death protecting her!"
"No, you all stay where you are," Razaranje interrupted, further pushing past the neat formation and standing in front of them. "This shouldn't take long."
"B-be careful, Lord, Razaranje!" Oakina shouted from behind the Cloudians.
"Haha, what a cute little mortal," the god chuckled to himself as Silverbell and the other mystified troops watched as he walked out into the open field alone.
The Grovan troops continued their steady march onwards, with some of the soldiers watching in confusion as the single figure came out to meet them. Only a few hundred meters away, the large formation halted, while their apparent commander stepped out from amongst the ranks and walked towards Raz.
"My name is Captain Linbeak, the leading officer of this detachment," the man announced, his helmet donning a stream of red feathers on top of it. "Are you…an emissary, maybe? Here to surrender? I apologize, but I've been ordered to destroy the Cloudian 4th army in its entirety."
"Nope," Raz replied as he kept advancing towards them.
"Oh…well if it's a duel you're looking for, I'll be happy to oblige," the warrior grinned as he drew his sword, a brilliant steel leaf blade. "I won't hold back, but if you give me a good fight, I might consider sparing some of your men."
Razaranje wordlessly continued on his way, before stopping abruptly and then leaping into the air at blinding speeds. Both the Cloudians and Grovans watched in amazement as what looked like an ordinary man easily soared to over 500 feet, gliding high above the superior copper-armored army.
"Hmmm I'd better be careful, I don't want to destroy too much," the god thought to himself as he looked down at the 2500 men, before holding his hand out. A small white energy ball appeared over his palm. "This should suffice. White Erase."
Aiming at the center of the army, Raz threw the ball of destructive energy and watched as it sailed towards the middle of the formation. In seconds, a massive, white explosion erupted from where the sphere had landed, generating a massive shockwave and a blank light dome that swallowed the shocked army in a fraction of a second. Captain Linbeak could only watch in horror as his troops vanished into the white explosion, before being caught up in the shockwave himself as his physical form was obliterated like the rest of the Grovan soldiers.
With Razaranje landing on his feet a short distance away, the explosion of blank light faded to reveal a massive but shallow crater in the earth where the army stood only seconds ago. Brushing himself off, the god turned on his heels to face the Cloudians, where he couldn't help crack a small amused smile at the shocked faces of every single one of them.
"L-Lord Razaranje! Thank you!" Oakina cried, her large chest bouncing as she fell to her knees bowing.
"Well I'll be…maybe you are a god," Silverbell stated in disbelief as he let his spear drop, before dropping down on one knee. "Thank you, sir, you have my utmost gratitude."
"They're all gone…not a survivor in sight," one of the other Cloudian soldiers stammered, before dropping his weapon and falling to his knees as well.
"I-I pointed a weapon at him earlier!" one of the soldiers cried, before posturing himself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry god sir!"
Before he knew it, the entire remnants of the 4th army were bowing before Razaranje, many times extending their thanks for obliterating their opponents in one fell swoop. The god himself couldn't care less, however, and was merely looking skywards as he expected to be taken back to the Realm of the Gods any second.
"My sweet Luavida, I'm coming!" Raz cried out.
But nothing happened.