"Lord Razaranje, where are you going?" the priestess asked, skipping after the deity.
"I have some business that I must attend to," the Razaranje replied. "Don't worry, I'll find you guys later. Tell the gnome good luck."
"You can tell me yourself, Lord, where are you going?" Silverbell asked as he came bounding from behind the now-halted army.
"I told you, I have some business in a place called—ugh, what was that town again?" Raz said as he removed the glowing ball from his kilt. "Reform Touch".
The ball rapidly expanded and began to take human form, where a man was slowly assembled out of the tiny light particles until the prisoner called 28 had reformed, albeit trembling heavily as he blinked at his new surroundings.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" the scarred man yelled.
"I disassembled you down to the particle level, smuggled the particles out of the castle, and then I reversed it," Razaranje explained matter-of-factly.
Oakina and Silverbell were shocked at the sudden appearance of the man, blinking at the largely-naked individual as looking over his body, it became evident as to where he was from.
"Lord Razaranje, is that one of the baroness's servants?" the gnome asked, before fearfully looking towards the nearby castle.
"Yeah, he promised to take me to a god that he knows of if I freed him," Raz replied, crossing his arms and looking to the scarred man. "Now where are we headed to again?"
"C-Casburgh," 28 panted, still heavily-traumatized from how the god had transported him. "Uhhh it's slightly north of here. If we get walking now, we can probably make it there by nightfall."
"Lord Razaranje, I'm coming with you!" Oakina proclaimed. "I'm the servant of your temple, so I plan to continue serving you no matter where you go!"
"Well, you wouldn't be defecting since your position in the Cloudian army is technically a volunteer one," Silverbell explained to the priestess, although visibly saddened. "I'd hate to lose our chief medic, but I understand. I'm not about to act like I can compete with a god."
"Great. Well, I'm not asking anyone to join me apart from this prisoner here, so if you want to come, that's on you," Razaranje explained to Oakina. "I'm not going to forbid you from following me, though. You've been a loyal servant this far."
Smiling, the priestess bowed respectfully, before joining the god at his side.
"Very well. Lady Oakina, Lord Razaranje. May we meet again," Silverbell nodded, before straightening his back in salute and clanging the end of his spear into the stone.
Nodding back with a light smile, Razaranje bid the gnome farewell as the corporal joined the rest of the army. With that, the soldiers marched away from the castle and down the road that led towards the wall gate, the Cloudian 4th army and their newly bolstered Fallavrokian troops off to their next mission.
"Well then, shall we get going?" Raz asked Oakina and the prisoner.
"Yeah, I'm eager for a good walk, I've been cooped up in that castle for so long," 28 replied, stretching his legs as he enjoyed the feeling of sunlight on his pale, scarred body.
"We won't be walking," the destruction god stated flatly, before wrapping a muscular arm around Oakina's waist as well as 28's. "Which direction did you say this town was?"
"Umm…this way, I guess?" the former slave replied, nodding to a north-west heading. Oakina meanwhile blushed profusely at the god's arm hugging around her body.
"Great. Off we go."
With that, Razaranje bent his knees and blasted off into the sky, taking his two companions with him. Caught off guard at the super-jump, Oakina and 28 naturally screamed in terror as their bodies felt the extreme gforces of suddenly careening into the sky and sailing over the fields and forests of Fallavrok below.
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Meanwhile, dozens of miles away in the neutral zone, was a sprawling Grovan military fortress called Netfort. Situated on the shores of a clear, glass-like lake, the castle complex was surrounded by tall, dark walls, and the fortress itself was a smoky, charcoal color, almost looking burnt. The headquarters of the mighty Grovan 6th army, Netfort stood as a major obstacle to the Cloudians and Fallavrokians fighting in the area, the well-defended area unyielding to even the toughest foe. They were what the Grovan 12th legion answered to, and with the Cloudian 4th army as their opponents of recent, they were finally getting news from the front.
Passing a row of copper-armored Grovan soldiers, all of whom saluted her as she walked by, was a young major who was on her way to the depths of the fortress. Her tall, muscular body draped in a large, bulky suit of gold-copper armor, a beautiful red-feather cape flowing over her shoulders, the only visible part of the major's olive skin was that of her face, the rest of her covered in her vibrant suit.
Throughout the maze-like fortress were dozens of Groven personnel, a guard on post in every hall, but no one came close to the importance of the man who was currently scouring over a large map of the continent in one of the castle's war rooms. Decorated with wooden pieces representing the various nations, the map showed the known front lines in great detail. Pouring over the map was a tall, slender man with medium length, shaggy black hair. An oversized red overcoat was draped over his shoulders, the black buttons all opened to expose his collared, white undershirt that bore the Grovan crest over the left side of the chest. His pants were a dark crimson, and his boots were black and shiny. To complete his attire, an unlit torch was crudely sticking out of one of his pants pockets.
"General Bagliore, I have a confirmation from the 12th legion," the major announced as she barged into the room, saluting.
"Ah Major Nouville, is that so? Continue," the man asked as he looked towards a particular spot near the Cloudian border on his map.
"Yes sir, on top of the 2000 plus casualties that they lost to the Cloudian 4th, Major Barak was also killed in action," Nouville replied. "He was a talented mage, sir. Whatever took him out must have been very powerful."
"We lost a major?" the one addressed as Bagliore asked, finally looking up from the map to make eye contact with the armored woman. "And not just any major…by gods, Barak was one of my protégés. What kind of mage took him out? Dare I ask what the body looked like?"
"That's the thing, sir," the major answered as she rounded the table where the red-coated man was standing. "There was no body. His subordinate searched where the Cloudians had camped, but found nothing. Just…poof."
"Well that is quite the news then," Bagliore replied, stroking his chin while gazing intently on the map again. "I'm curious. The Cloudian mages are all half-wits, who took out my talented major? Tell me, where was this 4th army remnant headed?"
"Scouts watched them up until the Fallavrokian border," Nouville nodded. "Probably Whiphurst. Or one of the further towns."
Tracing his finger along the map, Bagliore found an area near the Fallavrok-Cloud border by the neutral zone. Tapping it, his face took on resolve, and standing up straight, barked an order.
"Have me a detachment of 5000 soldiers ready for immediate departure," he commanded. We're raiding Fallavrok. Let's see who this Cloudian upstart is."
At 43 years of age, this was General "Burning" Bagliore, a high-ranking member of the Grovan military and commanding officer of Netfort. He was a skilled mage who had a fearsome reputation throughout the continent, and battlefields in his wake were known to be reduced to cinders. Shocked, yet hardly surprised that the general had decided on such drastic action, his second in command, Major Nouville, left the war room to go rally the number of troops that her commander had demanded. Since most of the war was largely quarantined to the neutral zone in these days, invading national borders would surely be seen as taboo by the other countries and the impact of which would set off a chain effect across the rest of the battlefield.