I dashed through the city, my blood pounding in my veins. Aetherhaven left a shell of its former self, the once bustling streets now littered with debris and the bodies of fallen wardens. Some lay beneath rubble, their faces twisted in eternal agony, while others maimed beyond recognition. Each step I made felt like a betrayal to their memory, but I had to find my Master, Sebastian Beswick, the Grandwarden to tell him Magnar Munthe came end the invasion.
The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning wood and flesh. As I raced toward the city's perimeter, I could hear the distant sounds of battle—the clash of steel, the boil of fire, and the guttural cries of both attackers and defenders. The ground shook under from the impacts of relentless assault, but I pressed on, driven by the desperate need to find my master.
I reached the city's outer defenses, the remaining defenders fought valiantly to hold the line. Those not dying from grotesque boils used lava pots—artifacts that melted stones into liquid fire—along with ballistae and their own magics to repel the invaders. The sight was both awesome and terrific. Streams of molten rock cascaded over the machicolations, hissing and steaming as they met the ground below. Arrows and bolts flew through the air, finding their marks among the enemy ranks.
"Where is He?" I shouted to the nearest defender, a young woman with soot-streaked cheeks and fading determination in her eyes.
She shook her head, deflecting a glob of acid with a translucent shield. "I don't know! Try Captain Larris by the east gate!"
I nodded and sprinted toff, narrowly avoiding a burst of corrosive goo that splattered against the wall, sizzling as it ate away at the stone. The ground beneath my feet trembled and the air rattled with the screams of the wounded and the dying.
"Captain!" I called out, spotting a grizzled man directing the defense efforts near the gate. His armor was scorched and dented, and he wielded a massive hammer that glowed with an inner fire.
He turned to me, his voice hard and grizzled. "What boy?"
"Where is the Grandwarden?"
Captain Larris grunted, swinging his hammer to smash a writhing mass of tentacles that had breached the wall. "Not here. Try Harlon south."
I changed direction, my legs burning with the effort. The south barricade was a scene of utter chaos. Defenders hurled fireballs and lightning bolts at the encroaching enemy, while massive siege engines pounded the walls with relentless force. Beyond, I spotted him, a tall, imposing figure with a battle axe that crackled with electricity.
"Mister HARLON!" I tried to reach over the din of battle. "GRANDWARDEN?"
He glanced at me, his face grim. "The defenses nearly breached. He is pushing beyond the western gate!"
The news hit me like a physical blow. Beswick, my master, was beyond the walls, leading an offensive to relieve pressure on the walls. Panic surged through me. Magnar was going to remove the problem in his own way, and if Beswick was caught...
"No! No, no, no!" I shouted, my voice hoarse with desperation. I couldn't let this happen. I had to get to him, to save him.
I nodded, my heart sinking. With a deep breath, I turned and made my way toward the western gate, weaving through the chaos and destruction that had become the new normal for Aetherhaven.
As I reached the gate, a massive explosion rocked the ground, sending a shockwave through the city. I stumbled but regained my footing, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the offensive force. The landscape beyond the walls was a hellscape of fire and shadow, the sky darkened by smoke and the ground littered with the remnants of battle.
I could see them in the distance—a small force of warriors pushing outward, led by a figure I recognized instantly. Even from afar, his presence was unmistakable. A certain beacon of power only achievable by pure experience, guiding his forces through the maelstrom.
With renewed determination, I sprinted toward the front lines, my heart pounding in my chest. I had to reach him, I could not lose another. My sanity, depended on it. Without thinking, I sprinted toward the edge of the wall.
Faster. He will die without you. They all will die. It will be my fault. All those children without fathers.
The defenders called out, trying to stop me, but the meaning of their voices drowned out the roaring chaos of my mind. I reached the parapet and prepared to leap, but strong hands grabbed me, pulling me back.
"Let me go!" I screamed, thrashing against my captors. "I have to save them!"
"Easy!" a voice shouted in my ear, struggling to restrain me. "You'll get yourself killed!"
But I could not quell my emotions. I looked up at the sky, searching for any sign of Magnar, and that was when I saw it—a five-tiered magic circle sprouting in the sky, its intricate patterns glowing with an intense, otherworldly light. The night was lit up as if a new sun had risen, casting everything in stark relief.
Massive amounts of magic flowed from Magnar into the spell, shaping into frozen strands of lightning. The strings twisted and condensed into a polished spheres of energy, growing larger and brighter with each passing second. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of awe and terror. The very air seemed to hum with power, a tangible force pressing against my skin.
"No! Please, no!" I cried out, struggling even harder against the wardens restraining me. They held on tight, their faces grim with determination.
The massive orbs of energy in the sky suddenly shrank to the size of specks, leaving the landscape in darkness once again. My breath caught in my throat as I watched them fall. Moments stretching to infinity.
"Beswick!" I shouted, my voice breaking with desperation. I could see the lights landing like feathers against the backs of all of the amalgamations, a bright flash illuminated the field. The heat and light overwhelming, even to us on the palisade hundreds of feet away.
We were thrown to the ground, my vision filled with spots. The wardens who had been holding me? Their grip lost.
I scrambled to my feet, my eyes wide with horror. The battlefield was a scene of utter devastation. The stitched ones reduced to smoking craters, their forms vaporized. A wave of charcoal and brimstone filled my nose.
Tears streamed down my face as I tore passed the barricaded port culls, frantically searching for any sign of Beswick in the field. The defenders around me were disoriented, struggling to even stand. I stumbled over debris, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Sebastian! Master!" I called out, my voice hoarse and desperate.
Darting through the dust, I caught sight of a figure moving through the haze. My heart leaped into my throat as I recognized the familiar silhouette. It was Beswick, his form battered but unmistakably alive.
"Master!" I shouted, rushing toward him. Relief washed over me, but it was tempered by the devastation around us. The cost of Magnar's intervention had been immense.
Beswick turned to face me, his eyes weary but filled with determination. "Micah," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos.
Magnar descended on his magical platform, his face lit with a triumphant grin. The platform shimmered with arcane energy. As he landed, he looked around at the destruction he had wrought with a single spell, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with pride.
"Thwarted that horde with one spell?" Magnar boasted, his voice carrying over the battlefield. "No chance a lethal invasion. Did you trick me boy?"
I felt a surge of rage boil up within me. The destruction, the lives lost, the near miss with Beswick—it was all too much. "You could have killed the wardens!" I shouted, stepping forward, my fists clenched. "Do you even care about the lives you endangered?"
Magnar waved a dismissive hand, his expression smug. "Relax. My control over my spells is impeccable. Not a single friendly life was lost."
I tried to lash out, my emotions controlling my thoughts, but Beswick's firm grip on my arm stopped me in my tracks. His strength was undeniable, his presence grounding.
"Easy," Beswick said calmly, his voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos. "Magnar's spell was indeed impressive. Had he used his strongest magic, he might have destroyed the entire county."
I could see the anger in Beswick's eyes, a restrained fury that mirrored my own. But he kept his composure, his grip on my arm tightening just enough to keep me from doing something reckless.
Magnar smirked, distracted from his contingency against deceit, "You see, even the Grandwarden understands magnificence."
Beswick released his grip on my arm and gestured with his sword to the black gems scattered across the craters. "But tell me, Magnar, if your control is so fine, why couldn't you even break a fragile rock?"
Magnar's smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the black gems. "Those vexcrystals are resilient, I'll give them that," he replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "But the threat is neutralized, and that's what matters."
Beswick nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the scattered gems. "Perhaps. But who made them?"
Magnar's expression hardened, but he said nothing, his victory clearly stung by Beswick's words.
As I stood there, the fury still simmering beneath the surface, I realized that Beswick was right. Magnar's power was immense, but it was also controlled and restrained.
"Let's focus on the task at hand," Beswick said, turning to face the men rising from the smoke. "We have much work to do."
As the last remnants of the cloud began to settle from Magnar's display of power, a new threat emerged on the horizon. Their size was on the scale of the two goliaths from the initial assault, but they carried an even more sinister presence. As they roared, a sickly green mist began to seep from their bodies, spreading across the plains. The grass withered and died almost instantly upon contact with the mist, and the dirt turned dry and cracked.
Magnar's expression shifted from smug satisfaction to one of concern. He turned to Beswick, his eyes narrowing. "Micah cannot be here. Neither can your men" he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"Do it." Magnar commanded Master.
Beswick's expression hardened, and with a nod, he turned his back to Magnar. With a flick of his wrist, Magnar activated a hidden magic seal on Beswick's back, causing it to glow with an intense, otherworldly light.
In a swift motion, Magnar conjured a cube of solid mana around me and each of the wardens. "You can't be here, lads," he said, his tone brooking no argument. Before we could protest, he flicked the cubes, sending us hurtling back over the city walls.
I landed on the palisade with a heavy thud, the cube dissolving upon impact. Soldiers, who were taking a momentary respite from the onslaught, looked up in surprise as I tumbled onto the wooden planks. They were relishing the brief break in combat, imbibing potions and consuming food to restore their strength.
"Micah!" one of the soldiers called out, rushing to help me to my feet. "What happened out there?"
I shook my head, trying to clear the dizziness from the abrupt transportation. "Magnar," I said breathlessly, "He sent me back. New big ones leak a green mist that kills everything it touches."
The soldiers exchanged worried glances, their momentary respite now overshadowed by the impending threat. They quickly resumed their positions, downing the last of their potions and grabbing their weapons.
As I looked out over the wall, I could see the disaster approaching, their miasma spreading further with each step. The sight instilled dread within my bones, but I couldn't let fear paralyze me. I had to trust that the pair would win.
The soldiers around me began to brace for the next wave of the assault, their faces set with grim determination. Despite the terror that these new foes inspired, there was a shared resolve among us. We had come this far, and we would not falter now.
I could only hope that whatever "it" was, Beswick and Magnar could pull it off before the city walls were breached once more.
I climbed between two of the crenellations. I watched the scene unfold with bated breath. Magnar began by clutching a hidden amulet around his neck, whispering an incantation that caused it to glow faintly. From the shimmering air before him, a blade materialized, falling gracefully into his outstretched hand along with several Aurorian crystals, their inner light pulsing like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant.
Beswick stepped forward, his expression resolute. He picked up one of the crystals and, to my astonishment, bit it, crushing the gem between his teeth. The raw mana within surged forth, flowing into him and causing his body to radiate a gentle, yet potent light. Beswick then grabbed the blade, its surface shimmering in response to his touch, and his armor began to glow with a soft, green and purple hue.
Magnar, meanwhile, lifted the remaining five crystals into the air with a flick of his wrist. They began to revolve around his head in a slow, deliberate circle, resembling a crown of shimmering power. Each crystal radiated mana, casting eerie, dancing shadows across his face. He extended his hands, drawing the mana from the crystals into himself, augmenting his already formidable strength.
The transformation in both men was palpable. Beswick's aura grew stronger, enveloping him and his sword in a gentle verdant glow that seemed to hum with a life of its own. Magnar's presence, on the other hand, became even more intimidating as the mana coursed through his veins, his eyes burning with an intensity that made the air around him shimmer.
The air itself seemed to bubble with power and animosity, a tangible tension that pressed down on everyone present. It felt as though the very fabric of reality was being stretched to its limits, the world holding its breath in anticipation of the cataclysmic clash that was about to unfold.
The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, unable to withstand the immense power that was being channeled through them. The sky above darkened, clouds swirling ominously as if in response to the gathering storm of mana. The very air crackled with energy, and every instinct I had screamed at me to flee, to get as far away from these titans as possible.
Beswick took a step forward, raising his sword. The gentle green aura around him intensified, forming a protective barrier that shimmered with the promise of devastation. Magnar mirrored his movement, his blade crackling with the raw power of the crystals that orbited him.
The two living legends poised themselves between us and them. On the brink of unleashing attacks that would shake the world to its core, their stances remained sculpted from determination and confidence.
I could feel the ground vibrating beneath me, the sheer power they wielded creating shockwaves that spread outwards, causing the air to shimmer and distort. Their forms clashed between a rainbow spell manifesting and an emerald aura honing. Flashes of violet erupted from the unwinding seal. My heart fluttered as I realized what "it" was.
"It" was why Sebastian won the Martial Tournament.
His armor and weapons sublimated into light, transmuting from matter into energy. The seal finally fully unrealized, dissipating into nothingness. Magnar collected his mana into a seven layered, multi-centric magic that extended in front of them. I turned back to where my master stood, readying his aura, but Master was gone. He moved to fast to even leave a blur.