(Chapter 108 Scorched Earth)
Even with the reinforcements crashing into the Abyss forces, the situation was growing dire. No matter how many Hilichurls, Riftwolves, or other Abyssal creatures they cut down, more continued to pour through the portals like an unending flood of darkness. It was as if the battlefield itself was a gaping wound that bled enemies with every passing second.
"They are unending, Your Grace..."
Falric muttered grimly, his eyes scanning the battlefield as the tide of monsters showed no signs of slowing. The blood and bodies of both Natlan warriors and Hilichurls littered the ground, and yet still, the portals pulsed, vomiting more enemies into the fray.
"This village is lost."
Tempest remained silent for a moment, his brow furrowing as he weighed the situation. The relentless wave of enemies wasn't just costing lives, it was bleeding their resources and energy dry. Despite the ferocity of the Natlan warriors and the arrival of Fontaine's reinforcements, this battle was proving to be a fruitless endeavor. Tempest wasn't one to waste lives on a fight with no victory in sight.
"This is pointless."
Tempest said, his voice calm but laced with resolve. His eyes narrowed as he observed the horde.
"I didn't come here to fight an endless tide of Hilichurls and send my men to their deaths. There can only be one solution."
Falric looked at him, understanding flashing in his eyes.
"Your Grace, what are your orders?"
"Falric."
Tempest began, drawing a small object from his coat, a contact prism that Faruzan gave him.
"Cover me. This needs to end now."
Falric, ever the loyal knight, nodded sharply.
"Yes, Your Grace."
He turned toward the battlefield and raised his voice to command the knights.
"Knights of The Golden Hand! Phalanx formation! Protect His Grace at all costs!"
At Falric's command, Tempest's knights immediately moved into action, their discipline as impeccable as always. They formed a tight shield wall around their leader, their shields locking together in a perfect defense, bracing themselves against the onslaught of Abyss creatures. The phalanx held firm, like an impenetrable fortress amidst the chaos.
With his knights providing cover, Tempest took a breath and focused on the contact prism in his hand. He pressed his fingers against the smooth surface, and a holographic screen popped up in front of him, flickering with ancient script. He was still relatively new to this form of communication, but he had no time to waste. He carefully began typing out the message in Morse code, knowing that Faruzan was his only chance at turning the tide of this battle.
As the message was transmitted, the screen glowed briefly before the light flickered out. The morse code was sent:
"- . .-.. .-.. .-. --- .... .- -. - --- -... --- -- -... --- ..- .-. .--. --- ... .. - .. --- -. .. -. -.-. . -. -.. .. .- .-. -.-- ... .... .-.. .-.. ... - . -. -- .. -. ..- - . ... "
'Tell Rohan to bomb our position. Incendiary shells. Ten minutes.'
Tempest's face remained impassive, but there was a cold determination in his eyes. He had made his choice, and there was no turning back. The enemy had to be wiped out, and this village had to be reduced to nothing in order to close the portals. A necessary sacrifice.
Falric, standing by Tempest's side, couldn't help but question the decision. He respected his Duke's decision, but the Natlan warriors were still fighting with everything they had.
"Are you certain, Your Grace? Those Natlan warriors don't seem to be giving up on this place. They're bound by their pride and love for their homeland."
Tempest's eyes flicked toward the raging battle. The Natlan warriors were indeed fighting valiantly, but Tempest had no intention of prolonging a war that was already lost. Their bravery was admirable, but it was not enough. He looked at Falric, his tone decisive.
"It's not my duty to protect them, we came here for resources not to die with them."
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Faruzan lay sprawled across the couch in her cabin aboard Tempest's ship, completely unaware of the chaos unfolding miles away in Natlan. A book rested on her face, its pages gently rising and falling with her slow breathing as she drifted between wakefulness and sleep.
*Ring!*
The sharp sound of the contact prism interrupted the peaceful silence. Faruzan groaned, her arm flopping lazily to the side as she tried to ignore the noise.
"Mmm... Hatsume..."
She muttered, still half-asleep, her voice muffled by the book. "Shut that thing off..."
*Ring!*
The piercing noise came again, louder this time, refusing to be ignored. Faruzan grumbled in irritation, waving her hand in the air as if she could shoo away the sound. But the contact prism wasn't so easily dismissed.
"Hatsume! Uwah-!"
In her half-conscious state, Faruzan misjudged her movement and rolled right off the couch, landing on the floor with a thud. The book slid from her face, and she blinked groggily, pushing herself up with a groan.
Rubbing her head, she spotted the source of the noise, the contact prism on the nearby table, its surface glowing insistently. She reached for the device, still trying to shake off the fog of sleep. She pressed the surface, and instantly, a holographic screen popped out in front of her.
Her sleepy eyes widened in shock as she registered the words on the screen.
"Oh my Celestia..."
She gasped, the drowsiness instantly melting away.
The message was urgent, and it wasn't just any routine communication. It was a direct command from Tempest himself, written in Morse code. Faruzan's eyes flicked across the screen, deciphering the message with practiced ease, and the weight of its contents hit her like a hammer.
'Tell Rohan to bomb our position. Incendiary shells. Ten minutes.'
Faruzan scrambled to her feet, panic momentarily clouding her judgment.
"Hatsume! Hatsume, where are you?!"
She shouted though she knew Hatsume wasn't anywhere near the ship at that moment. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to regain her composure.
"This isn't good... this isn't good at all."
Faruzan muttered to herself, pacing back and forth in the small cabin. She had to respond, and quickly. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to focus. There was no room for error in her next move.
Faruzan activated the contact prism again, her fingers moving rapidly over the interface as she typed a response back to Tempest. The holographic screen shimmered, reflecting the glow of the device as her message was prepared to send.
But before pressing the final confirmation, she hesitated for just a moment, glancing out of the cabin window. The vast, open ocean stretched out before her, tranquil and deceiving in its calmness, while somewhere out there, chaos raged.
"Tempest, you better know what you're doing..."
She whispered under her breath, before sending her reply.
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"We're not leaving!"
One of the Natlan warriors bellowed, his voice full of fury.
"This is our home, our land! And we will defend it!"
Other Natlan warriors echoed his sentiment, their faces hardened with resolve despite the blood and smoke that clouded the battlefield.
"Unlike you Fontainians, we live in these conditions! We fight the Abyss so the rest of the nations don't have to!"
Tempest's calm demeanor did little to sway them. Another warrior stepped forward, brandishing his spear.
"We were born in this land, and we will die in these lands! We don't run away, not like you foreigners!"
Tempest stood tall, his expression unwavering as the Natlans' defiance echoed around him. He understood their pride and their fierce loyalty to their homeland. It was not so different from the pride of his own people. But he had no time to argue, not with the enemy still pouring out from the Abyssal portals and time quickly ticking away.
"Well, it seems none of you understand the value of living to fight another day."
Tempest said, his voice cold and authoritative.
"So be it, then. Stay if you wish, but my men are leaving. In ten minutes, this village will be leveled. My fleet is bombing this place."
The announcement hit the Natlans like a blow to the gut. Tempest's words hung in the air, and the reactions were immediate and furious.
"What? Bombs?!"
One warrior exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Another Natlan spat at the ground.
"You're more of a threat than the Abyss themselves! How dare you!"
Several of the warriors unsheathed their weapons, their faces twisted in outrage.
"Tell your men to stop now!"
They demanded, their anger boiling over. Swords, spears, and axes were raised as their rage turned toward Tempest and his men.
The tension exploded in an instant. Tempest's knights, ever loyal and disciplined, moved swiftly to defend their Duke. The clank of metal filled the air as they raised their shields, forming an impenetrable wall between themselves and the enraged Natlan warriors. A standoff ensued, the two forces locked in a deadly stare-down, while around them, the chaotic battle against the Abyss raged on.
Falric, who had been standing nearby, observed the standoff, his expression grim.
"Your Grace."
He muttered.
"These people are too stubborn for their own good."
Tempest's eyes scanned the warriors in front of him. He could see the fire in their hearts, their refusal to back down. But he knew this was a battle they couldn't win. The Abyss was relentless, and once the bombs started to fall, there would be no stopping the destruction.
"This is madness."
Tirpitz said.
"We can't fight on two fronts, not with the Abyss still attacking."
Tempest remained calm. He understood the gravity of the situation. The Natlans' stubbornness, their pride in protecting their homeland, was admirable, but it was also going to get them killed. His men couldn't afford to be caught in the middle of a hopeless battle.
"Listen to me."
Tempest called out, his voice commanding and cutting through the chaos.
"I gave you a chance. I understand your loyalty to your land, but this battle is already lost. Staying here will only ensure your death. But I will not force you. If you wish to stay and fight, that is your choice. But my men-"
He gestured to his knights and Falric's cavalry.
"-We are leaving."
"Traitor!"
One of the Natlan warriors shouted, his spear aimed directly at Tempest.
Before the warrior could act, Falric stepped forward, his face a mask of icy resolve.
"You raise a weapon against our Duke."
He said, his voice low and dangerous.
"And that will be the last mistake you make."
The Natlans' eyes burned with fury, but they hesitated. For all their bravado, they knew Tempest's forces were formidable. His fleet, his knights, they were well-disciplined and well-armed. The threat of the bombs overhead only added weight to his words.
"What is going on here?!"
Citlali's sharp voice cut through the tense air as she pushed her way through the crowd of Natlan warriors. Her pastel pink hair swayed as she moved with urgency, her eyes narrowing at the chaotic scene before her.
"Elder Citlali, you shouldn't be here."
One of the Natlan warriors called out, rushing to her side.
"It's not safe right now."
Citlali waved off the warning, her gaze moving over the soldiers from both sides who stood poised for another conflict, this time not against the Abyss but against each other. Her eyes flashed with frustration.
"The Abyss is here, threatening everything we've worked for, and you're all about to start another fight? Have you lost your minds?"
The warrior who had spoken fell silent, stepping back as Citlali's authority over the situation became clear. Tempest watched her approach, his cold eyes meeting hers without flinching. She turned to him, her tone sharp and accusatory.
"And you."
She began.
"What was the point of you coming here if you're just going to leave us anyway? Was this some sort of exercise in charity for you Fontainians?"
Tempest's face remained stoic, though the weight of the situation pressed heavily on his shoulders. He could see the fire in Citlali's eyes, the fierce determination of someone who had lived her entire life in these lands, fighting and surviving. But now wasn't the time for emotion. It was time for survival.
"It wasn't my intention to come to this village."
Tempest replied, his voice measured. "
I helped you and your people when the Abyss descended upon you. I fought to keep the portals at bay. But I'm not going to sacrifice my men for a losing battle."
Citlali's gaze softened for a moment as she processed his words, but her anger quickly flared again.
"So, you're just going to abandon us? Is that it? Leave these people to die while you retreat to safety?"
Tempest let out a breath, his patience fraying but his resolve intact.
"You don't understand what's at stake here. I came with my own mission, and I've done all I can for your people. But this place is lost. If you don't leave now, this village will be nothing but smoldering ruins in ten minutes."
He took a step forward, his voice growing more intense as he spoke.
"I'm giving you a chance, Citlali. Convince your people to leave now, or I can promise you that nothing will be left standing when my fleet bombs this place. I've ordered the bombardment, and nothing will stop it."
Citlali clenched her fists, her jaw tightening as she looked at the devastation surrounding them. The bodies of fallen Natlan warriors and Hilichurls lay scattered across the battlefield, the air thick with smoke and the metallic scent of blood. The cries of the injured mingled with the distant roars of Riftwolves, still pouring through the Abyssal portals.
The village was crumbling, and deep down, Citlali knew the truth. The Natlans couldn't hold this ground. Not against the endless onslaught of the Abyss.
"Elder Citlali, we need to leave."
One of the warriors beside her urged, his face pale with fear.
"The Fontainian is right. We can't win this."
But Citlali remained frozen, her heart torn between her people's pride and the harsh reality of their situation.
Seeing her hesitation, Tempest's voice softened slightly.
"You've fought bravely. No one is questioning that. But now isn't the time for pride. It's time to save as many lives as we can."
Citlali swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the Natlan warriors surrounding her. Many of them were injured, and exhausted, their spirits flagging despite their fierce loyalty to their homeland. How could she ask them to keep fighting when the odds were so clearly against them?
Her decision weighed heavily, but finally, she nodded, her voice strained.
"You win, Proudmoore. I'll tell them to retreat."
Tempest didn't respond with words. Instead, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment, already turning to his knights to signal the retreat.
"Falric."
He called,
"Prepare the evacuation. Make sure the civilians are out before the bombs start falling."
Falric saluted, quickly barking orders to the knights and cavalry.
"Yes, Your Grace! Knights, move out! Clear the perimeter and escort the villagers to safety!"
The Natlan warriors, once hostile and defiant, now turned to Citlali, waiting for her command. She raised her hand, signaling them to lower their weapons.
"We're leaving!"
She shouted.
"Fall back, everyone! Get the wounded and move to the outskirts! Now!"
There was a brief moment of hesitation, but then the Natlans moved, gathering what they could and retreating from the doomed village. As they hurried to save themselves, the Abyss continued to press in, relentless in its assault.
Citlali glanced back at Tempest as her warriors began to leave.
"You may have saved us today, Proudmoore."
She said quietly,
"But remember, Natlans don't forget those who walk away from their land in its darkest hour."
Tempest's eyes hardened.
"I'm not walking away from anything. I'm saving lives. If you want to hold onto this land so desperately, stay if you'd like."
With that, he turned away, heading toward his own forces, leaving Citlali to gather her people.
"Retreat, everyone! Leave the Mekas to stall the Abyss, go!"
Tempest's voice rang out over the chaos, sharp and commanding. His men, locked in combat with the relentless waves of Abyssal creatures, hesitated for a brief moment, glancing back at their leader.
With determination, they began to fall back, some of them firing their last shots with their muskets, bullets whistling through the air as they aimed at the encroaching enemies. The Mekas, stood resolute amidst the chaos, as they prepared to hold the line, buying precious moments for the retreat.
"Teacher!"
Tempest shouted, his eyes locking onto Constantine, who was still lost in the frenzy of battle. The old man was a whirlwind of chaos, laughing maniacally as he hacked and slashed at any Hilichurl that dared approach him. Blood splattered across his clothes, staining them a deep crimson, a testament to the ferocity of his combat.
"Have you gone senile already? Let's get out of here!"
Tempest barked, urgency lacing his tone. He rushed toward his mentor, dodging a swinging axe from a nearby Mitachurl as he moved.
Constantine turned, his wild laughter echoing against the cries of battle. "But, Your Grace, look at them! They're falling apart!"
He swung his scimitar in a wide arc, cleaving through a group of approaching Hilichurls.
"It's glorious! The thrill of battle courses through my veins! We can't leave now!"
"Your glorious fight won't mean anything if you're dead!"
Tempest shot back, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior.
"The Abyss won't stop coming, and we're outnumbered! We need to regroup and get everyone to safety!"
For a fleeting moment, Constantine's expression faltered, the thrill of battle momentarily overshadowed by the reality of their dire situation. He surveyed the chaos around them, the relentless tide of Abyssal creatures, and the growing number of his men who were starting to fall back.
"Fine."
He relented, his voice a mix of excitement and resignation.
"But only because you asked so nicely, Your Grace."
With that, he followed Tempest, the madness of battle still flickering in his eyes but tempered by the urgency of retreat.