Blinking against the blinding sunlight, he realized- he was disoriented.
The sensation was profound, as though he'd been untethered from reality, itself.
That feeling... he couldn't really describe it in words.
It was an indescribable feeling, something beyond what mere words could encapsulate.
But soon-
The disorientation effect began to wane.
Opening his eyes.
Thump. Thump.
Claaaassh!!!
Claaanng!!!
"Aaaaargh!!!"
He found himself standing in the midst of a chaotic battlefield. The clash of swords echoed through the air, screams of the wounded cutting through the deafening war cries.
Ba- dump. Ba- dump.
Just then-
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Arcane Spell. Prepare for your first Trial...]
A voice resounded in his mind.
It was the spell- an entity, perhaps a force, responsible for bringing the Arcane Trials and Ascensions to life.
...No one really knew if it was sentient or not.
And honestly, he could care less.
He realized now that he had been brought into a trial of battle- one between two warring empires.
The Roselle Empire against the Napoleon Empire.
Judging by the armor designs and the battle formations, it had to be from the third or fourth era of the mysticism era.
But more than that-
"Emperor! We're being outnumbered!"
A desperate voice called out.
His blood ran cold.
He was the emperor of the Roselle Empire.
'Damn it!'
Gritting his teeth, he surveyed the battlefield.
His soldiers were in full retreat, their ranks crumbling under the relentless onslaught of Napoleon forces.
Puchiii!!!
Blood sprayed through the air, dying the icy ground, red.
'Calm down Klaus. Breathe.'
As a young master of the Winchester family, he had been indoctrinated in war strategies and tactics from an early age.
Hence, while his current situation was overwhelming.
"Huff... Huff..." he was able to maintain a semblance of rationality.
Panting heavily, his chest heaved up and down as panic threatened to overwhelm him.
"Emperor! The lines are breaking!"
Another desperate voice rang out.
Clang!! Clang!!
Puchii!!!
All around him, bodies fell one after another.
Not only were they outnumbered, they were also being suppressed.
Clench.
His fists clenched.
'What should I do!'
His mind raced through possibilities, each one more desperate than the last.
Until-
His eyes flickered.
The runes.
Summoning the Arcane runes, he focused.
------------
Name: Klaus
Origin name: -
Origin rank: -
Rank: Aspirant
Soul core: Dormant
Memories: -
Echoes: -
Attributes: -
Aspects: '
"...What the hell?!"
His attributes, aspects- everything was missing.
Before he could process what in the new gods was going on-
[Main quest initiated:
[Complete the main objective of your Arcane Trial.]
[Reward: Unknown.]
Trembling.
'What's going on?'
The battlefield blurred as chaos erupted around him.
Biting on his lower lips, an idea crept into his mind.
"Arcanist status," he muttered.
[Arcanist Status]
Name: Klaus
Origin name: -
Almighty Nexus: Dormant
Lord's Fragments: -
Chrono Vestiges: -
Dimensional Double Manifestation: -
Aspect: sealed.
Innate ability: sealed.
Attributes: sealed.
He stood there, shaking, and... at a loss for words.
He had never heard of anyone going through an Arcane Trial with their innate ability, attributes and aspects in a sealed state.
There was no way anyone would survive an Arcane Trial without them.
That was simply impossible!
His heart hammered against his chest, a suffocating darkness clawing at the edges of his mind.
He could feel it now.
The familiar emotion. It slowly crept towards him.
Then-
Thump. Thump.
A notification appeared.
[Gain Lord's Fragments to unseal your abilities.]
[Attributes points gained can also be sacrificed.]
His breath hitched.
Attribute points? He had already maxed out all his mortal stats.
Hence, the system no longer gave him attribute points.
Which meant-
A faint smile curled up his lips.
'I think I know just how to get the Lord's Fragments.'
If he was correct, it should be by~
"Retreat!"
A voice echoed through the battlefield.
The Roselle's Empire commander had given the order.
His gaze snapped back to reality.
Thump... Thump...
Fear clawed at him.
"Huff... Huff..." It threatened to drag him into an endless abyss of doubt and despair.
But he was able to regain his composure.
He was no longer the hunter he was, but the Emperor of a besieged nation, thrusted into the heart of a desperate battle.
He had to act, and act fast.
And so-
Thump... Thump...
Steadying himself, Klaus lifted his sword.
And then, with a voice that shook the battlefield-
"Hold the line!"
The roar carried over the chaos, cutting tgrugh the fear.
"For our people! For our freedom!"
The soldiers hesitated, turning to him.
Seeing their question on him, he pressed on.
"No one is coming to save us. We've got two choices: Fight or... die. Pick one!"
Silence.
Then-
"FIGHT! FIGHT! WE SHALL FIGHT TILL THE END!!!"
A thunderous battle cry erupted.
Clang!
Puchii!!!
"Die bastards...!"
Warriors clashed in a brutal dance of steel and blood.
The Roselle warriors, clad in blue armors, fought desperately against the Napoleon forces- whose dark armor seem to absorb the bright light around them.
Shields shattered. Swords clashed, and spears tore through flesh.
Puchii!!!
Corpse after corpse.
Puchii!!
Blood after blood.
It was endless.
Klaus's gaze darted across the battlefield. His right flank was collapsing, while the center barely held.
Then-
His gaze shifted, settling on Napoleon the III.
Astride a magnificent stallion, the emperor of the Napoleon Empire surveyed the battlefield with a cold, calculating stare.
The emperor of the Napoleon Empire- A legend in his own time.
Klaus frowned, his jaws tightening.
The bastard is a formidable opponent. Not only that, but based on the knowledge he had.
...He's also a master of war and battle tactics.'
'Just great!'
With a grim expression, Klaus exhaled sharply.
This battle- wasn't going to end well.
That, he was somehow sure of.
Calming his racing heart, he turned to his lieutenant general, who was locked in combat with one of Napoleon's elite.
He analyzed the enemy's movements.
Tha man's axe glowed faintly, their sword slashing through the air.
An enhancement attribute?
Klaus's brow arched upward.
Then-
He gave his first order.
"Alger! Don't give him space- apply relentless pressure!"
The lieutenant nodded, closing in on the elite.
'Alger's battle trance should be enough to push him back.' Klaus mused.
His gaze shifted to Tatiana- a giant-like-lady, who wielded a flanged mace and was well known for the titan's grip.
Thump... Thump...
Claaanng!!!
Claaanng!!!
With Titan's grip- an almost inhuman strength that enabled her to wield large objects with relative ease, she was tearing through his forces with terrifying ease.
Klaus calmly gave his second order.
"Astaroth! Hit-and-run tactics- NOW!"
Astaroth nodded.
Katcha!!
The ground beneath him shattered into pieces.
And then-
Boooom!!
Blurred images overlapped against one another and before one could do so much as to blink, he was already before her.
Stepping to the left, he narrowly avoided her flanged mace- that slammed onto the ground beside him, the ground shattering upon impact.
But,
Step~
He could care less about that.
Step~
A cold glint flickered in his eyes.
His kinetic momentum attribute kicked in and then-
Slash!! Slash!!
He slashed out consecutively, blood spraying into the air.
And just like the emperor commanded of him.
Tak~ Tak~
He retreated afterwards.
"Huff... Huff..." his chest heaved up and down as he calmly made use of the hit-and-run tactic.
"Coward! Is this how your empire trains its men."
Tatiana spat on the ground in disgust. "How pathetic."
Sword slashes ran through her revealed skin, a few dents visible on her armor.
Astaroth certainly wasn't in the best of shapes, either.
A few parts of his body had been torn to shreds and blood was dripping from the horrifying wounds.
But,
Thump... Thump...
He simply bit on his lower lips.
Ignoring Tatiana taunts, he continued implementing the same tactic.
Ignoring her words.
He went on with his emperor's command.
***
Meanwhile, somewhere else on the chaotic battlefield.
Tok~
Tok~
Klaus was already moving.
With a spear in hand, he tore through the enemy's ranks with inhuman ease- like a war god descending upon the battlefield.
Slash! Slash!
His movements were a blur, his spear striking with unerring precision. It almost felt like he could predict his enemies' movements before they even made them.
Slash!
A sword cleaved through the air, aiming for his neck.
At the last moment- he sidestepped.
The blade cut through empty space, missing him by mere inches.
But-
He could care less about that.
With a sharp pivot, his spear carved a violent arc through the air- every ounce of his strength contained within the strike.
BANG! BANG!
The result was inevitable- it was called for.
The shadow construct before him was sent hurtling backward at terrifying speed.
"Get out of the way!"
A Napoleon warrior roared.
But-
It was too late- it seems.
The construct crashed into its allies, sending dozens of them sprawling across the battlefield.
BOOM! BOOM!
A long trench was carved into their formation.
Klaus's eyes lit up.
Ba- dump! Ba- dump!
An opportunity had presented itself.
"Attack through the opening! Give them no chance to fight back!"
His voice cut through the chaos- each word igniting the adrenaline in his warrior's blood.
"Kill them!"
"KILL!!!!"
"...Kill the bastards!!"
A deafening battle cry erupted.
Swords clashed.
Spears thrust forward and armors cracked and shattered- in a tumultuous exchange of those who sought to destroy and those who sought to... protect.
As Klaus rushed past his general, he whispered-
"Take out their colonel!"
His eyes flickered coldly.
'That dawned archer... He's getting on my nerves.'
But the bastard was well-protected. Killing him outright would be impossible- unless someone with inhuman speed got close enough.
And who better than the general himself?
A man with the flash step attribute.
The general gave a subtle nod.
And without hesitation-
Step~
He moved.
Step~
One moment he was there, the next-
Step~
He vanished, appearing yards away in the blink of an eye.
Like a phantom, he weaved through the battlefield, dodging blades and arrows with effortless precision.
For a fleeting second- Napoleon III saw it.
A barely noticeable exchange. The subtle shift in their movement- it failed to escape him.
A dark smile formed on his lips.
"Hmph," he harrumphed coldly.
And with a voice that cut through the chaos, he gave his command.
"General Belmond Keep their general occupied."
Then, he turned his gaze toward the colonel beside him.
The man responsible for protecting Wenchi, the empire's god-like archer.
His voice rang cold and absolute.
"Groundbreaker."
The colonel knelt, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, head slightly bowed.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Napoleon's expression remained impassive.
His next words carried the chilling weight of a death's kneel-
"Rush in from their left flank. Naeraza- take your Rising Flame Unit and join the siege."
A deep bow.
"We heed your command, Your Majesty."
Naeraza- the captain of the Rising Flame Unit- stepped forward.
And then-
Step~
Step~
CLANG! CLANG!
All hell broke loose.
***
With his tower shield and war hammer, Groundbreaker was an unstoppable force.
Each step he took sent tremors rippling through the earth, causing the ground to cave slightly- disorienting enemies caught in his path.
His massive shield crashed through battle lines like a siege weapon, shattering bones and sending bodies flying. His war hammer followed, delivering devastating blows that left trails of crimson and shattered limbs in his wake.
He was like a god among mortals, and with every strike, the Roselle Empire's forces crumbled further, beneath his might.
Tak~ Tak~
Behind him, Naeraza and his Rising Flame unit surged forward, cutting down all who stood in their way.
'What a cunning bastard!' Klaus mused, watching the battlefield unfold.
He had to give it to the bastard.
Where he'd attacked from was where his empire's battle formation was at its weakest.
What a terrifying strategist.
Klaus shuddered.
If not for the teachings of the Winchester family- the grueling trials he has endured as their young master- he would've been crushed in an instant.
"Huff... Huff."
A warrior lunged at him, swinging their sword in a violent arc.
"Hu...Hu..." Klaus ducked to the left, his spear striking forward like a viper- piercing through the man's skull.
A dull thud followed as the body collapsed lifelessly onto the blood-soaked ground.
His gaze swept across the battlefield.
All around him lay- carnage.
Limbs lay scattered, torsos split open, bones protruding unnaturally from torn flesh. Rivers of blood painted the field a deep crimson.
Klaus let out a slow breath, his lips curling into a faint, fleeting smile.
As he saw the left flank collapse under the relentless assault of the groundbreaker and the rising flame unit, he calmly gave the order:
"Change formation!" He bellowed, his voice cutting through the battlefield's din.
"Square formation on the left! Triangle on the right! Shields- brace for calvary!"
He gave the orders smoothly one at a time, each one meant to combat a current precarious situation, while hoping to see a substantial opening to make use of.
The response was immediate.
Step~ Step~
Claaaang!
Soldiers scrambled into formation, shields locking together, spears bristling outward like a steel forest.
Klaus glanced back at the weathered wall that stood grand and tall, imposing and magnificent- it protected the people of his empire.
...It stood between his enemies and his people.
It was a safe haven that was currently being threatened.
His gaze snapped towards the archers stationed atop the walls.
"Archers, focus fire on their center formation!"
Thump... Thump...
The archers shifted, drawing their bows.
Swiiisssh!!!!
Swoooosssh!!!
Arrows streaked through the endless dark, piercing through numerous warriors who slumped onto the ground with a loud crashing thud.
Yells of pain escaped the lips of some as they got nailed to the ground, the empire's army making use of the opportunity to engage in a relentless assault.
Klaus's eyes locked onto Von Anzel, a warrior renowned for his lightning reflexes and iron body attribute.
"Von Anzel!" Klaus called out.
"Yes, my Lord."
"Keep groundbreaker on edge. Offer him no breathing space!"
Von Anzel didn't hesitate.
And in the next few seconds,
His rapier gleamed in the dim light as he closed the distance between him and Groundbreaker. His iron body meant wounds would slowly heal- so long as he wasn't outright killed.
Claaaang!!!
Groundbreaker's tower shield slammed into him, the force shaking the battlefield. The ground beneath his feet cracked open, a web of fractures spreading outwards.
Craackaaa!!!
Von Anzel could have avoided the strike- his lightning reflexes were that sharp.
But he didn't.
Instead, he let the force drive into him, pain exploding through his ribs. Gritting his teeth, he slashed- once, twice, thrice- each strike aimed with deadly precision.
Puchiii!!!
Puchiii!!! Puchiii!!!!
"Aaaarggh!!" Groundbreaker roared in pain, his movements faltering for the first time.
Fueled by desperation and pain, he swung his war hammer down with the last of his strength.
As the strike inched closer, Anzel sighed inwardly.
He could take the strike head-on- possibly ending Groundbreaker right here.
That would lessen the pressure on the others.
But,
He couldn't.
He would definitely die in the process.
Hence,
Step~
Step~
He had no other choice but to retreat.
A moment later, Naeraza appeared beside Groundbreaker.
Click.
Von Anzel clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Just one more strike... and you'd be in hell," he muttered.
Groundbreaker glared, hatred burning deep within his eyes.
"I'm going to kill you," he growled, each word dripping with murderous intent.
Then-
Chaos erupted.
***
"Bartomorth. You know what to do."
Klaus turned to the Major General at his side.
Bartomorth, known for his flow perception- an ability that allowed him to see enemy movements in slow motion- was the perfect candidate to eliminate Napoleon's god-like archer.
As for why he wanted the archer dead?
The bastard was too good.
With a single draw of his bow, he could take down three, four warriors at once.
And he never ran out of arrows, since he was fueled with a constant supply of them.
It wasn't false to say his army was suffering the greatest- at the archers' hands.
Bartomorth vanished into the battlefield, weaving through the chaos like a ghost.
"Zareth! Move in to support him."
"Yes, My Lord!" Zareth, the vice admiral, known for his battle recovery attribute, waded into the battle like a war god.
His halberd swept out, carving through ranks of enemies.
Armies crumpled.
Heads flew and limbs were torn from sockets.
The battlefield was a mess.
Klaus scanned the battlefield.
Slowly but surely, the enemy was being overwhelmed.
Victory was within reach.
But, something was wrong.
Frowning.
His gaze landed on Napoleon.
Despite the dire situation, despite the carnage, Napoleon's face remained... expressionless
There was no crack in his indifferent feature.
No panic.
No rage.
I-It was almost as though he wasn't losing the... war.
Klaus frowned.
Something's definitely wrong
His frown deepened.
But,
Thump... Thump...
'What could it be?'
And then-
PUCHIII!!!
It came.
A sword pierced through his chest.
"Ukh~!"
Blood gushed from his wound, spilling down his armor.
"Hu... Hu..."
His breath hitched.
His vision blurred- not from the pain, but from the face of his attacker.
Anarzel.
His most trusted commander.
H-his brother-in-arm.
His hands shook, his fingers twitching around the hilt of his sword.
"Why, Anarzel...?" Klaus whispered, his voice trembling.
Drip. Drip.
Tears dripped onto the blood-soaked ground.
He could feel the bond they both shared.
The bond he had with Anarzel.
The arcane trial allows one to take on roles- and although rare- it wasn't impossible for one to inherit the emotions of the "role" they were "acting."
"You let them die, Roselle," Anarzel murmured. "You stood at the helm as the Empire crumbled. You led them to their graves."
The words pierced deeper than the sword.
They were true.
But was it his fault?
He had done everything in his power.
But in an era where empires fell like autumn leaves, was he to be blamed?
"BASTARD!"
"TRAITOR!"
Voices roared out, but they were drowned by the warriors. Brothers-in-arms, who had now turned on them.
Right now, betrayal was at its deepest edge as piercing screams tore through the air, crimson blood splattered across the endless dark and piles of bodies fell one after another.
The macabre sight sent a surge of something within him.
An emotion he couldn't understand at first.
But as he gazed at his trembling lips. As he gazed at his trembling hands.
It slowly started to dawn on him.
Anger.
It was slowly crawling its way towards him.
Slowly eating him from the inside.
I-It was slowly consuming him.
But ironically,
The tears didn't stop.
Drip. Drip.
He could do nothing about it.
He was barely even standing.
...H-he didn't even know how he was still alive.
And as Anarzel gazed at the indifferent Napoleon, he spoke once more.
"Roselle. You aren't fit to be the Emperor. Only the True Emperor is fit to rule, Roselle."
Klaus's fingers curled into a tight fist, Roselle's emotions taking over.
He spat a mouthful of blood onto Anarzel's face.
"Over my dead body!"
BAM.
Anarzel's shield struck him, sending him crashing to the ground.
Drip. Drip.
Blood pooled beneath him.
Klaus's vision faded- but before it did, a broken, jagged laugh slipped past his lips.
Then another.
And another.
It grew into a laughter- twisting, haunting, and bone-chilling.
Soldiers turned.
Shudder~
Some shivered.
Others took a step back.
"Ha-hahah-aha-." It echoed through the silence.
It was the laughter of a man whose mind had just shattered.
Someone who had reached the edge- someone who tethered on the edge of madness- it was the sound of someone who had nothing left to lose.
The battlefield stood still for a moment, the clash of steel and the screams of war drowned out by his laughter.
The sound was guttural, unrestrained and filled with something far worse than rage.
It was despair turned into amusement.
It was grief contorted into insanity.
I-It was madness.
Chills~
Even Anarzel, who had betrayed him without hesitation, felt his breath hitch.
The shield in his grasp trembling ever so slightly.
For a fleeting moment, he thought- no, he knew- that what lay before him was no longer the Roselle he had once known.
S-something within that laughter made his skin crawl.
Thump. Thump.
Blood pooled around Klaus, pain tearing through him.
But even then, Klaus simply continued to laugh.
Even as his vision darkened.
Even as blood pooled around him, soaking into the ruined soil beneath.
Even as his empire crumbled.
His laughter echoed through the battlefield, louder than the clashing of steel, louder than the dying screams of his people.
Because in that moment, amidst the chaos- amidst the indescribable feeling pooling around his chest-
He felt it.
The weight of betrayal, of failure, of the countless lives lost- he felt it all.
Because in that moment-
Katcha!
Something inside him finally snapped.
Klaus's pupils dilated, the pain in his chest fading into a distant sensation.
"Huff... Huff..." his hands, still trembling, pressed against the blood-soaked dirt as he forced himself up, his breath rugged and uneven.
A voice, almost whispering, yet echoing through his mind, slithered into his consciousness.
"Do you still wish to fight?"
His fingers curled into a fist.
"Do you still wish to take back what's yours?"
His heart pounded.
"Do you still wish to defy fate?"
"Huff... Huff..."
He exhaled.
And then, as if answering a silent call, a new force surged through his veins.
Napoleon's eyes flickered with a trace of interest as he gazed at Roselle, watching closely.
Anarzel, on the other hand, felt a sudden chill.
Zzzrrrr~
Something was wrong.
Klaus's body trembled- not from the pain, but from something else.
And then-
His laughter ceased.
He raised his head, his gaze locking onto Anarzel, the weight of his presence crushing.
The battlefield felt smaller.
The air, heavier.
Step~ Step~
Anarzel instinctively stepped back.
Klaus slowly rose, blood trailing down his lips, but his... expression?
It was devoid of fear, of anger, of rage.
Only something cold and terrifying remained in his eyes.
Madness.
And for the first time- Anarzel felt something he hadn't felt in ages.
Dread and fear~
So primal, so all-consuming it coiled around his throat, and seeped into his soul, rippled through every fiber of his being.