Chapter 31: The War Begins
Wagah exhaled, but there was no time to celebrate. More were coming.
"We need to get out of here!" Wagah shouted over the chaos, his voice strained but commanding. "Taha, can you move?!"
Taha tried. He really did. But his body refused to obey. The pain was too much. He could feel his strength slipping away, his consciousness fading again.
"No… I don't want to…" Taha coughed, blood spilling from the corner of his lips. "I don't… want to die… not yet… I'm not… ready…"
Wagah's expression darkened. He had seen this too many times before. That desperate look. That fear of death. Of fading away. He clenched his jaw.
"Screw the guild," he muttered under his breath.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Taha by the arm and hoisted him onto his back. The younger mage groaned in pain, but Wagah didn't stop.
"We're leaving!" he shouted at the others. "Fall back to the city!"
But not everyone agreed.
A warrior with a massive shield slammed his weapon into the ground, blocking the path of one of the Mecha Mushrooms. He was a Level 33 D-Class Fighter, his armor scratched and dented from countless battles. His face was covered in sweat, but his eyes were unwavering.
"We're not retreating!" the warrior barked. "The guild sent us here to fight, and I'm not running away like a coward!"
Behind him, a Level 29 Swordsman stood his ground as well. His blade, still stained with the remnants of his fallen enemies, rested in a battle-ready stance.
"They're right, Wagah," the swordsman said, his voice steady. "This isn't just some pointless battle. This is a test. If we run now, we'll never be taken seriously. The guild rewards strength, not weakness."
Wagah narrowed his eyes.
He understood their reasoning. In this world, the strong thrived while the weak were discarded. But what they didn't understand was that staying alive was the only way to become stronger.
And right now, they were losing.
The air was thick with the scent of burning metal and blood. The battlefield trembled beneath the weight of destruction, yet the warriors refused to retreat.
Wagah exhaled sharply, his grip on his staff tightening. Fools. They didn't see the bigger picture. They were so obsessed with proving themselves to the guild that they didn't realize they were only pawns in a much larger game.
Taha groaned on his back, his blood soaking Wagah's robes. There was no time to argue. If they stayed, they would die.
But before Wagah could shout another warning.
A deafening clang rang through the battlefield.
A Mecha Mushroom lunged forward, its drill spinning at blinding speed. The Level 33 Fighter barely managed to raise his shield in time, but the sheer force of the impact sent him skidding backward. Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal, and the drill began boring into his shield, carving deep grooves into its surface.
The Fighter gritted his teeth, veins bulging from his forehead. He pushed back with all his strength, his boots digging into the ground as he struggled to keep his footing.
"Damn it!" he growled.
The Level 29 Swordsman saw his chance. His blade shimmered as he dashed forward, slashing at the exposed joints of the Mecha Mushroom's limbs. The creature let out a mechanical screech, its movement momentarily slowing.
"NOW!" the Swordsman shouted.
The Fighter roared, shoving his shield forward with every ounce of his strength. The Mecha Mushroom stumbled, its balance disrupted.
Wagah saw the opening.
With a single motion, he slammed his staff into the ground. The red gemstone at its tip flared like an exploding sun. The air warped from the sheer heat radiating from it, and suddenly.
A massive pillar of fire erupted from the earth, swallowing the Mecha Mushroom whole.
The creature convulsed, its metal shell glowing red-hot as the flames consumed it. Its red eyes flickered, then dimmed before finally going dark.
It collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, the steel plates of its body melting into molten slag.
Silence.
For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved. The battlefield, once filled with deafening noise, was now eerily quiet.
The Fighter panted, sweat dripping down his face. The Swordsman exhaled, lowering his blade.
Wagah wiped the sweat from his brow, his expression unreadable.
"Is that enough for you?" he asked coldly.
The Swordsman clenched his fists. "This… isn't over yet."
Wagah scoffed. "You really think this battle is about us? About proving something to the guild?" His eyes darkened. "Open your damn eyes."
He pointed toward the horizon.
The actual danger approached from beyond the battlefield.
Thousands of dark shapes blocked the clear sky as they approached. The figures in the distance revealed warrior shapes together with monstrous forms and an even more horrifying presence.
And leading them.
A colossal figure in the distance.
The gigantic enemy towered over the battle as an awful living nightmare. The creature's body was wrapped by mushrooms while its eyes shone with strange supernatural illumination.
Wagah could sense the presence of the massive figure even though it remained in the distance. The power emanating from it caused a deep discomfort in his skin.
A name formed in his mind. He wished to believe the name existed only in legends.
One of the Four Great Generals…
The Swordsman followed Wagah's gaze. His breath hitched.
"…No way…"
The earth shook violently as they stood on it.
The actual conflict which lay ahead was about to start.
The battlefield descended into chaos but one distinct sound dominated the entire scene.
BWOOM!
The haunting trumpet sound carried through the land to create another chilling echo. The deep tones of this battle cry stood apart from regular calls to battle because they transmitted a feeling that was primitive and forceful. The battlefield experienced an unexpected reaction when the sound passed through.
The edges of the chaotic skirmish witnessed wounds on the dead bodies start to show signs of healing. At first, it was subtle. The wounds in the bodies glowed faintly with a pulsing light that came from deep cuts and torn limbs and punctured flesh. The passage of time seemed to run backward because the injuries began to heal. The torn flesh healed itself while broken bones repositioned themselves before the dead bodies started to move again.
The archer who kept a sharp eye on the battlefield spotted the first sign of regeneration. His heart raced against his ribs when he lifted his bow to fire. Anxious tones flowed through the battlefield from his panicked voice.
He shouted with excitement as he pulled his bowstring tighter because he saw the enemy soldiers regenerating. "It's the trumpet!. That sound. it's bringing them back to life!"