"FALL BACK FOR THE ARIAL UNITS!!!!"
The commander's voice tore through the mutilated ground of the field.
The repeated sound of stomps from the soldier's boots hitting on the ground moved through the space like strikes of thunder
The feeling of the bright sky and faint scent of spring flowers brought over by the wind was nonexistent, overcome by the weary and dark aura of death which filled the battlefield.
What was once a lush field was now barren, marked with scars, imprinted with the solemarks from the Theo soldiers who marched over it.
No matter which realm, which race, and whatever methods were used, war was something that always left a permanent mark, forever altering the lives of all those involved.
Following the orders of the commander, the company of about 150 soldiers retreated, making space and taking distance as cover for what was about to happen.
The bright light of the sky was blocked out by several figures, casting a huge shadow on the ground beneath.
"They are here. He is here!"
The commander muttered to himself, the trapped air leaving his lungs in one go.
His tense shoulders slowly relaxed as he glanced at the firery figures above.
With his eyesight, he could see each of them clearly.
A group of about 60 soldiers, arranged in an immaculate Arial formation, their bodies marked with reddish runes of different patterns, unique to each individual.
They floated in the air with Phoenix like wings, the whole company radiating a blinding heat that could be felt even by the retreated soldiers.
Leading the group of airborne soldiers was a tall man, bare chested, unlike the rest who donned amour.
He floated with a ruthless look in his eyes as he looked down on the enemies below him.
Stretching his burning wings which spanned a staggering 6 meters, he opened his mouth, his hair which appeared like ethereal flames flickering as he gave the first order, his voice cracking the space around the battle field.
"Attack!"
His voice came out lightly, and like a spark in a room filled to the brim with gun powder, the company of 60 Theo soldiers moved.
The heat coming off them multipled as each of their runes brightened substantially, creating a blinding halo in the sky.
"W-w-wa- what the hell?!"
"Run!!!!!!"
One of the enemy soldiers screamed at the top of his lungs, his fear filled words traveling through the ranks as they rapidly dispersed, trying to desert the field.
The reason for their fear? The blinding sun that had just appeared above the company of Theo soldiers.
"Supernova."
The tall man muttered, his raised hand coming down. The blinding sun following, crashing into the middle of the rapidly dispersing enemies.
For a moment, the aura of death vanished, and the surrounding became impeccably silent before a wave of heat smashed into the faces of the watching Theo foot soldiers, blistering their skin beneath the amour.
The blood and gore, the tension of the battlefield. All was overwhelmed by the incinerating heat, but that was just the prelude as the sky itself lost its light for moment, dimming.
BOOOMM!!!!!
The explosion finally happened, cracking the earth, scorching the already barren land that was filled with nothing but the blood, bones and flesh of fallen men.
The fire spread like a mad hound, consuming anything and everything, cleansing the land of the stains that had been put upon it.
Watching the flames whose reflection flickered within his eyes burn, the man finally turned his gaze to the commander of the foot soldiers on the ground.
"It's over!"
He said, turning to take his leave along with his company.
"Stay on standby, we still have to wait till the flames burn out!"
The commander said to his mean who had lost the tenseness in their muscles.
They had won this battle, but there was no joy of victory visible on their faces nor in their eyes, only tiredness.
All they had to them were hollow eyes that had been born out of the madness of the battlefield. The madness that had chipped away at their hope, they mind, their sense of self!
To these men who had bathed in the bloody waters of war, they had only won once they were back in the arms of their families and loved ones.
Once they felt the embrace of their wives and parents, and heard the voice of their children.
Looking at the state of his men, the company's commander sighed and straighted his back, looking into the flames which concealed the pain that burned deep within him.
'I should notify them to prepare for a Runic name call when we get back. Sigh!'
"At least it's over now, they can rest!
The commander muttered, looking into the flames which continued to burn for a few more hours.
....
In a city where the spring season was much in bloom, the scent of the flowers giving a unique feel to the mordern victorian setting of the surroundings, a few figures were gathered inside a room.
The rays of light shone through the tall sash windows illuminating the entire space and the faces of the four figures who sat on a round table, each of them silent and tense, waiting for something or someone.
THUD!
The not so silent sound of someone landing outside the room was picked up by the three men who all turned their eyes to the door where a man walked in.
The same man who appeared on the battle field a few minutes ago. His burning wings were no where to be seen anymore, instead all that remained was a Runic-looking tattoo of one, occupying the expanse of his back.
Even his hair which burned and flickered like a red flame was now looking more normal revealing a full head of brown hair.
"Atlas!"
A powerful voice resonated in the room upon his arrival.
The man who had just been identified as Atlas, went on one knee and bowed his head to the figure at the edge of the table.
A middle aged looking man, with little crow feet which appeared when he squinted his blue eyes, bolstering the dignified aura of authority around him.
"Chief commander!"
Atlas saluted, his voice devoid of the arrogance and pride he carried himself with on the battlefield.
"The mission?"
"Successful, Commander. It is over!"
Atlas reported and the tense expressions om the other men the room lossened.
"Hmm. Dismissed, I'll report this to His Majesty myself!"
"Yes, sir!"
Atlas saluted, taking his leave.
"This is good news, Silas! The war is over!"
"Yes, Derrick is right. With this, our men can rest and the kingdom can finally have the time to stabilize and grow."
The Commander-in-Chief, Silas Vaelmont, remained silent and threw a glance at the last man in the room who hadn't uttered a single word.
Looking at the the table in front of him, littered with several pieces of information, he commented, dampening the spirits of the two men.
"I'll be the judge of that after I go through everything again. It just ended, but we can't let ourselves be fooled."
"Agreed!"
The silent man spoke up in agreement to the words of the Chief commander.
"You can all leave now."
"Celebrate a little. Tonight is the 18th birthday of the young lord of the Altharion house, Grey. And two days later is the day of the annual coming of age ceremony!"
"You should prepare the young ones, advice them to take it easy tonight!"
The Chief Commader dismissed all of them from the room, each of their expressions taking on a hint of sadness at the mention of the Altharion house.
That was quickly replaced with joy and laughter at the mention of the coming-of-age ceremony.
The man who spoke last remained seated, and asked the commander in a friendly tone.
"Will your daughter be visiting the Altharion brat? I heard his uncle, Nolan was preparing to throw him a party tonight. It will the be sad if the halls were to turn out empty."
The man asked calmly
"Well, that's up to her to decide. The child, Aria is old enough to make her own decisions."
"True. How quickly time goes by. She was once a kid running around with the Grey brat, now things have changed. Your daughter has grown into a proper lady, while Grey....Grey..haa!"
The man let out a sigh thinking about Grey. Shaking his head to dispel the random thoughts, he flashed the Commader a smile and made his way out of the room.
The commander shared the same expression as the man thinking about the Altharion descendant, Grey.
...
The subject of the discussion was currently making his way through a series of dust filled, rooms, successfully dodging the workers who were trying their best to clean up the place in preparation for the party tonight.
His party. Was it though?
"Why the fuck did he chose to throw a party? 18 being a special year? I'd rather drink myself out."
Grey sneered.
"Good thing I haven't emptied dad's secret stash yet!"
His eye shone deviously staring at the last barrel of wine in the room his had snuck into.
"What do we have here?"
Another voice rang in the room and Grey froze, his feet rooted to the ground.