The day had slowly begun, the darkness of night almost entirely giving way to the light of dawn.
The man did not appear to respond to her taunt, a fact that made Yelena, the woman who stood in opposition to the God of Ishgar on the deck of one of the Pergranti warships, a little uneasy. As Mura had surmised correctly, she was indeed a Soldier of the Empire, a Paladin through and through, but the mage wouldn’t know that, of course. Still, it implied a few things. Based on the fact that she had been stationed on this ship, one could naturally conclude that she was part of the guard assigned to this floating bastion of pure firepower, but also that she was, in fact, an Esper. She was trained in anti-mage tactics, and provocation was a strategy none too seldomly employed when fighting a mage, especially one who was confident in their magical abilities especially. There was no such reaction, however. The other remained eerily calm, Yelena’s stance shifting immediately as she recognized the threat.
What followed was not magical, that much was certain.
Her learned reflexes were what narrowly saved her as she twisted the ax when the man suddenly and without delay appeared before her, attempting to skewer her only the blink of an eye later. Metal scratched metal as her weapon spun through the air, sparks flying once, twice, three times, the broad head of the ax used to block the sword’s attacks every time. Despite this, it took Yelena every bit of concentration she could muster to move her weapon in time and follow the man’s attacks. He was faster and stronger up close than she had anticipated, a frustrated thought rushing through her mind.
“Aren’t mages supposed to be ranged fighters, dammit?!”.
The Pergrandean Esper was not without means of either attack or defense, though. Close-range was, after all, her territory, too, and her oracle reflected this specialization. With a twist of her body, she swung the ax in her hand upward, one hand firmly grasping the hilt of the massive weapon while the other now clasped it just below the blade, allowing her to guard with the impromptu shield. Her eyes flickered, veins on her forehead strained as she willed psionic power into existence, a surge of flickering force disturbing the air around her just as Mura’s rapid slash was severing the air between the two combatants, man’s blade producing the distinct hiss of rushing wind as it travelled. It was a forceful and straightforward attack, undoubtedly, but the force of the swing alone did not seem to have the desired effect.
The Pergranti woman was pushed back a few paces, her feet sliding slightly on the deck moist with ocean brine, but she otherwise appeared unharmed. When Mura’s blade connected with the psionic aura she had built around herself, he would feel a sensation as though he had struck a solid block of steel.
For Aliannah, the swift change of position that her magic granted her would only be a temporary relief that bridged a few seconds at most. The targeting systems utilized by the Pergranti ships were far too accurate to lose track of her, even if she was moving quickly as she was. Her teleport would cover only a relatively short distance, not enough to make it even close to the ocean’s surface, and before she had reached the gentle mass of waves below, the anti-air guns had already reacquired her and resumed their relentless onslaught of projectiles. Friendly fire, in this case, was of little concern. There was enough space between the Pergranti ships to all but eliminate the chance of such an event occurring, and in those instances where the possibility came up, guns stopped for short periods of time while others from different angles would cover their firing arcs. The projectiles that hit initially were intercepted, but the magical protection that covered the woman would soon be worn away, and thereafter, things would not be pretty.
Based on Aliannah’s complete lack of defense against the bursts of armor-piercing 20-millimeter rounds, the projectiles that connected would do far more than simply scratch her skin. Mages were more durable people than the average person, that much was entirely true, but even considering this fact, the vast majority of them would not be able to withstand a barrage of force like this one. Aliannah’s form was pierced multiple times, gashing wounds ripped open where the projectiles sundered apart flesh and smashed bone like naught more than twigs, and while her body’s natural regenerative abilities mitigated the absolute worst of the damage, she would soon find herself in a condition that was immediately life-threatening, heavily wounded and continuously bleeding from several severe wounds across her body.
The guns, however, did cease firing once she had come sufficiently close to her target as she swung up beside the Pergranti ship, transforming her body. The transformation, however, gave Yelena enough time. The woman was initially surprised at the appearance of another mage, splitting her attention between the newly appeared soldier and the man who had engaged her in close-quarters combat, but she adjusted her stance quickly. The shards of darkness fired at her came at a rapid pace, but most flew past the Pergranti Esper and impacted the ship’s superstructure behind her, dispersing into a mist of ethernano upon hitting the Oblivium-coated surface of the vessel. A number of projectiles did connect, but were similarly intercepted by the psionic barrier projected around Yelena.
A smirk crossed the woman’s face.
“Nice try, suka”. The Esper thrust out her arm, a broad wave of psionic force following her movement, rushing towards Aliannah at hypersonic speeds. The amount of stopping power bundled in this attack would likely be enough to crush the Rune Knight’s bones and restrict her in place via psychokinetic grip, meaning that, based on her already present injuries, the danger to her life would be grave. Then, there was also the attack of the other Esper present in this portion of the conflict zone to consider, Michael’s carefully targeted shot already fired at Aliannah.
Without losing a second, Yelena shifted her attention to the other adversary, twisting her ax once more, the blade drawn back as her eyes met those of the God of Ishgar.
“My turn, durak”.
There were no fancy techniques or tricks to her attack. Her body bent as she lowered to the deck of the ship, kicking off the planks akin to a predator pouncing on its prey as she burst forward, bridging the distance between herself and Mura in the fraction of a second. Her ax was swung in a wide arch, a strike empowered with raw, irresistibly brute strength born from overwhelming psionic might, and while not extraordinarily fast, it packed a massive punch.
As the attack was performed, a bright light flared up in the direction of the battlefield, persisting for only a few brief moments before vanishing. Both Mura and Aliannah would be able to perceive this flash of light.
Meanwhile, Dela had found her way into the Pergranti main base without much resistance or difficulty based on her disguise. Where she was now, she would blend in seamlessly with all the other faces present here, and much as before, the general hectic state of a warzone prevented anyone from questioning things as they were too closely. She was hardly a sight out of the ordinary, especially based on the size of this field hospital, which, even for Pergrande’s standards, was rather sizable, and, based on the way the battle was going, not exactly near full capacity. Still, treating the wounded in an emergency was a rather demanding affair, and so Dela, with her disguise, would have no trouble fulfilling her temporary objective of making herself look useful, more than a few grateful nurses and unfortunate souls accepting her kind gift of, well, towels.
These things were seemingly needed everywhere and all the time, keeping her busy.
And indeed, Dela was not the only soldier acting in this way, several others rushing through the ranks to perform whatever task it was that medics or nurses currently needed them to do. Within the general state of orderly chaos, it would not be hard for the disguised Rune Knight to get a general overview of the Field Hospital and its adjacent functions. Uniforms, of course, weren’t exactly in huge supply, considering that most she came across in the open were bloodied, shredded, or both. Uniform pieces were simply discarded where necessary by the medical personnel. Fabric could easily be replaced. Soldiers who were loyal to the motherland, however, could not.
Yet, there were several different opportunities for Dela to indirectly obtain a uniform that she could immediately spot. There was a separate changing area at one end of this large field hospital for doctors and nurses, which, while rather busy, in all likelihood would at least hold some uniforms. If Dela wasn’t against such a thing, well, she had also seen the medical personnel transport one or two of those who hadn’t made it and succumbed to their injuries to a separate tent. She could likely assemble a sufficient full uniform from pieces she could pick off the bodies in there, and while not the most moral option, it would likely be the easiest one. The course of action she would take would, of course, be hers to decide.
Back on the battlefield, the situation that had begun to escalate seemed to get more and more chaotic by the second. While Mythal was sent flying by an overwhelming force, Serilda continued to be assaulted by varying degrees of fire before the group of three that had formed from the Rune Knight Gods of Ishgar and Bellum’s Cardinal of Peace was split.
Serilda was first to act, and in an impressive manner, at that: Magic, in one moment that followed an almost eery second where time appeared to stand still, vibrated through the air, ethernano rippling across the battlefield as hundreds, no, thousands of soldiers appeared from thin air, their warcries briefly drowning out even the most deafening sounds of the battlefield.
Then came the Field Marshal’s command, the order to charge, and at once, things were set in motion. It was an incredibly inspiring act that gave the Crusaders and the Rune Knights a boost in morale which, after the onset of the battle and the terrible chaos that had befallen the lines of the Luminous Covenant. A not insignificant number of troops had been wounded and were in need of urgent medical attention. Some had already succumbed to their wounds, fallen to gunfire or shrapnel from an explosive shell. The pressure the Pergranti war machines put on the Bellian lines had been extreme, and morale had begun to fade away. Spells and attacks had been flung back at the attackers, of course, but little could even so much as scratch the tanks that covered the forces of Pergrande, hope dwindling by the second. The arrival of much-needed reinforcements, however, seemed to begin to turn the tide at this section of the front as the nephilim charged.
Serilda would not fall into inaction, of course, descending onto the battlefield with her own squad of soldiers to attack one of the Pergranti war vehicles that continued to fire. The attack was swift and overwhelming. Metal was bent, crushed, and snapped by sheer force of strength. The armor of the tank was pushed into the vehicle in several places as Serilda’s summoned soldiers attacked the vehicle with their weapons, turning the insides of the tank into a spray of deadly metal fragments, much to the detriment of the crew. Serilda herself as well would have no trouble slicing through the metal of the vehicle with her raw power alone, sparks drawing wide arcs through the air as her swords slashed once, then a second time. Soon, the engine at the back of the vehicle was torn apart, swiftly catching fire and beginning to burn, the combined force of the soldiers and the God of Ishgar rendering the vehicle completely destroyed, not much more than a small heap of scrap metal after they were done.
Mythal, on the other hand, was, of course, launched back by the sheer force of an attack that possessed a nigh unparalleled force, the vestment that protected him being the only reason why he wasn’t immediately torn limb from limb. Still, the attack would leave its mark that consisted of more than just a bruise. Still, the God of Ishgar masterfully dispersed the force that had been directed at him via the use of his blade, prompting a discussion with his very own Nephilim before he would take the offense. The spell he cast would form initially, though the battle between himself and the Marshal of the Imperial Army of Pergrande had only just begun, Aleksandra’s true power yet to be revealed.
Vivian’s blade, alight with bright alabaster fire, aimed to cut through her opponent, driven by emotion and rage at a speed that would have overwhelmed even the most powerful of mages. Not this foe, however. Her blade met only the remnants of sands permeating through the atmosphere where Medeia had just been, incredible heat scorching the packed dirt and gravel of the broad trench around her. The Cardinal’s visage twisted into a grimace of agitation as she clicked her tongue, shifting her stance as her Mystic Eyes followed the magical signature of her opponent to her new position where she had reappeared. Indeed, it was as Vivian Salvina had deduced: This was by no means an ordinary adversary. She had to be on her guard, more and more magic power surging through her eyes, and from those specialized organs, through the rest of her body like a burst of adrenaline.
Her assumption would definitively prove correct when the foe transformed before her eyes in a fountain of light, assuming a new, and, if her eyes and mana-sight could be believed, even more powerful form, one that surged with a might of holy nature not entirely dissimilar to her own kind of power. The intense pressure of arcane might this person gave off was incredible, the soldiers around the two fleeing away from the two fighters in pure terror. This was entirely unexpected. Why would Pergrande employ a mage, one of such a caliber, no less, and where had they employed such a person? The question would remain unanswered.
What followed, however, shocked Cardinal Salvina into a state of paralysis.
With first awe, then terror she watched as the other raised her hands to the sky, and light formed in the heavens above. This light, a concentration of magical power unlike anything that Vivian Salvina had ever seen before, would not only persist, but expand rapidly. Vivian’s mind was racing, trying to comprehend the fact that this incarnation of raw power, this ill omen of destruction had been summoned forth from one moment to the next. If this power descended, then the consequences for her forces would be devastating. Was there something she could do? The realization struck her down, devastated her.
There was something she could try. This spell was simply too powerful not to. Her instincts, driven by primal fear, kicked in, and Vivian felt it with every fiber of her being. She had to act now if she wanted to have a chance at surviving this. Every muscle in her body contracted with tension, arcane power swirling up from deep within her. A demanding spell, certainly, but her, and by extension, Bellum’s only hope, the woman raising an arm towards the light.
“Campana Dei Arcanum”
It was all she could do to save them, calling out before the pillar of devastation descended onto the battlefield. While a psionic boundary of a make that would appear entirely otherworldly and unnatural to any mage present protected the soldiers of Pergrande from the effects of this spell, well, Bellum and the Rune Knights did not receive the same kind of mercy, of course.
A glistening glow briefly filled the air underneath the stream of power, shimmering with an almost ethereal elegance before finally, in a display of immediate and uncompromising mercilessness and slaughter, a ray of divinity threatened to shatter the world in its area of influence. The spell that was cast by Medeia would prove that it carried its name for good reason, though it would not remain unopposed.
Light clashed against light as a golden circle spread in the air above the battlefield, the sound of a bell echoing across the wartorn expanse. A three-layered dome of glistening, sparkling ethereal gold emerged from nothingness and wrapped around the forces of the Covenant in a protective embrace, emboldened by the wish of its caster. This dome, a spell that constituted one of the three great treasures of Bellum, was a relic of the civil war between the nation of mages and the Empire, referred to as Campana Dei Arcanum, the Bell of the Arcane God. It had seen many battles, saved many lives, and today, it would reemerge for the first time in 500 years. The fighting stopped briefly, thousands of eyes all looking upward, all struck with awe as an unstoppable force clashed with an immovable object. Light danced across the still dawn-lit horizon, light deflected into all directions before finally, something changed.
A sound as of shattering glass.
The first and outermost layer of the protective dome was shattered, sparks of golden light that faded into nothingness strewn about across the battlefield. Then another one, a wave of anxious cries echoing out from Crusaders and Rune Knights alike as the second layer of their defense was peeled away. Vivian Salvina, though, was intent on not surrendering this fight. For her comrades. For her country. For the people of Bellum. The massive beam of light that clashed against the barrier lost intensity, shrank with each passing moment. She simply had to keep this barrier up for just a few more seconds and all would be fine. And then, it happened, another shattering sound like glass, a ray of concentrated divine light, a remnant of the original pillar of destruction, slicing through the last protective bubble. For a brief moment, Vivian’s vision went white as she could feel herself being assaulted by what felt like a fierce firestorm, then came a harsh impact on the ground. The original spell and much of its effects had been deflected and absorbed by the Cardinal’s barrier, but a small part of it had managed to pierce through to a devastating effect for a section of the front line.
Armor, clothing, and finally, flesh were burned away by a radiance of an intensity the world had not seen in a long time. Hundreds of lives were extinguished in less than a second as this section of the front was torn asunder. The soldiers that belonged to Bellum and the Rune Knights were incinerated. This included the reinforcements that Serilda had called upon in the area, the vast majority of which would be vaporized by the same pillar of light. The light persisted not for long after the barrier had blocked the majority of its effects, a couple of milliseconds at most, but when it vanished, when the onslaught of divine power retreated back to the heavens from whence it had come, it would reveal the destruction it had wrought where it had touched the ground.
The earth was singed, scarred, and bleached ashen-white by the intense light. Where Bellum’s line had been was still an array of trenches, though the sounds that had given these fortifications life were gone. The shouted orders, the warcries, the noises of agony and defiance, all burned away by divine light, charred corpses, frozen in time like statues, remaining as the only indicator that humans had been there only seconds before. The majority of this one section of the front had been entirely depopulated, the forest behind the trenches now only a field of dried husks.
Vivian had survived the ordeal, very likely only based on the fact that she had been entrusted with the treasures of Bellum and had utilized one of them, but when she opened her iridescent oculi, she would lay eyes on the contained, yet absolute devastation, her gut twisting at the imagination what this spell would have done had she not been here. The Cardinal, however, did not emerge unscathed. Even with her considerable defenses, she was covered in smaller burns, her right arm, the arm which she had used to cast Campana Dei Arcanum, bearing the brunt of the attack for her. The skin had been singed, blackened in places, and burned raw in others. It was a decidedly morbid sight. Her sword had been blown from her grasp. The pain that assaulted her was nigh unbearable, her whole body trembling in paralyzing agony, but Vivian gritted her teeth as she got back up. This was not the worst she had endured, but the Cardinal had lost her initiative and even more soldiers had died because of her weakness. Anger rose from within her. She would not give up. She would continue fighting, even if injured, though this foe and the power she evidently wielded raised doubts in her mind. Would she be strong enough to face this soldier of Pergrande in combat alone? Would she be able to hold her own against her one more time, now injured? Only the course of this battle could tell as fighting resumed around her.
@Mura Kensho @Serilda Sinclair @Mythal Ragnos @Dela @Aliannah