Tolsey had watched the victory from a distance, with a look of scrutiny in his eye. Captain Lombard stood by his side, as he sought to reassure his younger Vice-Captain.
"The boy has bought us time – and will continue to do so. We have until sunset, Tolsey, then he will want to move. Have a little faith in him, mm?"
It wasn't exactly the boy that Tolsey lacked faith in, but more in himself. They were both denizens of the Second Boundary, after all, yet he knew he would have struggled against such a foe. He could feel his skin prickle from its aura even at a distance.
Yet the head was easily cleaved from the beast's shoulders, or so it seemed. Neither knew what was going through Beam's mind as he fought. If they learned that he was dissatisfied with such a victory, it might have robbed them of all reason.
Beam cleared off his last wave of Half-Titans. There had been two, this time. From midday, all the way until dusk, Half-Titan waves had appeared with such frequency as to be almost unfair. Beam met them well, however. He'd already had it in his mind that day that things would likely get worse, and that he needed to get stronger.
Getting stronger was exactly what appeared to happen as well. As the soldiers worked, they continually glanced towards the battlefield, the anxiousness written on their faces. They were all thoroughly expecting the boy to slow, for exhaustion to catch up to him, and for the tide of battle to change.
When two Half-Titans arose at once, that feeling was multiplied, along with something that approached despair. They'd seen the boy fight for a good portion of the day, they'd seen him cleanly dispatch of the enemies, but none of them dared to hope for more out of him. His strength was already too good to be true, especially for a youth so young.
"Is this the biggest load of the day?" A soldier asked, as he leaned against his shovel. "Sure seems like a lot of them. We'd need... 12 squadrons to deal with that?"
"Pah. Even 12 squadrons would do no good if we can't bring that mutant bastard down. Naw, we'd need the Vice-Captain or Captain to ever have a chance of dealing with them... But seems like the boy has their number. He fought two of the mutants at once earlier in the day and finished them handily... but then the army underneath them is twice the size now," an older man said in reply.
"Don't you think we're pushing the lad too hard? He might be a peasant and all – but he's damned strong. If he crumbles, we're done for. Imagine if we had to take care of this defence alone?"
"That's where you young soldiers go wrong – you raise people up too high, so when they fall, it's bound to be a tragedy. The boy is just that: a boy. He's a prodigy with a blade, that's for sure, but he's a boy. You should be expecting him to fall. 'Cos there ain't no man on the planet capable of keeping this up for days at a time. Not with the enemy getting stronger."
Beam had already begun his attack. As he pushed his martial style into one movement, his actions became faster, as did his decisions. He was like a spear now, an adaptable spear made of water, that could bend itself to find even the smallest cracks in the enemy's armour.
There was a wall of spear-wielding goblins to the front of him. Now, as he attacked them, he did not even hesitate. He barrelled straight through, like a great crashing wave. He knew that as he leapt into the air, there would be but a single reaction: their points would come rushing towards him.
As he was now – especially against such lesser enemies – if he could merely lead them towards an expected outcome, Beam held all the advantages.
As those points aimed at his chest, just as they had earlier in the day, Beam merely threaded his sword under one of the spears, and flung that point across, disorganising the wall on the left side instantly, as the goblins nearly fell over each other trying to keep their spears straight.