[801] – Y03.101 – Death and Hope

[801] – Y03.101 – Death and Hope

Tension and tempers snapped, and the forest filled with negotiated death.

Battle Order

D20 + 1 = 15 (14)

Mana: 16 -> 13

Spell: Fireball

8d6 = 25 (1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6)

Onward Soar: 1 -> 0

Mana: 13 -> 10

Spell: Fireball

8d6 = 26 (1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5)

“Lord Sozain, please accept my offerings,” Adam prayed, feeling his magic fill through his body. He could feel the warmth of the magic leave through his body, his magical axe tingling within his hand.

A bead of fire fell from the heavens as the mounted warriors began to charge forward to meet the uncivilised savages. The explosion of fire engulfed the warhorses, which shuddered in terror as the flames licked at their skin through their chain.

The guards had been so orderly, and so perfectly lined for the Fireball, one might have thought they had trained to be lambs to the slaughter. However, as Adam prepared another Fireball, feeling his magic rush through his body, another explosion rocked the horses, silencing them, and causing the heavily armoured guards to fall.

Sara held out her hand, pointing a finger towards the house guards of Tiderock, her eyes glued to them, her gaze as though they were ants. “Oh dear, I’m quite so afraid.”

Korin, with blade in hand, turned to face her, only to be distracted by the cries of the fallen guards, as another ball of fire engulfed them, almost silencing them permanently.

The Marshal didn’t dare to glance backwards, barely out of the radius of the fiery explosion, the screams echoing through his helmet as he slashed his blade downwards, meeting with the mouthy savage who had dared to offend him.

Jurot’s entire body was red hot with rage, only amplified by his excitement. The Marshal had yet to be struck by the flames, meaning he was fresh, and this honour would be his own.

The pair clashed, magical axe meeting magical blade, while the other Iyrmen charged forward, ready and eager to fight. The younger Iyrmen left the four leaders in the capable hands of their own Executives.

“Jaygak,” Jurot called, the blade bouncing off his shield, almost disregarding one of the greatest warriors he had faced to date. “Sir Ivy is untouched.”

Jaygak had stepped forward to deal with one of the fallen knights who was trying to get up from under his dead steed, but pivoted as her glowing blade met the blade of Sir Ivy, their blades clattering for a moment.

“Retreat!” the Marshal shouted, while his warriors were being slaughtered like sheep. He brought down his blade heavily against the Iyrman, and though he had struck so heavily that he would have almost slain one of the Experts within his company, Jurot stood as sturdy as an oak.Alll latest novels at novelhall.com

“Do you believe the Marquise will leave you be?” Sir Ivy asked, her blade clashing with Jaygak’s once more, the shining light almost searing her through her armour as they fought.

“I hope not,” came the playful response from the devilkin before her.

No, not a devilkin, but an Iyrman. Sir Ivy and Jaygak clashed viciously while the sounds of cries filled the air, and the rage filled howls of the Iyrmen began to cut such cries short.

Laygak brought his blade through the gaps of the guard’s visor, causing him to begin to beg, before he was silenced. He stepped towards another.

“Wait, wait,” the guard shouted. “I-, I-, please, wait!”

The begging was silenced forever, Laygak bringing his blade back up, his eyes falling across the sight of death. “Sleep peacefully, for Baktu will watch over you.”

Naqokan almost danced along the field, cutting two Aldishmen, before glancing to the side to see Uwajin forcing her blade through the gut of another, while a sickening crack distracted her, Bavin’s axe splitting a helmet in half.

“I should have expected there would be little fighting around Iyrmen,” Vasera said, crossing her arms, before glancing around at the battlefield. ‘I knew Iyrmen were vicious, but this...’ She glanced towards the Marshal, who was still engaged with Jurot, hearing the sounds of his companions dying all around him.

“Remind me not to cause trouble for the Iyrmen,” Rook said, before cackling with laughter.

“That is your role,” Vasera replied. “I’m the one who is foolish enough to fight them.”

“Do you still wish to fight him?”

“It would be fun.”

“Enough!” came a shout, though it was not a voice any of them recognised. “There is no more need for death!”

Adam heard the voice and turned towards it. Vonda, who clasped her hands together in prayer, clutched a diamond.

“Adam, please! This is enough!” Vonda pleaded as she stared into Adam’s eyes, but noted Adam wasn’t looking at her, but through her. She grabbed his shoulder, and he jolted awake, causing his arm to twitch as he raised raised his axe, scraping it against her armour.

“Huh?” Adam asked, before his eyes fluttered, and he realised his had his axe ready to strike Vonda. He dropped it, his eyes still fluttering wildly.

“It is over.”

Adam glanced across the field, seeing the guards on the ground, half dying, half dead. The Iyrmen had killed those who were conscious, save for the four leaders, while the other guards who had been knocked out by the flames had been left to Fate, for now.

‘So that’s what they meant,’ Cobra thought, staring at the mass of death before her. ‘They’re just porters...’

“What wicked darkness brings such death?” asked a voice from behind.

Adam turned, noting the appearance of another eight heavily armoured knights, each adorned in heavy full plate, wearing white tabards with a rose emblazoned across it boldly. They wore holy amulets in the shape of a rose, each with a sun beneath it, seven with silver suns, one with gold. The seven who wore silver suns focused on the wagon, or rather, the demons beside it. Their authority pressed down against the nearby peoples like a disease.

‘Damn it.’

Oh dear.