Act 3: Empire's Stand - Chapter 544: Completing The Pincer

Act 3: Empire's Stand - Chapter 544: Completing The Pincer

Alphos, the First Wind and foremost swordsman of his generation, swung his sword, countless winds slicing across the pouring rain, leaving great gaps where the air fell silent, nothing being able to pass inside. As the empowered wind slashes came within a foot, Gavir defended swiftly, using the long shaft of his spear as a shield to repel each strike, darkness writhing like worms along the surface. It had been several minutes since the beginning of the battle, and he gained zero ground.

"Are you going to keep fighting away?" Gavir stabbed his spear forward, a powerful ray of darkness expelling from the pitch-black tip. He continued prodding, snapping his spear around, matching the frenzied winds with his piercing, concentrated darkness. A hint of worry crept up in his chest. Unexpectedly, the enemy switched Diamen and Alphos, and while he could endure a fresh opponent, he worried for Oscar, who had to face three.

"Once that monster is dead, it'll be your turn. But for now, remain here with me!" Alphos flashed his sword, his arms becoming indiscernible to the naked eye. His objective was clear: keeping Gavir away from aiding Oscar on the other side and Phillip, who was under attack by three Grade Sevens.

The only one who could make a difference right now was him. Spurred by the responsibility, Gavir chased after Alphos, crossing great distances in a dark step. But he failed to catch even the coattails of the speedy foe. If he tried to escape and help the others, he would face several sudden attacks that locked him here. Drenched in the bloody rain that fell from the harsher battle above, he felt his pride as the son of the Volstof Family and a member of the Drakiri was tarnished. He only had one foe before him and yet failed to accomplish victory.

Lashing out, he spun his spear around and attempted to lay waste to the entire area, engulfing every inch with a powerful, swallowing darkness, a growing void around him to counter Alphos's strange phased sword. It seemed the gambit worked as Alphos concentrated a powerful slash of wind and sliced down to part the void. The pathway to Alphos had been opened, and Gavir lunged with all his speed to catch him, throwing his spear, darkness expanding from its path.

Clapping his free hands together, he created a dark orb and cast it out, forming it into a dense multi-layered block of darkness. However, the winds parted shockingly and circled to his sides, refusing to let him go like hungering beasts on the prowl. Raising his defenses, Gavir swung blackened fists at the winds, suffering two grievous wounds on his chest and back. Horrendous pain spread throughout his body as the winds sought to tear his flesh apart. Luckily, he had enough Ein to repel the persistent winds from his wounds.

The sound of Alphos's pained groans didn't relieve him since it meant he failed to finish off his enemy. A few paces away, his accursed foe stood, clutching the side of his body, which bled profusely, a chunk of flesh missing from it and exposing a part of his ribs. The swordsman looked at him with disdain and sneered even when his face began to pale heavily, his lips turning blue. "It's a shame. You came so close to finishing me off. What now, old Drakiri? Shall we keep dancing until my victory?"

Several ideas and plans formed in Gavir's mind, yet none came to fruition, carrying no credence to their outcomes based on his injuries. Then, cheers erupted from the other side, an unbelievable shout of triumph that eclipsed any he had heard before. It meant only one thing: victory, but for who? He stared along with Alphos at the other army and smiled, still in disbelief. Seeing his allies cheering to the top of their lungs and overwhelming the enemy enlivened him, a sudden burden lifted from his bloody shoulders.

"Impossible!" Alphos screamed out, gurgling on his own blood. His eyes widened as his pupils shook around, fear filling them to the brim. "How can that be?"

Gavir grunted and pulled on a thread of darkness connected to his falling weapon. His spear halted in place, swerved in the air, and thrust straight into Alphos's back, protruding out the chest. Darkness spread, turning the blood black and corroding him from the inside. Alphos struggled to move his quivering hands, but his fingers, lacking any defensive Ein, melted piece by piece, inch by inch, until even the bone melted. The First Wind no longer held any pride or display of courage, only his face warping in despair and endless tears falling as if he were a baby, broken down to the core.

"The moment you're in danger, I'm pulling you back. No arguments." Emily said sharply, glaring at his missing arm.

Warmed by their worry, he felt apologetic for putting them in that state. Strangely, he didn't feel bothered by the loss of his arm. Missing it was detrimental, but he had prepared himself to lose far more during this war, and he did lose more important things long ago. What was an arm compared to winning this crucial battle? What compared to prevent further loss? His two friends fell silent at his apology, sticking close to him, a nice gesture.

Beyond the enemy's army were the open plains and a clear passageway across the mountains to the central plains where Aunt Ward led the main central army. From the start of this battle, the plan was to push back one of the enemy's side armies and flank the central army. Since the right army's location was too narrow and lacked safe passages across the beast-infested mountains until farther back, to which a surprise flank was meaningless because of its proximity to Delvar Fort, the focus and responsibility rested on the left army.

Turning his army to the right, they entered a divide between mountains, wary of and alert at the hostile gazes of the beasts lurking nearby. Oscar took a crystal from his space pocket and allowed some of its seeping Ein to waft to the mountains, stirring the beasts into falling back. With this, the beasts held onto their mountains and refused to pounce on them. A few minutes later, his fleet exited the narrow path, a vast battlefield waiting before them. Countless ships fired upon each other, blasts of flame and Ein creating an air so hot the rain no longer fell upon them.

A great distance away, Aunt Ward was locked in fierce combat with someone he recognized from a long time ago outside Ashen Grove before it opened, the First Storm, Rand Cyclos. The old man commanded storms to his aid, his terrifying Ein forcing everyone to spread away from the epicenter of his power. Aunt Ward wielded two glaives in each hand, ten more extending from her back in a circular pattern. She charged fearlessly into the storm and scattered the harsh winds into slight breezes that barely swayed her rosy hair.

"Everyone!" Oscar shouted for his army and pointed his remaining arm, his shield latched tightly onto his elbow. His target was the enemy's Excrusier, and for that, he gathered several Vorpalares, the finest piercing ships. "This battle ends today! We're all tired, but fight as if there is no tomorrow!"

He rushed out in a tight formation, protecting the Vorpalares. As a piece of his antler cracked off, he tightened his grip and bashed his shield into the enemy's ranks, skewering them on Erden's antlers. Both sides stared at his coming in shock, but Aunt Ward was quick on the response, commanding, "Left flank, push on to join the pincer!"

"UOOOHH!" His allies rallied themselves, taking advantage of the opening he created. A great fire had been lit under their feet, and they greatly swelled in morale and spirit. Despite his lost arm, Oscar was relentless, destroying ship after ship and casting body after body upon the blood-drenched plains. Sounds of chanting rose, all calling out his name. The enemy was helpless before the pincer as all the Marshal Exalts were locked in combat.

"This is all because of you! For the future, I must kill you!" Rand's enraged roar erupted as the chants fell to silence as Aunt Ward was blasted away for the moment, a key moment that allowed Rand to move. His old figure swept across, his beard and long hair spreading wildly from the winds. Rand came before him, a great pressure locking him and Erden in place, and lashed his hand down. "Die!"