Ascending The Hill

Raymond continued to pale as chaos gripped the battlefield once more. His orders started flying out quicker as his troops regrouped into a spear formation, heading straight for Richard’s stronghold. The moment he defeated their leader and ripped that warflag off, the Faelorians would lose morale and quickly meet their end. His biggest purpose in coming here was not to dominate this plane, it was to eliminate Richard and take over the Lighthouse of Time in his base.

Thus, the situation devolved into a race. Richard’s flank was trying its best to dig into Raymond’s rear while Raymond was doing his best to break through. The former’s victory would decimate the Josephs’ army and consolidate Richard’s power in this plane. The latter would leave him on Faelor forever.

The battle soon turned chaotic. Powerhouses were fighting each other everywhere, the situation so desperate Richard routinely had to push into the frontlines and push back the charge himself.

His dazzling sword skills left the nobles on his own side astonished. Even Duke Grasberg couldn’t help but take his eyes off the greater battle for a moment, “I thought you were a great mage.”

Richard shrugged his shoulders in response to that, sheathing his snow-white blade that wasn’t marred by a single drop of blood, “Mages can’t learn some self-defence?” He had no time in the midst of his countless orders to recite any spells. Fighting physically was much easier.

As the war continued to intensify, Richard’s voice turned hoarse. His robes were drenched by a mixture of sweat and blood as warriors fought everywhere around him. The stench of blood soaked the air, numbing everyone’s sense of smell. There seemed to be no end.

Time seemed to slow down as everything blurred. Richard had no idea when his mana pool had been drained, but the enemies continued to pour forth. Every one that he killed was replaced by another, forcing him to give up on even the non-verbal spells and instead direct all his power to his runes. His head was bursting with pain, the blessing of wisdom pushed to its limits. However, he could only deal with what was in front of him before he got the time to survey the entire battlefield.

Draconic roars rang through the distant sky as Kaloh chased after a fleeing grand mage, Lina herself engaged in intense battle with another. Bevry and Grasberg were engaged in a melee with a grey-robed saint, but despite a constant shower of divine spells from Io and Flowsand they didn’t seem like they would hold on much longer. All of his followers were actively engaged in their own fights, the drones’ charge stonewalled by the Norland soldiers. Every opening made was filled in immediately, the back lines seemingly infallible despite hundreds of sacrifices.

However, the images sent by the cloned brain showed that it wasn’t as terrible as he first imagined. Raymond’s forces were slowly loosening up in the face of the horrifying killing machines that were the humanoid knights; the advance was slow, but they were burrowing in inch after inch.

It wasn’t that the Norlanders lacked power, but these drones were simply far too terrifying. They already had an advantage in strength over their opponents, but the worst part was that they just didn’t fear death. They had no qualms with giving their own bodies up if that meant they could take the life of another enemy, and would try their best to attack no matter how badly injured they were. Those defending Raymond from behind started to tremble in fear no matter how powerful they were.

Richard suddenly gathered the last dregs of his mana and flew into the sky, pointing forward with his sword and roaring, “MY WARRIORS! OUR FLAG STILL WAVES PROUDLY IN THE SKY!”

Thousands of Faelorians turned their heads in an instant, looking at the airborne Richard and the crimson warflag behind him. What followed was a deafening roar; the unstoppable Norland army had met a true opponent for the first time.

“It’s time.” Richard slashed down another warrior who tried to attack his knees, issuing another order in his mind.

*Thud! Thud! Thud!* The earth started to tremble. A distant stone pillar was blown apart as 36 knights charged out, gathering into a spear formation of their own. in spear formation, the leader’s eerie helmet and battleaxe noticeable from far away. Their leader was noticeable at a single glance, riding the largest steed of them all. His eerie helmet and enormous battleaxe were only overshadowed by one thing: the eye-catching crest of a volcano in front of a world tree.

It was a mere 36 people, but the aura they exuded as they charged forward could suppress a thousand horses!

“The Archeron rune knights!” someone screamed.

Unrest began to spread through the Norland army as they looked in the direction of the thuds. No matter which plane it was in, a rune knight platoon’s entrance would capture all attention.

Looking at their sheer number, Raymond felt his heart sink. The situation was now similar to his own first war on Faelor. The rune knights would break through the formation and eliminate all powerhouses, disrupting the organisation of his army. Already at a huge disadvantage in numbers, his troops would then crumble. Only a similar number of rune knights or an extreme powerhouse would be able to stop them!

“Rune knights, my rune knights...” Raymond’s mind sparked and his heart skipped a beat. He only had ten or so of his own rune knights left, and had scattered them through the battlefield to break through different points. There was simply no time for them to assemble! “SIR KLAUS, STOP THEM!”

One of the saints rose up in response to the command, galvanising his body’s energy into a green aura that he channelled into his four-metre-long spear to stop Gangdor and the rune knights. To stop an entire 36 grade 2 set knights in their tracks was extremely dangerous even for a saint, but if this charge wasn’t mitigated they would lose immediately.

Klaus charged fearlessly into the midst of the rune knights, a grand mage hurrying over to help out. So long as he managed to stop the charge, backup would arrive immediately. However, an indescribable sense of danger suddenly engulfed him and forced him to turn around for a moment.

A massive creature took to the skies a short distance away, a nightmarish construct that seemed to rise out of the abyss itself. The bug-like creature was tens of metres long and almost a dozen metres tall, making the saint feel like an insignificant worm.

The broodmother had finally entered the fray!

Tens of eyes focused onto Klaus like he was prey, the saint from Norland feeling his body lock up in a fear that arose from the depths of his very soul. However, years of experience allowed him to react immediately, his aura pulsing out at full strength to rid himself of the suppression and appear behind the broodmother’s head with a flash. All of his strength was put into the spear as he shoved down.

And yet, the speartip only made it a few tens of centimetres in to the metre-thick carapace.

Klaus’ face flushed red in an instant. Realising that this enemy was much more dangerous than the Archeron rune knights, he immediately gave up on a full recovery and infused far more energy into the spear than his injured body could bear. The spear now shone crimson, seemingly with a life of its own as it shook and roared. A web of cracks quickly spread through the broodmother’s head, the carapace finally shattering to pieces.

“Finally...” Klaus relaxed, the lack of energy making him feel hollow inside. He had no idea what this creature was, but allowing it into the ranks of his army would definitely spell disaster.

It was only then that he saw many eyes peering out from within the new cracks on the carapace.

This time, he did not get the chance to react as a shrill whistle rang through his sea of consciousness. It felt like a hammer slammed into his soul, robbing him of his vision as he fell from the broodmother’s body.

Anyone who could become a saint in Norland had an extremely powerful will. Klaus roared violently and stopped himself in mid-air, charging towards the broodmother once more. However, another soul attack stopped him mid-flight and bought time for hundreds more eyes to open up.

A storm of soul attacks overwhelmed the saint, ripping his existence apart. Only a single thread of intent was left behind, a desire to get close to the hellish creature attacking him and finish it off.