Chapter 48: War (Patreon)

Chapter 48: War

/War needs no explanation. Perhaps it is best to lead with something like this.

War is cruel, it is heartless, it is cold. War is the worst humanity, or any other race, has ever managed to conjure up of the twisted depths of their mind. War is genocide, it is unfairness, it is long, and arduous, and has a habit of breaking the best of people.

No one can help it, because war, in all of its deep horror, war is absolute.

It is omnipresent. Always around. Inescapable and hard, because it has a habit of dragging all around it into it, an ever expanding nexus of hatred, and revenge, and murder.

Because above all, war is loss, and sadness and terror.

War... is war./

A note, written down by general Fulbert Shire, after seeing his own hometown lit ablaze.

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This chapter contains depictions of violence that may not be suitable for all readers. Viewers discretions is advised.

Avery needed no introduction on what to do, and neither did his seekers. They were prepared, the veterans and the rookies, and as soon as they saw him, they rushed to the city gates.

Avery was dressed for war. He had equipped his best gear, wearing a cloak made of woven galewolf fur. He had put on a belt, full of shimmering little vials, and his sunglasses were replaced with the ones he wore for battle, a steel construction that was absolutely airtight, with a thick sheet of glass specially designed to not obscure his vision.

It was able to change colour at his whim, simply with a thought and a burst of mana. But most of all, there was his jacket, now buttoned up and made from light geryte links, an alloy between the heavy soulsteel, and the much more light and flexible gratiph fibre. Below it, he wore a thin vest of again, galewolf fur, to keep him aerodynamic and his skin safe from the always shifting rings.

But the most important part to him were his boots. Above them, he wore heavy pants, fully made from geryte, before being coated in glue from a drake's wing, and having attached scales of his one killed wyvern to it, but his boots were truly important.

Their inside was coated in fur, and his socks were specially made to dampen the impact, thick and uncomfortable, but it was what he needed to protect himself from the force of his kicks. His shoes were made from metal and reshaped bone, after all. They were incredibly solid and heavy, slowing him down just the slightest amount. But when it came to force... These things could take a man's head clean off.

There was no trace of a smile on Avery's face as he took a step outside the gloryhall. He saw the panic on the faces of the general folk, but he couldn't mind them right now. His mind had to be sharp.

He did not wave to anyone, did not offer any smiles. He simply kept his eyes locked on the city gate, the ice cold look in them hidden by the black glass of his goggles, if one could call them that. Just then, when he passed the church, he saw the doors swing open.

Out walked Lucia and her maid, Iris, if he remembered correctly. And well, they did not disappoint.

There were no more adornments, no more fancy ribbons and decorations. Their armor was probably even better than his own.

Lucia was dressed in pure golden glow, almost blindingly reflecting the light. She wore plate mail, made from scales of something higher ranked than his equipment, for sure. All over the armor were thousands of little symbols, every one of them pulsing with a slow, golden light. Her pants reached all the way down to her boots, the kind you'd wear to get through mud and run in a forest.

She was dressed like a ranger, pants made from special leather, with many straps securing it to her. And slowly, as the sun hit her, the armor lost its colour, taking on a soft grey glow, same as her hood, that blended in perfectly with the stone of the surroundings. A chameleon effect as well, then. As to be expected from whatever spending money the church had.

Most impressive though was her weapon, a bow he had seen before. It was no longer radiant and bright, it was more subtle, seemingly bending the light. All he could make it out as was a flickering, wavering in the air, like from a heatwave, and as he got closer, he noticed that it certainly was slightly warm.

But when Avery looked at Lucia's eyes he was forced to nod to her. They weren't cold and hard like his, although she certainly tried to make them seem so. No, instead they were... glossy. She had struggled with this, he knew. All the more praise to her dedication, because while they were glossy, they weren't soft.

Her eyes were hard, a little calculating, but at the same time sad. They had humanity in them, unlike what he could see in Iris'.

Her usually pale, pink eyes, seemed to have turned a much darker shade. They were devoid of all empathy, the eyes of someone going out simply to kill, without regard for the blood spilled.

Similarly, she was dresses in largely dark clothes, closely fitting her, in a very mat and dark green, almost black. On her, she carried more than a few weapons. A belt of throwing knives, diagonally over her shoulder, a short sword at her hip, and a crossbow, as well as a loaded flintlock at the other side. Bolts on her back, and a chain and sickle in her hands.

Additionally, he noticed a handful of concealed straps, that probably held more weaponry.

It was clear that neither of them were new to this, and he once more nodded his approval as he went to walk alongside them.

"I see you've prepared," Avery said out loud, still facing the city gate.

"It is war we're walking into, dear guild master," Lucia said, "not a playground. Are you not just as prepared as we are to lay down your life?"

This made Avery take on a soft smile as he bit down on some more bread, soft clouds of steam already gliding off him, and dissipating into the air. "Of course I am, maybe even more than you. After all, each and every one of my seekers is out there, and I'm prepared to lay down my life for all of them. As is my duty as master."

"And similarly it is mine as head priestess."

"My lady, if anything even wants to touch a hair on your head, it will have to get past the believers, the priesthood, the shadow guard, and certainly also me. There will be no need to lay down your life here," her maid spoke.

"Well, dear Iris, I see your point, but I will only tell you this once. As an order, you are to value your life as equal to mine own," Lucia answered, a slight frown visible on her face.

"Of course," Iris nodded. "I shall do as I am told, my lady."

Avery slightly shook his head at this.

"Like a married couple. Well, at least I know you'll have each others' back. Can't afford to be babysittin' anyone. Will you both have mine as well if push comes to shove," Avery asked, a crooked, perhaps even pained smile on his face.

"Of course we will."

"My lady comes first, but yes, I shall do my best."

"Good to hear it. Well, here we are, anyways, let's see what the ruckus is?"

And with a handful of nods, the trio ascended up the stairs, just to get to the top of one of the watchtowers.

"How bad's it looking?"

"Not good, sir!" one of the guards snapped at Avery, in typical army fashion. "A whole battalion of Evlenor raiders, properly equipped with nordic steel. They have been acting slowly, bringing more troops into hidden camps in the forest, and by now they have a substantial number!"

"Mh, sucks. Didn't expect they'd pull back from the frontline this hard."

"They are holding the frontline using more and more elite warriors, emerging from the battlefields! Their lower number means fewer exp for our units, and slowly they have gained an advantage, sir! Now, they have begun even driving beasts down from the mountains to fight the battles in their stead, and these maniacs have been riding untamed monsters into battle."

Avery shook his head at this. Barbarians, one of his most hated fights. Bastards just wouldn't go down properly.

"Alright," he said, looking down and seeing the invaders perched barely at the edge of the forest. "What's captain Rondo saying?"

"We hold the wall, our archers are getting into position, and the ballistae have been loaded."

"How much time do you need?" Lucia quickly interjected.

"10 minutes, if we're lucky. Bastards aren't likely to give us that much," said a voice from behind, a bear of a man, with long, grey hair, and a similarly coloured and sized beard. Guard captain Rondo, number 12 on the local fame leaderboard, 1013 fame.

"Well, captain," Avery said, walking closer to the edge. "Seems you need someone to hold down the line."

Rondo smacked his shoulder heavily and gave him a massive grin, his steely eyes lit up with a flame. "Well then, boy," he growled. "Give them our worst."

Avery grinned, and simply nodded as he leapt down , falling a solid 12 or so metres until he hit the floor, bending his knees to absorb the impact.

He winced a little at his own showmanship, but as he blew out a cloud of white smoke from his mouth, he regained his strength and stood up to his full height, and slowly, a sense of dread seemed to creep over the northerners. This man certainly wasn't normal.

And then, seconds after, another shadow darted to the floor, an impact quieter than a pin drop, simply appearing as if out of thin air.

"Well, Iris, I won't complain about a little help. Have my back?" He offered her a hand to help her back up from kneeling, and Iris gladly took it with a sharp nod.

"Indeed, Beckham. Let us teach them what it means to attack Stormbraver."

And with that, the two of them darted off to the west, straight towards the forest, where archers were already waiting for them. Iris was a little quicker than Avery, especially with her equipment, but he still had the blessing of wind on his side.

As Avery ran, he could feel his steps get lighter as he gained speed. The blessing of his armor was kicking in, and it was solely focused on speed.

The man slowly turned from a sprinter into a battering ram, and then into a force of nature by the time the arrows started coming in. Iris nimbly began dodging them, twisting her body out of the way, while Avery flexed his muscles and kicked the floor, sending himself up into the air and over the barrage.

A few stragglers came after him even there, but now his feet were in front of him, and most certainly none of those cheaply made, mass produced arrowheads could get through his shoes. Avery kicked down a handful of arrows, and spun out of another's way, before landing back on the ground, a little more heavily than he had hoped.

But by then, he was already close to the forest, and before the archers of the mountainfolk had time to nock another arrow, a small wave of swordsmen brandished forward, only to be met with a handful of throwing knives.

Within the blink of an eye, Iris had drawn the small sword at her hip and began stabbing at the enemies. The blade was thin, and would break against armor, but Iris nimbly danced around the hits coming at her, and stabbed it deep into the waists and soft sides of enemies, breaking through their stomachs and spilling all the acid out into their bodies.

Avery saw it, and could only imagine the pain, but right now, he really pitied the people coming at him.

As there was a group of swords men rushing forward, Avery once again felt the wind take hold of him, as his weight combined with his speed to create an absolute battering ram. And just before the collision, he gave a light jump, and stretched his feet in front of him.

The impact he felt was sickening, a shield, wooden, coated in metal, that he smashed through. Then the breaking of ribs as he took someone off their feet, and then cracking and screaming as many of his enemies crashed against each other.

He carried them multiple meters, before they smashed into a tree, five enemies at once between him and the wood, all ending up with their ribcages crushed. Bone fragments in the lungs, organs ruptured. Dead men.

Avery gave it a short thought, and the darkness in his goggles lifted a little. Just enough to give others a glimpse of his eyes before they died, his yellow eyes, with slit pupils, ice cold, and hard as steel. A predator looking at prey.

He wasn't as fast and nimble as Iris, but he was confident in the power of his attack. These pawns posed a threat only if he lost focus, and now, with his eyes wide open, they were there simply as a way to drain his stamina. Avery managed to land on his feet, his knees bend and is body low to the ground.

Immediately, he leaned on one of his arms and did a sweeping kick, knocking all soldiers around him to the ground and possibly breaking a shin or two, when someone got caught up poorly. He kicked upwards once, hitting a woman's chin, and snapping her neck simply from how far upwards her head shot, then dodged back from a sword strike, before landing a straight kick to the attacker's chest, ribs breaking and stabbing into his lungs.

It was brutal, and some blood from open breaks already splattered onto Avery, but his work was nothing compared to Iris.

She was fast, incredibly so, and only played close to the force's core before Avery's arrival. Now, he was working as a front shield, drawing all of the attention, and Iris instead ran around and picked off any stragglers. When Avery was about to be backstabbed, she would snap someone's spine with the weight attached to the back end of the chain, or rip away their weapons before they could make a move.

But it was a balance that could never last.

After only a minute, the steam around Avery was getting a little thicker, and he needed to be careful. They saw him fight with kicks, and now kept their space, sending people with spears to surround him and stab at every opportunity. Archers were keeping Iris in check and a step further away, and guards with tower shields made from sturdier metal kept blocking her at every turn.

They clearly had a good commander on their side, needing only two minutes to develop some counter strategies. But Avery knew that this was only one step to his fighting style. When he was surrounded with spears, he once jumped up and landed on his hands, quickly swirling around his heavy boots and activating the blessing of wind to conjure up a small storm, giving him a smokescreen.

It only took a handful of second to clear, but Avery was gone. And when he reappeared, he came strongly.

He crashed down from the sky like a meteor, his veins bulging under his skin, clearly the effects of a potion. He crashed down on one of the heavy infantry guards, kicking downward, and smashing their skull in. Before there was a chance for them to react, he had torn through the armor of another as though it was paper, and Iris instantly used the distraction to go after the archers.

She pulled out her crossbow and flintlock, taking down two of them without a moment's pause, then punched in another's windpipe with the weight on her chain, and sliced another one's fingers off, no more bow wielding there.

It was brutal, fast, and efficient, ending with 6 total archers, and 3 infantry dead by the time the enemy army had gained their composure.

3 minutes time of battle. Casualties: 62

But every second ticking by was brutal on Avery. This was like having to do a full power sprint, and he was breathing heavily, just to keep his muscles going. The potion was helping, and so was his stomach, densely packed with decently digestible carbs, but he still knew that this wouldn't last.

"Pulling back!" He called out to Iris, who gave him a quick nod, before seemingly vanishing. Avery took a few steps back, before blowing a stamina-blast into the forces, a kick that ended up sending enemies a few meters away from him flying. Not lethal, certainly painful.

Of course, the enemies didn't want to give him any time to rest, so he had to deal with ones chasing him, and other surrounding him from the back.

An arrow tinked off the side of his chainmail, but still left a certain aftertaste on his skin. A hard shot, and a damn precise one, too. It knocked him slightly off his balance for a moment, and he instantly saw a blade coming for his head. For a moment, his pupils contracted. He saw Iris, and she was a step too far away to help out.

Instead, his visor fully opened up, and with a single stare, he paralyzed the soldier for a moment, simply with fear. For just a fraction of a second, the man hesitated, and it was enough for Avery to lean back, and darken the goggles back down. Then, a burning arrow of gold flew past him and ended up searing straight through the man's chest as he fell to the ground.

Finally, Lucia had gotten her shit together, eh? Well, it was a length of maybe 500 metres, and their movements were hectic at the slowest, so her still hitting was a testament to her skill.

With this, Avery quickly gave one more roundhouse kick, knocking away even shield-bearers as he gave a long leap to retreat, when another arrow hit his leg, the side of his knee, actually. Another heavy blow, and he stumbled for a moment, but there was no one to take advantage of it.

Avery took a single second to look around the battlefield, his eyes narrowing, but soon, he was swarmed again, and simply had to take care of himself. No, he needed to hold this horde back. Those arrows? Whoever it was, it would fall on Iris.