Patrick Laplante
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PtM Book 14 - Chapter 49: Final Push (1)
🕑 Added 2022-03-27 00:38:55 +0000 UTC5/5 this week. Next week it will be 5 chapters in 4 days, to finish the book at the end of the month as promised.
Like I said in a previous post, I've decided to split this book into two parts. There will only be slight changes, but the content will be unaffected.
I will pause contributions for next month after I post this, and I will also make sure to get you ePub files as soon as they are available. Then I will begin posting at the beginning of May again.
Hope you enjoy the final sprint!
--
Oster paced back and forth within his command tent, ignoring the silence of his generals as he took in the numbers trickling in. A list of losses was being tabulated in his mind, whether they be in terms of personnel or resource, free or personal.
The first day’s losses had been acceptable. Today’s losses? Not so much. He’d lost too much while trying to catch Clever Dusk. He’d been outplayed, and badly at that.
But he was calm. Oster was always calm, and he never lost his temper. Unfortunately, the furnishings did not understand that sometimes, it was best not to cause offense. It came as no surprise, therefore, that an offending vase went flying across the room and crashed into a steel tent pole. Pieces of sharp clay flew over the assembled generals, who didn’t dare dodge or flinch as they received shallow wounds in their skin.
“What a complete and utter disaster,” Oster said, massaging his temples. “I had the upper hand. I should have won. But then those painted Titan clansmen and those Daoists ruined everything!”
Even the most sycophantic yes-person would know better than to agree with Oster when he was in such a mood, but some people did not have even a smidgeon of self-awareness. Emissary Rosen was one of them.
“None of this would have happened if you’d have just used that trump card of yours to begin with,” Rosen said. “Perhaps next time you’ll consult with me first?”
The entire room held its breath as Oster suddenly gained a much more animate target for his ire than a vase. Vases were good outlets and all, but they didn’t exactly respond when he inflicted damage, and they broke too easily.
“Detain him,” Oster said, and before Rosen could react to this outrageous command, two men took him by the shoulders and pushed him to his knees.
“You… how dare you!” Rosen said. “Do you not realize who I am? Who I represent?”
Oster was not offended. He never took offense to a dead man’s words. “Rosen, I know you have the self-awareness of a gnat, but you’re proving to be much too disappointing,” Oster said. He walked up to the man, grabbed him by the collar, then took out a knife. Oster had a particular aversion to puffed-up shirts, so he cut this one off, exposing a patch of graying chest hair.
“They have many names for what you’ve been doing for the past few days, Rosen,” Oster continued as he summoned a mass of caustic green flames. “Teasing the tiger. Waking the dragon. Poking the bear. You need to realize that while I’m very hesitant to anger Fendal’s Governing Council, I loathe those who try and interfere in my planning and decision-making. Especially those who have not a bit of sense about them.”
“W-we can discuss, of course,” Rosen said. He was drenched in sweat now. Killing the disgusting, slobbering wreck of a man would be doing the world a favor.
“Fine, we’ll discuss,” Oster said.
Rosen let out a sigh of relief, but too soon, because the moment he relaxed, Oster pressed his burning hand onto the man’s bare flesh. A smell not unlike that of charring pork filled the room.
“You monster!” Rosen said, gasping for fresh air. “They’ll never let you go for this!”
Oster smiled. “I’m not sure if you realized this, Rosen, but this is a battlefield, and I am the commanding general. No, let me rephase that. Here, I am the representative of military might and Fendal’s violent sword. Here, I am Fendal.”
Rosen glared. “Even so, you will not escape the wrath of the assembly.”
“It’s the winners who write history, Rosen,” Oster said. “If I exonerate myself and claim Verdant Crossroads and the Tree of Life, you’ll be known as nothing more than the silly emissary that tried to interfere with a brilliant general’s commands.” He shook his head. “And what do you know about timing? Do you think Demon-Binding Scrolls of that tier grow on trees? If I’d used it any earlier, it would have had no effect whatsoever!”
Rosen glared at him viciously. “Regardless, you managed it. Victory is assured now, is it not?”
“That much is undecided,” Oster said. He returned to his seat and grabbed an apple. It was crunchy, sweet, and delicious, and he ate it, core and all. “What do you all think about the situation? And just so there isn’t a repeat of what just happened, does anyone here doubt any of my decisions thus far?”
Most in the room remained silent, but one of his generals bravely stepped up. “I wouldn’t dare question your judgment, Great General, but I have my doubts. I would appreciate a lesson in strategy, if you are willing to share it.”
“You see, Rosen? This is how you request additional information,” Oster said. “You compliment the person, hint at your own uncertainty, at your own insufficiencies, then request the gift of their wisdom. From what I understand, they call it the sandwich technique, or one of its variants. It’s very useful for offering critical feedback as well.
“And yes, General Montague, I would be only too happy to explain. As you might have surmised, the artifact is rare, but perhaps you don’t understand how rare. I am happy to inform you that what I used just now was a late-gold-ranked scroll that can only be produced by a high-ranking cardinal or one of the two popes. In other words, I just expended the equivalent of a national treasure to seal the Tree of Life, and it will only work for a single day.”
“The Tree of Life?” one of the other generals asked. “Weren’t all other demonic abilities disrupted?”
“A momentary side effect,” Oster said, brushing him off. “The scroll is powerful, but it can only really bind one entity. These scrolls were originally designed to subdue the leaders of entire tribes, but it was postulated that they could be used on a tree of life as well. It was never proven until today, so on that note, someone please remind me to submit a claim for that academic bounty.”
“I’ll do so immediately upon our victory,” General Ross said.
“Excellent,” Oster said. “And to answer General Montague’s question, I did not use it until now because the closer we are to the Tree of Life, the greater its influence. Seers sometimes also have redirection effects, so I waited until Clever Dusk was in full retreat before acting. Now, we have twenty-four hours to capitalize on the opportunity. Well, closer to twenty-two now.”
“Thank you for clarifying, General Fireblight,” Montague said. “Would you mind elaborating on what advantages the scroll will grant us?”
“Naturally,” Oster said, his mood improving substantially. He didn’t have many hobbies, and teaching was one of them. “To better understand the benefits of the scroll, we must first understand the effects of the Tree of Life on the battlefield. You already know the first one—self-detonation. Since they won’t be able to destroy the Tree of Life, we can now use our full army.
“Second, the tree’s mass restoration and blighting abilities will be severely restrained. Third, the tree will not be able to use any special attacks like the mass restraining abilities that were used today. Without it, they will not be able to utilize their unimaginably plentiful God-Slaying Arrows to their full potential.
“Fourth, the tree normally provides a strengthening effect to those attuned to it. This effect will be greatly reduced. Elder Finleaf and Lady Clever Dusk will not be able to incorporate the tree into their techniques or fusion transformations. That is not to say that their powers are weak—they still have dominion over Verdant Crossroads, so they are still a threat—but their powers will be much diminished.”
General Aldrich spoke up. “I believe that despite our losses, we gained a great advantage in this battle.”
“You are correct, General Aldrich. According to the forces we’ve seen up to date,” Oster said. “We’ve suffered around twenty-five percent casualties, but they’ve suffered closer to thirty-five percent.”
“Then what are we waiting for, General Fireblight?” Montague asked. “The clock is ticking, and we still require rest, recuperation, and reorganization.”
“I’m thinking,” Oster said.
“Perhaps you can thinkabout letting me go,” Rosen said.
The generals in the room flinched, and Oster rolled his eyes before sending another blast of green flames the emissary’s way. The man screamed as the flames spread to his eyebrows, his face, and his hair, then proceeded across his entire body.
No one in the room was shocked by Oster’s actions. Everyone here was familiar with how he operated. The first burn had been a stern warning, and Rosen had ignored it.
Would there be consequences for killing him? Of course. But in Oster’s opinion, no one would have time to worry about such small matters, given how the entire subcontinent was on the verge of a large-scale war.
“Tell me, Aldrich, what do you think is the greatest variable in this conflict?” Oster said.
“I’d say any hidden aces they might have,” Aldrich replied. The man was middle-aged, with streaks of gray in his hair. He wore a bright silver breastplate and was an impressive swordsman but terrible duelist. He was also the gold-ranked general who’d resisted the infiltration of their base. “They’ve exposed their impressive Daoist support, their God-Slaying Arrows, and many of the junior Thread Seer, Clever Dusk’s, abilities. Now that their tree is out of the picture, I’m not sure what else could surprise us, but I’d bet money that it’s other forces that have yet to join the battle.”
“The traps were definitely beyond our expectations,” Montague muttered. “We should have predicted them given the Runebound Clan’s presence, but we never thought to look so deep. Then there’s the manipulation of the Starry Road Network. That worries me. In other words, I believe that environmental factors are the greatest variable in this conflict.”
“Both of these are solid guesses,” Oster said. “But you are both incorrect. In my estimation, there are three important variables that might turn the tide of this battle. One relates to the participation of the Titan Clan and Titan Thunderfist and their miraculous transformation before departing Titanvale. Another has to do with the absence of the Runebound Clan, and a conspicuous amount of signstone missing from the quarries.”
“Absence?” Aldrich exclaimed. “What do you mean absence? Do you have any idea how many bronze and silver rankers were killed by their trap?”
“A prepared trap,” Oster said. “That could have been dug in advance and triggered remotely. Tell me, where are their legendary formations? Where are their famous impromptu sand traps? Where are their sand golems?
“In fact, where are their beasts? Shouldn’t Verdant Crossroads have an army of bestial demons at their beck and call? Even then, these are small matters, because the greatest variable is politics.” He held up a finger. “One day. I’d bet half my fortune that in one day at most, we’ll be recalled, regardless of victory or defeat. You are all generals, so I’m sure you know why. General Shen, why don’t you spell it out for everyone?”
The black-cloaked general stepped forward and kneeled. No one knew his real name, but they knew that he was one of Oster’s people, and that his authority was only second to Oster’s. “I believe what you are referring to is the advent of the Painted Daoists, Painted Demons, and Painted Demigods.”
“That is correct,” Oster said. “What are everyone’s thoughts on this? Why don’t we follow the same order, starting with General Aldrich, then General Montague, then General Shen?”
“The revelations we received by dream are quite troubling,” Aldrich said. “A new deity, but not? A path to follow, but one that requires no worship? Forgive me for saying so, but many worshipers of Harid Dej would be very tempted by the freedom offered. That being said, I don’t see how this will have an immediate impact on the situation. Painted Daoists might pop up, but their levels are low.”
“Oh?” Oster said. “And what if I told you of a recent intelligence report detailing at least fifteen separate cases of gold rankers converting and directly entering the so-called Law-Painting Realm?”
Silence.
“So it’s true?” Montague asked. “Rankers can convert? In that case, I completely agree that this is the greatest variable, as it threatens the institutions of all Mendin republics. I foresee a great deal of upheaval in the upcoming years. At the very least, an organized Daoist threat.”
“And how do you purge what exists naturally?” Oster asked. “You might as well ban water. They literally popped out of thin air one day ago, and it’s already impossible to contain them! I have many informants everywhere, and from what I know, the Church of Jezeriah is upset and likely won’t compromise, but the Church of Harid Dej is hours away from publicly supporting Painted Daoism and welcoming any practitioners into her church with open arms.”
Montague frowned. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“Because the alternative is large-scale rebellion,” Oster said. “Not just in Harid Dej’s lands, but Jezeriah’s. Think about it: if you could just reach out for freedom and obtain it, would you not? If you were a power unto yourself but could not get past the troublesome obstacle that is the Church, would you not consider other options?
“From now on, it will be impossible to shackle and control the elites with faith, much less the common people. Expect the entire religious foundation of the Mendin republics to collapse, not to mention the potential for powerhouses to carve out their own domains and kingdoms. Wars like ours will be obsolete for the next few decades, because civil wars are on the horizon for every country in the Mendin subcontinent.”
“But they’re the same as rankers…” Aldrich said. “Surely you understand that.”
“Yes, I do,” Oster agreed. “But already they’re causing us problems on this battlefield, and barely a day has gone by. Or did you not notice the sixty thousand Painted Daoists attacking us yesterday, or Painted Demons among the enemy ranks?
“A thousand aren’t a cause for concern, Aldrich, I’ll grant you that. But what about five hundred thousand people looking to carve out a home in a continent that’s historically oppressed them? And what if that number grew to five billion? Mark my words, this won’t just affect Mendin, but the Crimson Lotus Empire, the Slovana Empire, and the Demon Lands as well.” Oster sighed. “That is why we only have a single day to finish them off, and why I used the scroll at this important juncture, without feeling them out for any more secrets or probing out their tactics.”
There was silence again, and this time, it hung upon them like a wet blanket. The only interruption to this silence was the whimpering of a man who’d learned his lesson too late. Oster finished Rosen off with one last blast of green flame.
It was Shen who mustered the courage to speak first. “I believe that General Fireblight has made his decision already, so I will go ahead and make the necessary preparations.”
The other generals followed his lead. “Our medical tents have been eliminated, greatly threatening the morale of our troops. I will speak to the quartermaster and have additional defensive equipment assigned to reassure them.”
“I will confer with the geomancers and confirm that all the traps are truly gone, and prepare countermeasures for unexpected changes to the terrain,” Montague said.
One by one, they filed out of the room. They did not ask for additional instructions. In Oster’s army, you did your best until you were told otherwise, which seldom happened.
They weren’t here because Oster was a genius. Geniuses were a dime a dozen. They weren’t here because he was victorious more often than others either. Instead, they were here because they were trusted, and he trusted him in turn.
With Oster, they would learn. And if they survived, they would grow.
***
The battle in the Shanarah Mountain Range had reached its final stages. The Boneshift Badger Lord’s army, which had pierced so deeply into the Shanarah Mountain Range, was now on its last legs. The remnants of that army had retreated into an area of flat plain where a canyon widened greatly before narrowing again.
The badger lord had clearly chosen this place for a last stand. There was no good way to take advantage of the terrain, and launching an attack would result in a slaughter.
Despite all the death and carnage, Huxian didn’t blame the badger lord for his actions. The Boneshift Badger Lord had acted as any demon would. He knew this because his spies who had infiltrated the badger lord had penned him a letter explaining his position, like any cultured invader would.
Lord Boneshift, known for the expansive plates of bone that grew on his body in place of skin, had grown up in Sacred Kanara Desert, and that place, unlike the other deserts, was filled with deadly oases and waterways.
Kanara was arguably the tamest of the sacred deserts. The curse was sealed more firmly there than anywhere else, likely because its elemental water benefited from the Inkwell Plane’s blessing. As a result, there were fewer outbreaks, and the amount of curse power extracted from their dungeons greatly exceeded those in other places, resulting in much more powerful dungeons.
Being rich in water, Kanara was filled with outposts, villages, and cities, most of them demonic, but many of them human. There was not much room for less-adapted species, which unfortunately included Lord Boneshift and his people.
Before invading Shanarah, the Boneshift Badger Lord had occupied one of the worst pieces of land in Kanara, which, to be fair, was much nicer than even the best land in Shanarah before the curse had been broken. It wasn’t that he was weak—far from it. His problem was that his elemental alignment didn’t match up with the Kanara Desert.
He’d already been building up forces to grow his small territory and provide a better living for these outcasts when suddenly, the Shanarah Mountain Range appeared. The demonic energy surged into Lord Boneshift’s parched veins and filled him with great strength.
That was why the army that had been meant to expand his territory in Kanara had gone south instead, and the reason for this entire war in the first place.
Their two armies met at the center of the plains, where the strength of Shanarah’s mountains wasn’t as omnipresent, and where neither side had laid any traps beforehand. A bloody battle would be required to end this conflict, and a victory for either side would be pyric.
Lord Boneshift walked to the center of the encirclement with his honor guard. Mr. Mountain walked forth with Huxian and the others. Though having seven friends rule together over a single territory was unusual, it was not unheard of. They shed all pretenses and faced Lord Boneshift as a single entity.
“Lord Boneshift,” Mr. Mountain greeted.
“Patriarch Sky Piercer,” Lord Boneshift returned his greeting. “I don’t suppose you’ve come to surrender?”
“And here I was thinking the same thing,” Mr. Mountain said. “I recall you making many offers before.”
“That was then, and this is now,” Lord Boneshift said.
Mr. Mountain nodded and looked across the army opposite his own. “Such a nice open area with soft soil. All it’s missing is a little fertilizer.”
“I’m not sure if the soil will find my flesh very appetizing,” Lord Boneshift said. “No meat on my bones, see? I’m sure that you, as an illusory creature, can relate.”
“It is indeed something I’ve speculated on, but I don’t worry too much about such things since I don’t plan on dying anytime soon,” Mr. Mountain said. “As for why we didn’t accept your offer of surrender earlier, I’m sure you understand.”
“You want my bloodline,” Lord Boneshift said. “Well, if you can claim it, I won’t complain. And since you brought it up, I’m sure you won’t mind my interest in your friend’s Godbeast bloodline.”
“I’m not that easy to chew on,” Huxian said. “But you’re welcome to try it.”
“I don’t suppose we can come to an agreement?” Mr. Mountain said. “If you kill yourself, we’ll accept your army’s surrender.”
Unexpectedly, Lord Boneshift nodded. “This fight has indeed resulted in much bloodshed. We could destroy each other, but I’m not one to be wasteful. But I treasure my life, so I have an alternate proposal. Let us resolve this by holy challenge.”
“As if we’d fall for that crap,” Miyue said. “You’re much stronger than all of us.”
Huxian agreed. “We’d be stupid to agree to something like that.”
“How dare a bunch of juniors like you mouth off!” one of Lord Boneshift’s honor guard said, but the badger lord cut him off.
“I realize that your strength naturally comes not from a single demon, but from a group,” Lord Boneshift said. “Therefore, I revise my alternate challenge: myself against the seven of you. Do you dare?”
His words silenced both armies. Mr. Mountain’s eyes narrowed, and Huxian’s eyes glinted. This was exactly the kind of opportunity they’d been waiting for. Lord Boneshift had long been issuing challenges, but Mr. Mountain hadn’t even thought of accepting them, because a one-on-one battle given their situation was ludicrous. How could Mr. Mountain, a late-stage-investiture demon back then, fight such a powerful demon?
But this… this was winnable. This was a proper gamble to take. A difficult gamble to refuse. There were implications with this kind of challenge. If they as a group were too weak to govern, it was obvious that they should step down.
Huxian stepped up beside Mr. Mountain. “So let me clarify something, Mr. Bone Badger.”
“My name is not Mr. Bone Badger,” Lord Boneshift said. “Please don’t insult me.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Huxian said. “Just tell me. If we win, you’ll all surrender and join our territory under our rule? As long as it’s reasonable, obviously.”
Lord Boneshift nodded. “All I want is a good life for me and my people. If I cannot achieve that goal, I’ll settle for a good life for them at the cost of my own. My blood oath on it.”
“No, you can’t!” one of Lord Boneshift’s retainers said, but Lord Boneshift cuffed him across the face.
“You dare question me?” the badger lord shouted. “Swear it!”
The honor guard bitterly followed along. “My blood oath on it!” they shouted.
Huxian nodded. “Very well. Our blood oath on it!” He took out a small dagger and cut his palm, allowing blood to well up and sprinkle on the ground. A similar cut appeared across the palm of each of his friends, even though they drew no blades.
The armies on both sides mirrored their oaths, and just like that, the sacred rite was initiated. A proper battle for honor and glory began.
Both armies gave the challengers the space they needed, clearing both the earth and the sky as well.
The demons began to chant, and their communal energies summoned forth a massive barrier. Such a thing was impossible to accomplish for a single demon. They had to be united in purpose as they summoned the land to bless those who followed the most ancient of traditions.
A melodic but familiar voice called out from above. “Summon your demon weapons! Summon your demon armor! Ready… begin!”
Huxian recognized the voice as the same one he’d heard during the dream of rain. The fact that she could now clearly speak was startling, but he had no time to ponder the implications, because now, it was do or die.
His team projected their investitures while Lord Boneshift fused with the land. It was seven against one, but the badger lord was already winning.
***
Twelve hours after the conclusion of the second day’s fighting, the enemy had yet to advance. Oster’s troops were busy recovering and rearming for an inevitable third day of battle, and the demons of Verdant Crossroads were also preparing.
Both sides had suffered greatly in the previous confrontations. Hundreds of thousands of demons were dead, and many times as many humans.
In Cha Ming’s opinion, it was all a senseless waste, but no matter how much he wished otherwise, there was no changing the situation. This was war, and war was cruel. Many more would die before it finally ended.
Yu Wen was currently lying on stretcher in a dirt room amidst the Tree of Life’s large roots. Xiao Bai was watching over her and refused to leave her side no matter what anyone said. Despite having physically recovered, she wouldn’t wake, and no matter how he looked at her, she seemed all right.
Except she wasn’t. She was comatose, and no one knew when she would awaken.
Cha Ming had lingered here for the past half day. He’d hoped and done all he can. But the final battle was coming, and as little help as he was, it was better than doing nothing.
So he left. He said his goodbyes and traveled to a hidden room deep within the Tree of Life where Sun Wukong lay. With the soul-gathering sage grass nurturing his spirit, things were looking a lot more promising. With every passing second, the Tree of Life’s twelve lifesource hearts dwindled, and the body’s aura strengthened.
“How much longer?” Cha Ming asked.
“A week? Perhaps ten days?” Clever Dusk answered.
“More time than we have,” Cha Ming said.
“If we survive the day, I believe we’ll be fine,” Clever Dusk said. “The chaos you caused across the realm is no small feat, Teacher. Countries will be reeling for decades.”
Cha Ming sighed. “I knew how much trouble it would cause, but I did it anyway. Does that make me a bad person, Clever Dusk?”
“I don’t think so,” Clever Dusk said.
“But many will die as a result of my actions,” Cha Ming said.
“True,” Clever Dusk said. “But would you have spread a plague for the same effect?”
Cha Ming saw the distinction she was trying to make. The chaos was a result of helping people. A side effect, as it were.
And yet it did not feel that way. He had expected the chaos and unpredictability. His intervention in the Dao origins were ultimately selfish.
“You don’t have to stay and fight, you know,” Clever Dusk said. “You can sit this one out with the craftsmen. I’ve always said you’re wasted on the battlefield, and my opinion on that hasn’t changed.”
“Every bit helps,” Cha Ming said. “Tomorrow, you’ll need a builder, but today, you need a warrior.”
“As long as you don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be happy,” Clever Dusk said.
“Don’t worry,” Cha Ming said. “I won’t risk my neck on a suicide mission. I’ll hang out with you at the back and protect you until the end. Anyone else can fall in this battle, but you cannot, Clever Dusk. I’m no force of nature like Elder Finleaf, but I can pull a few tricks out of my bag in a pinch.”
“Very well,” Clever Dusk said. “Then I accept your protection.” And from then on, Cha Ming accompanied her wherever she went.
Soon, the war would erupt again. The following battle would decide everything. Every minute was precious, and therefore spent with purpose, be it for recovery, restocking, or reorganization.
The councillor of wind, a demon of the Blightgale Sparrow bloodline, had perished in the war, and another demon of wind, an initial-fusion-realm Tempest Hawk, had been elevated to replace him.
Many squads had required reorganization and redistribution after the disastrous losses in the previous battle. Aaron Shacklebolt and Merenthal took care of this. The sheer logistics of feeding such an army were daunting as well, because in times of war, demons had a hefty appetite.
Weapons were sharpened. Large chunks of monstrous demon meat were roasted on large fires with spits, or even eaten raw. Fruits were stripped from every tree, and trees were chopped down and consumed, roots and all.
Then the preparations ended. Cha Ming and Clever Dusk positioned themselves at the outskirts of the city where they would meet the army and do battle. Not because they wouldn’t receive benefits closer to the Tree of Life, but because they didn’t dare receive them. If Fendal claimed the Tree of Life, they would win.
Oster Fireblight flew up from Fendal’s army and bridged the gap between their forces.
Elder Finleaf split off a projection to meet him.
“You can still surrender, Elder Finleaf,” Oster said. “There’s no need to fight this out. I’ll even offer you pre-war terms as a show of good faith. No need to break the bank.”
Elder Finleaf smirked. “You’re ten thousand years too early to be asking for my surrender, boy. Tell me, are you not afraid of incurring the wrath of the Verdant Thread Seer? Have you not wondered about the nature of her seclusion and if it might end anytime soon? You must believe me when I say that no one on this continent can escape the Thread Seer’s grudge. But if you leave now, I might persuade her to go easy on you.”
Oster laughed. “If the Thread Seer was awake, I would retreat immediately. Not only that, I would send you war reparations. But alas, she is not, so here we are.”
“There’s no need to trouble her,” Elder Finleaf said. “I alone am enough. As for reparations, there’s no need either. We looted a small fortune from your camp and even captured a bunch of officers and doctors. I’m sure ransoming them off will net us a tidy profit. Maybe enough to buy a bit of land in Fendal.”
“It seems you’re planning on refusing my kindness,” Oster said.
“If that’s your kindness, I pity your friends and your neighbors,” Elder Finleaf said. “Now, are we done, or would you like to continue? If so, I’d be happy to oblige you in wasting even more of your precious time.”
“You’ll regret this,” Oster said.
“I’ve never regretted anything in my life,” Elder Finleaf said. “And I’m not about to start now.” Both sides parted, and horns and drums sounded. Shortly after, the battle commenced.
Fendal’s troops marched into the city in an orderly fashion. They took their time and fanned out in a sweeping motion, using the same tools as before to force out those hiding from the Starry Road.
Verdant Crossroads’s forces retreated. They wrapped around the enemy army and prepared to nip at their flanks and heels.
This was the initial phase of the incursion, so there weren’t any pitched battles. No traps were triggered either. But both armies knew that it was only a matter of time.
Fendal’s army was a quarter of the way into the city when the battle began in earnest. The land exploded, trapping tens of thousands of bronze rankers and sending five times as many flying into the air with earth and stone and sand.
“Defensive formation!” an enemy general called out.
“Quick recovery!” another yelled.
The bronze rankers quickly found their footing—those who survived the initial impact, at least. As though guided by magic, they fell back to the ground in orderly ranks.
But before they could properly prepare, an army emerged from the Starry Road Network and immediately unleashed a salvo upon the bronze rankers before retreating. When the enemy pursued, they were cut off by mobile Daoists and tens of thousands of flying swords; the enemy had to accept the harassment as they trundle onward toward the Tree of Life, their main objective.
This was one of the trump cards that Aaron Shacklebolt had yet to reveal: combination tactics. No other army in Mendin had so many Daoists and demons at their disposal. This meant that even a genius general like Oster and his experienced generals would have trouble adapting.
And those were only the land battles. Silver rankers and other stronger cultivators took to the skies. They fought in formations of a hundred or a thousand, with human forces taking advantage of uniformity of specialization to execute time-honored tactics, and demons using their terrain-altering skills and group manifestations. Terrain manipulation was standard, and the human tacticians knew how to deal with it. But group manifestations were as varied as the stars, and they sent the human strategists scrambling.
It was order and precision versus unpredictability and savagery. The humans had magic, but the demons had traps. And even in the air, in the sky, it was possible to manipulate the landscape to harass enemy forces and bolster friendlies.
Cha Ming, from his position in Clever Dusk’s personal detail, saw this all in great detail. He was not like Clever Dusk, whose eyes constantly roamed the ever-changing battlefield as she communicated with Aaron Shacklebolt and pulled the occasional thread. Even as he watched the warring silver rankers, he saw the effects of her silent actions. Sometimes, it was as simple as changing the trajectory of a powerful technique, and sometimes it was as simple as messing with their communications.
Clever Dusk’s effectiveness on the battlefield could not be doubted. This naturally made her a prime target. It wasn’t long before a group of a thousand silver rankers broke through the encirclement in a probing offensive.
“They’re coming!” Cha Ming shouted, using his domain to deflect attacks that managed to sneak through.
“Relax,” Clever Dusk said. She tugged at a bundle of strings, and tiny silver threads tightened around the thousand silver-ranked warriors who were barely a hundred meters away, appearing directly in front of them and breaking their charge. A wall of pikes was nothing in comparison, as the threads mercilessly lopped off limps and dissected the charging group. Half of them were dead before they even realized what was happening.
Pay attention and don’t get distracted by small things,” Clever Dusk said. “That was a feint, and the real battle is taking place over there.” A group of a hundred gold rankers was nibbling away at silver-ranked forces a few kilometers away. “Merenthal, it’s time.” She pulled a string, and a door opened. Merenthal and his honor guard had finally joined the battle.
His effect on the battlefield was felt immediately. A half year of constant fighting had brought his strength up to the early fusion realm. His demon armor was covered in signstone plates painted with mysterious glyphs, and by using it, he was able to go toe-to-toe with even middle-fusion-realm demons.
He and his honor guard of ten fusion-ranked demons locked blades with a hundred gold rankers, locking them down and preventing them from sowing chaos.
The quick reversal did more than save the silver rankers. It supported the entire flank, the entire defensive line.
The battle continued, and the demons, severely outnumbered, were forced to give ground. The opposing army, knowing their time was short, was happy to trade lives to make that happen. Clever Dusk and Aaron whittled away at Oster’s army, and together, they managed to shave away a tenth of it before it reached the halfway point.
“Something’s changing,” Cha Ming said.
“Yes,” Clever Dusk agreed. A strange pulse filled the battlefield, and Oster’s entire army suddenly sped up.
“Clever Dusk, we must block their advance,” Merenthal said from across the battlefield. “If they break through, we won’t be able to prevent a direct assault on the Tree of Life.”
“Very well,” Clever Dusk said. “You may release our first wave of reinforcements.” With that order, guerilla forces retreated, and the battle entered a new phase as a hundred thousand new arrivals poured out of the Starry Road Network.
The constructs had arrived. So many Cha Ming couldn’t believe his eyes. Most of them were brittle and made of sand and mismatched ores, but even so, he pegged each one at having the strength of an early- or middle-bronze ranker.
And those were only the weakest of them. There were four battalions of a thousand silver-ranked constructs present. Two battalions had been made by Drezil and his people over the past half year, but somehow, in just a few days, they’d been able to produce so many of them.
These weren’t puppets. These were golems. Autonomous ones. They would follow the orders of anyone with a command medallion and were otherwise self-supporting. They mostly took the form of beasts, some made of stone, sand, and wood. Each one had a small glowing heart at their core responsible for their autonomous actions, though Cha Ming noticed that they were much weaker than others he’d seen before.
“How is this even possible?” Cha Ming asked. “That’s… too many!”
Drezil and Graceful Twilight left the Starry Road atop their winged qilin, surrounded by a few dozen constructs at initial-gold rank.
“Normally this wouldn’t be possible,” Clever Dusk said. “Such a huge number of golems is a great expense. But if it’s just producing a large number of them for a short period of time, certain compromises can be made.
“Their helpers carved out rough outlines, and they finished them to the bare minimum. Truth be told, they won’t even last three days. But by then, we will no longer need them.”
“But the amount of heartflame required…” Cha Ming said. He knew it took a lot out of Graceful Twilight to produce them.
“With the help of her clansmen and pills, she managed,” Clever Dusk said. “These flames aren’t pure, and the heartflames are the weakest part of their construction. In essence, we’ve thrown money at the problem to prevent as many civilian casualties as possible.”
Constructs aside, there was also another unliving army. The Runebound Clan had summoned fifty thousand desert serpents. Although this was not a large number compared to the rest of the construct army, it was still a legitimate fighting force.
These two groups were further reinforced by hundreds of thousands of bestial demons that poured out into the battlefield from their respective preserves, full of bloodlust and frustration. Cha Ming saw that many of their leaders were Painted Demons. They were free to do what they wished, but here they were, fighting in a war they shouldn’t care about.
“Some of these bestial demons we mobilized from our preserves, but most of them volunteered,” Clever Dusk explained. “These demons were chased out of their natural habitats by Oster Fireblight and his army during their eastern advance. They are but a small portion of the land’s inhabitants, but they, along with their painted brethren, have come to repay a debt in blood.”
What began as a smaller army of a hundred thousand instantly swelled to an army of five hundred thousand. And if that wasn’t enough, Drezil and Graceful Twilight joined hands. The bindings of earth and fire on their bodies glowed with a bright, iridescent light, which proceeded to excite the heartflames inside each stone construct.
The already-fragile constructs began to destabilize as they charged alongside the desert serpents and bestial demons. All three groups were alike in that they had come to die with their enemies.
“The constructs, I understand, but the bestial demons?” Cha Ming muttered.
“You pity them?” Clever Dusk asked.
“Yes,” Cha Ming said.
“They are simply doing what they wish, Teacher,” Clever Dusk said. “Even the Painted Demons among their ranks understand. They here for blood, not profit, Cha Ming. Their families were destroyed, their lands taken. They are not here for any materials gains. They are here for revenge.”
With such a massive army as their vanguard, Verdant Crossroads’s army no longer hesitated. Weaker troops could only do so much, but a sudden and overwhelming ground meant that the silver rankers no longer had the luxury of cover from below.
And there was no stopping the slaughter, because the demon army was completely disposable. They had given up on life and would fight to death.
Having lost the bronze-rank advantage, the silver rankers became more skittish, and the defenders, quick to pounce on any weaknesses, began to initiate clashes and collisions. Large-scale spell formations were suddenly thrown into the mix, and demons began to utilize their manifestations.
Gold rankers and fusion-realm demons finally joined the battle. But like the bronze rankers on either side, there was a difference in temperament between each side. The gold rankers were here for money, but the fusion-realm demons were here for blood.
The gold rankers were afraid. Even now, they avoided forming too-large clusters for long periods of time, lest they be targeted by the God-Slaying Battalion. This opened them up to several attacks by large groups of demon melee combatants.
The battle was a mess, but it was also a dance. From his vantage point, Cha Ming could see the threads that were pulled and the orders that were issued. Aaron was a strategist who preferred using smaller skills to leverage their effects in smaller situations, and Clever Dusk did much the same.
Still, Clever Dusk did not move from her position. Time wasted on movement was time she wasn’t directing the battlefield. So Cha Ming stood guard and watched with a dry mouth and sweaty hands.
He was waiting. Waiting for the inevitable moment of life and death. And as he did, hundreds of thousands of living creatures perished.
***
Two long, bloody hours passed by. Off the battlefield, that was only a short amount of time, but on it, it was an eternity. Maintaining vigilance and fighting for such an extended period was exhausting.
“It’s about time,” Clever Dusk said, looking up. Few of the seven hundred remaining gold rankers had been slain thus far in the battle, and now, they were assembling in formations.
Clever Dusk gestured, and the God-Slaying Battalion appeared, but just as the gold rankers were hesitant to attack, they, too, were hesitant to launch a salvo of arrows. The stalemate continued for a time.
“They noticed the weakness,” Clever Dusk said. “Drat.”
The gold rankers began attacking, and soon it was the God-Slaying Battalion and their defenders who were on their back feet.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Cha Ming asked.
“The enemy generals have noticed that by using late-gold rankers to shield their weaker gold rankers, they can completely neutralize our God-Slaying Battalion,” Clever Dusk said. She grasped a dozen strings and pulled, and Aaron Shacklebolt, on another secret part of the battlefield, began shouting out orders.
“Disruptive charge. Tighten the ranks!” the general shouted. Their forces reorganized into layered defensive lines, though in the end, this only served to slow the mass of gold rankers.
“Swords!” Clever Dusk shouted. A group of Daoists and demons answered her call. A hundred top-tier cultivators launched their techniques and defended the God-Slaying Battalion.
“Elder Finleaf!” Clever Dusk called out. The Star-Eye clanswoman executed her fusion transformation and launched herself onto the battlefield with her massive staff.
Late-gold rankers were powerful, but strong demons would prove more than a match for them. Her sudden presence on the battlefield forced the gold ranker to pull back.
“Shoot! Rapid Fire!” Aaron shouted. The God-Slaying Battalion let loose. Three quarters of their arrows broke on shields, but thanks to Elder Finleaf’s attack, the last quarter found their mark. Scores of gold rankers fell from the sky.
The battlefield devolved into chaos once more as fusion-realm demons and Daoists charged in to pick off wounded gold rankers. They reaped lives with great efficiency, but the cost was great.
Cha Ming’s heart broke a little as his acquaintances finally became casualties. The First Feather, who’d supported him all this time, perished.
She was the first of many to fall. A councillor Cha Ming had seen many times, the councillor of water, fell shortly after while covering Elder Finleaf’s retreat. And even then, the elder barely managed to extricate herself and took a deep wound to her gut to finally break through the enemy encirclement.
But the sacrifice had been worth it. Cha Ming could see that, even though it pained him. Hundreds of gold rankers had fallen for the low cost of twenty or so fusion-realm demons and Daoists.
And the gold-ranked casualties were only growing. The God-Slaying Battalion, having spent their last volley, still had over two hundred shots remaining. They had scattered across the battlefield, using four-fifths of their members as decoys to cover the one-fifth in snipers awaiting opportunities.
Death was all around, and no one was spared. Ancient demons who had survived thousands of years finally drew their last breath, and Painted Daoists who had begun cultivating yesterday and had migrated to Verdant Crossroads to fight a battle that wasn’t theirs perished by the thousands.
Clans of all stripes shed blood. Farmers took up arms and charged into battle.
Even the Titan Clan was fighting. They had been born with superior bodies and were craftsmen at heart, but even so, they were fighting and dying, their hammers and fists shattering weapons and bone and armor, seeing no distinction between either.
Titan Thunderfist was the mightiest among them, and he did battle alongside Daoist Stormwind. Together, they fought through blade and flame to reach the beleaguered Elder Finleaf and fully extricate her from the enemy formation. Then, when everyone thought they would retreat, they began to rampage.
A Daoist, a human with the Skyforge Titan’s bloodline, and the strongest demon in Verdant Crossroads after the Verdant Thread Seer, started a massacre.
Gold rankers fell by the dozen. Numbers could do nothing to stop them. Lightning rained from the sky, and a projection of the Skyforge Titan melted both armor and weapons. Arrows burned away before they could leave their bows, and even spell books were set ablaze. Whoever was brave enough to physically reach them learned firsthand that neither of their reputations were unwarranted.
It took dozens of middle-gold rankers and a few late-gold rankers to contain them. Even a cardinal of the Church of Harid Dej joined in. And yet, Cha Ming couldn’t help but notice that on a much smaller battlefield, a tragedy was unfolding.
Iridescent Charity, who’d taught him so much alchemy, and who, by all rights, should have been kept in reserve to teach the next generation, perished.
She died via self-detonation while taking down a group of silver rankers in an explosion of iridescent flames. Was it a worthy exchange? Perhaps. Could she have done better? Probably.
But then her student, Iridescent Virtue, might not have crawled out from the ruins that the silver rankers had surrounded.
It was only a small battle. A meaningless battle. But for Cha Ming, it struck home.
