[Nicole Anstalionah]
The sky was a black blanket, thick with smoke and drifting ash, and the air tasted of iron and fire.
The land itself had been carved open by mana, deep scars marring the terrain with massive craters still steaming and blackened soil hissing beneath fractured stone.
Burned corpses and twisted limbs sprawled in every direction, the stench of blood mingling with the acrid tang of magic as it clung stubbornly to the wind.
This wasn't a battlefield. It was a grave.
Mana still hung in the air like a restless ocean, waves crashing, turbulent and unending, and even now the remnants of unleashed spells whispered in the wind, humming with anger.
I looked down at my blood-soaked blade, the metal still warm, my gauntlet creaking as I gripped the hilt tighter.
For the first time since the battle began, I let myself sigh, not from exhaustion, but from the swelling pressure of new worries Malachi had burdened me with.
He had sent me to lead a small detachment, barely a few hundred strong, to strike down an enemy fortress, nothing more than a surgical mission.
Reality tore that plan apart. We hadn't found a fortress; we found an army. And we clashed.
Now all that remained were corpses, smoldering wreckage, and the low moans of those too broken to cry. Only a handful of my own still breathed, and the enemy fared no better.
Jen emerged from the haze with blood on her boots and bandages in hand. "Nicole… let me, just this once."
I didn't answer immediately.
Heat still radiated from my armor, and when I finally removed my gauntlet and arm brace, a deep black bruise stretched across my forearm, veins bulging beneath the skin.
Jen sucked in a sharp breath. "By his divine thunder, it's spreading faster than I thought."
She pressed her hands gently to the wound, channeling mana just enough to dull the pain, and though it ebbed slightly, it didn't fade.
Her armor was lighter than mine, and she carried no blade, only her healer's kit.
Normally, she could patch me up in seconds, but she was holding back. She had to.
We were all running dry.
"What do we do now?" she asked quietly while tying off the bandages, her voice almost defeated.
"We move," I said sharply. "The base still stands. I'll bring it down myself if I have to."
I stepped forward and amplified my voice with mana so it echoed across the field. "If you can move, return to camp. If you can't, then lie here and rot."
Jen gave a nervous laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Bit harsh, don't you think? What if more of them are still out there?"
I didn't even turn. "I'd know."
This wasn't intuition; it was power. Despite being outnumbered five to one, one thousand of us to their five thousand, we had held.
Only because I was here, if I hadn't been, they would have crushed us in under an hour.
Now I could sense maybe five of my allies left, six at most. As for the enemy, like I said before, none. It was over.
I turned and took her hand. "Are you coming with me?"
She looked up, weariness in her eyes. "If I don't… I'm afraid you'll die."
I smiled and began to walk forward, ash curling around my boots. "You sure know how to flatter a girl."
She scoffed, glancing at my sword. "Do you plan to swing it until death?"
War was a human convocation, born from the endless contradictions of our emotions.
Revenge, power, hatred, love, each could fuel battle, yet each could also undermine it, birthing ideals in those too fragile to survive them.
But I have always believed the most dangerous fuel of all… is envy.
And I am filled with it. I envy their weakness, their arrogance, but most of all, I envy their destined defeat.
I let go of her hand, drew a deep breath, and smiled. "I plan to swing my sword until the very last bastard falls to their knees."
Jennifer's eyes narrowed in satisfaction as her hand dropped to her hilt. "Ah, that's what I like to hear."
I turned toward the fortress rising before us.
Archers stood at attention behind stone parapets, bows drawn, while soldiers poured from the black gates in tight formations.
We had pushed Fertical deep into their own land, back beyond Fort Havel.
This was the last major hold before their capital, and Malachi's brutal plan was simple: seize the fortress, claim it, and use it as a forward base to conquer the remaining territories.
The castle towered in defiance, its white brick now stained with soot, its banners hanging low and fluttering weakly in the heated wind.
Across each one was the same emblem: a crowned head wreathed in flame. Vile.
I lifted my sword. "Stand back, Jen. I'll have to go in alone first."
She stepped away reluctantly, eyes scanning the towers. "Don't damage the wall too much. We don't have many earth mages left in the army."
I exhaled and launched forward. Arrows screamed from the ramparts as I slid low, pivoted, and wove between them without breaking stride.
Soldiers rushed from the gates, blades high, battle cries rising, but I cut through them like a silver storm, each swing a clean kill, a slash to the neck, a thrust through the heart, a sweeping arc that dropped three at once.
Bodies crumpled, brittle as clay statues.
Then, without warning, a massive orb of flame roared toward me.
I kicked off the ground, spinning aside as the heat seared my cheek, landing in time to see another wave pouring from the gates as a storm of arrows followed.
I raised my hand. "I don't much like this gift. Take it back."
The arrows froze mid-flight, quivered like startled birds, then reversed, ripping into the archers before they could cry out.
The soldiers hesitated, momentum faltering. I advanced.
Wind gathered along my blade, condensing until the steel shimmered silver, and when I swung in a wide, deliberate arc, a crescent of cutting air erupted outward, shredding the enemy lines.
The wave raced for the wall, only to halt, stopped dead by an unseen barrier.
"Nicole, watch out!" Jennifer's voice cut through the din.
I turned just in time to duck beneath a sweeping blade that howled through the air, rising into a pivot as my steel met his.
He stood before me in silver armor, his frame plated entirely in that cursed insignia, a jagged spiked helmet shadowing his face.
His weapon was a monster in itself, an iron cleaver nearly as tall as he was, swinging with inhuman weight.
Our blades clashed for a heartbeat before raw force hurled me backward, my boots carving deep trenches into the scorched ground.
I slammed a wall of wind behind me to stop, but he was already closing in.
His cleaver lunged; I twisted aside and countered in a downward strike, only for him to roll his shoulder mid-swing, the steel missing by inches.
That weapon was enchanted, I could feel it in the way the air trembled with each swing.
We met again, my knees screaming under the pressure, and then his boot crashed into my chest, sending me spinning through the air.
I hit the earth hard, coughing blood, and saw Jennifer darting toward me.
"Damn it," I hissed.
Before he could reach her, I blinked, space folding as I traded places with her, and his cleaver bit into my ribs.
Jennifer screamed as blood sprayed hot across the ground, and I crashed again, pain flaring white.
The knight stalked forward, laughter muffled behind his visor. "You predicted that?"
I grinned through clenched teeth. "You're not that smart. Just a brute with heavy steel."
He raised the cleaver. "I'm hurt."
Before it fell, I blinked again, swapping our positions, and his blade smashed into the ground, sending dust billowing.
I stood unsteady as Jennifer reached me, hands pressing to the wound, light flaring as she worked.
The knight turned slowly. "That ability is quite annoying. Can't you just drop dead already?"
I raised a hand to stop her. She started to protest, but I blew her skyward with a burst of wind.
"Nah," I said with a crooked grin. "I don't like death all that much. The idea plagues me."