Chapter 13: The Battle in Bradford
Hidden out of sight behind a small outdoor kiosk that sold fresh fruit, Dal watched in disgust as several hundred guards charged valiantly at a monster beyond understanding—and were defeated with ease. Actually, it was more accurate to say they were getting destroyed.
God above, he thought, a chill racing down his spine. How can something like this exist?
The scene before him was one straight out of the darkest of nightmares. Here, on one of Bradford's main roads that led from the stables, through the town square, and eventually to the entrance, there were dozens upon dozens of mutilated bodies, nearly all belonging to innocent civilians who'd been caught up in the rampage of what appeared to be an actual demon. Mixed in were a number of horses, several of which had been sliced apart and left in numerous pieces: big chunks that added to the fresh coat of "red" paint that continued to stain Bradford.
A moment ago, the guards had arrived on the scene; some began evacuating the citizens, but the rest took to subduing the demon. And so far, it was not going well.
Now, the entirety of Bradford became awash with three distinct sounds: battle shouts, death screams, and the demon's screech. Men—and a few women—charged at the beast with swords, spears, and a few fired arrows from bows. But so far, very little was proving itself to be effective against such a heinous monster as the arrows bounced right off its reddish-black flesh.
"Attack!" they cried as they rushed at the hideous creature, whose large mouth was hanging open, revealing its numerous sets of sharp, fang-like teeth. If Dal didn't know any better, he'd almost think the monstrous entity was laughing. Right now, he had a fairly decent view of the creature as it hovered just a few feet above the street with its sword raised.
The first five guards to reach the demon surrounded it, with three in front and two behind. The three in front held swords, and the other two behind wielded lances. But none were able to strike, as the Demon seized the initiative, flying forward and attacking the sword-wielding men before it.
"Defend!" cried out one of the three men, prompting all three to raise their shields defensively. But the demon, lashing out wildly and with such impressive strength, managed to shatter all three shields with just one angry, powerful, and horizontal slash of its longsword; then it followed up with a second slash, and this one tore through all three guards around their midsection, fully severing their bodies in half and causing the two spear-wielding guards to shriek in fear and retreat. But the demon, turning around its blood-soaked body midair, lashed out with its swordless, clawed hand, ripping through these two just as easily as it had done with its sword.
"It really is a demon!" one of the guards cried, turning around to flee. This led to a second, third, and fourth guard turning tail and running away. But not all ran. Another ten guards charged forward, and the demon, screeching, flew across the air to meet them head-on. It then went on a rampage, slicing the throats of two men, mauling another three, and biting the entire head off a sixth.
Dal watched, sickened, as it crunched and crunched, its mouth opened widely enough so that he could actually see the dead guard's severed head flatten, break apart, and become reduced to blood and mush until, at last, it was swallowed. During this time, the other guards stabbed and slashed at the demon, doing some, but minimal damage. Yet upon its consumption of the dead guard's head, the very few scrapes and dents in its body that it had sustained sealed up and healed. It then spun midair, fast, and sliced its blade in all directions at once; just like that, all nearby guards were torn apart, screaming as they died, many of them missing arms and legs.
They're not going to win against that thing, Dal thought, clenching his hands into fists. It's going to kill every single one of them!
All along the road, the guards began to hesitate as though uncertain of what they should be doing. But the demon did not wait for them to decide. It made another screech and raised its long, thin sword up above its goat-eyed head, and the weapon began to glow a dark purple while radiating an equally purple smoke. Then, with yet another screech, the creature made three fast, continuous swinging motions with the weapon in the air in front of it, and following each slash, a line-shaped streak of purple, laser-like energy shot off its sword and blasted through the air, flying across the street. Each one was wide enough that it spanned the width of the entire road.
"R-run!" many of the guards screamed.
But it was too late.
The first one alone tore eight different guards into multiple pieces as it went right through each one of them, including the silver-haired guard who had shown Dal kindness and released him from his cell. The second purple streak of energy took down even more of the guards, as this one traveled in a perfectly horizontal trajectory and made it all the way down the street before vanishing into nothingness—but not before mutilating twenty men and two women, including one injured civilian who had been trying to escape. The third—and final—streak looked like it would be the deadliest yet, as it was heading straight for a spot towards the middle of the street where about twenty guards were cluttered together.
And it should've killed them. But it didn't.
A mere instant before the purple, slicing energy put a permanent end to another twenty lives, there was a static-like buzz, and from out of nowhere, a flat, but massively tall screen of golden, glowing energy burst into existence, and so rather than strike the guards, the energy rammed into—and dissipated—against this miraculous wall. Then the wall itself vanished, and now, stepping out from the crowd of frightened guards was a young, blond-haired man who Dal recognized as being Denin Taylor.
"Run!" he said to them. "We'll handle this from here!"
"Thank you!" they cried, many with tears in their eyes.
Its attack thwarted, the demon looked directly at Denin, and with rage in its eyes, it screeched at him. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
As the men retreated, the demon's sword lit up with the same dark purple energy, but this time, it only made one angry slash in the air, sending one large, wide streak of purple, slicing energy at Denin, who in turn raised up his scepter. The ruby at the end of it began to glow a bright red, and the wall returned, protecting him from the creature's attack. Like before, the purple streak hit the golden wall and came to an end.
"Now!" he shouted out, his eyes flicking upwards and to the left.
It was only in this moment that Dal realized there were three people standing on the roof of a three-story parlor house just off the main road: Prince Alain, Rethi Sunbrae, and Lord Garrick Ashmere.
Finally, Dal thought, becoming hopeful. Maybe now I can get the hell out of here.
Still, he hesitated for just a moment. He knew it was a foolish thing to do. He knew that now was his chance to make a break for it. But he was worried about that damn prince and his cohorts. But surely, they were capable of killing this demon, no? After all, it was the whole reason they'd come out here. There was no way they'd do that unless they were prepared to win exactly this kind of battle—right?
Initially, at least, that seemed to be exactly the case.
Following Denin's shout, his ruby began to glow again on the tip of his scepter, and from out of nothingness, a bunch of golden, floating, and brilliantly bright magical orbs made of light itself began rotating around the demon. Then, with a powerful, but startlingly unexpected flash of light, the orbs grew in size until they became elongated and connected to one another, forming something of a construct in the shape of a birdcage. Afterwards, the light changed, turning solid and golden so that, now, the demon was trapped inside of a large, birdcage-like object in the middle of the street that looked to be made of a hard, durable, and gold-colored steel.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" the demon screeched as it began to bash its sword and clawed hands against the confines of its cage.
"Denin's got it!" Lord Ashmere shouted. "Kill the demon!"
Prince Alain and Lord Ashmere then leapt together, side by side, off the top of the parlor house. Prince Alain raised his sword, which glowed with holy light, and Lord Ashmere similarly raised his absurdly huge two-handed claymore. Rethi, however, remained where she was as she pointed her staff directly at the golden birdcage.
Suddenly, the air above the demon began to shift uneasily and swirl, forming ten palm-sized miniature tornadoes in the air—or at least that was what they had appeared to be at first. But as these ten separate disturbances spun faster and faster, the air itself ignited, and now, ten much larger balls of fire began circling around and around just above the demon.
"Release it!" Rethi shouted. "Denin!"
Dal watched, amazed, as the birdcage vanished in an instant, freeing the demon. But now, with a heat so intense that Dal could feel it even from where he was hiding, the ten fireballs all collapsed upon the demon at once, causing a painfully bright inferno to briefly drown out all other sights on the street. And to Dal's shock, the prince and Lord Ashmere dropped directly down into this inferno, vanishing from sight.
Dal held his breath as he heard a loud clang, but all he could see was the swirling, fiery inferno, which was slowly beginning to dissipate. What was happening in there? Were they okay? Had they killed the creature? Dal almost left his hiding place to get a better look as the inferno faded slowly and then finally extinguished. But even as it did so, there was far too much smoke in its wake to see much of anything. Eventually, however, this smoke drifted upwards and onto the wind. Now, finally, Dal could see the result of the attack the four of them had launched together.
And it wasn't good.
No!
Prince Alain and Garrick were positioned in front and behind the demon, respectively, and the demon, whose body was turned at an angle, had its left arm and right arm fully extended to both sides of itself. At the moment, the prince's sword was pressing against the demon's blade, the two locked in a vicious struggle, and the same was happening between the demon and Lord Garrick Ashmere, whose tremendous claymore could not seem to overpower the demon's clawed hand.
It's not even damaged. Rethi's magic didn't even manage to burn it!
"It's so…strong!" the prince groaned, visibly straining as he locked blades with the demon. "Rethi, hit it with something!"
"O-okay!" She extended her staff, twirled it up, around, and to the side of herself, and then stabbed it straight down onto the ground. The moment the base of her weapon struck the roof, a spear made of lightning materialized above the demon, falling straight down on top of it.
But it failed to find its mark.
The demon, screeching, made a lurching movement forward, overpowering the prince and sending him sprawling onto his back. Then, with a powerful flap of its wings, it flew forward, over the prince, and away from Lord Ashmere just as the spear made of lightning struck the pavement, tore through the road, and briefly sent tendrils of electricity throughout the concrete before quickly being dispersed and grounded.
At this, Dal had now seen enough. The prince was going to die here. They all were. He swore. Ostros would be robbed of a decent man, and God above only knew what this would spell out for the future of the kingdom.
I can't just hide here and do nothing, Dal thought, trembling as he watched this unfold. But this is my only chance to escape!
Even if Dal wanted to help, the question was also whether or not he could.
Time Remaining: 2 minutes, 31 seconds
And herein was the problem: right now, Dal was a member of the Lion Tamer class, and he was without a lion. Thus, not only was he powerless to do a thing for at least the next two-and-a-half minutes, but even when he shifted, there was no guarantee he'd get a Battle Class. In fact, he probably only got assigned a Battle Class once out of every six or so shifts. And even if he did get a Battle Class, what was the chance of him getting one strong enough and leveled enough to leave so much as a dent in something as monstrous as this demon?
He really didn't want the four of them to die. The idea of it sent a feeling of nausea straight through him. But wait! Maybe they wouldn't. Perhaps he'd completely misjudged their potential. He felt his eyes opening wider, and he heard himself gasp as Lord Ashmere released a loud growl and threw himself at the demon.
And now, Dal finally got to see what a Dragon Knight was capable of doing.
"Get back here, you piece of shit!" he yelled as he switched his grip on his claymore to one hand and reached out with his other while dashing forward and jumping into the air. Incredibly—astoundingly!—he managed to just grab hold of the corner of its right wing, which was serrated on the ends such that it caused blood to leak out of his palm and slither down his wrist. Yet he didn't seem to care.
With another angry growl, he whipped his arm downwards and managed to actually throw the demon out of the air and slam it onto the concrete, where it smashed straight through and left an indentation in the ground in the shape of its body. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" it screeched as Lord Ashmere, still airborne, now once more gripped his claymore with both hands, and with that, he brought the weapon directly down on top of the demon and slit its throat, nearly managing to take its head off in the process. It caused extremely dark blood to shoot out of its neck in a spray while it continued to screech, and it also caused the creature to slam right back down onto its back.
"You're done," he growled at it.
Lord Ashmere readied his weapon again, and he slashed down at the demon once more, this time cutting it open from its right shoulder to its chest and causing another spray of blood. Finally, with a loud, angry roar, he brought his weapon down for what would hopefully be a third, final slash. But the demon, still able to fight, quickly lifted itself up into a sitting position while pivoting its hips and slashing its blade up and across the air above itself, resulting in the two weapons colliding.
Despite the fact that its thin, but very long sword was clashing against a massive claymore, the demon's weapon somehow won out, and Dal filled with alarm as Lord Ashmere's Claymore went flying off into the distance until crashing through the window of the parlor; this, as the demon stood up on its feet.
Now, its wings starting to flap, it once more hovered above the ground, its hatred focused almost exclusively on Lord Ashmere, who, unarmed, laughed in its face. The demon struck out at the man, aiming to decapitate him, but Lord Ashmere bent his knees and ducked low, letting the weapon pass over his head before lunging forward and wrapping his powerful, armored arms around the demon's body, grabbing the creature.
Then he activated some kind of skill: one Dal had never seen before.
And it was incredible.
With his arms tightly gripping the center of the demon's mass, Lord Ashmere—along with the demon—began spinning around and around so fast that it created a gust of wind powerful enough to push nearby, mutilated body parts farther along down the street. Several fingers and a few hands rolled along the concrete as the two spun faster and faster and faster until a visible cyclone formed, one that extended from Lord Ashmere's feet to about ten feet in the air above his head.
And then he jumped.
With his arms still wrapped around the demon, Lord Ashmere launched himself straight upwards to the apex of the cyclone, all while spinning around so fast that his body had become an indiscernible blur. Yet even though Dal could no longer make out his individual features, he was just able to notice that, upon reaching the top of the cyclone, Lord Ashmere spun both himself and the demon upside down before blasting towards the concrete at an incredible speed.
And then came the boom.
Like an anvil dropped from the sky, Lord Ashmere slammed the demon, headfirst, into the concrete road, crashing into it with such force that it caused a rumbling sensation beneath Dal's feet and left a crater in the ground that had to be at least ten feet deep.
Incredible, he thought. He actually did it!
There were cheers now: from the prince, from Denin, and from Rethi. But also, from the nearly hundred surviving guards who had failed to put so much as a dent in the beast.
Lord Ashmere emerged from the crater, his armor badly damaged, pieces of it missing or torn, and blood dripping down both sides of his face. The moment the guards saw him, they raised their hands and cheered, screaming his name. "Lord Ashmere! Lord Ashmere!"
But something was wrong. He did not look pleased. He looked defeated. He also looked dazed, too. And with a groan, he fell forward onto his stomach with an audible plop, causing a loud, panicked gasp to escape the lips of all who were watching, including Dal. And then this gasp turned into a collective shout as a fast-moving blur from the crater shot up, out, and into the air.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"