The Minervian side of the Elkait mountain range differed from its Solarian counterpart. While the Solarians kept to the ancient treaty by not establishing forts within the mountains nor at the mouth of the three mountain routes: south, central, and north. The Minervians established countless bases and garrisons. Officially to counter any Solarian invasion, but in reality, it was to launch their own invasion at any moment should their goddess desire one. The kingdom of Marduk used countless capital, resources, and man/demon power to widen the roads so they could cross easier and larger numbers.
They'd assume the Solarians would be as fervent to do the same and expected them to widen the road on their side of the mountain. The Solarians hadn't. Instead, they did something more devious. They established a patrol route that ran along the entire north and south of the mountains. These patrols were always led by an Archsaint. Meaning, no matter how many foot soldiers they gathered, their army was always subject to the natural choke point of the mountains. No demon that could equal an Archsaint could be deployed without said archsaint noticing.
To put it plainly, the horde tactics of old no longer applied here. Instead, Marduk switched to improving the quality of their forces, while sending the weaklings to die in the mountains. After all—tying up even one of the seven Archsaints—aided their allies elsewhere.
Why not sail around though? The northern channel was open to them, and so was the southern channel between Saine and Hidalgo. Surely they could mount an invasion from the sea. And they did. Quite a few times according the historical record. Do you know what's worse than a Solarian Saint?
A Solarian Marine Saint.
In terms of naval technology, the Solarians ruled the southern seas. It was due to the Solarian Holy Navy that no large Minervian force has left the continent of Discordia via the sea since Marduk's establishment. The Solarians blockaded every route and hunted Minervian pirates down the last man. What forces could cross the sea, did so by their own ability to fly. An ability that was not as widespread as the Minervians liked their enemies to believe.
So what were the bored soldiers garrisoning the southern route fortress to think when, not a Solarian, but an Elfanian came from the mountain gap? The Elfanians were neutral in the conflict, not allies, but not explicitly enemies.
"What should we do?" Was the perhaps the most restrained thought among the young commander of the Southern garrison. He was human, striving to become a thrall worth his goddesses' eye. He'd slain his own brothers, slit the throats of dear friends, and finally earned a pair of nubs that would grow to be his horns. This assignment was to show he had capacity to not only gain power but retain his mind. Strength was important, but those without a mind were cannon fonder.
This young man, humbly named—Francisco Diaz—looked to his commanding officer, Salabien. A man who long ago achieved demonhood. The commander's leathery purple skin tightened as he glared at the approaching man with burning black eyes.
"Keep your tethers, you fools!" he barked at the rowdy lesser demons, eager to spill blood. "You do not act without my word. Walk with me, boy."
Francisco did as ordered, following Salabien out of the worn and leaning gate to greet the elf that dared to enter their territory. He knew the half-elf was imposing from afar, but as they approached, the man's true height caused him to crane his neck until he was looking at the sky. This wasn't a mere half-elf. This was a Yorgman. Still, he wasn't a Solarian, so they had the advantage as far as blessings were concerned.
"Who are you?" his commander asked the lone rider. "This is the territory of the goddess Minerva, unless you desire to convert; return the way you came. We've no interest in drawing the ire of Elfania."
"You needed worry about that," the nymph said. "I'm of her tree, but am untangled from her roots. What I do, I do of my will alone."
"And what is your will?" Salabien asked.
"There's a woman in your country I seek to have, a night-elf woman, in case you were wondering."
"I know of no such woman, but if she is here, it is beyond my station to inquire why or allow you audience to those who could." Salabien drew his scimitar. "I shall say once more, return from where you came, elf-boy."
Something hot splattered Francisco's face. He turned to see the bisected remains of his commander fall to the ground in a pile of red gore. Though he'd been certain the nymph hadn't moved. No, he saw something. A tiny light rested on the man's shoulder, a pale green light; it was a Sylph, a wind spirit.
"I'm not here to negotiate. I'm telling you to stand aside or die." The man said as a rainbow of shining orbs appeared around him. They were spirits. All of them! "Your answer, demon-boy?"
Francisco felt his tongue turn to dust and his legs quiver; he'd never felt such fear before. But he didn't crawl on his belly to get to his current position just to be branded a coward! His hand barely brushed the hilt of his sword before an invisible force sent him flying.
No, his head was merely airborne. He watched his body get eviscerated into mincemeat as the darkness closed around his vision. It wasn't fair. He sacrificed and killed to achieve power in the name of his goddess. So why was he dealt such a fate?
His answer came in the form of cackling as his head hit the ground.
The weak are meat for the mighty. Whether they be or mine or others', this remains true.
His goddess was cruel but fair; that is what they said. Surely this was because of the other gods. It had to be. That was his final thought before his head was crushed under Europa's hoof.
Breakio-
At the southern border of Marduk, a fierce battle was underway. The proud and battle hungry demons of the land were flocking towards the entrance to the mountains, each eager as the next to prove their prowess in battle and win their goddess's favor. What many found was merely a swift death.
At the small mountain gap, an opponent like none they've encountered before raged. Rather than their traditional enemy of the saints, a Nymph had wondered into their territory. Many chuckled at the mere thought of an Elfanian attacking the proud Minervian faithful. Some even chortling the battle would be over before they got there, and they were going simply to see the spectacle. A spectacle was indeed what they found, but not the one they envisioned.
Rather than finding the wailing, remorse filled cries of an elf, they found scene only told to them from legend.
"What is this? Is this truly the doing of a mere elf?" One Minervian remarked at the scene before him.
At the mouth of the mountain path stood a fortress that wasn't there before, manned by soldiers of stone and magma. Geysers erupted from the earth, sending many wingless demons flying and spattering to the ground. Lightning rained from a cloudless sky, razor thin jet streams cut through armor and man alike, while explosions erupted from nowhere without cause or reason. It was unbridled chaos.
From his position top the fortress wall, Verk swung his unadorned sword, he's let the spirts run loose, Ignis, Zephyr, Undine, Sylph, Gnome, Wendigo, Blight, Stella, Nyx, all the primordial spirits that predated the elven races. He hadn't bothered to keep track of how many demons he'd slain; it would have been impossible to tally. The ground was so soaked with blood that it turned red. Even then, he'd yet to take a single step beyond the wall of Gnome's fortress.
"Surely this must end!" Summoning the swords of Zephyr and Ignis, Verk unleashed a rain of fire and lightning upon the incoming Minervians, carving out a significant gap in the enemy formation. Much to his frustration, the demons filled the gap as if they were a tide. Marching over the battered and broken bodies of their breather without pause or remorse. "Mountain Crusher!"
At his command, Gnome ripped more pieces from the face of the mountain, grinding them into loose cobble and firing them with the force of a trained slinger. The fist-sized stones fell upon the demons, breaking bones, crushing skulls, and more. He even tried throwing the stones intact; the boulders crushing their share of enemies, but even that wasn't enough to detour them.
A gore covered ogre crawled over the mountain of flesh before the wall. Verk cleaved through the creature's head. Undine rushed to his side, firing jet streams of water that cleaved all before him in half.
"Gnome, Ignis, more golems!" The surrounding spirits danced, crafting soldiers of stone and fire; their designs were more simplistic than the first batch had been. Faceless mannequins with flaming hands that charged into the incoming enemy. A far cry from the supremely crafted soldiers they first summoned. Within a blink, the golems were overwhelmed and destroyed. "Dammit!"
Verk cleaved another three ogres and various other monsters that reached the top of the wall. He felt a sharp breeze shoot past him. The corpse of some lesser demon fell to the ground in the corner of his eye. Sylph flew from his blind spot, invisible blades of wind slashing through the incoming row of demons.
He'd yet to take injury himself, but he was slowly being overwhelmed. "Do they truly not care for their own lives?" Verk originally planned to conserve his strength, but that was proving a fruitless endeavor now. "Return!"
At once all the spirits returned to their slots on the sword, their gems shining with power as he held it aloft. "Pandemonium!" With a swing of his sword, Verk unleashed all that the earth offered. A storm of fire, lightning and ice, a quake that split the earth and swallowed an untold number of victims; a flood that carried away any too feeble to withstand its raging waters. And a frigged breeze that froze those its victims solid.
The lights of the gems faded; he stood breathless atop the fortress wall, a field of red before him. "My second advance." Verk stepped onto the corpses of those that'd delayed him for so long with a dark sense of satisfaction. Europa in the form a colossal bear padded up beside him, his friend's glorious mossy green mane caked with blood.
"Acht was right," Verk remarked as he struggled to cross the bloody field. "It was like fighting a river."
If there were survivors among those here, perhaps they finally realized the futility of barring his way. "Or perhaps I should exercise subtler means." He expected a hard fight, not an endless one. The further he made his way into Minervian territory, the more resistance he could expect. A fresh wave of devout fanatics was sure to greet him, and he'd once more be locked in a quagmire. Only he wouldn't have the mountains guarding his back.
"Can you aid me?" Verk asked the dark green gem containing the spirit of the Nyx, Mint's primordial spiritual ancestor. Nyx emerged from her gem and circled around him with her tiny body. The sound of his footsteps disappeared, and a strange film came over his vision as he stepped over the threshold of pandemonium's effects.
He spotted scouts frantically running from their hidden positions, looking confused as they ran past him to the edge of the destruction. They argued, checking for footprints that weren't there, and sniffed the air.
So this is the Nacht's true power. Verk understood that the night-elves could disappear, but he hadn't known it could do this. You could have been more for coming, Nyx.
The spirit, of course, only looked at him in confusion. Neither angry nor insulted by his words. He supposed it was his own fault for not asking. Primordial spirits needed to be prompted into action, for they lacked the will to act on their own. Some, like those in his home, developed personalities, but they could still only do what was asked of them. He couldn't expect much thought or action from spirits fused to swords that have been dormant for centuries.
Cloaked in Nyx's magic, Verk steady made his way inward towards what he hoped was the Marduk capital. There was no map to aid him, only the worn path the demons had made in their approach to bar his way. Much to his dismay, when he tried to walk faster or run, the film over his vision would distort, and Nyx would frantically wave her arms and chide him for disturbing her magic. Seemed he could only advance at a snail's pace, but he was advancing.
I must have wiped out a decent number of them. Verk sidestepped the Minervians running down the path. It was bizarre to have someone just rush past him without pausing. He tried to listen to their conversation, but the demons spoke in their own language, completely foreign to him. Still, he could tell they were frustrated. Slow and steady.
The slower pace had its own benefits. He was loath to admit it, but he was exhausted. The light of the other spirits was dull as well. With them so far from Elfania's territory, it would take some time for their powers to replenish.
Let's get our bearings.
Verk moved off the road and started making his way up a large hill. The withered black trees unsettled him, as did the purple grass, but he pushed past them. "So, this is Marduk."
From his position, he could see the mouth of the mountain and the devastation of his battle. It was irritatingly closer than he would like to see. He had covered little ground. The barren ground near the mountain slowly changed gentle rolling hills, covered in withered trees. When he looked west, the land stretched out into deep a valley with a thick forest on the other side. A wide road cutting across the landscape.
No village or cities were in sight.
"This must be the outskirts of the kingdom, makes sense it wouldn't be largely populated, but I expected something." Where had the army he faced been living this entire time? In the woods? He could see the Minervians forcing their foot soldiers to do such a thing. That or there was a settlement hidden across the valley.
Regardless, he needed to rest. He dared not make anything that could draw attention, so he put his back to the comfiest looking tree he could find and watched the horizon. Typically, a nymph such as he would find comfort in nature, but the land here was tainted with the blessing of Minerva. The bark of the black tree was oily and rough; the grass was prickly and dry.
"It'll have to do."
Verk dared to close his eyes, enjoying a brief but well-deserved rest.
--break
When Verk awakened, he was greeted with darkness. By his estimation, he'd only been asleep three hours. Thanks to his blessings, night was the same as day to him. The shadows may be deeper, but he could see just fine. Not much had changed since before. No reinforcements have arrived from across the valley, allowing him to set out once more under Nyx's cloak of concealment.
Though he loathed the slow pace, he didn't want to be locked in an endless quagmire of slaughter again. A brisk walk was all he could manage under Nyx's blessing. The trip across the valley was uneventful, with not even an odd critter to cross his path. Making his way up the opposite slope proved a bit tiresome in his current state. His rest had not been as fruitful as he'd hope, his body aching from the battle and days of non-stop travel.
Feeling a bit like that plump tavern owner. Verk smiled at the memory of his father bringing him to a human village for the first time. It'd been his first encounter with someone of such stature, and his young, callous tongue said as much. Pointedly insulting the man upon their greeting. The fat man merely laughed and padded his belly, and filled two tankards for him and his father. When I get Mint back, I'll bring her there. The owner's grandson is as potbellied as his grandfather.
There were a lot of things he wanted to show her, fantastic sights such as his grandmother's forest and mundane sights such as that small village with a pub and a mill that never seemed to change. The thoughts brought him joy and encouraged his march forward as he transverse the crest of the hill. The road was empty of any obstructions, with no enemies to bar his path. His pace quickened, and Nyx chided him, but his excitement, or perhaps impatience, got the better of him. He broke off into a jog and then a full bore sprint and was about to mount Europa once more as the spell of concealment faded away—when an intense tingle in the back of his neck caused him to leap off the road!
A barrage of impacts soon followed, leaving fist sized craters along the path. His ears twitched as an intense, high pitched buzzing noise rippled through the forest, creating of chorus of nose that nearly deafened him. Splinters and full sized trees came tumbling down around him. Verk barely scampered out of the chaos with Europa's aid as yet another sound caught his franticly flapping ears. It was a familiar sound—one that was ingrained into his mind—the sound of a sword being unsheathed.
"Hiyah!"
He met the unknown blade with his own. Sparks flew as steel met steel. The mysterious assailant was crow faced man with ashen skin adorned in a black cloak embroidered with gold thread. His eyes were endless black pits with four glowing violet irises. A single, stout, black horn protruded from his forehead.
"Yer not half bad, boya!" The man grinned, his sword flashing fast as lightning! Verk barely deflected the attack and gained some breathing room when something hit him from behind! "Hey, don't go stealing my fun, Dorgan!"
"Now is not the time for such things, Kalpens." Another man said from the sky. He was of even paler complexion, almost bone white, with a head of greasy black hair. He bore no horns on his head, but abnormally large fangs and familiar long ears.
"Are you perhaps jealous of the boya, Dorgan? He's radiating with the blessing of Elfania." A third man said, emerging from the woods with an enormous axe over his shoulders. He was a bearish looking man, both in body and face. A Vulpa, one of the beast kin. "He must be truly beloved by his goddess, unlike you."
"I harbor no such thing, Ulysses. Come, let us be done with this boya; I wish to return to my estate posthaste." Dorgan said, stretching out his arms.
"Aye, it's not good to dally when the goddess herself gave the order, yeah?" Ulysses readied his axe. "Just yer luck, boya."
"Must every prey be so swiftly dispatched?" Kalpens lamented.
Verk franticly looked between the three men. He called upon the spirits of the swords and readied the sword of spirits. They differed from the previous demons. Even if he'd not exhausted himself earlier, Verk would be cautious of them. Their placement ensured the other two would have his back if he attacked anyone of them individually.
"Am I to assume your Archdemons?" Verk inquired, desperately buying even a moment to prepare. However, the chuckles in reply to his question made his heart sink.
"Archdemons?" Ulysses bellowed. "You must be a young boya, did you just stop sucking on your mother's tit?"
"It's expected," Dorgan sighed. "His type is sheltered."
"Much like you?" Kalpens laughed. "You're of the same branch, correct?"
"Quiet, you cleft horned bastard. This boy and I are far from the same tree." Dorgan gave Verk a mysterious look that might be described as sympathy. "Regardless, I imagine our coming into being was similar. So I will offer you this clarification, my foolish cousin. We are not mere Archdemons, but Demon Lords. I would advise you to know the difference in the future, but such worries will not be necessary."
"We'll see about that," using Gaia, Verk unturned the earth, creating slabs of rock to block all three demon's attacks. He dashed for the bear man first, dodging Dorgan's barrage of air blasts. The floating violet orbs surrounding the fallen Half-Nymph had to be corrupted spirits. Strange he'd never heard of him before; an elf converting to Minerva would cause quite the commotion. "You must be ancient, cousin!"
Verk sent Sylph and Ignis to battle Dorgan, while he ducked under Ulysses' axe, striking at the bear man's chest. Much to his dismay, the large man was quick for his size and laughed while avoiding his attack.
"Got some gusto, boy!" the bear-man laughed, grabbing Verk with his large claw hand. "I like that! Don't die too quickly now!"
"I said don't steal my fun!" Kalpens roared, barring down with his scimitar.
"Zephyr!" Verk had the storm spirit blast lightning and had Undine use its water jet to sever the bear-man's arm. Before he could get his bearings, several air blasts knocked him off balance. Kalpen's blade cleaved through his tunic, and Ulysses joyfully swung his own severed arm as a club, hitting Verk in the face and blinding him with blood. "Dammit!"
Verk unleashed fire, water, wind, lightning, and upturned more earth. He let the spirits run wild once more, destroying the land without regard or remorse. Yet even with all the elements brought to bear, the three demon lords danced around him. Constantly hitting him from every side in an endless cycle of torment.
"Yer a tough one, boy!" Ulysses grinned madly as he reattached his served limb.
"Indeed, you're lasting much longer than I dared hope," Kalpens added, Verk barely parrying the swordsman's attack.
"But it's obvious you're tiring," Dorgan remarked, unleashing a barrage of air blasts.
Verk struggled to breathe as he stood in the once pristine Black Forest. Minerva's amethyst sun shone bright in the sky; how long have they been fighting? He could barely lift his arms; at some point, he'd lost half his vision. Whether he lost his eye, or it was merely sealed closed by blood, he didn't know.
It's so hard to think…
He'd never been pushed this hard before. Even against Biwanari. Perhaps if he hadn't been ambushed, if he could have begun the battle with the spirits at full power, or he hadn't fought the demon horde.
Ifs don't matter, what happens, happens.
His father drilled into him not to worry about ifs and to not make excuses. Verk had to face facts; he'd messed up. He let these demons get the drop on him, and he was paying for it. Simple as that.
The only advantage I have, is their toying with me.
Verk was under no delusions these three could kill him. Their attacks were spaced out, slower, not from exhaustion, but confidence. They were having fun and simply didn't want it to end. That was the only reason he was still standing. And he hated it.
"Get burnt!" He deflected Kalpen's sword and tried to slash the horned demon's back, only to get blocked by Ulysses. The bear Vulpa battered him with the flat of his axe. Verk was certain his ribs were broken. Sylph tried to retaliate, but they were blocked by Dorgan's corrupted spirits.
"Your flame is flickering," Dorgan said. "It won't be long now."
As much as Verk wanted to rebuke such the claim, he couldn't. He was surprised that he was still standing. Perhaps only thanks to his blessings, but once his flame flickered out, that would be it. He would fall.
"It would be unsporting to let you perish of exhaustion," Kalpens said. "Would it not be better to be felled honorably by your enemy's blade?"
"Oh, I want to chop his head off and put it on my mantle!" Ulysses boasted.
"His spirits will be a boon for me."
Verk tried to lift his sword, but couldn't. Was this really the end? All three demons rushed at him, intend to deliver the killing blow. He felt weightless, as if he were floating in the air. Perhaps he was already dead? Slowly his vision returned; he saw the three demon lords standing still on the ground. How had he gotten so high up?
"Europa?" He'd lost track of his Ent beast during the battle. Had his friend intervened in time? No, the hand holding the back of his tunic was warm and made of flesh. With strained effort, Verk lifted his head and looked upon the face of his brother. "What are you doing here?"