Carine Forest — Forward Battlements
Sous ran.
Penelope did not merely move—
It became a crimson streak tearing across the battlefield.
Stone exploded beneath each step.
The ground fractured wherever the armored frame touched earth.
Wind burst outward behind him in violent waves as Cardinal soldiers struggled to even follow the wake he left behind.
Several younger soldiers only saw red light.
Then suddenly—
He was already there.
At the front.
Penelope slid across the ground hard enough to gouge trenches through dirt and stone alike.
White Tiger rose.
Then descended.
Not toward an enemy—
Toward the earth itself.
The blade pierced deep.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then every rune across Penelope ignited.
Blue light surged through engraved channels like rivers of lightning.
The battlefield answered.
An immense eruption of frost detonated outward.
Not snow.
Not ice.
Mist.
An ocean of freezing white vapor burst across the battlefield in every direction.
Temperature collapsed instantly.
Grass crystallized.
Mud froze solid.
Charging creatures slowed as frost spread across exposed flesh and limbs.
Black roots hardened.
Twisted growths cracked apart.
The front ranks vanished beneath a sea of white.
Even the towering nest-creatures staggered.
Several soldiers simply stared.
Because the mist had swallowed everything.
Then—
The conduits along Penelope's left arm ignited.
Red.
Bright enough to resemble molten veins beneath armor.
Sous extended his hand.
And a sphere of fire appeared above his palm.
Not gradually.
Violently.
Mana compressed inward until it resembled a miniature sun.
Darian looked up.
"…Saints preserve us."
Then Sous threw it.
The fire vanished into the frozen sea.
Silence—
For half a heartbeat.
Then—
The world exploded.
Heat met cold.
Pressure met pressure.
The battlefield detonated.
Not fire.
Not ice.
Violence.
The air itself shattered.
Trees folded apart.
Creatures ruptured into bloody fragments.
Entire nest structures collapsed beneath overwhelming force.
Steam and flame swallowed the battlefield in an expanding wave of devastation.
Large sections of land simply—
Stopped existing.
Even the battlements shook.
Several soldiers nearly lost their footing.
The shockwave rolled back toward the walls carrying heat and frozen shards through the air.
Then—
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Darian slowly lowered his hammer.
"…I suddenly understand why people worship heroes."
Mirelle stared at the devastation.
"…Why did we even bring the army?"
Church knights tightened their grips unconsciously.
Even Adrean narrowed his eyes.
Because this—
This was the strength of a kingdom's symbol.
Not armies.
Not logistics.
Not tactics.
A Hero.
Then—
"Hahahaha!"
Adrean burst into laughter.
His royal harness descended from the battlements with enough force to crater the earth.
Golden runes across his armor erupted.
He swung his sword.
The battlefield screamed.
A wave of compressed force tore forward, uprooting entire sections of frozen earth and exposing writhing black roots beneath.
Creatures disappeared beneath the strike.
"You burn them like moths drawn toward flame!" Adrean shouted.
Sous tore White Tiger free.
Lightning erupted outward in a massive arc.
"You would have me show mercy?"
"I would have you leave some for me!"
Adrean swung again.
Another wave of destruction carved through the tide.
Flesh burst apart.
Bodies disappeared.
The two heroes moved through the battlefield like natural disasters given form.
And behind them—
Soldiers watched.
Because now they understood.
Why stories existed.
Why kingdoms built statues.
Why children dreamed.
Because strength like this looked impossible.
Then—
The Arch-Prelate stepped forward.
White armor engraved with golden scripture glowed beneath burning skies.
Unlike the others—
He carried no weapon.
Only a standard.
The old man raised it.
Then drove it into the earth.
"O God…"
His voice was quiet.
Yet somehow it spread across the battlefield effortlessly.
"Grant thine protection to your beloved children."
Golden light spread outward from the standard.
Runes ignited.
The earth answered.
"Let this become holy ground that rejects all malice."
The standard flashed.
Golden waves spread beneath soldiers' feet.
The battlefield changed.
Fear seemed lighter.
Exhaustion weakened.
Strength returned.
Then the old priest raised his voice.
"Fear not death!"
The words rolled like thunder.
"For God grants protection to all who march in his name!"
Thirty thousand Auroras surged forward.
White armor flooded the battlefield like a river of light.
Then—
Logos looked down from the battlements.
Watching.
Calculating.
Measuring.
Comparing.
Then—
"…Interesting."
Bal immediately looked at him.
"No."
Logos pointed toward the battlefield.
"No, look."
Everyone turned.
Because beneath all the destruction—
Beneath the explosions.
Beneath the fire.
Beneath the frost.
The black roots were moving.
Not randomly.
Not dying.
Gathering.
Retreating.
Reconnecting.
Like veins beneath flesh.
Like nerves beneath skin.
Like something trying to repair itself.
Logos slowly narrowed his eyes.
Then smiled.
Very slightly.
"…It learns."