The sudden appearance of the blue crystal giant was impossible to ignore.
Three skeletal cavalry charged like a gale, their black iron lances—each longer than a man—thrusting toward different points of the construct's massive frame.
"Gulepup." Lyra Farrow called lightly.
The seemingly sluggish Stone Colossus moved.
It turned with terrifying speed—an arm snapping out like lightning. One skeletal rider was ripped clean from the saddle and slammed into the earth, crushed deep into the dirt. The construct spun, its colossal elbow smashing into a second rider, horse and all, sending them hurtling through the air.
The third rider seized the opening. His lance struck beneath the Colossus's arm—
—but sank barely an inch.
A crushing force clamped down from both sides. The long shaft bent.
The Colossus folded its arms inward, trapping the rider, wrenching him off the mount. Then it stomped down. Bone and helm shattered underfoot. With both hands, it seized the armored skeletal horse, lifted it overhead, and tore it apart in a frenzy of splintering bone.
As if it had waited ages for such violence, the construct threw back its head and howled.
---
On the skeletal war chariot, the red-armored general turned sharply.
A flash of cold light streaked before Kael Ashvane's eyes.
Pain slashed across his chest—sharp, murderous.
Instinct screamed. His wrist snapped—
The Eight-Claw Flamescourge lashed back like a fire-dragon, coiling defensively.
*Clang!*
The impact thundered.
Man and monster were thrown apart.
The red-armored general dropped low, channeling the force into the chariot beneath him. The three skeletal warhorses staggered sideways, dragged off balance for dozens of paces before recovering.
Kael, meanwhile, was hurled backward like a cut kite. He hit the ground hard, stumbling several steps before regaining footing. Blood surged in his veins, churning violently.
He looked down.
His chest-cloth had been split open by a long, vicious cut.
No flesh was broken—but sweat still broke cold across his skin.
---
Inside the general's hollow eye sockets, a savage crimson light ignited.
It locked onto Kael.
One skeletal hand steadied the trembling polearm. With a forceful stomp, the general drove power through the chariot into the three skeletal horses, forcing them to wheel around and charge again—ferocious, unstoppable.
Kael had never faced an opponent like this.
And instead of fear—
his blood burned hotter.
"Good," he muttered, snapping his whip. "Let's see what you've got."
He surged forward to meet it.
---
Two skeletal riders cut in from the flank, lances striking like lightning.
Kael twisted midair, spinning like a drifting flame. The Flamescourge lashed outward again—its extended length showing its advantage. Before the lances could land, he hooked one rider clean off the saddle, yanking it down. He slipped past the second strike, pivoting—
—and lashed hard.
The second rider raised a shield.
The blow landed.
Horse and rider shuddered—but did not fall.
Kael landed, drove his stance low, and struck again.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Only then did the armored skeleton collapse.
Kael's expression tightened.
Before he could breathe, the red-armored general was already upon him—chariot roaring forward with crushing force.
---
There was no meeting that head-on.
Kael darted aside, skimming along the flank. The general's massive blade swept after him, dragging a killing arc through the air.
Kael drew deeply on the Sundering Flame Art, his body twisting midair in a series of evasive maneuvers—
—but he couldn't shake the pursuit.
His mind flashed.
The whip snapped out.
A harsh screech rang—metal grinding against metal.
The Flamescourge wrapped around the blade, coiling tight. The flaming tip spun, crawling along the weapon's shaft toward the general's grip like a living predator.
The general jerked the blade violently—but Kael moved with it, body swaying, impossible to throw free.
The flaming tip struck the guard—
tore it apart—
then snapped upward toward the skull-face beneath.
The monstrous visage lit in firelight.
The general raised an arm to shield its exposed face.
Kael's wrist flicked.
The whip released the blade.
In the instant of broken sight—
it stabbed forward.
*BOOM!*
Flame erupted against the general's chest.
---
The red-armored figure shuddered.
…only shuddered.
Kael froze for half a heartbeat.
He landed atop the chariot—and saw it clearly.
The chestplate—barely cracked.
Just a few fractures.
"...You're joking."
He struck again—harder. Flames burst across the armor with every hit.
The general swayed, then suddenly planted his weapon, forcing his body steady.
A grotesque laugh rattled out.
The blade swung—
horizontal.
Kael barely reacted in time, nearly forced off the chariot.
---
"Those armors are reinforced with foul craft—don't clash head-on!"
Lyra's voice rang across the battlefield.
In the short span, she had already driven the Stone Colossus to crush seven or eight riders.
But the soldiers of the Iron Maw Legion had fared far worse—over half cut down. The survivors had barely managed to cluster together, holding out in desperate formation.
Elsewhere, the cries from the Ancient War Camp had already thinned into silence.
---
Kael's eyes sharpened.
He changed tactics instantly.
The whip no longer struck—
it tore, dragged, coiled.
This time, it worked.
The Flamescourge's scaled body hooked and ripped, wrenching the red-armored general off balance. With a tearing crack, a section of armor split from its side—exposing blood-red bone beneath.
Kael lunged.
The whip lashed through the opening.
Flame crawled along exposed bone.
The general howled—then slammed forward with its shoulder.
Too close.
Too fast.
Kael couldn't evade.
He braced.
Impact.
His throat flooded with iron—blood rising.
He was thrown clean off the chariot, flying backward.
---
A skeletal rider charged in immediately, lance stabbing straight for his chest.
Kael tried to counter—
—but his breath hitched.
Just for a fraction.
Too slow.
Still airborne—
no room to shift.
He forced Vitae into his chest—
A flash of jade-blue cut across his vision.
The rider's skull split apart—sent flying from the saddle.
---
"The Crystalwave Slash!"
Relief surged through Kael.
He hit the ground—and saw her.
Selene Voss, blade in hand, already diving into the skeletal ranks.
Kael wiped blood from his lips, only then realizing he'd spat it.
Before he could recover—
a warmth spread through him.
The nausea vanished.
His body steadied, as though wrapped in spring wind.
He turned.
Sylva Dreyn stood behind him, hands lifted, the Wood-Flower Art flowing invisibly into his body.
---
Isara Ashvane arrived with the rest.
They saw the battlefield—
and even they faltered.
Rovan Ashford's face darkened instantly. Seeing his men butchered, rage ignited. He charged into the fray with his staff like a storm.
---
"Why are they all armored… and riding horses?" Mira Stonwell whispered, shaken.
Auryn Gale's expression hardened. "Blood-forged skeletons. And trained. Stay sharp."
She rolled up her sleeve and drew a small golden shield from her satchel, fastening it to her arm.
A flash of gold—
She vanished.
---
The skeletal riders barely had time to react before golden light erupted among them.
A massive radiant shield manifested, deflecting every incoming strike.
Auryn moved.
The shield rotated—
flattened—
and sliced.
Two skulls spun free.
The remaining riders charged again.
The shield shifted angle—
—and cut them apart in a single clean motion.
Bone split with a wet, grinding sound.
In moments—
five armored riders lay shattered in the dust.
---
Kael stared, stunned.
"…That's absurd."
No wonder she had such a reputation.
---
The red-armored general turned toward a new threat.
It charged for Auryn.
Isara stepped forward.
"I'll take this one. Handle the rest."
Before her words finished—
she was already in the air.
Floating above the chariot like a descending omen.
---
The general looked up—
—and felt something it had not known before.
Fear.
It roared, striking upward.
Isara's sleeve flicked.
The Surging Tide Dance.
The blade's force was diverted effortlessly.
She slipped through the opening—
The general reacted instantly, forcing the chariot into a spinning retreat—but too late.
A violent shock struck its shoulder.
Armor split open.
Golden light spread across the red plating like liquid lightning.
---
Isara turned mid-descent, her body cutting through the air like a hunting hawk.
Her fingers aligned like a blade—glowing faintly gold.
The general spun its weapon wildly, forming a defensive storm—
—but the moment she passed—
the storm collapsed.
Its massive body staggered.
Kael, watching from afar, saw it clearly.
A puncture through the abdomen.
And around it—
the armor had turned gold, spreading outward in a shimmering corruption.
"…The Gilding Touch," he breathed. "That's… terrifying."
---
Sylva nodded. "She hasn't even mastered its third phase yet."
---
Kael rolled his shoulders.
Fully restored.
He snapped his whip, grinning. "With you around, I could crawl back from death itself."
Sylva only smiled. "Then don't waste it. Move."
---
The battlefield surged again.
Sorcery met bone.
Fire met steel.
And the tide began to turn.