Chapter 400 - Descension

Arthur Leywin
Leaning against the base of a squat apple tree and chewing on the last of its ripe fruit, I
stared out at the fields south of Blackbend City.

Once these flat plains and low, rolling hills would have gleamed gold with endless fields of
wheat, but large swaths of farmland had been crushed flat by the tent city now ringing
Blackbend’s southern edge and the ten thousand or more troops stationed there. The gray-
and-black clad soldiers moved with stiff, short steps, and I saw many heads bent in
conversation and furtive glances being cast about. More than once, ranking officers
stopped to shout at a group of gossipers as messengers rushed about with a frantic air.

After a brief jaunt to the Relictombs to ensure both Regis and I were at full power, we’d
followed the wide swath of churned sand that marked the Alacryan army’s passage through
the desert and into the foothills separating Sapin and Darv. The tempus warp I’d recovered
from the Wraiths would have made it a simple matter to teleport the distance, but I needed
to ensure that the Alacryan force didn’t split or divert to a different destination.

Despite their multi-day lead, the soldiers who had retreated from Vildorial had only
recently arrived. From my distant vantage point, with my senses heightened with aether so
I could more clearly follow the bustling of the many soldiers, I tracked the comings and
goings of the war camp for a while, content to just watch as the Alacryans stewed in their
own uncertainty.

It had already been a couple of hours while Regis and I waited under the apple tree.
Unforunately, there had been no sign of the retainer and regent, Lyra Dreide, or of the two
Scythes. They would have made a convenient prop for the spectacle.

It felt good to be in the field again, an enemy in front of me. My return to Dicathen had
been defined by furtive rushing through underground tunnels and living in fear for my
family and all the Dicathians under my protection. I was tired of skulking about and hiding.
This was a war. It was past time to fight it.
But I could only do so now because of the Lances. The damage to their cores, forced on
them in the same ritual that bound them to their respective kings and queens and
catapulted them to white core, had been healed. Varay, Bairon, and Mica were, at the very
moment, back in Vildorial, meditating over the remains of the mana in the Vritra horns I’d
acquired in order to grow stronger for the first time in a very long time.

When the Lances next faced the Scythes, I was confident the results would be very
different.

A horn sounded in the war camp, and soldiers began to gather.

Ready?

Regis drifted free of my body and condensed into the form of a full-grown shadow wolf.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Together, we began moving quickly from the hilltop where the lone tree grew, down into a
slight valley that opened up into the trampled fields, and directly toward the sprawling
encampment. Once in plain sight of the guards watching to the south, we slowed to a
steady march. It didn’t take long for them to spot us.

Another horn blew, then another. These were more wild and, I thought with some
amusement, somehow afraid. Several men jumped on broad, quick-moving lizard mana
beasts called skitters and rushed to cut me off.

Still a hundred feet away, one of them gave a shout, and the sand-yellow lizards all skidded
to a stop, holding well back.

Their leader, a man in his early twenties with a thin blond beard and dark, steady gaze, took
in my appearance and went pale. The other soldiers all turned in his direction, and I could
tell that they all recognized me from the rumors even if they had never seen me directly.
The skitters, sensing their riders’ discomfort or perhaps made nervous by Regis’s presence,
shied and tried to pull back.
“St-state your identity,” the leader said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and
sat taller. Without waiting for me to respond, he immediately asked, “Are you the traitor to
Alacrya known as Grey? If so, know that the regent Lyra of Highblood Dreide has given
orders that you are to be killed on sight.”

I looked him right in the eye and said, “What are you waiting for then?”

He raised his chin, one hand on the bridle of his skitter, the other on the handle of his
sword. “What do you want here?”

“That’s easy,” I said, pointing past him to the tent city. “That, gone. You, gone. Now.”

The boy’s jaw tightened beneath his blond beard. To his credit, he did not immediately flee,
although I could tell he was thinking about it. “You are only one man. There are several
thousand soldiers at my back. Surely you don’t—”

I reached for the relic armor. The sight of it unfolding over my skin made the soldier yank
hard on the reins, and his skitter danced sideways and nearly threw him. “If you’ve seen me
before, then you know I always offer the opportunity to lay down your arms and leave with
your lives. The Vritra Clan is my enemy, not the people of Alacrya. Disband this
encampment and prepare to leave Sapin immediately.”

He kept up eye contact for a long moment while his skitter still strafed side to side, now
actively attempting to pull away. Finally, he let it, and the mana beast whirled around and
shot off toward the war camp. The rest were quick to follow.

“Tired of sounding like a broken record yet?” Regis asked, letting his tongue loll from one
side of his mouth.

“It gets harder to offer clemency each time they refuse it,” I admitted, crossing my arms as I
watched the skitter-riders hurry away. “But it’s the right thing to do, Regis. If I could snap
my fingers and send all these Alacryans back to their own continent without any violence, I
would. But…” My voice grew firm as I felt my will harden. “Anyone who would make
themselves a pawn of the Vritra—whether they’re born in Alacrya or Dicathen—has chosen
their own fate.”

The scouts had reached the camp, and a muddle of chaotic activity followed. Shouts and
arguments rang across the hills. I watched as the higher-ranking officers clashed with
growing animosity and the camp’s organization quickly dissolved under a lack of leadership.
I thought the Alacryans might collapse into violence, but then a booming voice drowned
out all others.

A gargantuan woman in heavy black plate armor hurled a man to the ground and pointed at
me with a burning greatsword, and the Alacryans began falling into line. While a few groups
of soldiers broke ranks and fled north, most hurried into well-ordered rows of battle groups
at the woman’s direction. Shields flared, empowered weapons and armor blazed to life
with mana, and a rainbow of spells were activated.

I couldn’t help but be disappointed as I looked across the field at the thousands of Alacryan
mages.

“This really would be so much easier if they had sense enough to run for their lives,” I
muttered.

“Much less fun though,” Regis japed, chuckling darkly. “Maybe it would help if they got a
good look at me in all my glory?”

I nodded my approval. “Do it.”

With a wide, lupine grin, Regis activated the Destruction godrune. His body blazed with the
purple flames, his physical form expanding and transforming, growing huge and bestial, all
hard, sharp angles and jagged fire and long black spikes. His head widened and flattened as
obsidian fangs grew out of his mouth. Wings sprouted from behind his arched shoulder
blades, and then I leapt onto his back.

Regis lifted up off the ground and gave a roar that shook Blackbend. He breathed out
flames of pure Destruction as he wheeled through the air high above the enemy.
A tremor of terror shook the awestruck Alacryans. A Shield ceased conjuring and turned to
flee, but the woman who had taken charge of the army appeared before him in a flash of
white-hot fire, her sword already swinging. He didn’t even have the chance to conjure
another protective shield before he fell into two burning halves.

“Any other who shames their blood by turning tail condemns their blood as well! By the
Vritra, I’ll make sure your mothers and daughters bleed for your cowardice!”

At the woman’s threat, spells began to fly, filling the sky with blues, reds, blacks, and
greens. Cutting rays and bursting missiles erupted around us like fireworks. Regis’s
Destruction-infused breath burned away several of the strongest spells. Others, I batted
aside with aether. More missed or reflected harmlessly off the relic armor or the thick layer
of aether cladding Regis’s bulk. What little damage we took healed almost instantly.

“Cockroaches,” Regis rumbled in his much deeper voice. “They’ll be less than ash when I’m
done with them.”

“Wait,” I said, counting on one last gambit to break the line without a full-scale slaughter.

I didn’t have to look for the aetheric pathways between me and the Alacryan leader. As I
imbued the godrune with aether, it guided me, and I vanished from Regis’s back and
appeared in front of the leader, just inside the effective range of her overlarge sword.

She grunted in surprise and brought the blade up defensively, both the flames and the
purple lightning wrapping around my limbs reflecting in her dark eyes.

Faster than she could react, my hand snapped out and caught the blade. Realmheart flared
to life, making visible the mana in her weapon. I severed the flow, snuffing out the mana,
then pushed aether into the steel. Although of fine make, the metal couldn’t handle the
pressure and exploded, peppering us both with shrapnel. Although harmless to me, a piece
slashed across her cheek, and she snarled as she stumbled back from the explosion.
God Step took me behind her. My gauntleted fist drove into her spine where her armor
opened to reveal several runic tattoos. The bones shattered, and her lifeless body flew into
the backs of a nearby battle group, knocking them to the ground.

The exchange had been so fast that most of the Alacryan soldiers hadn’t noticed and were
still slinging spells at Regis. Only those closest at hand had witnessed their leader's demise,
and most of them could only stare in dawning horror. The smart ones, however, broke
ranks and fled. And as soon as a few had done so, dozens more followed.

‘Well, that was dramatic,’ Regis thought from above. ‘The center of their line is caving in on
itself. Most of them are running like hell.’

Lay down a line of fire just beyond the front line, I thought back. Avoid the fleeing soldiers
where you can, but don’t hesitate to burn anyone who keeps fighting.

The jagged fire jumped and twisted in a way that expressed gleeful excitement. ‘You got it,
boss.’

Tipping into a dive, Regis ducked and weaved between the bombardment of spells before
leveling out just in front of the foremost shields, which made up a kind of wall of wavering
flames, whirling water, crackling lightning, and transparent panels of mana. Destruction
blazed from his monstrous maw like dragon’s fire, spilling over the field and splashing
against the shields, devouring the mana.

I stood at the center of the chaos, a stone unmoved by the retreating sea. No one attacked
me—most would not even look at me, as if avoiding me would somehow make me less real.
They stumbled over each other, pushing and shoving as they ran around me, away from the
violet flames and toward the city.

The encampment itself became an obstacle, but the surge of bodies trampled it under
heavy boots, collapsing tents, overturning tables, and kicking campfire ash everywhere as
they charged headlessly past.
I began moving toward the city gates, slowly walking amidst the chaos and insanity. The
front lines had crushed back into the rear ranks, and where those who attempted to flee
were blocked by those who fought on, all out brawls erupted. But no one came within
fifteen feet of me, even if avoiding me meant diving through the high flames of a cooking
fire or batting down their own allies.

The heavy, resounding vibration of large bells suddenly rang all throughout the city of
Blackbend, the backdrop to our battle. Many of the fleeing soldiers were rushing toward
the city’s open gates, although, as the army shed more soldiers, many were forced to flee
east or west along the lines of the city wall or risk clogging the gates and being stuck
outside.

‘Something’s up inside the city. Spellfire all over the place. People are fighting back.’

Through the narrow openings on the second level of the gatehouse, I could see men
scuffling and fighting. Then, an instant later, a mossy-haired elf hurled an Alacryan guard
from the gatehouse to be dashed on the stones below. In the next moment, the grinding
and clanking of thick chains rumbled across the battlefield, and the gates began to pull shut,
right in the face of the retreating army.

I appeared before the gates wreathed in aetheric lightning and conjured a gleaming violet
blade.

I was surrounded by charging Alacryans. Some few had already breached the city before
the Dicathian warriors managed to winch the gates closed, but many more were still
approaching.

A woman barreling toward me shouted out in dismay and wildly swung her frozen mace,
but my aetheric blade bisected her weapon effortlessly. I caught her momentum on my
shoulder and sent her flipping over me, and for a moment tendrils of bright violet lightning
connected us.

Suddenly, the Alacryan soldiers closest to me were stumbling and collapsing to the ground.
I took a step toward the retreating force, and more fell to their hands and knees, bodies
trembling. One more step, and my intent reached its peak, crushing everyone within a
hundred feet of me into the churned soil.

Cries of dread and the sounds of grown men wretching and weeping lingered for a long,
timeless moment, and then the battlefield went utterly silent, leaving them clawing at their
throats or chests as the weight of the aura stole the air from their lungs.

Those still outside of the worst of my intent pulled up short, then quickly dissolved into
pushing and shoving. Behind them, Regis let out a monstrous roar that shook the ground,
and a wall of amethyst fire engulfed a dozen battle groups that were still fighting back.

“Listen to me,” I announced, easing the pressure I was exuding to refocus their attention.
“This city is no longer under Alacryan dominion, and soon, the rest of Dicathen will be
freed. You can go home so long as you do not harm any Dicathian. All Alacryans who refuse
to leave or who harm any Dicathian will be executed immediately.”

In the distance, there were no more gouts of Destruction or answering spellfire from the
ground. The Alacryan force at Blackbend had been routed.

“W-where will we go, then?” a thin Caster shouted.

An answer was shouted from the top of the wall behind me in a familiar, cutting voice.
“Might I recommend the end of a blade?”

I turned to see a reed-thin man with a sharply angular face. His black hair was flecked with
gray now, and shorter than the last time I’d seen him, but the rimless glasses perched atop
his nose were the same, as were the clever, observant eyes. He had aged, developing
worry lines down the side of his face and across his brow.

When the man saw me looking, he nodded firmly. “General Arthur. The Alacryan
highbloods managing the city have been quite upset for the last few days, terrified that you
would show up and hoping fervently that you wouldn’t.”
“Kaspian,” I said, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. Kaspian Bladeheart had once
managed the Adventurers Guild Hall in Xyrus, and was the uncle of my old friend, Claire
Bladeheart. “You’ve gotten old.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “And you hardly look anything like the boy who I once
tested to be an adventurer. But I suppose now isn’t the time to catch up, is it?” He gestured
behind him. “The Adventurers Guild has managed to retake the city, General Arthur.” His
gaze turned to the Alacryan army, sweeping across the hundreds of soldiers knocked prone
around me to pin the thousands more hovering uncertainly between the city and the
distant flames of Destruction. “Now, I strongly suggest you have your beast finish the rest
before whatever you’ve done to them wears off.”

The world seemed to hold its breath. Then, “No, Kaspian. That isn’t my intention.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched and his voice strained as he said, “I don’t know where you’ve
been, or what has happened to you, Arthur, but perhaps you haven’t seen the brutality and
cruel vindictiveness of these Alacryans. I feel no shame in saying that every one of them
should be put to the sword.”

I ignored him, instead watching Regis return, his enormous bulk casting a dark shadow over
the Alacryans. He took a moment to hover in front of the gatehouse, staring Kaspian and
the other Dicathian adventurers down before landing heavily next to me. The jagged flames
of his mane trembled, and then he was shrinking in on himself, losing his more bestial
features, until he was a shadow wolf again. His teeth pulled back from his deadly fangs and
he growled menacingly before becoming incorporeal and drifting into my body.

How many chose death for Agrona?

‘A couple thousand at least. There was still a small force holding back, defensive positions
only, no more chucking spells, but if I stayed in that form much longer I’d have been stuck
as a pup again, and I don’t think either of us wanted that right now.’

Well, if my plan works, they’ll be dealt with by their own.

With Regis no longer swooping over the battlefield like a giant mutant bat, some soldiers
were breaking away from the crowd and following the others who had already fled around
the city. I let them go. I knew they were a risk—there were dozens of small farming
communities to the north where trained soldiers and mages could cause havoc—but I had
to deal with the larger threat first.

Releasing my intent, I scanned the Alacryans. It was unfortunate that the ranking Alacryans
in the city had already fled. With Bairon and Virion’s assistance, I had already brainstormed
a general plan for how to handle enemy soldiers who were smart enough to lay down their
weapons. It wasn’t without its problems, however.

“You,” I said after a moment, pointing at a man who was gingerly lifting himself off the
ground and brushing the dirt from his uniform.

He froze and stared at me. His hair and beard were carefully trimmed, and he wore what
looked like a very expensive blade at his side, despite not carrying himself like a warrior.

“You’re a Sentry,” I observed. “And at least a named blood, by the look of it.”

His brows pinched together and he opened his mouth, hesitated, bit the inside of his lip,
then finally said, “I am Balder of Highblood Vassere, sir.”

“Vassere? Oh, perfect,” I said, giving the man a placid smile that only made his frown
deepen. “Balder, you are now responsible for the lives of every Alacryan stationed at
Blackbend—even those currently running north like their lives depend on it.”

Color drained from his face, and he looked around in panic. “But I…um…” He cleared his
throat. “I’m not commander of this force—”

“The men and women around us are no longer a force,” I said firmly, letting my gaze
burrow into him. “They are stranded citizens of a far off continent, and if they ever hope to
get home, they’ll need someone to keep them organized and out of trouble. That’s going to
be you, Balder. Assuming you want to see home again. You do, don’t you? Central
Dominion”—Balder startled at my mention of his home dominion, then went white as a
ghost as I continued—“Drekker and all the rest.”

“But…how do…”

“Just listen,” I said, softening my tone somewhat.

I could feel Kaspian’s concerned gaze on my back as I explained loudly to Balder of

Highblood Vassere what I expected of these Alacryans if ever they hoped to see their
homes again. With the long-ranged teleportation gates in Darv deactivated—and
reactivating them, even for a short time, a substantial threat—there was no easy way to
relocate so many people. Until I was sure the continent was firmly back in Dicathian hands,
they needed to be moved somewhere they wouldn’t be a danger.

It had actually been Virion’s idea to use the ruins of Elenoir. Even with tens of thousands of
Alacryans gathered there, they wouldn’t have enough resources to mount any kind of
counterattack through the mountains or the Wall. Just staying alive by hunting the outer
edges of the Beast Glades would take all their time and resources for such a large
population.

Getting them there from the cities in the east of Sapin was relatively straightforward as
well, and the Wall was apparently still under Dicathian control, so I wouldn’t even have to
retake it to allow the plan to move forward.

“Start organizing your people,” I said after Balder had assured me he understood. “I want to
know exactly how many lives make up your company. And, if you’ve managed to hold onto
any skitters, send riders north. Find as many of those who fled as you can.” I let an edge of
threat creep into my voice as I added, “I will hold you responsible for any crimes they
commit.”

Balder swallowed heavily. “I u-understand.”

Leaving the Alacryans behind, I God Stepped to the top of the wall, appearing right next to
Kaspian. He flinched and his hand went to the hilt of his thin rapier, the same blade he had
tested me with when I was only a boy in this world. A handful of adventurers surrounded
him, and half of them brandished weapons while the other half jumped back in surprise.

I ignored all the others. “What happened in the city, Kaspian? I was expecting to have to
root out the entrenched Alacryan leadership after dismantling that army.”

He straightened his light gray tunic, which had bloodstains on the sleeves and chest, and
waved for his men to lower their weapons. “The truth is, we’ve been waiting for an
opportunity to strike back ever since the Lances raided the Blackbend Guild Hall. As the war
camp organized to face you, the city’s so-called leadership was flying into a panic. As soon
as we drew our weapons, they fled, abandoning the city.”

Turning, I rested my hands on top of a crenelation and took in the confused and milling
crowd of Alacryans. Balder was shouting as he tried to sort out the highest ranking soldiers
and other highbloods, but the army was in shock and largely unresponsive.

So much rested on this Sentry’s ability to create calm from chaos. I didn’t have time to
linger in Blackbend, but I couldn’t just leave a disorganized and frightened army at the city’s
gates, either.

But, to further complicate matters, I didn’t entirely trust the Adventurers Guild. It wasn’t an
army, exactly, but many of Dicathens most adept warriors and most powerful mages were
adventurers. Many branches of the guild had opted out of participating in the war, then
quickly entered talks to work alongside the Alacryans when they won.

Kaspian Bladeheart seemed like a genuine and honorable man. Claire certainly had been,
although, as Jasmine Flamesworth showed, sometimes the fruit ended up a long way from
the tree. But without even a council to determine the direction of Dicathen or Sapin as a
whole, this presented a unique opportunity for the Adventurers Guild to seize power and
authority.

What I really needed was someone in Blackbend who I could trust implicitly, but was also a
respected member of the Adventurers Guild.
The answer was obvious the moment I had the thought.

“Kaspian, are you the ranking member of the guild here in Blackbend?”

He had been watching me carefully through the glasses perched on the end of his nose, and
he wriggled them back into position with a frown before answering. “No. The guild hall
manager here is a close friend of mine, but many of the ranking committee members are
also based out of the Blackbend Guild Hall now. Xyrus became…troublesome to navigate,
especially after the Lances’ attack on the academy.”

“Xyrus is next on my list,” I said, turning to meet his sharp-eyed gaze. I held him there,
pinned, impressing upon him the reality of my station with nothing but a look. “But before I
can deal with the forces there, I need to know something. Can I trust you, Kaspian?”

His thin brows shot up in surprise. “Is this some move to seize power over the continent?”

I shook my head firmly, encouraged by our parallel thinking. “Only to reclaim it from the
Alacryans. As for what happens when they’re gone, I promise that I have no desire to be a
king again.”

“Again?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Nevermind,” I said with a laugh. “I just meant, I want to save our continent. Not rule it.
Virion and Tessia Eralith are both alive, as are Curtis and Kathyln Glayder. And”—I couldn’t
help the wry smile that crept over my face—“there are about a hundred dwarven lords who
all think they should rule Darv.”

Kaspian shot a thoughtful glance at his men, sucked his teeth, then said, “I’ve only ever
heard good things about you, Arthur, and my niece spoke very highly of you. I believe I can
trust you, so, yes, you can trust me.”

“Good,” I said, reaching out a hand. He took it firmly. “Because I’m handing this city over to
the Twin Horns, and I need you to facilitate a smooth transfer of power.”