Chapter 119: The Rogue Army Vs The Royal Army

Narrator

Across the open plain, the two massive armies faced each other beneath a heavy, overcast sky.

On the left side of the field stood Varek and his wild rogue horde, breathing heavily, their eyes wild and hungry for blood. On the right side stood the structured, heavily armored forces of the crown, mounted on massive warhorses.

King Alaric sat atop his black stallion, his visor up as he stared across the valley. He frowned deeply, turning his head toward King Theron, who rode beside him clad in polished silver plate armor.

"How did they know we were coming?" King Alaric asked, his jaw tight. "This was meant to be a swift, silent strike."

King Theron gripped his reins, his dark eyes fixed on the rogue line. "It must have been his witch sister. She sees things. No matter. Seeing an entire army of rogue wolves waiting for us out in the open just saves us the trouble of hunting them through the woods."

King Theron drew his broadsword, the steel ringing sharply in the morning air. He turned to his men, his voice carrying over the front rank. "Draw your steel! Today, we wipe this stain from our lands and avenge the Prince! For the realm!"

"For the realm!" the soldiers roared back.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

The royal war drums began to beat, a heavy, rhythmic thunder that echoed off the surrounding cliffs.

King Alaric pointed his gauntleted hand toward the center of the rogue line, locking his eyes on a figure wearing a crude iron helmet shaped like a snarling wolf. "That one with the wolf helmet, that has to be the boy who plays as a king. We focus our line on taking him down. Once the head is severed, the rest of these strays will break."

"Understood," King Theron grunted.

"Charge!" King Alaric bellowed.

The royal cavalry spurred their horses forward, the ground trembling under hundreds of pounding hooves as the armored soldiers surged across the field. On the other side, Varek threw his head back, let out a piercing howl, and sprinted forward on foot, his rogue army surging right behind him like a wave of dark water.

The two forces collided in the center of the plain with a sickening crash of steel, bone, and flesh.

The battle turned instantly chaotic. The royal soldiers fought with strict, military discipline, keeping their shields locked and their spears thrusting in rhythm.

But the rogues fought with pure, unhinged ferocity. They didn’t care about formation or self-preservation. Rogues leapt directly over shield walls, shifting mid-air into massive, dark wolves or lycans and tearing at the throats of horses and riders before crashing into the dirt.

A rogue wolf lunged at a royal guardsman, snapping its jaws around his shoulder plate, only for a vampire soldier to step up from behind and drive a broadsword straight through the wolf’s ribs. Blood splattered across the grass, turning the green field into a muddy, crimson bog.

Despite the crown’s superior armor, the sheer savagery of the rogue force began to push the front lines back. The rogues moved like wild animals, ducking beneath sword swings, using dirty tricks, and clawing directly at the exposed eyes and necks of the royal infantry, they fought with no honor.

In the center of the slaughter, King Alaric and King Theron fought side by side, cutting their way directly toward Varek.

Varek swung a massive, jagged iron axe, cleaving through a royal guard’s breastplate with a single, brutal swoop. He spun around, catching another soldier across the neck with the back-swing, blood spraying across his wolf helmet.

King Theron pushed his horse forward, leaping off the saddle and landing squarely in front of Varek. "Rogue scum!" Theron roared, bringing his heavy longsword down in a flashing arc.

Varek caught the blow on the shaft of his axe, the impact sending sparks flying into the air. He spat blood onto the dirt, ducking beneath a secondary strike from King Alaric, who had joined the fray on foot with his double-edged arming sword.

The two kings pressed Varek hard, coordinating their strikes with deadly precision. Alaric swept his blade low, slicing through the leather straps binding Varek’s thigh armor, forcing the rogue king down onto one knee.

Before Varek could recover, King Theron lunged forward, slamming the pommel of his sword directly into Varek’s face.

CRACK.

1

The heavy blow shattered the front of the wolf helmet, sending it flying off Varek’s head and tumbling into the mud. Varek gasped for air, his long black hair falling wildly over his bloodied face as he dropped his axe, clutching his broken nose.

King Theron stepped in close, raising his heavy broadsword high above his head with both hands, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "It ends here, rouge-trash."

____/____/____/____/____/

High up on the rocky hill overlooking the valley, Akara sat completely motionless. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow as her spirit drifted invisibly through the chaos of the battlefield below.

Through the spiritual vision, she saw her brother kneeling in the dirt. She saw King Theron raising his blade, about to drive it straight down through Varek’s skull.

No, Akara thought coldly.

Akara’s phantom form darted across the field, reaching out and grabbing King Theron’s wrist with ghostly force. On the physical battlefield, King Theron’s sword suddenly froze mid-air. He gasped, his muscles locking up as if he had been turned to solid stone.

"What... what is this?!" King Theron choked out, his eyes widening in shock as he struggled to bring his arm down. He couldn’t move a single finger.

Beside him, King Alaric turned his head, confused. "Theron?! What are you doing?! Strike him!"

"I... I can’t move my hand!" Theron rasped, sweat pouring down his forehead.

Invisible to the soldiers, Akara’s spirit stepped up right behind King Theron. She reached out her ghostly hand and slammed her palm directly against the back of his ribs. She began chanting beneath her breath, her voice echoing only in his mind.

"Aeterna nox... spiritus fractus... sanguis fluat."

Black, jagged veins suddenly erupted across King Theron’s neck and face, crawling up toward his temples like poisonous vines. His eyes rolled back into his head, turning solid, midnight black as he let out a wet, strangled gasp. He dropped his sword, clutching his stomach as thick, dark blood burst from his mouth and nose.

"Theron!" King Alaric yelled in horror, dropping his guard to catch the falling king as Theron collapsed heavily onto his knees, hyperventilating and clawing at his throat.

Down in the mud, Varek wiped the blood from his eyes. Seeing King Alaric distracted by his dying ally, Varek grinned savagely. He reached down, grabbed a fallen dagger from the dirt, and lunged forward, driving the blade deep into the side of Alaric’s exposed waist.

King Alaric cried out, stumbling backward.

Akara smiled as she watched Alaric fall back. But before she could push her spirit deeper into the fray, a sudden, blinding coldness pierced the back of her neck.

Akara’s eyes snapped open in her physical body. Her head whipped around.

Standing right behind her on the hill was the spectral form of a woman was Omen’s spirit, holding a glowing, runic dagger positioned an inch from Akara’s throat. It was an enchanted spirit-blade, forged specifically to cut through phantom tethering and kill a witch while her mind roamed.

"Idiot," Akara spat.

Without flinching, Akara slammed her own fist against her stomach, rapidly tapping her thumb against her palm in a specific, rhythmic sequence as her lips flew through an ancient counter-hex.

"Vada retro... anima repulsa... ad carnem tuam!"

A wave of kinetic, invisible magic erupted from Akara’s body. The spiritual force hit Omen’s phantom form like a battering ram, flinging her spirit backward across the sky and severing her tether instantly.

Miles away, inside the royal war tent back at the main camp, Omen’s physical body snapped upright on her cot. She gasped violently for air, her hands clutching her chest as she coughed up blood.

"Oh goddess, what pour have you given this monster..." Omen rasped, stumbling off the bed and falling onto the dirt floor of the tent. She scrambled toward the exit, yelling out to the guards at the top of her lungs. "Reinforcements! We need reinforcements now! The kings are falling... we are going to lose!"