A Journey That Changed The World. - Chapter 1532 - 1532: Trained Them Well

Archer was relaxing outside a tent that his soldiers had set up for him after arriving at the fortress. He watched the 1st Legion form a battle line, thanks to the Alliance leaders sending out a force to rush at them, but they were already prepared.

A massive shield wall was erected just before the enemy soldiers crashed into it like an angry tidal wave, trying to drown them. That’s when the chaotic battle began. His eyes narrowed as the Draconians started moving forward while killing anything that came near.

”Let’s see how they fight after years of fighting,” he muttered.

Archer took a sip of some Dragon Ale he had in his Item Box and felt the liquid burning his throat. Moments later, he spotted Elara leading the 1st Legion from behind as she shouted orders to her commanders.

The beautiful redhead had asked him if she could get involved with the commanding. He happily agreed to her request as she hadn’t strayed too far from her training, still holding onto that spark of strength that defined her.

With the Oathkeepers encircling her. The knights would cut down any soldier who came close to the Dragonkin. He made sure to keep his eyes on the woman as she fought at places where the shield wall was buckling, thanks to the overwhelming numbers of Alliance soldiers.

Archer noticed the enemies were attacking the wall with desperate ferocity as they finally realized they couldn’t win the fight. Their shouts were wild, their blades flashing in the pale morning light, but their disorganized ranks faltered against the Oathkeepers.

The shields locked tight, overlapping like the scales of some great beast, and spears thrust forward, each jab finding flesh or forcing retreat. The enemy’s front line buckled, their cries of defiance turning to screams of pain as blades bit deep.

His gaze swept the field, noticing every detail: the slight waver in the left flank, where a young recruit gripped his shield too tightly; the steady bellow of a sergeant’s commands anchoring the center; the blood spray painted on the ground wherever an enemy fell.

The shield wall surged forward again after Elara gave the order, a living tide of iron and will pushed them back. The enemy’s line fractured further, their warriors stumbling over the fallen, their courage eroding under the relentless pressure.

‘Looks like she has trained them well, and the previous battles gave them experience they needed to thrive in war,’ he mused while finishing his drink.

His lips twitched into a smile as he saw one of his lieutenants, a wiry Demi-Human woman, drive her spear through an enemy captain’s shoulder, dropping him into the mud. The soldiers roared, their voices a unified bellow that drowned out the enemy’s cries.

Moments, the wall pressed on, grinding forward like a millstone over grain. Dust rose in clouds, mingling with the mist of blood and breath, but Archer’s focus never wavered as he kept an eye on everything.

Archer saw the enemy’s rear ranks begin to waver, some turning to flee only to be cut down by their commanders or caught by the Draconians’ advance. The shield wall was a machine of war, each soldier a cog turning in sync, their training forged in the crucible of countless drills and shared hardship.

He had molded them into this, and now they carved his vision into the battlefield. A flicker of movement caught his eye, an enemy archer, half-hidden behind a shattered cart, nocking an arrow aimed at the wall’s center.

Archer’s hand twitched thanks to mana, but he stopped. His role was not to get involved but to see the whole, to anticipate and direct. Moments later, he saw Elara’s head turn, her sharp eyes catching his unspoken signal.

Following that, the right flank adjusted as the soldiers moved the shield wall, angling to close the gap, and a squad broke off, sprinting toward the cart. The enemy archer loosed his shot, but it went wide, clattering uselessly against a shield.

Before the humans could nock another, the Legionnaires were upon him, their blades flashing. Archer exhaled, his breath steady despite the carnage unfolding below. The shield wall pressed on, unstoppable, each step claiming more ground, more Alliance lives.

The enemy was breaking, their cohesion and morale shattered, their will crumbling under the weight of the 1st Legion’s advance. His chest swelled just as the enemy soldiers began retreating to the fortress.

At that moment, Archer stood, his heart pounding as Dragonknights thundered past their steeds and armor glinting under the sunlight. With a deadly crash, they collided against the Alliance forces, and a whirlwind of steel and fury tore them apart.

Hooves churned the earth into a muddy frenzy, and the air crackled thanks to the hunger of battle. Yet, from the towering walls, a wave of arrows and searing bolts of energy rained down, as archers and mages unleashed their attacks upon the charging knights.

The battlefield became a chaotic mess. Spells of fire, ice, and shadow streaked across the field, weaving trails of light and destruction. The Dragonknights countered using their blades, glowing due to the runes as they parried and cast their attack spells.

Explosions blossomed like fiery flowers, shaking the ground and sending plumes of smoke spiraling into the heavens. Cries of valor and pain mingled across the battlefield as both sides traded devastating blows in a desperate struggle for supremacy.

Just then, Inara’s voice pierced through his mind like a shard of ice, sharp and urgent. ‘Arch! You need to see this right now!’

The desperation in her tone sent panic coursing through him, his pulse quickening as dread coiled in his gut. Without hesitation, he teleported to the lioness’s side in an instant thanks to his mana.

Moments after, the world seemed to slow as Archer materialized, his eyes widening at the horrific scene before him. His breath caught, and his entire body began to tremble uncontrollably, as if the earth itself quaked beneath him.

A hideous forest of death stretched out, a sea of trees, each decorated with the lifeless bodies of men, women, and children, their forms swaying in the wind. Some were savagely brutalized, their flesh torn and limbs twisted in unnatural angles, while others bore the cruel torture.

The air reeked of blood and despair, a sickening miasma that clawed at his senses. Archer’s gaze snagged on a small, white-haired girl dangling limply from a gnarled branch, her delicate features hauntingly reminding him of his daughters. The sight shattered something deep inside him, a fragile thread of restraint that had tethered his sanity all those years ago.

His vision blurred, not with tears, but with a searing, unhinged rage that consumed him. His muscles tensed, veins bulging as his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, nails biting into his palms until blood dripped onto the cursed ground.

A guttural roar tore from his throat as the last vestiges of control snapped like brittle twigs. His aura erupted into a tempest of raw, chaotic power, a storm of dark energy that lashed out uncontrollably. The force of it sent Inara and the nearby soldiers staggering backward, some tumbling to the ground as the air crackled with his fury.

His violet eyes, now blazing, remained fixed on the lifeless girl, her innocent face fueling a wrath so powerful it threatened to unravel him completely. The battlefield, the war, the world itself faded; there was only the rage, the pain, and the need to make those responsible pay.

The air around Archer seethed with his unleashed fury, a storm of chaotic mana swirling like a storm ready to tear the world in half. His eyes, wild and bloodshot, remained locked on the lifeless form of the white-haired little girl hanging from the tree, swaying in the chill wind.

His chest heaved, each one fueling the inferno of rage consuming him. The older woman’s red eyes widened in horror, but she pushed through his chaotic aura, stepping closer despite the oppressive force radiating from him.

”Arch! Archer, listen to me!” Inara’s voice was firm as she reached out, her hand hovering near his trembling shoulder. ”You need to breathe. Focus on me. We’ll make this right, I swear it.”

Archer’s head snapped toward her, his violet eyes burning with a power that made her flinch. ”Make it right?!” he roared, echoing across the blood-soaked clearing. ”They’re children, Inara! Innocents! Look at them!”

He thrust a shaking, bloodied hand toward the grotesque display of bodies dangling from the trees, men, women, and children, their lives snuffed out. ”The Alliance didn’t need to do this! They didn’t need to butcher little kids, to string them up like trophies!”

His words dripped with venom, each syllable a lash of his unraveling sanity. Inara swallowed hard, her heart aching at the pain twisting his features. She stepped closer, her voice softening but resolute.

”I know, Arch. I know it’s horrific. It’s monstrous. But losing yourself to this rage won’t bring them back. We need you, I need you, to stay with me so we can fight back, together.”