Chapter 192: A Vengeful Windwhisper

"Ride faster! Go!"

Eristasia Windwhisper's voice tore through the biting wind, the agony of losing her daughter had not yet left her voice. "The Griffin's eyes have led us here! The murderer must be close by!"

Above the Wind Guard, the massive Gale-Stalker Griffin shrieked, its all-seeing eyes glowing like pale lanterns in the dark as it banked ahead.

Beside the Elven noblewoman, Commander Theodore spurred his armored Wind Drake forward, raising his lance high. "Ride faster!" he bellowed to the battalion. "Charge to cast judgment on the otherworldly killer! For Lady Liraeth! For the Windwhispers!"

The elite Awakeners of the Wind Guard roared in response. They stampeded through the rocky foothills, their mounts' hooves tearing up the brittle earth of the crags, following the exact path Percival had navigated just an hour prior.

They rode past the vegetations, and soon, they could see where the plants stopped growing in the far distance.

"There!" Theodore yelled, pulling hard on his Drake's reins and pointing his lance toward the dead center of the natural arena. "There he is!"

Eristasia's eyes locked onto the target. She glared with a hatred so dense it caused the wind to gush loudly around her. She directed her Griffin downward, diving toward the expanse.

The rest of the Wind Guard poured into the arena behind her like a silver flood.

The ground shuddered violently under the weight of the charging army, the vibrations kicking up clouds of freezing dust. Except for the figure in the center of it all, this field was completely empty.

The figure was very clearly the Outworlder, Percival Nightstar.

Strangely, he sat perfectly still on the hard earth, his legs crossed. Across his lap rested the Basilisk, dark and glinging. His eyes were closed, his head bowed low, his dark hair flowing gently behind him in the harsh wind.

The earth shook harder and harder as the Elven host closed the distance, a tsunami of high-grade steel, elemental magic, and roaring beasts bearing down on a single, solitary figure.

Still, he did not flinch.

Eristasia raised a clenched fist. "Halt!"

The Wind Guard abruptly pulled back on their reins, their mounts rearing and stamping the dirt. They formed a crescent formation, boxing the Outworlder against the sheer rock walls.

Dozens of Eldermoor's finest, heavily armed Awakeners, and a monstrous tracking beast, all arrayed against one man sitting in the dirt.

"Outworlder! Percival Nightstar!" Eristasia spat his name like venom, her chest heaving beneath her sapphire-studded armor. "The villagers who defended you... They are all dead. We butchered them to the last man. Now, it is your turn!"

Percival's head remained low. His voice, was cold and raspy when he replied, carrying well in the silence.

"Those villagers thought the same thing about you."

Commander Theodore's Drake hissed. "What does that mean?!" the commander bellowed, his grip tightening on his lance.

"You were both fighting against my army," Percival said simply, head still low. "I led you to them because they planned to kill me and the army they believed I brought. You followed me... and you fought them, because you thought they were defending me."

Percival paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough for them to understand. "Even though your army is stronger, it is undoubtable that you lost at least a few men."

Eristasia grimaced at the plain truth. She turned her head, her eyes sweeping over the back ranks of her army.

There were gaps. A handful of her elite Awakeners were missing, slain by unawakened peasants wielding masterpieces of Southmarch steel.

At least she had claimed all those weapons for herself.

She turned back to the Outworlder, her aristocratic face twisting in horror and disgust. "So you allowed an entire village to be slaughtered just so you could escape? What kind of savage are you?"

"Don't take the high ground with me, Lady Windwhisper." Percival's head slowly rose. From beneath his bangs of dark hair, his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers—cold, predatory, and entirely unrepentant. "You're the one who slaughtered them."

Eristasia glared down at him from atop her Griffin. For a long, suffocating moment, neither spoke. Her frustration, her guilt, and her overwhelming rage boiled over, causing the edges of her eyes to redden with fresh tears.

Percival couldn't help what he saw when he looked at her. Beneath the armor and the Elven pride, she was just a mother completely shattered by the loss of her child.

"I understand why you feel you must do this," Percival said softly.

"Feel?" Eristasia snapped with a ragged whisper. "You killed my daughter. My child!"

Percival gazed at her for a while, the howling wind the only sound between them. "I am sorry for the hurt that has caused you. But like with your daughter... I have no problem killing you too, if it means protecting myself."

Eristasia's tear-filled eyes instantly narrowed, the sorrow morphing back into anger as she understood what he was suggesting.

"You dare besmirch my daughter's name?" she hissed, her voice vibrating with magic. "Killing her in self-defense? What a lie that can only be uttered by a low-life Outworlder like you!"

"It is the truth," Percival said, still seated firmly on the earth. "I found it important that I let you know the truth. That way, if you still decide to attack... I will walk away with no guilt after what I do to you."

Theodore sneered, urging his Drake a half-step forward. "You talk tough for a cornered man, Outworlder."

Percival huffed. "Is that what you see? A cornered man?"

"Enough of this talk!" Eristasia cried, drawing her gleaming, wind-forged blade. The kinetic storm around her flared, whipping her red hair wildly.

Percival's eyes moved to her.

"I came here to kill you for what you did to my daughter!" Eristasia cried. "But I will make you suffer even more for lying on her name!"

Behind her, the Awakeners of the Wind Guard drew their weapons as one, the sound of steel ringing into the night. Mana flared across their ranks as they prepared their high-tier elemental attacks.

"The Wind Guard will show you the wrath of the Windwhispers!" Eristasia screamed. "This land will be where your judgment is cast!"

Percival's eyes narrowed into cold slits. "No," he said softly. "This land will be your funeral."

His lips gently parted. "⸢Awake⸥."

Suddenly, blue furnaces burst from the hard-packed earth. They erupted all around the guarded parties, forming a massive circle of blazing soulfire.

The Elven horses panicked, bucking and screaming as the heatless blue fire trapped them.

From the ring of flames, the twenty-nine Skeleton Soldiers Percival had just awakened rose as one.

Because of the vast size of the arena, there was space between them, but their presence was still overwhelming. They posed fiercely for battle, clad in the exquisite armor that Southmarch was known for.

They raised their massive broadswords, halberds, and kite shields, the dark blue fire burning violently in their eye sockets and joints.

Then, in Percival's sides, flames erupted as well. From the fire, two figures stepped out. To the Wind Guard's surprise, these ones were not made from bones.

They looked like real people.

Mercius Seagrave stepped out first. He was tall and large in the Descending Steel Lotus armor, his S-Grade Paragon Blade and Shield firmly in hand, blue fire licking the edges of his immense frame.

On the other side stepped Willow Lockhart, her Gilded Ironheart Plate glistened in the nightlight, and her sword, the Oathkeeper's Bastard Blade hung by her side.

Eristasia and her Guard watched as the trap sprung around them and stared with horror at the two human forms standing beside the Outworlder who was still sitting down.

"What the hell is this?!" one of the Awakeners muttered, his horse backing away from the flames.

"Is this what a Necromancer can do? Summon the dead?"

"Those Skeleton warriors look like they know how to fight!" another muttered.

"And who the hell are those two real-looking people beside him?"

Commander Theodore stared at the tall, bearded Knight holding the Paragon Sword. The blood drained entirely from the Elven commander's face.

He became terrified, his previous arrogance was no where to be seen.

"By the gods..." Theodore choked out. "That... that looks like Mercius Seagrave. The Brackenbutcher."

Eristasia's eyes darted around the ring of fire, but her determination to avenge Liraeth refused to break. It was like nothing else mattered. Nothing at all.

She gripped her blade with both hands, wind swirling around her and her Griffin.

Despite the odds shifting a little bit, she was unrelenting. She yelled, "I do not fear your warriors of frail bone! I have the Wind Guard! The greatest army of Awakeners in all of the eastern realm!"

She pointed her blade directly at Percival. "Charge! Spread out formation! Kill his undead summons! And bring me his wolf-maned head!"

The Wind Guard charged forward, exploding into action. Some leaped off their horses, others rode into the battle, attacking from all sides.

They roared battle cries to mask their fear, unleashing volleys of elemental strikes toward the perimeter.

At the center of the storm, Percival finally rose to his feet.

He gripped the hilt of the Basilisk, and pointed its abyssal tip directly toward the charging Elven army.

Instantly, his Undead Legion obeyed.

Willow burst into action first. She darted fearlessly straight toward the Elven Awakeners, her blade sang beside her, begging for blood.

Mercius raised his S-Grade blade and charged forward. This caused all twenty-nine Skeleton Soldiers to break from their perimeter and follow him into the absolute chaos of the clash.

But the Wind Guard charged still, and their leader, the noble lady of the Windwhispers led them with vengeful determination.

"You will die today, Outworlder!" Eristasia screamed from as her Griffin dove from the sky. "Hear my word! I, Eristasia Windwhisper, will kill you in this land!"