Chapter 193: Battle Of Vengeance And An Endless Hunt

The Wind Guard was made up of some of the best Awakeners in Eldermoor, a vicious mix of Fire Mages, Wind Mages, Wind Archers, Storm Knights, and other Classes who have learnt to battle by each other's sides for a long time.

Percival's Skeleton Soldiers were nothing of sorts. All they had was the command of their master and the zeal to accomplish it.

They collided with the Wind Guard and the battle began.

A heavily armored Elven Barbarian brought his massive two-handed battleaxe screaming down toward a Skeleton's skull.

The Skeleton pivoted fast on its right boot, twisted its body at the last second, and let the axe head slam harmlessly into the dirt. In the same smooth motion it thrust its broadsword upward in a tight arc, straight for the soft gap under the Elf's armpit.

It was perfect master-level Swordsman technique.

The Elf was simply too strong. His raw aura flared hot and knocked the blade aside like it was nothing.

With a furious roar he ripped the axe free and swung it sideways. The brute force shattered the Skeleton's ribcage, sent blue fire sputtering into the wind, and dropped the bones in a clattering heap.

All across the line the same ugly truth played out. The Skeletons moved precisely and skillfully, parrying strikes, slipping into blind spots, and landing hits.

But the Awakeners powered straight through every flawless move with overwhelming speed and strength empowered by the mana they possessed. They crushed bone and rusted steel underfoot like it was dry kindling.

⸢Skeleton Soldier has been defeated⸥

⸢Skeleton Soldier has been defeated⸥

⸢Skeleton Soldier has been defeated⸥

However, the Soul Soldiers were changing the game.

Willow was pure terror on two legs, all speed and razor edges. An Elven fire Arcanist hurled a condensed sphere of white-hot plasma straight at her face.

Willow dropped to her right knee in a flash, let the scorching heat singe the air an inch above her helm, then pushed off her back foot and sprang forward like a striking viper.

A dual-wielding Elven Assassin stepped in to cut her off, both daggers thrusting for her chest.

Willow flicked her wrist, her spectral blade slapped the right dagger high, sidestepped the left by a hair, dropped her shoulder, and drove her armored elbow straight into the rogue's sternum with a wet crunch.

As the Elf gasped and folded forward she spun on her heel, sliced the back of his knee open, and kicked off his armored shoulder.

She flipped backward in a clean somersault, cleared a spear thrust from a charging paladin, landed light on her feet, and lunged right back into the fight.

On the far side of the arena, Mercius fought in a completely different way to his fellow Knight.

The Brackenbutcher didn't move around like her. But he was efficient all the same. A mountain.

Three Elven Swordsmen charged him at once, blades glowing with wind magic. Mercius raised the massive Paragon Shield and caught all three strikes at the same time.

The impact rang out and sent a visible shockwave of displaced air rolling through the dust.

Before the Elves could regain their balance he swept the Paragon Blade, catching two of them square in the chest plates. The arc launched them fifteen feet through the air like broken dolls, their screams cutting over the roar of battle.

A fourth Awakener lunged with a halberd. Mercius caught the wooden shaft in his bare gauntlet, crushed the enchanted wood to splinters, and headbutted the Elf so hard the helm crumpled inward with a metallic crunch.

He tossed the limp body aside like garbage. His glowing blue eyes swept the battlefield and locked onto Commander Theodore.

Theodore still sat atop his Wind Drake, hands shaking as he watched the mythic Brackenbutcher casually tear apart his fellow warriors.

Theodore was a Guard Knight. A kind of Knight that was specifically made to tank. He knew he was the one who had to fight Mercius.

Swallowing the terror clawing up his throat, he leveled his heavy lance, dug his spurs into the hissing drake, and let out a raw, throat-tearing battle cry as he charged straight at the spectral giant.

Meanwhile, on the deeper end of the field, Percival faced off against the noble lady of Arandor.

"Die!" Eristasia shrieked.

The Gale-Stalker Griffin dropped from the sky in a blinding dive, massive talons stretched wide.

Eristasia stood tall in the stirrups, body leaning forward, wind-forged spear aimed dead at the center of Percival's chest. The air pressure around the diving beast was so heavy it flattened the dirt beneath it in a wide circle.

Percival was still for a while. Then when the time was right, he bent his knees, muscles coiling tight, and exploded straight upward to meet her.

The Griffin's beak snapped shut on empty air. Percival twisted his torso hard to the right, felt the razor edge of Eristasia's spear graze his pauldron with a metallic scrape.

He gripped the Basilisk with both hands and swept the matte-grey blade in a brutal horizontal arc aimed at her throat.

Eristasia gasped and slammed her upper body flat against the Griffin's feathered neck. The snake-hilted blade passed so close it sheared off a thick lock of her red hair.

Percival finished the mid-air spin, somersaulted clean over the Griffin's massive wing, and crashed back to the ground.

His greaves gouged two short trenches in the dirt as he absorbed the landing. Behind him the Griffin screeched, talons ripping up earth while Eristasia hauled savagely on the reins and spun the beast around to face him again.

Before Percival could raise his blade, three Awakeners flanked him fast. One was a Barbarian and the other two, Swordsmen.

The Barbarian came first, his mace swinging down in an overhead crush. Percival sidestepped clean, let the mace bury itself deep in the packed earth, then planted his greaves straight on the mace head and pinned it.

He snapped his wrist forward and drove the heavy pommel of his sword into the Awakener's visor. Blood splashed out and the Elf dropped instantly.

Ding!

⸢You have killed an Awakener, name unknown⸥

⸢+600 EXP⸥

The two Swordsmen attacked together, thrusting at his ribs. Percival swept the Basilisk in a tight low crescent, slapped the left thrust down into the dirt, spun completely around using the momentum, ducked under the right thrust, and slashed upward.

The blackish blade sheared through the reinforced chest plate, drew a bright spray of blood, and sent the Elf crashing onto his back.

Ding!

⸢You have killed an Awakener, name unknown⸥

⸢+400 EXP⸥

Percival turned to face the last Swordsman when a blinding flash of white light lit up the entire canyon.

Eristasia's eyes burned with pure kinetic fury. The air around her screamed instead of swirling. She summoned raw, gruesome wind magic and condensed a violent localized hurricane right at the tip of her spear.

"Aerial Destruction!" she roared and thrust forward.

The blast ripped the top layer of earth clean off the ground. It caught Percival mid-stride before he could raise his sword.

He tried to make himself heavy, but the force tore him off his feet like he weighed nothing. He flew backward through the air, hurtling toward the stonier ground like a broken ragdoll.

Percival tried to get control of his body to control his landing, but it was still difficult to do that. Even with his high constitution and agility. Just what kind of wind magic was this?

Mercius Seagrave, thankfully, saw it happen.

He abandoned his clash with Theodore, pivoted fast despite his massive size, and leaped backward into the path of the blast.

He hung his S-Grade sword and shield behind him, threw his huge armored arms wide, and caught Percival straight out of the air.

The momentum hit like a hammer. Even with all his weight and strength Mercius was driven backward. His heavy boots slammed into the earth and skidded for ten long yards finally bled off the force and ground to a halt.

Across the battlefield the Griffin reared up on its hind legs, eyes glowing hungrily.

Percival narrowed his eyes at her crest. "A level 139 Wind Mage." He huffed tiredly. "She's pretty strong."

Eristasia pointed her sword straight at the Outworlder still cradled in the giant's arms. Her voice tore through the howling wind.

"You're going to die, Outworlder! Die!!!!"

—---—

Meanwhile in Luvengart, Baron Eutheo burst out of his study and into his courtroom. In his hand was a glowing spherical crystal. Inside the swirling mists the pale terrified face of Duke Ithalan flickered like a ghost.

"They found him!" Eutheo barked, voice raw and ragged. "My Whisperers just sent word from the Southmarch! The Outworlder was spotted there and the Wind Guard is chasing him down right now!"

Inside the orb Ithalan looked like the floor had dropped out from under him. The Elven Duke swallowed hard, eyes wide with dread that the magic projection made impossible to hide.

"So… Eristasia Windwhisper has mobilized her army," he whispered as the full weight of it sank in. "If she catches him… if she kills him before we can bring him to Omares…"

"That is to be expected!" Eutheo snapped, cutting the Duke's spiraling fear short.

The Baron's terror had already flipped into the cold cutthroat instinct that built his city's fortune. He bared his teeth at the glowing orb. "We cannot afford to hesitate, Ithalan. We have to reach the Hero first or our secret spills out and King Alfred will put my head on a spike while Galadrien peels the flesh from your bones!"

Eutheo pulled back from the orb. His eyes burned with dark frantic resolve as he reached for the heavy iron bell on the corner of his desk.

"Gather every man you have!" he roared into the crystal, voice loud enough to make the glass vibrate. "I am activating the Luvenguard!"