Chapter 27.5: The Two Weeks Journey Home - Blood Stained Walls
Personal System Calendar: Year 0009, Days 1-14 Month IX: The Imperium
Imperial Calendar: Year 6854, 9th month, 1st to 14th Day
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Piles of the Dead
The battle raged on with unrelenting fury. The walls held for now, though the massive Bagag-hwa had reached the fort's perimeter, their colossal forms casting shadows that seemed to swallow the light. The defenders were holding admirably with minimal casualties so far, saved by their superior training and equipment. But two hundred thousand drugged living beings weren't easy to handle, no matter how skilled or well-equipped the defenders were.
While their strongest fighters engaged the Bagag-hwa and the mages accompanying them, the regular soldiers of the empire dealt with the endless waves below. Soon, piles upon piles of bodies could be seen accumulating at the base of the walls like some macabre tide. Yet something was different from the enemies August and his party had fought earlier in the southern assault. These bodies didn't explode immediately after death.
The condition was supposed to be simple: the drug-enhanced rebels would explode upon death, releasing their poisonous payload. But this time, there was a calculated delay. The defenders didn't notice the discrepancy because they were preoccupied with their own desperate tasks, fighting for survival against seemingly endless waves of attackers who felt no pain and showed no fear.
The walls were now thoroughly stained with the assaulters' blood, dripping from the thirty-foot ramparts in thick crimson streams that pooled at the base. But this gruesome display was all part of the enemy's strategy. There was a carefully engineered delay in the meat bomb explosions. They had timed it so the poison would create a massive gas cloud to cover the entire area simultaneously rather than in scattered bursts. The weather favored them with no strong wind to disperse such a cloud, and the enemy had positioned their wind mages who could concentrate and contain the poison within the fort's boundaries, making the poisonous cloud far more potent and inescapable.
With Commander General Roger preoccupied coordinating the multi-front defense, he didn't realize what was developing. None of them did. Even Master Ben, in his great wisdom accumulated over three centuries, couldn't foresee such an outcome. This was the first war he had personally joined at this scale. He might be formidable in his own right, capable of feats that would make lesser mages weep, but a coordinated siege warfare of this magnitude was new territory even for him.
Make no mistake, he had burned all those he encountered so far with ruthless efficiency. He was carefully managing his mana reserves, having only unlocked 30% of his full power through his self-imposed restrictions. He calculated it was wise to conserve strength in case he needed to deal with the other three Bagag-hwa and their manipulators simultaneously. The Oath of the Strong that all grandmasters took limited his power output to a maximum of 10% of his true capabilities under normal circumstances, a sacred binding designed to prevent world-destroying catastrophes. But even that restricted 10% was devastating enough.
For now, he focused on covering their defenses weaknesses across the entire battlefield, as the fort was literally surrounded by a horde of enemies pressing from all sides. Although most were sacrificial pawns drugged beyond reason, they were still annoyingly resilient. The chemical enhancements in their systems made them refuse to die quickly, continuing to fight even with mortal wounds.
Master Ben's primary task was crowd control on a massive scale. Literal walls of flame rose from the ground to keep most enemies at bay, reaching heights of twenty feet and stretching for hundreds of meters. The heat was so intense that the stone walls of the fort themselves began to glow faintly. But surprisingly, perhaps due to the enhancement drugs overriding their survival instincts, the rebels still charged through the flames and even across molten magma he had spread across the ground like burning rivers.
The air reeked of burning flesh, acrid sulfur, and the thick, cloying scent of blood and death. It was the smell of war distilled to its most primal essence.
But when approximately 25% of the enemy forces had died, and their bodies lying in grotesque piles at the walls sometimes stacked three or four corpses high, the trap was finally sprung.
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The Poison Cloud
A massive explosion of flesh rocked the entire castle wall. The gore was so grotesque that even hardened veterans had to look away. Body parts flew through the air in every direction, and blood sprinkled and stained the walls, the defenders, everything. The explosion painted the world red.
Then, in the aftermath of that horrific detonation, the blood began to change. The crimson liquid evaporated rapidly, transforming into a gaseous form right before their eyes. A blood-red mist mixed with a purplish haze began filling the air, surrounding the entirety of the garrison fort of Aulexus in an ever-thickening shroud.
All the defenders could manage was a collective curse. They didn't have many mages on their side compared to the enemy. The rebels had over a hundred magic users still alive coordinating this poison attack. The garrison currently had only twenty-five mages of various ranks and specializations, with Master Ben considered the most senior and powerful among those present on the battlefield. He was the sole grandmaster wizard here; the rest were masters, experts, and even some apprentices still learning their craft.
Orders were barked across the fort's walls: "Cover your mouths and noses! Don't breathe it in!"
The command echoed across every section of the fort. But the enemy had planned for this basic countermeasure. They had made sure that even if defenders covered their airways, the air would become so saturated and thick with poison that when they eventually needed to breathe, they would have no choice but to inhale the toxic gas into their systems.
The air began to converge on the fort as enemy mages with wind elemental affinity positioned outside started manipulating the atmospheric currents. They were actively sucking the poison into a concentrated area, compressing it and intensifying its potency. A visible sphere began to form around the entire fort, outlined by the blood-red color mixed with that sickly purplish haze. It looked like the garrison had been trapped inside a grotesque snow globe filled with death.
The five wind mages among the defenders tried desperately to counter this mass poisoning. They attempted to shield their own forces, creating clean air pockets and pushing the poison away, but they had limited mana reserves. This wasn't a battle they could win through attrition. They could buy perhaps a few extra minutes, but after their mana dried up, they would be taken out of the fight, effectively reducing the garrison's already limited magical firepower.
Depending on each person's skill level and degree of mastery, exposure would have different effects. Those at the lowest levels would die within minutes. Those who could manage their internal mana to resist the poison would survive but be severely weakened, their combat effectiveness reduced by half or more. The garrison couldn't afford such losses at this critical juncture.
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The Dragonguard's Desperation
The Dragonguards, sensing that this poisoning would be catastrophic to the entire defensive effort, decided on what they thought was the best course of action. They would sacrifice themselves in a desperate sortie to kill those wind mages hiding at the back of the veteran soldiers formation, protected by the former Fresco League elite troops.
Even with their formidable numbers of fifty-one master-ranked warriors, they wouldn't be able to survive fighting through fifty thousand veteran soldiers. That calculation didn't even account for the four master illusionists and their two hundred acolytes and disciples who could make the battlefield itself an unreliable nightmare. Even being the most elite warriors of the empire didn't make them invincible against such overwhelming odds.
Grand Captain Commander Alexander was already preparing to give the order to sortie, to throw themselves into that meat grinder in hopes of disrupting the poison attack, when Commander General Roger's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
"Alexander! Stand down and hold the line! If you jump down there, then this fort will fall to the enemy! And I don't want the Emperor to be disappointed because an old man and his most elite warriors couldn't hold against these weak, pathetic bastards!" The general's weathered face was set in grim determination. "I'm sure our reinforcements are coming! So hold on for now and endure!"
Grand Captain Commander Alexander opened his mouth to refute the order, to argue that sacrificing fifty-one lives to save thousands was tactically sound, when something unexpected happened.
August, unknown to everyone present, revealed the true extent of his power.
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Tempest Sovereign
What they didn't know was that August had achieved grandmaster rank in the use of his wind elemental magic at his young age. This was one of his secondary elements, along with lightning, but they were the first magical disciplines he had fully mastered and integrated into his combat style. His primary fire elemental magic was still around expert rank, but his wind and lightning had advanced far beyond that through constant practice and life-or-death situations.
August raised his hand toward the poisonous sphere surrounding them. His eyes blazed with power as he channeled his mana, feeling the familiar rush of elemental energy responding to his will.
"TEMPEST SOVEREIGN - AEGIS DOMINION!"
He yelled for the first time while using it. It was not just for dramatic effect but because it felt necessary to evoke into words and in turn make the spell more powerful.
The spell manifested in stages of escalating power and complexity. It began as a barely visible shimmer in the air around August, subtle wind whispers that most people couldn't even detect. Then defensive barriers of crackling energy formed around him, invisible but tangible, pressing against the poisonous air.
As the spell developed, these invisible barriers transformed into a howling vortex of tornadic force. The constant buzzing of contained lightning created a cage of electrical energy capable of deflecting attacks and shattering stone. The very air began to sing with power.
The enemy wind mages felt their carefully constructed poison sphere beginning to destabilize. Their controlled winds were being disrupted by a force more violent and primal than what they could conjure. They recognized immediately that whoever they were facing had mastered this skill to an extraordinary degree.
But it wasn't just violent wind. Lightning mixed with the tornadic forces, striking enemies caught within the expanding area of effect. Blue-white bolts arced through the poisonous cloud, igniting it in places and dispersing it in others.
In its advanced stage, the spell's power began doubling every two seconds through a cascading amplification effect. Lightning arced more violently while winds spun faster and tighter, creating an ever-expanding sphere of controlled destruction. The magic amplified by 225% for every two-second cycle, and August had the mana reserves to sustain multiple cycles.
What the defenders had hoped to achieve through their own wind mages was now being accomplished by a single teenager. August's Tempest Sovereign was more violent, more focused, more powerful than anything they could have managed collectively. Those enemies caught in the area of effect were either electrocuted by the lightning or cut to pieces by wind blades moving at supersonic speeds.
The poison that was meant to suffocate the defenders was instead redirected toward the attackers themselves. The toxic cloud, still potent and deadly, swept back across the enemy lines. The rebel wind mages hurriedly tried to shield their own forces, panic evident in their hasty defensive spells.
Then one of the master illusionists, the same one August had faced in the southern assault, recognized the unique signature of the spell (like a fingerprint). His face contorted with rage and humiliation.
"There! That's the boy I told you about! The one who humiliated us! Kill him! Rush him and kill him now!"
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Defense and a Surprise Revelation
Hearing these words, August's companions immediately jumped to his defense with practiced coordination that came from years of fighting together. Adam became a towering vanguard, his massive shield creating a wall of protection while he simultaneously raised barriers of earth and stone around their position. Erik, who also possessed earth elemental affinity, reinforced these defenses from another angle, creating overlapping layers of protection.
Isabel supplemented their stone walls with her wood elemental magic, growing thick vines and hardened wood that made their defensive structure far sturdier than stone alone. The combination created a small fortress within the larger fort.
The enemy magicians, seeing their poison attack failing and recognizing August as the cause, made a critical tactical decision. Even their Bagag-hwa handlers redirected the massive beasts toward August and his team's position. It was a risky gamble that exposed their formation to the other defenders, but eliminating the source of the wind disruption seemed like their only choice now.
The Dragonguards, who had been tasked with protecting August and his team, rushed to reinforce their position. Their master-ranked warriors formed a defensive perimeter, their legendary skills finally getting a proper showcase.
The enemy, desperate now, combined their magical powers to form a massive sphere of destructive energy. It was an elemental bomb containing fire, ice, wind, earth, lightning, and even death magic, all compressed into a single devastating payload. They prepared to drop it directly on top of the defenders, consequences be damned.
But they failed to take one crucial factor into account.
Master Ben was there.
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The Wizard of Molten Flames Unleashed
The Wizard of Molten Flames, sensing the desperation of the enemy and seeing a critical weakness form in their ranks as they focused everything on August, decided it was time. Time to stop holding back. Time to show these fools why grandmasters were feared across the world.
He began releasing the remaining locks on his power that the Oath of the Strong imposed. Even going from his self-imposed 30% limit to his full 100% available power, still technically only 10% of his true capabilities, was enough to have changed the entire nature of the battlefield.
The darkening evening sky began to glow with crimson-red fire. The temperature rose so rapidly that people gasped. The air they breathed felt like inhaling flames. Sweat evaporated from their skin instantly. Metal weapons became too hot to handle, forcing soldiers to drop them to the ground where they sizzled against stone.
Amidst all of that environmental change, Master Ben floated into the air, rising above the fort like an avatar of fire itself. His form began to change as he accessed more of his power. His simple traveling robes fell away, revealing the ancient Flame Forged Armor beneath, which appeared as worn leather but could withstand temperatures found in stellar cores.
His wooden walking stick shed its disguise like a snake shedding its skin. The true form of Pyraxis Eternal revealed itself, a magnificent staff carved from volcanic glass with a perpetually molten core that pulsed with inner fire. The weapon had been forged from the same volcano where Ben had undergone his transformation centuries ago.
The enemy forces, who had been singularly focused on August and his team, suddenly switched their attention elsewhere. Survival instincts overrode their orders as they recognized the far greater threat rising above the battlefield.
The darkness of the heavens ignited with flames. It looked as though the sun itself had descended to the surface of Centuury. Master Ben raised Pyraxis Eternal skyward and invoked one of his signature abilities.
"Meteor Strike."
He didn't use it to its full extent. That would have been overkill and risked permanent damage to the region. Instead, he fragmented the spell into clusters rather than one massive impact. Each cluster was still devastating, but targeted and controlled.
The sky split open. Dozens of flaming meteors began their descent, trailing fire and smoke as they plummeted toward the earth. Master Ben directed each one with precision, most definitely targeting the areas surrounding the fort and especially the concentrations of enemy mages.
The ground itself began to respond to his power. Cracks appeared in the earth, glowing with internal fire. Then the planet's blood, its molten magma, began flowing up through those cracks like reversed waterfalls. Master Ben wielded this magma as easily as he breathed, his unique physiology and centuries of mastery making him the undisputed lord of this element.
This was his specialty. This was why he had earned the title of High Archmage of Molten Flames. This was why even the Emperor respected his power.
The ground shook with seismic intensity as he activated his Planetary Fire Flow Conduit, drawing power directly from the planet's molten core. His connection to Centuury's tectonic heart was so profound that his emotions could literally cause volcanic eruptions if he wasn't careful.
He channeled his Emotion-Seismic Link carefully, creating controlled area-of-effect volcanic bursts across the battlefield. Although there were risks of mental instability during prolonged combat when using this ability, he calculated this wouldn't be a problem if he ended the fight quickly.
The entire battlefield transformed into his personal domain. The flat ground became a nightmare landscape of flowing magma rivers, erupting geysers of flame, and impact craters from meteor strikes. This was how grandmasters fought. This was why they vowed never to use their powers to the extreme, as doing so would risk catastrophic damage to the world itself.
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Symphony of Destruction
If August's sudden outburst of power had been magnificent, this was something else entirely. A person who could literally control the world's magma flow was beyond comprehension. The enemy forces were astonished at what they were facing. Was this battle, this cause of theirs, a mistake from the very beginning? Had the gods forsaken them and thrown them into the lion's mouth?
The drugged soldiers beneath, even in their chemically-induced madness, wanted desperately to run away. But there was molten magma flowing all around them, cutting off escape routes. And then the meteors made their impacts.
The destruction was biblical in scale. Each meteor strike created a shockwave that rippled across the battlefield. The heat was so intense that sand turned to glass. The concussive force threw bodies into the air like ragdolls. The combination of impact trauma and immolation killed hundreds with each strike.
Those at the walls, even August who had already powered down his magical skill to conserve mana, could only watch the spectacle in stunned silence. Master Ben, glowing with inner fire and floating in the air like some ancient fire deity, conducted his symphony of destruction with careful precision. Each gesture directed magma flows. Each motion of Pyraxis Eternal called down another meteor cluster. He moved like a maestro conducting a beautiful, yet terrible orchestra of death and screams.
His Magma Construct Sovereignty activated, and dozens of molten golems rose from the flowing magma. Each construct inherited 10% of Ben's own formidable statistics, making them individually powerful enough to fight master-ranked warriors. They waded into the enemy formation, their very touch incinerating flesh and melting armor.
The spectacle lasted for only one minute. Master Ben had learned long ago the dangers of losing himself in combat. He didn't want to fall into a berserker's rage, which would honestly be far more dangerous than anything these rebels were attempting. His mental discipline was as formidable as his magical power.
But that single minute was enough.
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The Aftermath
Of the nearly 250,000 cannon fodder soldiers, including the three remaining massive Bagag-hwa and their riders and handlers, only 5% remained. Twelve thousand survivors out of a quarter million attackers. The fifty thousand veteran Fresco League soldiers hadn't even participated in the direct assault, along with most of the main commanders who had positioned themselves at the rear to finish off whatever remained of the garrison's defenders.
But even those hardened veterans knew and understood that this battle was lost. The commander of this failed expedition, Karvus, made the only rational decision available.
"We lost." His voice was hollow, devoid of the fanaticism that had driven them here. "Let us retreat and lick our wounds. We have lost three of our four masters and most of their disciples, surviving with just one. This will be devastating for our cause." He looked at the hellscape that had been a battlefield. "But living to fight another day is better than dying here for nothing. Prepare to withdraw from this field before we are completely surrounded."
What they didn't know was that reinforcements were already behind them, racing toward the location where the evening sky had been turned to artificial daylight by Master Ben's display of power.
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Stunned in Silence
Meanwhile, back at Fort Aulexus, everyone was left too stunned to speak. Not even the aged Commander General Roger, who had seen countless battles across his centuries of service, could find words adequate to describe what he had just witnessed.
The Dragonguards stood in silent awe. These were warriors who had trained their entire lives to reach master rank, who had fought in dozens of campaigns, who had faced down impossible odds. Yet they had never seen anything like what Master Ben had just displayed.
August and his companions were equally speechless. They had known Master Ben was powerful, certainly. But knowing someone is a grandmaster and actually witnessing what that means in practice were two very different things.
The temperature was still elevated across the entire region. The ground steamed where magma had flowed. Impact craters still were smoldering hot. And the air shimmered with heat distortion.
General Roger finally found his voice. "Well." He cleared his throat. "I suppose that's one way to handle a siege."
It was such an absurd understatement that several people actually laughed, releasing tension that had been building for hours. The laughter was slightly hysterical but genuine.
Grand Captain Commander Alexander approached Master Ben, who had descended back to the walls and was carefully sealing away his power once more. "Master Flameswrath, on behalf of the Dragonguards and the Imperium, I offer our deepest gratitude. You have saved countless lives today."
Master Ben waved away the thanks with his staff, which had already disguised itself as a simple walking stick again. "Hohoho, I just did what needed to be done. Though I admit, I may have gotten a bit carried away." He looked at the devastated landscape with something like regret. "The environmental damage will take years to fully recover from."
"It is better to have damaged land than to have dead imperial soldiers in its wake," General Roger said firmly. "You made the right call, Master Flameswrath."
August finally approached his mentor, his expression complex. "Master Ben, I knew you were powerful. But I've never seen it to this extent..."
"Of course I have never shown it to you?" Ben smiled gently. "My boy, I'm a teacher. Teachers don't show off their power. They help their students develop on their own." He gestured at the area where August had deployed his Tempest Sovereign. "And speaking of which, that was masterful work with your wind magic. A grandmaster level magical skill at your age. I'm truly impressed. You have worked hard."
August felt a flush of pride at the genuine approval in his mentor's voice.
"However," Ben continued, his tone becoming more serious, "remember that power on this scale comes with responsibility. The Oath of the Strong exists for a reason. If I had used my full capabilities without restriction and control, this entire region might have become uninhabitable. The line between saving lives and destroying the world can be thinner than you think."
The weight of those words settled over August. He nodded slowly, understanding the lesson beneath the lesson.
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The Next Battle
The battle at the fort had reached its conclusion, but as General Roger surveyed the retreating enemy forces through his enhanced vision, he realized their work wasn't finished.
"They're withdrawing in good order," he observed. "Those veterans know what they're doing. They'll regroup and potentially threaten other positions." He turned to his officers. "Our reinforcements should be arriving soon. When they do, we might need to provide assistance in pursuing the enemy rather than the other way around."
Indeed, on the horizon, Commander Ira Kayman and her two thousand mounted warriors on their Kaiman beasts were racing toward the battlefield. They had seen the sky light up with fire and increased their pace, fearing they would arrive too late.
When they finally reached the outskirts of Fort Aulexus and saw the devastation, they pulled their mounts to a halt in collective shock.
"By all the gods," Commander Kayman breathed. "What happened here?"
One of her scouts, who had ridden ahead, returned with a report. "Commander, the fort stands! The siege has been broken! The enemy is in full retreat!"
Kayman's tactical mind was already working. "Then we pursue. No mercy for those who would attack imperial territory." She raised her voice to address her warriors. "Riders of Kay-Wan! The fort has held, but the enemy escapes! We will be the hammer to their anvil! Forward!"
The two thousand mounted warriors surged forward with renewed purpose, their Kaiman beasts eager for battle after the long ride.
Back at the fort, General Roger watched their approach with satisfaction. "There's our hammer. Now let's make sure none of these rebel bastards escape to threaten our lands again."
The defenders, tired but victorious, began preparing for the next phase. The siege might be over, but the war had just begun.
August looked at his companions, all of them exhausted but unharmed. They had survived their first true siege. They had fought alongside legends and held their ground against overwhelming odds.
"We did it," Milo said, his voice filled with wonder. "We actually did it."
"We held the line," Adam agreed, his shield arm still trembling slightly from the sustained combat.
Betty was already checking her remaining crossbow bolts. "And we'll hold it again if we have to."
Angeline finished healing the last of the wounded nearby before joining them. "Master Ben did most of the heavy lifting at the end there."
"But we held until he could," August pointed out. "That's what matters. We played our part."
Erik and Rexy rejoined the group, the massive Grimfang looking tired but satisfied. "So what now?"
August looked toward where the enemy was retreating and where the reinforcements were pursuing. "Now we wait and see if they need us for the chase. And then, hopefully, we finally get to continue our journey home."
The sun was setting for real now, painting the smoke-filled sky in shades of orange and red that competed with the lingering glow of Master Ben's fires. Fort Aulexus had held. The blood-stained walls bore testament to the price paid, but they had held.
And in the growing darkness, the defenders of the Imperium stood watch, knowing that this victory, hard-won as it was, was just one battle in a larger war that was only beginning.