Chapter 709

Chapter 709

“An opportunity remains for you. Align yourselves with me, and I shall fulfill your every longing.” That voice, its origin seemingly coming from everywhere at once, struck the ears of those present with the sharpness of a spike. The alchemist Drmul was the speaker. A faint, sugary aroma permeated the atmosphere—perhaps a byproduct of some incantation—yet it appeared that Enkrid was the only one to detect its presence. “Relinquish your hope, Tempe. As Drmul noted, what significance can two blades and a lone girl have against this?” Heskal uttered these words as he lifted his left palm. From the rear, a fresh tide of abominations slithered forward. He then signaled with his right hand, and even more creatures surged into view. ‘He has categorized them by branch.’ Enkrid’s eyes darted from one side to the other. The sight of monsters moving with the precision of a professional battalion was already unsettling, but it was now undeniable that they were organized into specific units. The contingent responding to Heskal’s left-hand signal consisted of Scalers mounted upon reptilian beasts. These lizards licked the air amidst the downpour, rainwater cascading off their snouts. Their prominent brow ridges created deep channels on their faces, funneling the rain into distinct streams. Through the blur of the tempest, discerning their true hues was difficult, but the scales of the lizards, while somber, were not perfectly black. There were easily upwards of three hundred in that group alone. Despite the absence of bridles, the Scalers sat with perfect stability upon their mounts. There was no sign they might lose their balance or be thrown by a sudden lunge. Their skulls were sturdy; had they lacked the prowess to ride and strike simultaneously, they would never have attempted the maneuver. Heskal had turned his back on Zaun, but he had not lost his intellect. He remained a cunning strategist. ‘The scale is overwhelming.’ The monstrous host was rapidly approaching a count of two thousand. Further silhouettes were cresting the gentle incline of the path. The influx of monsters showed no sign of stopping. Even without the specialized perception of a knight, that reality was painfully clear. To Enkrid’s right, an additional three hundred Scalers and Owlbears remained in a low crouch, waiting for the signal. ‘He concealed them masterfully.’ This bore the mark of Heskal, a man renowned for his ability to distort and hide information. Even the units marching from the lower ground moved with intent. Their advance was not a frantic scramble but a coordinated maneuver. Enkrid silently promised that if the drillmaster responsible for this coordination was a human or some other sentient being, he would interrogate them about their techniques before ending their life. It was a staggering display of military discipline. While observing those dark masses shift through the gale, Enkrid noticed that several creatures on the right flank possessed leathery wings, reminiscent of a bat’s. ‘Are they capable of flight? It is highly probable.’ Such appendages were not meant for simple aesthetics. With that realization, the beasts suddenly seemed to possess a much lighter frame. If they were designed for the sky, their skeletal structure might be hollow—creatures specifically bred for high-speed aerial combat. Enkrid surveyed the entire field and noted the coordinates of his companions. He gauged the gap between them and the opposition, weighing their collective power. Every detail necessary for the coming slaughter was etched into his mind. “The rhythm of conflict is a living thing. Not even the finest soldiers can foresee every shift in a fight. Certainly, there are those who attempt to map out every outcome—individuals like King Eyeball. But even Kraiss could not anticipate every minor ripple on a field of war.” Lua Gharne had imparted this wisdom during their lessons on strategy. “However, in a conflict where I am present, I can achieve something nearly identical,” she had asserted. “That is the method by which I eliminate foes whose strength exceeds my own.” That was the level of certainty she carried. Was there any shame in securing victory through means other than raw physical prowess? In a life-or-death struggle, did such distinctions hold weight? “Hardly.” Enkrid spoke the word softly to himself, his mind churning with variables. The gift Lua Gharne possessed was a rarity across the whole continent. Enkrid recognized its value. The deeper his education under her went, the more he understood the depth of her genius. “I am Frokk, a contender who has resolved to surpass my own constraints.” Her declaration rang out in the halls of his memory. Her engagements began with a plan. And all plans began with a trick. The display Heskal had provided was no different. He had masked his true capability. While Drmul’s presence was foreseen, the rest was a shock. The organized military structure of the monsters was a complete curveball. This was destined to be a clash of masses. What Zaun required in this moment was a singular direction to harmonize their divided strength. “Sense the current. Enki, the ability is within you. You have navigated a battlefield through sheer gut feeling once before, have you not?” It was true. He had halted the advance of Azpen’s legion using an unseen barrier. On that occasion, it was his instincts that dictated his movements. This moment called for that same spark. KRAANG. The fury of the heavens tore through the clouds. BOOM! Bolts of lightning seared the mud. The gale reached a new peak of intensity. Within Enkrid’s perception, even the falling drops of water seemed to fracture. One part of his consciousness observed the present. The other part ran the numbers. This was a derivative of the Wavebreaker Sword Style. Due to his rigorous drills with Jaxon, his perceptions had evolved beyond the standard senses. Now, his intuition flared to life. It bypassed his doubts and presented the solution: What actions to take. What momentum to create. The path to triumph. ‘How do we achieve victory?’ The opposition had targeted Zaun’s battle-hardened soldiers to shatter their cohesion. Therefore, the immediate requirement was a solid formation—a shape that could withstand any pressure. Hwoo—! Enkrid drew a deep, centering breath into his lungs. Then he let it out. As the breath vibrated against his throat, he infused his Will into his shout. “GAJU—! AT YOUR CURRENT COORDINATES—! BECOME THE WALL—!” The command was brief and piercing. Would it be understood? If there was confusion, they would clarify. The patriarch of the house did not glance back. From where Enkrid stood, he only saw the silhouette of the man’s head—but the response came in the form of motion. TONG! He drove his blade deep into the earth, carving a boundary line. “The heavens are kind enough to provide the water for our trench.” He even managed a bit of dark humor. The message was clear: He was the fortification—and the scar left by his steel was the perimeter. No creature on this field would be permitted to step over it. The patriarch spoke through the strength of his posture. “WE ARE—” “ZAUN—!” “ADHERENTS TO THE WAY OF THE BLADE—!” “THE SEEKERS!” Riley spearheaded the call. A second warrior lifted his voice in support. Kata cried out, and a nineteen-year-old girl—the prodigy of the Zaun bloodline—concluded the oath. Regardless of the horrors that approached, they would remain unshaken. That was the barricade the patriarch had built. It exceeded what Enkrid had even envisioned. And yet, it was insufficient. A single man, no matter how great, could not halt a tidal wave of beasts alone. He served as the foundational pillar. Enkrid cupped his hand to his mouth and bellowed: “Alexandra! Move ten strides to the Patriarch’s right! Lynox! Show me the extent of your skill!” “You dare question my combat prowess? Drop the conceit. I was shedding blood with a sword before you took your first breath.” “Length of service does not always equate to excellence.” He traded a jab of his own. Why engage in banter while the air grew heavy with bloodlust? It was the way of the Patriarch. A bit of wit before the slaughter to ease the tension in their muscles. ‘To stoke their spirits.’ It was a calculated move. ‘Now, interpret the enemy’s momentum.’ Then steer it—confine the theater of war within your own blueprint. Enkrid’s gut instinct crackled. Insight struck like the lightning above. “Anahera! You are cleared to unleash!” Upon Enkrid’s command, the invisible chains binding the Beast of Red Blood snapped. “Hahaha!” Normally, Anahera suppressed her primal giant impulses. Had she not, she would have accidentally crushed those near her long ago. But on a field teeming with targets—restraint was a liability. THUD! THUD! THUD! The giantess charged, her heavy footfalls vibrating through the sodden ground. Great plumes of mud sprayed into the air with every step. As the arc of displaced earth fell back to the mire, Anahera slammed into the vanguard of the enemy. She struck the center of the lizard cavalry. From an aerial view, it appeared to be a suicidal charge by a solitary, frenzied giant into a sea of monsters. “Stop her!” A command echoed from Heskal’s side of the field. A volley of arrows whistled through the air. These were not fired in a high arc—they were flat, lethal shots from hidden marksmen at close range. Thwick! Pluck! Tong! Most skittered off her dense skin. One hit her temple—but deflected off her iron helm. A single shaft found purchase in her arm—only to be tossed aside moments later. Her resilient, thick hide rendered most projectiles useless. Those who had been isolated in Zaun had overlooked that fact. Enkrid saw clearly: The Hunter’s Village was the foe. And within their ranks, there was bound to be a master archer. Undoubtedly. But could even a master pierce the hide of a giant? A few archers froze mid-aim—the seeds of dread taking root in the enemy line. Anahera collided with the Scaler on the lizard. The beast gnashed its serrated teeth. The Scaler atop it flipped his dark-tipped spear and lunged. Enkrid couldn’t see her face—but Anahera smirked, her lips curling, and then she brought her blade around. She was a giant, yes—but she never lost sight of her identity as a sword of Zaun. Consequently, what she delivered was the refined technique of Zaun. FWOOOOOM. Her left heel anchored into the muck. With a powerful lunge, she brought her sword down in a vertical arc—saturated with Will. It was a massive, crushing crescent of steel. CRAAACK! The synthesis of giant power and focused Will cleaved both the lizard and its master in two. SPLOOSH! Dark gore splattered across her faceguard—only to be instantly cleared by the falling rain. “SLAUGHTER THEM ALL!” The giantess let out a thunderous roar toward the storm clouds. Was this all orchestrated? No. Enkrid was merely acting on the impulses of his intuition. “Kato! Advance and secure Anahera’s flank!” Enkrid scanned the battlefield. The monsters were beginning their assault on the Patriarch. ‘If I were in Heskal’s position, I would use the beasts to drain our energy first.’ It was a strategy a human commander could rarely afford— But for an army of monsters, it was the logical choice. Monsters felt no trepidation. If they could exhaust the elite, it was a worthwhile trade. Was this also part of Enkrid’s foresight? Not at all. He had established the defensive line on instinct—to minimize the loss of life. Scalers on lizards. Dark scales intermingled with crimson ones. Owlbears clad in metallic plumage. Winged terrors circling above. The monsters advanced in coordinated waves. And they were confronted by a mere three: The Patriarch, Alexandra, and Lynox. Only three? In truth—three were more than enough. Knights are walking natural disasters. They can fell thousands. These three were no different. Anahera continued her rampage. Kato shadowed her, guarding her rear. Enkrid allowed them their freedom. They were not built for rigid unit tactics. Anahera functioned best when she could fight without boundaries, turning her raw nature into a weapon. ‘Kato has blades hidden in every fold of his gear.’ He reached his peak when swarmed by foes. He had been forged in such conditions—battling entire groups while wandering from one settlement to the next. In time, he had perfected his current lethal style. Some individuals are crafted for the chaos of real war, not the safety of a ring. Kato was the embodiment of that truth. Enkrid sent them out first to shatter the enemy’s cohesion. Striking before an opponent can complete their charge will always crumble their formation. That held true even if the monsters’ ancestors themselves were leading the charge. The front lines were now a tangled mess of violence. Enkrid’s gambit had paid off. Heskal pulled back the unengaged units, reorganized their lines, and began a flanking maneuver. ‘He possesses a sharp mind.’ Indeed, Heskal was clever. Enkrid felt that realization once more. But Heskal fought with logic. Enkrid fought with his gut. Therefore, there was no cause for alarm. Had the enemy anticipated the goal? Then one simply reacts to the subsequent move. The enemy’s objective was transparent: “Our forces operate in isolation. Theirs operate as a machine.” Zaun had lost many of its seasoned veterans. But standing in their stead was a leader who had risen from the dirt, tempered by the unrelenting skirmishes of the Border Guard. A man who had mastered the art of war under the tutelage of the challenger Frokk—Lua Gharne.