Book 2: Chapter 41: In the Trenches

  The wind still stung with dust and debris, and it still tasted like metal. Alex moved quietly along the perimeter of the ridge, the half-broken stone wall dragging his shadow across the bloodstained floor. The sun had begun to rise, faint, weak, like it wasn’t entirely sure if it should be there yet. That makes two of us, buddy.

  The ground under his boots was still sticky in places. That didn’t bother him, not anymore. He paused at the outer ledge, eyes sweeping across the battlefield below. The burned husks of enemy armor gleamed like crushed beetle shells in the fading firelight and under the glow of the fresh morning sun. Smoke still curled from one of the shattered siege beasts that had slammed into the lower slope, its rider was little more than a smear now.

  Alex exhaled. He had killed people. Not monsters, or animals, not summoned constructs or twisted arcane beasts driven made by aether corruption. He had killed people.

  Sentient, thinking, probably scared, just like him. And he was okay with it. He wasn’t proud, and wasn’t numb, just… okay.

  What does that make me? A monster? A sociopath? Just another person shoved through the meat grinder of necessity and told to smile for the camera?

  “You killed those two kobolds when you first got here, remember? What’s so different now?” Obby asked.

  I didn’t know they were sentient when I did that, not until after. This time, I had no doubt, I knew those were people. So I did with forethought and knowledge, that makes it different. So its...

  It didn’t matter, not right now. Survival didn’t leave room for philosophy.

  He moved to help two young soldiers, neither of whom could meet his eyes, as they began the grim work of dragging bodies into a pile. Friend and foe alike, wrapped in rough cloth and stripped of anything useful. It was practical, efficient, awful.

  One of the enemy mages had a dimensional belt-pouch still intact. Alex took it, opening it with a touch of blood and his own aether. Inside: a stack of low-grade aether crystals, a pair of glyph-inscribed rings, and a jade slip containing a basic cultivation method. All useful, and all claimed without hesitation.

  His found a couple more useful items and another dimensional storage pouch, everything got put in his bag. It was another unsightly part of war, looting the fallen. Things that were once property of a friend, a sister or bother in arms, now reduced to resources or monetary value.

  He moved silently back to the squad.

  Allie sat against the inner wall, bloodstains on her hands. Her eyes were distant. Garret was staring at the floor like the stone tiles themselves had betrayed him. Kate and Zach sat close together, not speaking. Henry hadn’t moved in half an hour, his blade still unsheathed beside him. Devon was shaking, breath stuttering like a broken forge bellows.

  Alex stood in the center of the room. He didn’t raise his voice when he spoke. “If we break here…we die. All of us.” The words cut through the silence a dull, rusty knife. He looked at each of them. “So rest. Cry. Shake. Do whatever you need to do. But don’t stop. Not yet.”

  No one argued. They all listened and nodded. They didn’t listen because he gave an order as a ranking soldier, or because The System had labeled him the party leader. They listened because he was still standing, bloodied, tired, eyes hollow but steady.

  And in a war where nothing made sense anymore, that was something worth following.

  ***

  By the time their shift at the watchpost finally ended and they made their way back to the northern front’s back lines it was already snowing. The chill had moved from a nipping bite to a clawing freeze that forced everyone to wear thick fur coats.

  A thin sheen of frost clung to the command tent’s outer flaps, making them crackle when the grim-faced Captain Drenn pulled them aside. His armor was still dusted with blood from a battle he hadn’t bothered changing out of yet. Not his own, probably.

  “Worldstriders,” he said, voice like cold steel dragged across sandpaper. “Congratulations. You’re not dead.”

  Alex didn’t reply. No one saluted. They all just stood there, staring ahead.

  “New orders.” He slapped down a sealed scroll bearing Terraxum’s green-and-gold crest. “Northern front’s western ridge. Forward assault formation, I’m putting you under Lieutenant Jaelin’s command, if you remember her. You’re being sent where we need you most.”

  Alex looked down at the parchment. There was no dramatic flourish, no speeches, just a stamped death warrant on fancy paper. He took it without ceremony. Eric gave a slow nod. Garret didn’t say anything. His hand tightened slightly on the strap of his pack.

  No one argued. Because now, their mindset had changed, they were soldiers. It was in their posture and in their rhythm of how they moved. In how their eyes never really looked at anything unless they had to.

  They marched out within the hour.

  It only took thirty minutes to reach the very front. But the change in landscape was almost immediate. Gone were the yellowed cliff faces and ember-hued skies of the central plains. As they crested the last stretch of the ridgeline, the world ahead dipped into colder colors. There were slate-gray hills veined with old roots and buried bones, snow-dusted mountain-caps, and skeletal forests that clawed toward a sky perpetually half-swallowed by clouds.

  The wind was sharper here. Like it hadn’t yet decided whether it hated you or pitied you. Ahead, a storm rumbled over the horizon. But not a normal one. The clouds churned strangely, like ink in water, there were shapes inside it, flickers of wings and glowing eyes, far too large to be birds.

  Aether-tainted weather. Aeralith territory.

  Alex stared at the horizon a little longer than he needed to. Then looked away. “Well,” he muttered. “At least the scenery’s different.”

  Surprisingly, Zach chuckled under his breath.

  They moved as a unit now, no need for commands. Kate kept to the middle of the formation, hand never straying far from her sword. Devon held his satchel tight, muttering under his breath. Henry walked beside Alex, saying nothing. As always. They didn’t know what was waiting up north. But after the ridge, after the blood and smoke and broken things, they all understood one thing: There was no going back.

  The team didn’t even get tents. Just a shove, a shouted order, and a line in the mud to die on.

  The squad had barely set foot in the trenchworks before the horns blew, deep and cruel, like the belly of a buried god being kicked awake. Officers screamed to mobilize as runners dashed between encampments. Alex could see all the way up and down the lines, lanterns flared red.

  War had arrived, and it didn’t bother knocking.

  Then came the fog, aether-saturated and heavy, it rolled in over the battlefield like some ancient eldritch predator, choking the sky with unnatural weight. Every breath was heavy, thick. Then the screams started, they echoed through the fog dense air, some human and some not.

  Exploding aether-mines popped off like firecrackers up and down the lines. Hidden among the dirt and mud, one didn’t see them until they were already inside their teeth, blowing off limbs and reaping lives.

  “Hold lines!”

  “Steady!”

  Shouts came from behind the lines, commands to keep the soldiers from turning tail and deserting their spot in formation. Alex could see the soldier squads to his left an right were fidgeting. Meanwhile he and the rest of his team were still.

  “Clear sky!” Another shout said, and hundreds of men and women stepped forward as one and activated an enchanted drum. A shock-wave erupted outward, blowing away the fog from the lines. It only gave them clear vision for a few seconds, but it was enough to see what the enemy was doing.

  Just as with the attack on the watchpost, the aerial strike came in first. A wave of large blackened arrows filled the air like locusts. Henry and Garret stepped forward, pulling bulwark pieces from their dimensional pouches. The team had agreed for them to get the first ones to store their defenses.

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  The two men worked flawlessly, pieces foundation, and sections of wall and supports snapping in place one after another. When they finished only a few seconds later, a shimmering barrier erupted from their construct. Soon after, a hail of arrows peppered their location.

  Other bulwarks had also been built by teams to their left and right, protecting hundreds of soldiers. At other places, the defenses hadn’t been built in time, and arrows rained into the Terraxum lines. Those instances were few though.

  Its not over yet.

  After the arrow barrage, the shriek of Cloud-falcons cut the air. Through the fog, their large silhouettes crashed in toward them. They were carrying essence charged shells to drop down like bombs. The defensive bulwarks they had wouldn’t protect from such high energy weapons so they were already being disassembled once more. Instead, groups of mages stood together in circles on large glyph platforms, channeling aether energy together. As one, they cast the enchantment etched into the plate.

  Immense energy barriers appeared floating over their heads, the essence shells slammed into them like magical battering rams. The barriers shook, cracked, but held. The Falcon riders passed over them and began circling around for another pass. And that’s when the wyverns on the Terraxum side made their appearance.

  They two aerial unit clashed high above. Spells, talon and teeth moved in a otrnado of vilence and blood. The air suppression had ended though, for now, and the Terraxum lines had other things to worry about.

  A thousand screams rolled over the field at once as Aeralith soldiers closed in on them. He only saw them for a moment, sword, shields and spears glinting just barely in the mist. Then the two armies collided.

  Between the clangs, screams and explosions, he moved through the battlefield. Alex’s boots, though Garret insisted on painting them with rediculous flames, helped as they were enchanted to keep a strong grip regardless of the terrain, letting Alex ran across the blood-soaked mud field without worry.

  He slammed an elbow into the backplate of an Aera-soldier, shattering his spine instantly. As the man began to fall, his slammed a palm against the base of his skull, earning him a system notification which he ignored.

  Then he ran towards his next target, Holly flashing in beside him, then disappearing again in a spray of blood and a swipe of her blade. He used the distraction of her attack to take down another soldier with a [Flare] which flattened the man against the ground, snapping nearly every bone in his body.

  Then Alex was gone again, moving just as fast as Holly. This had been going on for about ten minutes now. A never ending gauntlet of steel and blood. It was something he had conditioned himself for in the very first floor of the Dark Den dungeon. Endless enemies with no time to recover.

  He jumped a section of a trench, landing a top a half buried and broken palisade barrier, then looked around to asses the battle in front of him.

  Warbeasts had been released already on both sides. Arcane wolves crawled up from trenches, dragging barbed chains and armor bolted into skin. Aether drenched feline beasts stalked the outer edge of the field where the fog still clung. On one side, he saw a brute with the frame of an elephant and the skull of a crocodile, smashed into the eastern Terraxum flank.

  Even as he watched the beast approach, Garret was already there.

  He didn’t flinch against the hulking monster, and braced his shield, taking the impact with three other Terraxum soldiers at his side. Mud and blood flew on contact. Aether sparked off Garret shoulders as energy rolled down his back and into his boots, creating thickened stone that wrapped his legs, buffing his stability and endurance. He held the line.

  There was no time to go help, he turned to his right as he heard Allie scream. Alex was a few dozen feet away as a flash of steel raced toward her. A mounted knight, spear-first, emerging from the fog to run her through.

  “NO—!”

  Peter’s spell flared out and placed itself in front of Allie like the slamming of a barn door. A golden hexagonal barrier wrapped around her a half-second before impact. The spear cracked and deflected off the defensive energy construct. Peter didn’t wait for applause, he drew up his own spear and followed up with a cutting arc that carved the rider off his mount.

  Behind the two of them, Lance didn’t even pause. He was already slicing halfway through a large Aera-soldier who stood at a size that made Alex wonder if half-giants existed in this world. Lance attacked relentlessly, one, two, three strikes, the final one cleaving into the back of its knee. The man howled, collapsed into the mud. Lance thrust his sword into his back and removed it in one fluid motion before stepping away, he didn’t look back.

  “Alex!” Kate’s voice pulled him back from just watching. He turned toward where he heard her shout, Obby helpfully highlighting her among the crowd of armored combatants.

  He leapt from his perch, landing next to the blonde woman, Zach just beside them. Holly flickered into existence a foot away just shortly after, blood dripping from the edge of her sword from another kill.

  “Let’s go,” was all he said, and the for of them moved together. Carving a swath through the line of enemies like they had planned this precise push all along. They hadn’t, of course. But something in the rhythm, the spacing between attacks had been earned the hard way, fighting together in the field.

  Kate struck first, her rapier tracing flame in the fog, [Scorching Line] tearing a path through bodies to a cluster of archers beyond. They burned in place before their arrows could notch on their bows.

  Zach moved behind her, eyes cold, spear low. He didn’t need flashy spells or fighting techniques, he disappeared into the mists, only to reappear at the perfect angle, his spear head bursting from the throat of a mage from behind. One strike. One kill. Then he was gone again.

  Holly danced along the flank, her [Hurricane Steps] rippling fog across her shoulders as she danced from one target to another. Her speed was such that the first dead body didn’t his the dirt until she had finished with a third a dozen feet away.

  And Alex? He didn’t think anymore. He had learned to lean into the feeling of the Demon Asura Style. Harnessing and controlling the wrath that bubbled inside him as he moved through the various stances of the style. He was a force of hatred and death as he plowed over the enemy line. Flickering [Shield]’s, eruptive [Flare]’s, and shattered weapons and dented armor dotted the entire Aerolith formation in his wake.

  Eventually, he found himself deep inside the other side’s lines, surrounded by foes from every angle. He drained both gemstones in his bracer on his spells and still took dozens of glancing blows before help arrived for him.

  Holly appeared at his side with a grim nod before she pressed her back against his. He smiled at the warmth of her blood soaked robes against his own. The two fought together as they were rushed from all sides. Fists and sword flying in a chaotic dance that they had never tried before, yet still held surprising grace. The macabre situation felt almost nice.

  Kate came in next to them to assist, followed by Zach. Then it was four of them, back to back in a the eye of the blood storm. The Terraxum lines took awhile to catch up, but they did eventually, bringing the four worldstriders a moment to catch their breath.

  By the time the last horn blew, a deep, warbling signal to regroup, the enemy line had pushed back. The battlefield was scattered with husks, smoldering spells, and shallow, smoking craters. Without mention of the sheer number of corpses that decorated the sinister portrait of war.

  The squad found each other in the haze. Covered in blood, some of it their own, some not. Garret staggered back into formation with a limping shield-bearer over his shoulder. Allie’s hands were still blood-stained, and she had a sickening collection of shallow cuts and bruises over her entire exposed body, no doubt from her abuse of her [Marytr] spell. Lance’s hair and uniform were burnt and frizzled to the point he looked like he had personally punched a thunderstorm. Cole had a mixture of blood, bile and other beast liquids across his body. Peter dropped to one knee, breath ragged.

  “Is… is it over?” Devon asked, somewhere behind them.

  Alex didn’t answer, he was too busy counting heads. One by one. All alive. They’re all here. He exhaled, then collapsed against the nearest broken bulwark. His hands, legs and muscles all trembled from overuse of aether. His jaw hurt from clenching too hard.

  War wasn't glorious. It was mud, blood, and a dozen screams at once that all sounded just like your friend’s, or your own.

  The battle was over. Now came the ugly part. Cleaniing up the battlefield, and taking care of the fallen. Alex didn’t say anything as the worked. He just kept walking, dragging a charred corpse by the collar toward the burn pile.

  That one had no tattoos. That meant it probably wasn’t one of theirs. Cleanup was always worse than the fighting. Fighting had adrenaline, purpose, pain, and anger. This was simply death, mundane, slow. Heavy in ways that sheer weight simply wasn’t.

  Peter organized the looters, moving from body to body like a solemn bureaucrat of gore. Lance was trying to help, grumbling quietly about "doing it with dignity". While Garret poked half-heartedly at corpses for extra supplies and salvageable gear, his spirit just not in it.

  Kate didn’t look up much. Zach hadn’t spoken since they regrouped.

  Alex saw that Allie was trying to clean her fingernails. He didn’t think it was because they needed it, but because it gave her hands something to do besides tremble.

  He crouched beside another fallen Terraxum soldier. Young, far too young. The sigils tattooed across his arms still glowed faintly beneath his skin, tiny aether lines that mapped strength into flesh. The same kind used by every Terraxum conscript, noble house, and supposedly, even the royal family, should the soldier earn the right to receive them.

  He reached toward the body without thinking. Just to… look. Just to study the design. Then he stopped, hand frozen mid-air.

  How easy would it be to… take one of the bodies? Could study it so I can make a version of the augment spell I’ve been drafting with my own glyphcraft and sigil patterns? Can my Echo memory Lens analyze them?

  The boy’s arm was marked in fresh ink, neat symmetry. A collection of patterns and lines made with fine craftsmanship. He started at them a long moment while feelign through his storage bracelet for his echo lens. Then his stomach turned.

  That’s a corpse, Alex. You’re planning a murder-tattoo buffet off a corpse.

  He stood up quickly and took a step back. He turned away, wiping his hand on his cloak and tried not to look again.

  “You good?” Kate asked behind him, quiet.

  He didn’t answer, because the answer was yes. And that scared him more than if it had been no. Around the field, others had started whispering. The kind of post-battle murmurs that hovered between grief and guilt.

  “Allie patched me mid-fight. Didn’t even know I’d been hit…”

  “Did you see that elephant-crocodile beast? That thing wasn’t a natural beast. It had human eyes, I swear.”

  “Zach killed one of the captains. Quick, like it was nothin’. Didn’t even blink.”

  Eric paced slowly nearby, scanning the field with a leader’s detachment. He wasn’t unfeeling, or cold, just partitioned. Like his mind had already started sorting the trauma into neat, digestible boxes labeled: Necessary. Unavoidable. Survivable.

  Eventually, someone tossed another corpse on the pyre. The flames kicked up, hissing at the blood soaking the soil around it.

  Garret broke the quiet with a grumble. “This is supposed to get easier, right?”

  No one answered, because no one knew.