The Reasons to Win.
In the midst of chaos and fear, I, Alsten, stand tall, driven by a burning desire to prove myself as the colonel everyone expects me to be. My voice rises above the tumult, a beacon of determination cutting through the darkness.
"We're not facing mere humans!" I shout vehemently, my words echoing with conviction. I lock eyes with my soldiers, most still haunted by fear. But in their eyes, I see a spark of something new, something powerful—a newfound determination.
"These are monsters! Creatures that have claimed thousands of human lives without an ounce of remorse!" I continue, my voice unwavering. The air crackles with tension, but I know this is just the first step we must overcome.
My grip tightens around my weapon, its familiar weight grounding me. I meet the eyes of my comrades, my voice unwavering, my determination unyielding.
"Fear will only strengthen the enemy, no matter how twisted their beliefs might be. Remember what truly matters, what we are willing to give it all for—we are the shield that protects our loved ones! It is our duty to safeguard them!"
They watch me intently, and I can see the transformation in their eyes. Together, we raise our weapons in a gesture of unity. One by one, they reveal the strength within them.
Yes, I will become an unstoppable force, a beacon of hope, avenge those who have been taken from us.
"We are soldiers! We stand above those knights who shirk their duties!" I declare with fury. The reason for this attack is irrelevant when it comes to protecting what we love. My words hit home, surprising many.
Some clench their jaws, while others show a renewed determination.
"This is the fault of those who never took action to eradicate the witch cult," I add, my anger seeping through. "We are superior! We are the army of Irlam!"
In the distance, bushes rustle. Oslo, detecting the movement, raises his hand. I take aim with my rifle, my resolve clear.
Bang!
A shot pierces the air, the bullet cutting through the battlefield and meeting the enemy. They fall to the ground, never even reaching us. The general's information was accurate; they are just humans.
"We will exterminate them," I vow, my voice steady, my eyes blazing with determination. In that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, I am a force to be reckoned with. I am Alsten, the unwavering colonel, leading my soldiers into battle with a heart afire with purpose.
"Attack! For Irlam!" I exclaimed with fervor, spurring all the soldiers to seek cover and open fire.
In rapid succession, a horde of cloaked figures emerged from the forest, closing in swiftly upon us, demonstrating an agility superior to that of the common human. A barrage of bullets assailed the cultists, felling them instantly.
Chaos erupted, and the battlefield transformed into a stage of fury and desperation. The rifle shots mingled with battle cries, and the gunpowder smoke hung in the air. War had commenced, and we would grant no quarter until the last vestige of the cult was eradicated.
The thunderous sound of assault rifles filled the air as soldiers fired ceaseless volleys of bullets, seeking cover to reload. In response to our offensive, a group of mages summoned a stone pillar from which they hurled fireballs at us.
"Artillery!" I directed my gaze toward the imposing cannons, ready to spring into action.
Aiming each cannon was a demanding task, reserved solely for the artillery captain. Their extraordinary calculation skills allowed them to determine the trajectory in a matter of minutes.
The captain looked at me and nodded immediately.
"Soldiers, take your positions!" exclaimed Sofia, and the group positioned themselves behind the cannons, ready for action.
The mages attacked us fiercely, launching fireballs that forced us to seek cover. They fired toward the cannons, sensing the danger they posed, but the metal casing shielded them from the flames.
The moment had arrived.
"Fire!" shouted Sofia.
BOOM!
The cannons were activated simultaneously. Iron projectiles sliced through the air at great speed, and the mages attempted to shield themselves with earth barriers, but the projectiles pierced them mercilessly. In an instant, a rain of debris obliterated them entirely.
"Keep firing!" I exclaimed, urging the soldiers to abandon their cover.
The cultists inexorably closed in, and if we allowed them to keep forcing us into cover, they would reach dangerous positions. Relentlessly, we continued firing, aware that our lives and the lives of others depended on our skill in this critical moment.
"Do not give up! Maintain the fire!" I shouted, infusing courage into every word.
The battle intensified, adrenaline coursing through our veins, our hearts beating to the rhythm of war. There was no room for surrender. Our determination and bravery would be the key to overcoming this challenge and ensuring the survival of those we held dear.
The tumult of battle rages on, soldiers firing in perfect synchrony, alternating with those in the process of reloading, maintaining an unbroken flow of gunfire. By minimizing the time between reload and fire, we deny them any opportunity to draw near.
Though only a few minutes have passed, the tension in the air is palpable. Dozens of lifeless bodies lie upon the plain, saturating the atmosphere with the unmistakable scent of gunpowder and mud.
We are gaining ground, and it appears that we can hold our ground without anyone being harmed, at least at this rate.
"Look!" a soldier exclaims, pointing skyward.
Raising our gaze, we spot one of those creatures writhing in the air, seemingly screaming, although the roar of the bullets drowns out all sound, rendering us deaf to its voice. The general's prophecy has come to pass: one of the archbishop's fingers has arrived.
Fear seizes the soldiers as they watch several trees uprooted, leaving us dumbfounded by the absurd magnitude of the situation.
In the blink of an eye, those trees are hurled toward our position.
"Take cover!" I shout, urging the captains to echo my words.
We seek refuge behind any available cover; these are no ordinary trees. Upon impact with the ground, they shatter one of our defensive barriers into pieces. Soldiers are flung through the air, helpless against the force of the onslaught.
A tree crashes down upon one of the cannons, reducing it to rubble in an instant.
"Rescue squad! Attend to the wounded immediately!" I cry out as I hasten to Captain Bert's location.
This young man, the same age as the general, has been designated as a captain due to his exceptional marksmanship, being the only person capable of altering the course of the situation.
The captain has provided him with a prototype enhancement for his weapon: a small scope that allows for precise long-range targeting.
Arriving beside Bert, I find him already aiming at the cultist, so my priority is to protect him. As indicated by the general, to eliminate him, we must distract him, as his ability allows him to use invisible arms for defense.
"Artillery!" I direct my gaze toward Sofia, who appears ready.
We still have three cannons in operation, so we are not defenseless. The cries of pain mingle with the roar of bullets, and fear begins to grip everyone. The situation is growing increasingly complicated.
Fortunately, the cultists do not seem to be particularly clever. Despite being in an open field, it would be easiest for them to surround us, but if any of them considered this strategy, they have not executed it.
Perhaps it's because we have someone reliable watching our backs.
That woman, without a doubt, will protect us all.
"Fire!" I shout, followed by the cannons' thunderous explosion.
The cannonballs strike the ground near the cultist. He attempts to shield himself with trees, but they are obliterated instantly. According to the general, he can likely only generate a few more arms beyond the four he already possesses, but as more of the archbishop's fingers fall, more arms will appear.
Four trees have been employed, signifying that the cultist possesses a total of six arms: two for support, and four for offense.
"Now!" I declare, fixing my gaze upon Bert, who grins with a touch of haughtiness.
The archbishop's digit seizes more trees. It begins to contort its form and clutch its head, though the words it utters are beyond my hearing; undoubtedly, it behaves in a manner akin to madness.
"Understood, my Colonel!" Bert responds, his finger pressing the trigger of his firearm.
BANG!
In the mere blink of an eye, just as the digit seems poised to release the trees, it descends without warning, crashing to the ground.
"Defeated!" Bert exclaims in triumph, while all of us erupt in resounding cheers.
Indeed, it is an astonishing feat. Despite the size of the projectile, it remains curiously challenging to anticipate the outcome. As the general rightly states, no matter how formidable one may be, if their constitution is human, a single bullet will suffice.
"For Irlam!" I shout out, followed by the soldiers' fervent exultation.
"How can there be so many of these wretches?" I muse, driving my bayonet into a cultist's neck, feeling their life ebbing away in my grasp.
We stand within the heart of the forest, a clearing encircled by cultist corpses. The muddy ground hampers our movement, while the tall, dense trees obstruct our view, concealing the origins of our adversaries.
Emilia expertly hurls ice spikes, and her faithful spirit guardian, Puck, deflects the thrown projectiles of the cultists. Despite our efforts, we have made little progress due to the fierce offensive we're contending with.
Two of the Archbishop's fingers have been vanquished, only strengthening Petelgeuse's resolve.
When Emilia fought, there weren't so many cultists surrounding us. The situation has grown even more perilous and confounding. I know not what awaits us if we persist in combat under these adverse conditions.
"It's frustrating not being able to fly," Emilia laments, kicking a cultist's head in the air, causing a gruesome explosion.
This place is infested not only with cultists but also with dreaded wolgarms. That's why we both carry protective crystals to keep them at bay.
Nevertheless, the cultists seem unconcerned about being devoured by the wolgarms, as they fling the bodies of the fallen toward the ravenous creatures in their attempts to draw near.
If only we could take to the skies, our progress wouldn't be so hindered.
The corpses pile up rapidly, urging us to retreat without delay.
"Emilia!" I shout, and she begins to conjure a spell.
Upon seeing her, the cultists endeavor to exploit the situation and strike at her. But Puck takes the lead, launching a relentless assault on all around with ice spikes, compelling them to retreat.
I position myself alongside Emilia, prompting Puck to charge in all directions, keeping our foes at bay.
Emilia's mana appears boundless, something otherworldly. I discharge my weapon at the cultists, who attempt to dodge Puck's projectiles. The corpses accumulate at our feet, yet it seems there is no end to this ceaseless battle.
"Now!" Emilia exclaims, freezing the ground in place, creating a straight path of ice for us to traverse. She takes my hand, and together we glide along the icy trail, shattering the trees obstructing our path.
We've executed this maneuver several times, a clear indicator that we are drawing nearer to our objective.
As we battle side by side, I can discern in Emilia an innate genius for defense. I know not the experiences she has lived through, but despite her blocked memories, she doesn't lag behind.
Her mastery of mana is lethal, and somehow, she manages to maintain a constant flow of magical energy within her body, which is both astonishing and enigmatic.
I've tried to replicate her innate control, but concentrating on it while in the midst of combat proves intricate. In contrast, she does it unconsciously, as if she were in perfect harmony with her abilities.
I strive to keep the miasma that resides within me under control, like a poison threatening to corrupt me. Each time I open my gate, the miasma seeks to trigger my loss of control. After every battle, its presence intensifies, creating not only obstacles to the use of magic but also affecting my mental clarity.
Two cultists attempt to hurl fireballs at us, but before they can act, I take precise shots, causing their heads to burst in a violent explosion. Fatigue begins to overtake my body; we've been fighting relentlessly for several minutes.
I pant as I press on tirelessly, aware that only I possess the capacity to put an end to Petelgeuse. Emilia and I move at a breakneck speed, striking down every cultist that crosses our path.
I had to convey information about our enemy to Emilia, divulge everything about his power, and she, without questioning how I obtained that information, accepts it wholeheartedly. Both of us know that this is not the right time for inquiries.
Several mines have been activated around us, but we focus on reaching the first one that detonated.
"You~~!" A harrowing and malevolent voice echoes in the surroundings. Emilia and I come to an abrupt halt. The moment we hear that voice, Emilia unleashes her magic and generates a dense fog.
The only way to spot the enemy is by using some powder or substance that reveals his silhouette, as he becomes faintly visible. Although it hampers my vision, I consider it an acceptable sacrifice, as it enables me to perceive him clearly.
We press our backs together, vigilant in all directions. We know that we cannot allow the archbishop's fingers to perish; we must neutralize and freeze him without causing lethal harm.
Without that, our plan will crumble. The problem lies in how daunting this task proves to be.
Suddenly, a cultist materializes at my side. Without a moment's hesitation, I aim and fire at his head, and in that very instant, he falls lifeless to the ground. However, as if fate were mocking me, I sense an intense magical reaction.
"Fura!" I exclaim, generating a powerful gust of wind that sends the cultist's corpse soaring.
Boom!
The cultist's body shatters into a thousand pieces, scattering his entrails everywhere. A crimson smoke begins to engulf the surroundings, and the stench becomes unbearable. Both of us remain on high alert, but before we can react, a supernatural arm attempts to seize Emilia.
She skillfully evades the arm, causing it to continue its trajectory and crash violently into a tree, shattering it entirely.
"Let's go!" I exclaim, launching myself toward the arm. We need to halt it without inflicting mortal harm. Only Emilia can accomplish that task. As we both sprint in the direction we've charted, I observe several menacing arms drawing near.
Emilia, moving at breakneck speed, fails to perceive their presence, so it falls upon me to be her eyes in this critical moment.
"Duck!" I shout, and we both throw ourselves to the ground just in time, preventing four arms from unleashing and laying waste to all the trees above us.
The earthquakes under the impact, and the trees fall around us, creating unbridled chaos.
Emilia, without a moment's hesitation, unleashes her magic.
"Ul huma," Emilia utters, and instantly, four pillars emerge from the earth, destroying the trees that threatened to crush us.
We continue our determined advance until we reach the location of the archbishop's finger. Upon our arrival, he removes his mask, revealing his disfigured face. His facial burns and singed hair remind me that I have already killed him in a previous loop.
With hatred, she points at me, and a guttural growl escapes her throat, like that of an enraged dog.
"Grr Traitor! Traitor! You smell so good." The woman violently shakes her head while tearing handfuls of her own hair. "Traitor! You betrayed the source of happiness to protect the half-demon."
Emilia looks at me in astonishment at the monster's words. I do not avert my gaze from her; instead, I remain alert, attentive to every one of her movements, for that is what I must do in this moment.
I do not understand why she calls me a traitor; my fragrance should be enough to subdue anyone. Yet here I am, facing this situation. Could it be that Pride has done something?
I shake my head slightly, murmuring to myself. "I don't know why you call me a traitor. If it's because of my scent, it's just a trial I must overcome," I say. While she continues to scratch and pull her own hair, I carefully aim and shoot at the cultist's leg.
A look of surprise crosses her face, but she remains motionless in her position, as if relishing the impending situation.
"Hmm?" she mutters, glancing down at her wounded leg but taking no action. Then she raises her head and forms a twisted smile. "I'll kill you, and then I can obtain even more of his love."
Eight of those disturbing arms emerge from her back at this moment. If my calculations are correct, half of the archbishop's fingers have already been annihilated.
This implies that the army or the mines have dealt with the other three. I vaguely recall something I read some time ago: Petelgeuse can manifest a maximum of one hundred of these arms. From this, we deduce that the first finger managed to extract only four of them.
Each death of the fingers results in an increase in their individual number. Petelgeuse granted forty percent of his power to the fingers, allowing them to possess four arms each if we divide that power among the ten existing fingers.
Now, only five fingers remain, and if we continue like this, we will face Petelgeuse in his most powerful form.
The problem lies in the strategy they are employing now. They are using lamicta crystals to cause explosions. If something like that reaches the village, I don't know how prepared they are to defend themselves.
They use these crystals as if they were grenades, causing damage to our trenches.
I hope this is just a grim thought and not a reality we have to face.
"Emilia, there are things I cannot reveal to you, but you must trust me. I don't mention them because I can't, even if I wanted to," I say while aiming at the cultist, contemplating whether it will be necessary to end her life or not.
Emilia looks toward the deranged woman who continues to babble incessantly. In a swift motion, she lunges with four of her arms toward us.
I take a long step in her direction, attempting to approach, but she anticipates my actions and starts throwing dirt in all directions, mixing it with the dense mist that blankets the surroundings.
I decide to use my magic to disperse the mist, but just then, several trees begin to fall from the sky. Emilia, using her stakes, manages to destroy several of them, but the cultist has ascended to the heavens, eluding our attacks.
I aim at the cultist and fire, but she skillfully protects herself, deflecting the bullet. There are certain swords capable of repelling Petelgeuse's arms, but only magical weapons are most effective in this regard.
I decide to infuse my kukri with mana, even though I know it could harm her. It's better to do something than stand idly by. The cultist charges in my direction, and I barely manage to dodge her as the ground becomes riddled with holes and debris.
Emilia continues to attack with determination, but with the cultist in the air, she becomes a elusive and challenging target.
The situation becomes tenser with each passing second, and the fate of our battle still hangs by a fragile thread.
"If I ascend too high, I won't be able to see his attacks," Emilia remarks, positioning herself at my side and devising a strategy. The use of spiritual magic at this moment is complicated since I am distanced from Beatrice, and her influence diminishes.
I observe Emilia, who seems somewhat fatigued. We've been battling relentlessly for several minutes, and we undoubtedly need to take a breath before confronting Petelgeuse.
"I have a plan," I tell Emilia, gathering mana to use my magic. "Send me flying when I give you the signal."
I begin manipulating gravity with magic, reducing it just enough to provide a strong boost. With Emilia's support, I'll be able to approach the cultist quickly. The real challenge will be dodging his attacks.
"Now!" I shout, leaping at the appointed moment.
Emilia seizes my feet instantly, bending slightly to provide the necessary impetus and launching me into the air. I am propelled at great speed, while the woman, realizing my movement, draws her arms toward me. Emilia and Puck cannot intervene, as they might be injured in the process.
"Fura!" I conjure, creating gusts of wind at my sides to evade her onslaught. I get closer, and with my kukri, I cut several of her arms.
I push my feet to increase my speed. I still don't have full control in the air, but I have no other choice. Just as I'm about to reach her, the woman throws all her arms directly at me.
In an instant, I see them dangerously approaching.
With a burst of wind, I manage to evade the arms. Without wasting time, I position myself above the cultist, who is momentarily distracted, a moment I seize to execute a joint spell. Although I haven't tried it before, there's a possibility it will work.
"Ra Vita!" I exclaim, a spell that combines wind with Yin magic, causing a wind wave to propel me toward the woman. In the air, I feel gravity increasing on me. I plummet at breakneck speed, but I position both legs and prepare.
The woman turns her head just in time to receive the impact of my blow. My legs ache from the force of the impact, but I don't give up and press forward. With my kick, I send her flying, and in the blink of an eye, the blow makes her crash into the ground, creating a small crater.
I deactivate the spell and plummet toward the ground. I try to use murak, but suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my heart. A metallic taste fills my mouth, and I begin to spit blood.
I fall from the heights, unable to do anything while Emilia cries out in concern.
"Marco!" Emilia exclaims, running to my falling position.