Though there was still some time before the next raid, Leon didn’t spend it resting. The situation was still quite grim, even if the circumstances in the Artor Valley itself had improved.
To that end, he’d spent the past hour or so with his highest remaining commanders in a private meeting hall in Westmount, the commanders led for the moment by Anshu and Alcander—the latter of whom was particularly upset at having been left out of the raid, and who insisted on coming on the next one. Leon was more than happy to grant that request, reasoning that another eleventh-tier mage would do enough damage to be worth the risk.
“… but their logistical support remains… uncertain,” one of the higher-ranking officers summarized, gesturing broadly at the projected map in the center of the room. “Unless we can figure out how they’re being supplied, then we don’t have much choice other than to strike their main grouping whenever and however we can.”
“I doubt they have much in the way of logistics,” Leon said bitterly. “Expeditions like these were likely planned in the same way ours were: with months of provisions stocked prior to launching the operation. Or that trickle of new arks coming in have a few mages aboard who bring tons of supplies in their soul realms to share with the rest of the fleet.”
A brief silence followed his statement, the same realization coming to everyone. They weren’t going to get out of this by attacking the enemy’s rear and severing their supply lines. War at this scale could only be solved by more conventional means.
“Then we should consider—” Anshu began, but Leon’s comm slate alerted to an emergency, so he pulled it out. The shrill alarm and flashing lights cut Anshu off as Leon quickly answered the call.
“Brother!” Anzu called out as his features resolved in the slate’s projection. “The enemy is moving! Their entire fleet is closing with the valley!”
Leon sprang to his feet, as did the other commanders, many of them starting to receive emergency messages of their own. An intense pulse of magic power sprang from Leon’s body, blanketing first the palace, then the valley, and then the slopes of the mountains to the west. They passed the arks flying in tight patrols over the valley’s static defenses, leaving no hole for Triton to potentially exploit in Artorion’s great shield.
The mountains and valleys beyond the Artor Valley were bathed in Leon’s magic senses, and sure enough, there he saw Triton’s fleet spreading out and flying toward the valley.
Leon’s fleet had been somewhat disbursed throughout the valley due to both its sheer size and the need to be ready to respond to anything in any direction. However, the bulk of the fleet was already on the western side, between Triton’s fleet and the rest of the city. There were, however, more than a few strategic assets in the west that were left relatively vulnerable—Leon saw the thunder wood grove and the adjacent grove of tree sprites, but thankfully, none of the sprites themselves were visible. He imagined Tikos must have had them all hide, and would’ve made time to visit if the siege had gone on for much longer.
Now, however, it seemed Triton was doing something, and they had to react.
“Deploy the fleet,” Leon ordered Anshu without hesitation. “Everyone! To your posts! I don’t know what Triton is doing, but be ready for anything!”
A chorus of affirmations followed as his high officers left the hall.
“Leon,” Alcander said, one of the few who remained behind. “The Tempest Knights are with you, to whatever end.” He extended an arm, and Leon gratefully clasped wrists with him.
“To a good end,” Leon stated. “We’ll beat anyone who threatens us black and blue.”
Alcander grinned. “Let’s see to it, then.”
With the commander of the Tempest Knights at his side, Leon hurried from the hall and made for the closest courtyard. Others joined him along the way—Valeria, Maia, and Cassandra were no surprise; nor was Red. Leon’s Paladins showed up almost as if they were just waiting for this to happen—Anna, Alix, Marcus, Zhang, Daryun, Lana, and Graniton, missing only Anzu, who was already above the western mountains. Theron was with his fleet, but Leon could see his contingent already accelerating hard for the northwestern corner, intent, it seemed, on holding that flank.
The magic within the valley became wild and turbulent as thousands of arks pushed hard westward, and only pushed harder as Triton’s fleet formed a battle line and the man himself shot out in front, his aura spilled from his body like an infinite ocean breaking through an old and poorly-maintained dam. The Basileus waved his hand, conjuring a complex enchantment built around an ancient rune, and magic around him surged.
Leon could only watch in horror as the protective mist around Artorion, which had protected the valley even against Terris, parted. Unlike the records of Triton’s previous breaches, however, this parting just kept going, pushing the mist farther and farther back, until, after only seconds, the entire western side of the Artor Valley was revealed.
“MOVE!” Leon roared as he stopped caring about anything else except halting Triton. He barreled through the last hall and shot out into the courtyard. He barely stopped for a moment before he was launching himself into the air, his eyes wild, his heart racing. In the distance, he locked eyes with Triton and saw for himself the pride oozing out of the man, and the mocking, self-satisfied smile he wore.
The man’s armor was ornate, covered in what looked like some kind of fish scale pattern. His open-faced helmet was shaped like the head of a shark, while glowing pearls and razor-sharp shark teeth served as decoration—and possibly other purposes, if what Leon could sense from his armor was any indication.
Not too far away, Leon saw Nestor.
“Can this be sealed?!” he shouted at his ancient kinsman.
Nestor didn’t immediately respond, but he began inscribing runes in the air. Leon figured he’d either succeed or he wouldn’t, but either way, he had to assume that Nestor might not be able to do much. If he assumed anything else, then the results might be disastrous.
Almost as a premonition of those disastrous results, Triton’s arks opened up, and in a moment, half of the towers along the western ridgeline ceased to be. Arks were likewise damaged or outright shot down, a few exploding as their power supplies were ruptured.
The fleet responded in kind, and the western skies became a single particular hell.
But Leon had eyes only for Triton. He kept his magic senses on the battle as much as he could, but the Basileus could only be dealt with by him.
“Support the rest of the fleet!” Leon shouted at his companions before accelerating with all the speed his lightning-infused blood granted him. He drew Iron Pride, the blade gleaming in the light cast by the bolts of lightning dancing over his body. Surrounded by silver-blue lightning and Adamant, Leon fell upon Triton like the wrath of the heavens itself.
Bolts of lightning, fast-slashing Adamant, and cold killing intent packed the air around them, but Triton, his smile unshaken, dodged and wove, blocking and deflecting only when he had to. With his spear of black ice in hand and his mind seemingly on defending his person, Leon recognized in the first few blows that breaking through his defenses was going to be tricky…
But Triton seemed to treat this with much less reverence and desperation than Leon was, and backlit by the spectacular detonation of one of his own dreadnoughts, Triton faced Leon and asked, “How long will it be, I wonder, before mankind learns not to consort with their lessers?”
A flash of silver-blue lit up Triton’s face, and black ice responded. Suddenly, in a moment, Triton went on the offensive.
Leon, however, was ready, and noticeably faster. He and Triton exchanged a hundred blows in a handful of seconds, and Triton came away with scratches on his armor while Leon was untouched.
Unfazed, Triton said, “How many men looked at what was given to mixed blood and knew that they could never hope to match it? What injustice is it that such beings are allowed to exist?!”
He thrust his black ice spear, his smile finally cracking to reveal the maelstrom of fury beneath. Leon ducked under the fell weapon, sensing the same familiar aura seeping from the cloudy black ice as he did from Terris’ mace. Having tasted getting hit with it once, he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.
He drove Iron Pride up into Triton’s gut, his blade digging into Triton’s armor, but not quite penetrating. Triton himself took the hit well, absorbing all of the physical energy without moving. Leon suddenly realized that this put him in grabbing distance of Triton, and barely shot back as Triton’s off-hand came down.
But instead of trying to grab Leon, his fingers blurred, inscribing another rune in the sky.
The rune flashed with light, and Leon felt the same pressure as he’d felt from the Wailing Dirge, only magnified a thousandfold. He screamed as his blood was almost set aflame. Pain crashed upon him like a tidal wave while all the magic in his body surged out of control, tearing apart his veins and arteries.
Leon barely managed to remain conscious even as his waking mind nearly slipped into his soul realm. He slammed his teeth shut so hard that under any other circumstances, he might’ve worried that he’d cracked a few teeth. Through sheer mental grit, he seized control over himself—
He went flying as what felt like the strength of ten thousand men slammed into his breastplate. The armor buckled slightly, the enchantments within screaming as they fought to absorb the impact.
“How many years did your Clan rule?!” Triton roared, a mad glint shining in his eyes as he charged again, his fingers already carving another rune in the air. “How many lives were ruined to aggrandize your ancestors?!” A thrust of black ice, barely dodged. A pulse of magic, barely controlled, dissipated Triton’s second rune. “How many men of your Clan were born into power they did not earn?!”
Leon struggled to bring his blade up, barely deflecting another strike. He’d seen that it was a feint, but it could’ve easily struck him beneath the arm in one of the few gaps his armor had if he hadn’t moved. It forced him on the defensive as Triton carved another new rune in the air.
As the magic pulsed and washed over Leon, his rebelling magic barely coming back under control, Leon felt… nothing.
And then the Thunderbird in his soul realm shrieked in agony, and he heard a distant roar of pain from the Great Black Dragon.
“Given everything!” Triton bitterly shouted. “And how have you used that power?! To rule as tyrants! What would you have if not for your blood?! This universe belongs to humanity!”
He began thrusting again, the black ice gleaming amidst the explosions and prominent powers of the wide battlefield, forcing Leon closer to the ground as he spat between sentences between every thrust.
“We built it! We brought ruin to the Primal Gods and Devils! We launched the rebellion and saw it through! And you would return us to the slavery of the past! Only with yourself! At! The! Top!”
Leon slammed into the ground, his armor barely taking the impact. Still, he shouted in pain, blood flowing from between his lips. His muscles twitched in revolt every time he tried to rise and strike back. His magic boiled within, only a few loyal bolts of silver-blue lancing out at Triton—all easily ignored by the Basileus.
“Let’s find out what you are without all of that…” Triton spat as he slammed into the ground several paces away from Leon, his fingers a blur as they carved a third new rune into the air.
The last one harmed his Ancestors, and Leon could feel the Thunderbird in his Mind Palace, collapsed and unresponsive to the magical chaos surrounding her. But he could at least sense her; the Great Black Dragon was completely missing. He dreaded to think what might have happened to him out in the Mists of Chaos, loath as he was to admit it.
With a more powerful anti-bloodline rune, and another that struck directly at his Ancestors, Leon refused to allow Triton to conjure another. He strained hard, his muscles rupturing as he forced them into compliance. He rose, blood seeping from every gap in his armor, Iron Pride humming with restrained power just waiting to be unleashed.
He swung Iron Pride.
Triton finished his rune.
The Basileus pushed the rune forward, and Leon’s lightning parted around it like clouds before an ark. The rune crashed into Leon, and he braced for intolerable pain.
Iron Pride clattered to the floor. Then his knees. And then he keeled over entirely, his body utterly powerless—neither strength nor magic remained. His power was just… gone…
He lay on the ground, barely enough strength in his body to turn his head slightly so that his face wasn’t pressed into the dirt. Triton loomed over him, the chaos of the battle above them seemingly in another world entirely.
“Nothing,” he whispered hatefully. “Without power, you are nothing at all. Let us bring this to an end, Leon Raime. Your bloodline has cursed this universe long enough.”
He raised his spear, ready to strike.
Leon internally screamed, trying anything to restore his power. He frantically summoned anything that would obey him, but even in his soul realm, his power remained listless and uncooperative. He had strength that some might’ve considered divine at his fingertips, but not so much as a spark at his command. Without that power, his body was so drained of strength that he couldn’t even move, even with the strength-enhancing enchantments in his armor.
As the black ice spear came down, Leon saw the rune that Triton had hit him with glowing above his magic body, sprawled out over his Mind Palace’s throne. He directed any control he had left in his body against that rune, but nothing moved. Not since he found Nestor in the Forest of Black and White had he been left so completely powerless.
For one brief moment, in the time between heartbeats, he wondered if this was it. A swift and almost anticlimactic end, all but face down in the dirt, without a replacement helmet to keep his dignity. The once-mighty Thunderbird Clan ended like this. His friends and family left behind, without his strength to protect them, without him around to keep them together, without the children that his wives desired…
He couldn’t believe it. It didn’t feel real. Even as the black ice spear fell upon him, it still almost felt like it was happening to someone else.
A screech filled the air, and white filled Leon’s vision. He almost thought that had been it—the end, quick and painless, leaving him on the last road to his Ancestors.
And he heard in a voice dripping with such fury that Leon could almost taste it.
“No.”
Anzu stood above him, his eleventh-tier aura raging, his sword humming with wind magic. Triton’s spear had been deflected at the last moment, and the Basileus himself was so surprised that he’d taken several steps back.
“You will not have my brother,” Anzu declared. Despite the face-concealing helmet, Leon could imagine Anzu’s expression warped by wrath and purpose in equal measure. Had he the strength to speak, he would’ve boasted about having the best brother in the universe, while also telling Anzu to flee.
He was, after all, two tiers below Triton in power.
“You?” Triton said, amusement tugging at his lips. “A monster wearing human skin thinks it can tell me what to do?!” He sneered, but Anzu cut him off before he could continue.
“Several monsters, actually.”
Dark red fire burst around them, Xaphan dramatically announcing himself in the best way the demon knew how. “Get your fuckstick away from my human,” Xaphan crackled, the white fires around his body burning more intensely than Leon had ever seen.
Others arrived, too. Xanthippe was next, a roar heralding her arrival as she slammed into the ground behind Triton in lion form, her fangs and claws red. A moment later, a corpse fell behind her—one of Triton’s Strategoi, if the glimpse Leon got was accurate.
Solomon then followed, the Tiger looking angrier than Leon had ever seen. His Tribe was built for war, as the blood dripping from his vicious ax testified. He was ready for battle, not shying away in the least at fighting someone two tiers above him.
Valeria and Cassandra landed beside Leon, their blades brandished while their eyes flickered in his direction, heavy with concern. Maia roared above them in ice dragon form.
The rest of Leon’s Paladins surrounded them from the air, while a thousand Tempest Knights, led by Alcander, joined them.
But Triton was unfazed. “Your King lies defeated by my hand,” he boasted. “And all of you believe that yourselves great enough to succeed where he failed?!” He raised his spear to all of them. “Your arrogant leader has made you all believe that tiers are easily crossed, I’d say! Let me disabuse you of that notion!” His eyes found Leon’s again, narrow from the unabashed smile he wore. “And then I’ll return to you, Leon. Once all of your friends and family are dead at my feet. Then, and only then, will I put you in your boat and send you off down the white waters of the Aesii…”
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