Alaric, moving through the smoke and fog, met up with Duke Thorne near the inner sanctum. The Duke was already covered in the dust of battle.
"Sir," Alaric reported, looking up at the towering spire of the former Horsin Royal Castle. "I feel something strange. There is a massive pressure emanating from the castle. It feels like the air itself is heavy."
Thorne looked up, narrowing his eyes. "I feel it too. It reeks of miasma."
"The Royal Army has the city secured," Alaric said. "Over one hundred and twenty thousand soldiers are handling the clean-up. We should investigate the source."
Thorne grinned, adjusting his gauntlets. "Agreed. Let’s see what rat is hiding in the King’s hole."
They breached the castle gates and found the halls eerily empty. There were no guards, no servants. The silence was heavier than the noise of the battle outside.
They didn't stop until they reached the central courtyard.
Standing there, alone in the center of the stone expanse, was Supreme Commander Edric Ashcroft.
He was waiting for them.
"What?" Thorne called out, his voice dripping with mockery as he stepped into the light. "You gave up already? Ready to surrender, Ashcroft?"
Ashcroft threw his head back and laughed. "Surrender? To whom? To a bunch of weaklings like you?"
The Commander drew his sword. His armor pulsed with a strange, oily purple light.
"Priest Lancaster of the Covenant has offered me power and support," Ashcroft sneered. "He promised me the subcontinent if I take the heads of Duke Thorne and his pet the demon Alaric."
"Who do you think you are, you arrogant brat?" Thorne growled. "I was fighting wars while you were still wetting the bed."
Thorne didn't wait. He launched himself forward at blinding speed, a blur of silver and steel. He aimed a strike directly at Ashcroft’s neck, intended to end the fight in a single blow.
CLANG.
Thorne’s sword stopped inches from Ashcroft’s skin. It hit an invisible barrier, halting instantly.
Then, the force reversed.
BOOM.
The impact blew Thorne backward as if he had been hit by a siege hammer. He skidded across the courtyard, digging his boots into the stone to stop.
"Alaric, move!" Thorne shouted.
Alaric was already moving. He sprinted in a square pattern around Ashcroft, blurring with speed. He raised both pistols.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three hypersonic bullets tore through the air.
They struck the invisible barrier and bounced back instantly, maintaining their hypersonic velocity. Alaric barely reacted in time. He twisted his body, the bullets shattering the top layer of his null magic physical barrier. If not for the twenty layers of protection he had stacked, he would have been riddled with holes.
Thorne shook off the impact and charged again. He wasn't injured, just annoyed. He began to hammer against the barrier, trying to find a weak point, striking from high and low angles.
Ashcroft wasn't just a turtle himself, he was a warrior. He parried Thorne’s strikes with skill, weaving his own attacks in between the defense.
Alaric switched tactics. "Physical attacks don't work. Let's try this."
"Creo Aqua: Water Sphere."
Alaric summoned a massive globe of water, attempting to engulf Ashcroft and drown him inside the barrier. The water hit the purple light and splashed harmlessly aside, as if the space around Ashcroft rejected it.
"Creo Ignis & Creo Ventus: Flaming Tornado."
Alaric followed up with a vortex of fire, trying to burn him alive. The flames licked against the barrier but were deflected outward, scorching the stone floor but leaving Ashcroft untouched.
"Useless!" Ashcroft roared. "My defense is absolute!"
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Alaric could feel his stamina draining from repeatedly trying. He is trying to tire us down.
Then, it happened.
Thorne overextended for a strike. Ashcroft saw the opening. He lunged forward, his sword glowing with dark light.
SLLLLK.
Ashcroft’s blade sliced through Thorne’s Sky Dragon Scale armor, a armor enchanted with a Light Magic Sanctuary Barrier. Blood sprayed into the air.
Thorne grunted, stumbling back.
Alaric’s heart dropped. We don't have much time.
"Just stay put," Ashcroft said arrogantly, flicking Thorne’s blood off his blade. "Don't waste my time. This Divine Armor of mine has the ability to reflect all harm, provided to me by Sir Lancaster. No way a bunch of insects like you will stop me."
Alaric looked at the armor. It reflected force. It deflected magic. It was a perfect seal.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced. Years ago, a bandit leader had held Lia hostage. Alaric couldn't shoot him. He couldn't burn him.
It doesn't have force, Alaric realized.
He dashed to Thorne, grabbing the large man and jumping back to a safe distance.
Ashcroft laughed. "Running away? Go ahead! Die tired!"
Alaric ignored him. He placed his hands on Thorne’s wound. The magic circles on his gauntlets glowed as he applied the accelerated healing effect, to stop the bleeding.
"Leave me," Thorne gritted his teeth, clutching his side. "Go."
"No," Alaric said coldly. "You have to help me kill him."
Thorne looked at the boy, annoyed by his tone. He laughed painfully. "Stop ordering me around, boy!"
"Please keep him busy," Alaric whispered. "Just for a minute."
Alaric dropped his hands and stepped back.
Thorne stood up, gripping his sword with renewed fury. He walked back toward the Commander.
"I thought you were dead, old man," Ashcroft mocked.
"Not yet," Thorne growled, charging in.
While Thorne engaged Ashcroft in a clash of steel, Alaric didn't shoot. He raised his hands toward the castle walls.
"Creo Ignis: Fireball."
He launched dozens of fireballs at the castle itself. He blasted the art pieces, the wooden furniture, the structural beams. The courtyard was instantly surrounded by roaring flames.
"Missing your aim?" Ashcroft laughed, blocking Thorne’s strike. "Burning the castle won't save you!"
Alaric didn't answer. He stood still, his eyes glowing blue as he manipulated the atmospheric mana.
The fire consumed the wood. Thick, black smoke rose. But mixed within that smoke was the invisible killer, carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide.
Alaric seized control of the air. He moved it, gently wrapping a dense pocket of the toxic gas around Ashcroft’s head.
Ashcroft pushed Thorne back, ready to deliver the killing blow.
Then, he stumbled.
"What..." Ashcroft blinked. His vision swam.
His sword arm dropped. His body felt heavy, his fingers numb. He tried to take a breath, but the air tasted wrong.
He looked up. Alaric was standing amidst the flames, his hands making subtle movements.
"What... what are you doing, boy?" Ashcroft screamed, his voice slurring.
Alaric smirked.
"Poisoning," Alaric replied. "Your armor can repel bullets and magic... but it can't repel air, can it?"
Alaric tightened the sphere of gas around Ashcroft’s helmet.
"You... coward!" Ashcroft gasped, clawing at his throat.
"Nobody cares how you die," Alaric said coldly. "As long as I win."
Ashcroft fell to his knees. He convulsed, his lungs desperate for oxygen that wasn't there. The purple barrier shimmered, searching for an attack to reflect, but there was nothing to hit.
Ashcroft slumped forward, face down on the stone.
Even Thorne stopped, lowering his sword, looking from the body to Alaric in shock. "That... actually worked."
Alaric walked over to the body. He drew his sword.
"I will need proof for King Eryndor," Alaric said.
He stabbed the blade downward, ending the Supreme Commander’s life.
The rest of the campaign was a formality.
With Krons fallen and their leadership decimated, the Buckland army collapsed. The Shersian forces took nearly 90,000 prisoners of war in the days that followed.
The prisoners were marched in chains back toward the mainland of Buckland, escorted by the full might of the Shersian army. They didn't stop until they reached the capital gates of Buckland itself.
King Corvan, the young ruler of Buckland, finally understood the depth of the manipulation he had suffered under Ashcroft and the nobles. Seeing his army in chains and Shersia at his doorstep, he knew he had no choice.
He met with the Shersian delegation and signed the peace treaty.
The terms were absolute:
- The Prisoner Exchange: Shersia would return the 90,000 lives.
- Territorial Cession: King Corvan signed over all rights to the former Horsin territory to Shersia.
- Non-Aggression: He signed a binding treaty never to invade Shersia again as long as he lived.
- The Covenant: Buckland agreed to aid Shersia in investigating the Black Horizon Covenant in whatever capacity they could.
Buckland survived, but it was a shell of its former self. Its military was broken, its image shattered. It was now essentially an unannounced vassal, existing at the mercy of its neighbor.
One month later.
The Royal Capital of Shersalon was alive with music and light. The streets were packed with citizens celebrating the end of the war.
Inside the Royal Palace, the Great Hall was filled with the highest nobility of the land.
Duke Thorne stood at the front, his injuries healed, looking uncomfortable in his formal uniform. Beside him stood Alaric, Lucia and the rest of their entourage.
They waited in silence as the trumpets sounded.
King Eryndor was about to make his announcement.