CHAPTER 477: WAR OF IRON - PART 7 - BIGGER DRAGONS

Bailey Black knew he wasn’t like the other mages of the Crimson Hammers. If there was one thing he learned from his time in the Norneau Academy of Magic, it was that there were always bigger dragons to fight. He might have been a dragon compared to his colleagues, but right now, one of those bigger dragons was trying to kill him.

And yet... he felt so alive!

Since leaving the Academy, things had gotten rocky. His wife, Daisy, had wanted to avoid the Heavenswar, especially after getting pregnant, but he’d let himself get pressed into it all the same. Joining a mercenary band had been his way of meeting the war on his own terms. And part of those terms was wanting to grow his magic to fight those dragons head-on.

But no matter where he fought before now, he’d encountered nothing but mediocre opponents. But this fight... he felt it was finally pushing him beyond his limits, and the intoxicating effect of drawing on this demon’s blood was its own kind of high. It felt good, and yet...

Bailey tried to dodge a rock thrown by the demon, managing to turn what would have been a fatal strike into a scratch on his cheek. The rock flew through the soldiers behind him, cutting down four men before it lost enough power to simply explode against the fifth’s armor.

The demon’s second rock flew past Bailey entirely, exploding the head off one soldier before exploding an entire section of the gate to the pass. The arch which held the portcullis and door collapsed, crushing several more soldiers, and some soldiers that hadn’t received Bailey’s warning tried to help him fight the demon.

Those who got near often failed to pierce the strange armor enshrouding him, their weapons blunting before the demon lashed out with pure, formless mana or his limbs, killing them instantly. When they did manage to land piercing strikes, the demon regenerated instantly, along with his armor, and Bailey added a few more drops to his bloody armaments.

Fuck, when will this guy run out? Bailey thought as a giant exploded from fist to head as the demon’s mana ripped through him.

"Hey! Dumbass! Over here!" Bailey shouted, trying to get the demon’s attention so that he could try to draw him away from the army.

The demon did not turn, and so Bailey gathered some of his blood and the demon’s, compressing it harder and harder until he felt he would have a good spike of iron compared to his first attack. Then, with all the force he could muster, he sent it through the demon’s neck and the soldier behind him.

Bailey tsked. He’d been aiming for the head. Even so, the demon collapsed onto the ground from having his spine severed. But even as Bailey approached, he saw the wound regenerating, even the bones.

He swung his sword, trying to strike the final blow, but then the demon’s regeneration finished, and he screamed.

This scream burst out of him as his back arched, his face contorted in pain.

Bailey felt his eardrums burst as he was thrown backward, only the raising of his shield kept him from being completely crushed. He managed to soften his fall with magic, but other soldiers around him weren’t as lucky.

Those too close to each other wound up smashed and tangled together. If someone fell too close to the demon, then their eyes and ears began to burst and bleed. And for those far enough away to avoid this fate, the scream knocked them to the ground and shattered any vials of potions they had.

For a moment, Bailey was distracted by the vibrations of the sand, eerily silent except for the ringing in his ears, until he recalled that he was in a battle. Even if he couldn’t hear, he felt the surging scream in his eyes, and so he scrabbled away, fear granting him speed as he low-crawled towards safety.

Mercifully, the scream ended just as Bailey forced himself to a stand along with the other soldiers.

But the demon rose too, as six angelic wings deployed from his back. The already radiant mana around him surged as iridescent flames flew past the tips of his wings, like shadows made of rainbow mana.

He raised his arms, looking at the still surging army as he gathered an orb of mana into his palms.

Bailey blanched. If that mana struck anywhere near him, he was doomed. He had a bit of the demon’s blood left in his shield, and in his desperate need for survival, a mad idea struck him.

Pulling the demonic mana from his shield of blood, he let his blood splatter to the ground as he split the mana-rich blood into two streams that he pushed into his bleeding ears.

A surge of sudden power tore through his body. Bailey couldn’t hear himself screaming as he felt the fire in his blood. Mana, begging for use.

His senses flared to new life, and his eyes saw not only mana but the blood of all the soldiers around him. And at that very moment, the demon began to cast his spell forward, into the army surrounding the gate.

As the light burst, Bailey drew all the blood he could into a dome around himself, layer after layer taken from the living and dead alike. In a single moment, he killed hundreds, but he did not care. He’d promised his wife he would return, and return he would.

The fire burning in his body receded with each layer he built, until at last he could no longer feel if there was anyone in range for him to draw more blood from.

When the shockwave hit, he felt the world rumble beneath him for the longest moment of his life, his defenses shattering one by one as debris impacted his blood shields. Until he was down to three layers. Then two. Then one.

He poured all the magic he could into that final barrier, exhausting the mana in his blood as he held the shield for dear life.

But even that shield shattered...

And then the rumbling stopped.

The first thing Bailey realized was that he could hear. The screams of the dead and dying rose over the gusting winds. He saw the demon in all his radiance hovering, watching a dark cloud that rose from the desert like a death-filled tree. And beneath that tree was a crater at least a great measure wide and half as deep, its bottom seeping up water from some unknown reservoir. Nobody near that crater moved, and the survivors Bailey heard were in the direction of the city.

And the demon turned, without even a scratch on him, aiming for the city. Bailey held still as fear broke him down to his core. He’d always imagined himself as a dragon amongst dragons. But he was wrong.

He was barely a snake.

Memories of the futility with which one of his final teachers, Professor Kiryu, had foiled his efforts filled his mind. He’d learned much, but nothing that would let him overcome the hurdle of trying to break the wolfkin’s shields.

And he’d learned a lot more in battle.

Something else inside him snapped. He couldn’t let it end like this. He needed to grow stronger. Strong enough to slay his own fear.

Seeing the army retreating over the sands, he searched for one of the fallen defenders, tearing off the slain elf’s armor and tugging it onto his robes. The enemy wore sashes, and so he grabbed a blue one, practically violet with blood, and slipped it over his shoulder. He took up the elf’s sword and shield as well, then contemplated the wall he would have to get past to chase after the demon in the city.

For a blood mage, it would be all too trivial.

*

In the enemy camp, a pair of soldiers dragged the unconscious Lanoch into his tent. His concubines, still waiting for their chance to flee, were unaware of the route that was occurring, but they saw him, unconscious and breathing in shallow gasps.

One of them thanked the soldiers profusely before drawing the tent closed.

And when she stood over her master, a look of rage and pain colored her cheeks as she drew the dagger given to her Anko. She said a silent prayer of thanks to Anko. And another to Ferro, their lost brother.

The others drew weapons as well, dark looks glinting in their eyes and on their faces. This would be their only chance. All of them knew better than to let the one who held their chains live.

As one, they began to stab Lanoch, the woman aimed for his heart. Further down, her compatriots stabbed into his guts. His throat, his arms, and his legs. They poured all the pain of their enslavement into each stab. Some weeping. Some glaring. All of them ended the life of their tormentor together.

As one, they became free.