Zeke’s eyes were grave as he observed the distant fight.
He watched as the treants fell one by one. He watched as Rhea flailed, desperately trying to strike her enemies. He watched as wounds piled across her body and the ground grew slick with her blood.
And yet, he did not act. It was not out of callousness, nor because he lacked the will. It was because he did not dare to. Acting too early would ruin everything. Every drop of blood she spilled would be wasted if the ploy failed.
That was why he endured.
Finally, the order he had been waiting for arrived.
The Legion's formation shifted, and the troops moved out. The camp was almost deserted now. In an attempt to cut off Rhea’s retreat, the commander had overextended his reach. Well, that was not quite right.
In any other scenario, he would have had plenty of time to call his people back. But not today.
The Alexandria, unseen and unheard, had been hovering close by. Just far enough to avoid detection, yet close enough to exploit even the smallest opening. An opening that had now appeared.
"Go."
One word. A command as vague as they came. Yet, more than sufficient for Akasha. The spirit had long since calculated every parameter, waiting only for his signal.
The Alexandria surged forward. The barrier of smoke broke apart, revealing her position to any observer. There were none left. Or, if there were, they would be far too slow to react. In the chaos of the moment, even a brief delay would prove fatal.
Zeke looked straight down. Beneath his feet lay the Legion camp, nearly empty. It was too late to stop him now.
"Sound the horn."
A deafening howl split the air. It was a recreation of Khai’zar’s roar from his time in the arena, but amplified through the Alexandria’s horns, it echoed a thousand times louder.
The battlefield ground to a halt. Every gaze turned upward. For a moment, Zeke had the impression they were all looking directly at him.
A slow grin spread across his face. "See me and weep, you ant-like bastards."
Kill them all.
His mental command was answered immediately, and in brutal fashion. One hundred bolts of lightning descended upon the camp, each corresponding to one of the hundred runes etched into the underbelly of the Alexandria.
It was a storm far too violent to occur naturally. Not even the heavens knew such fury. Yet more impressive than the sheer power was the precision. None of the bolts struck at random. Like arrows loosed by a master marksman, every strike had been chosen with care.
Dozens of bodies collapsed, charred and broken, either incapacitated or lifeless.
There was a reason Zeke had chosen lightning as his weapon of choice. Of all the elements, it was the most debilitating against flesh-and-blood targets.
If it did not kill you, it stunned you. If it did not stun you, it scarred you. And even thick armor offered little protection, the energy slipping through it like water through a crack. In many ways, lightning was even more deadly than Death itself.
At least against humans.
"Again."
A second volley followed, then a third. After that, there were no targets left. None visible, at least. Zeke did not allow himself to relax. There was still one presence he knew remained alive. The commander would not be foolish enough to expose himself.
"Deploy the troops. Scorched earth."
The bombardment ceased immediately, replaced by the steady descent of falling soldiers. The Bloodguard had been waiting. The first to take to the air was, naturally, Zelkara. Spear raised, she fell like a meteor.
The impact alone cleared the ground across dozens of meters. She did not slow. In a single motion, she launched herself eastward, sweeping aside tents in her path. She reached the center of the camp in an instant, her spear tearing through the largest structures with ease.
He was not there.
Clever bastard.
The large command tent had been nothing more than a decoy. Any attempt at a decapitation strike would have come up short. Zeke had expected as much. That was precisely why he had waited for the Legion to deploy fully. Even if they returned now, he would still have ample time to locate the commander.
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And with the Alexandria’s magical interference, the commander was no longer able to direct his troops. The Legion had been drawn outside the field, while their leader remained trapped within it.
Checkmate.
The only remaining variable was the Archmages. Especially that woman. She was fast enough to reach the battlefield in time. Depending on her choice, Zeke would need to adapt his plans.
So while the Bloodguard tore through the camp, Zeke watched with bated breath to see how the Archmages would respond.
They had not resumed their attack on Rhea, which was a smart choice. Even wounded, a Titan’s constitution was not to be underestimated. Killing her would take too long and drain too much of their strength.
With a new enemy of unknown power now in play, it was a risk they could not afford.
Zeke saw their decisions unfold in real time. The Earth Mage, still hidden underground, shifted his approach. Instead of aiming for killing blows, he once again focused on restraining the Titan.
The Wind Mage made the opposite choice. She abandoned Rhea entirely and rushed toward the camp. Her speed was astonishing. She would reach them in seconds.
Zeke smiled. As expected. Without the commander to guide them, their movements were easier to read and far simpler to counter.
"Block her."
The moment the Archmage came into range, dozens of lightning bolts descended, barring her path. Even an Archmage would not dare to take such an attack head-on. It would not kill her, but the lightning would disrupt her body and paralyze her mind. In that state, she would be a sitting duck.
The woman darted back, changing course midair. She avoided every bolt with the grace of a dancer. Even Zeke was impressed. It was no wonder Rhea had been unable to hit her. This woman moved through the air with the ease of a fish in water.
Her movements felt eerily familiar, overlapping with a figure from his distant past. It did not take long for Zeke to realize where the sensation came from. A name surfaced, rising to the forefront of his mind.
Windtänzer.
No wonder her movements felt so familiar. He had seen it often enough. The shadow of Viola’s effortless grace was unmistakable in this woman.
Who was she? A cousin, perhaps. Or an aunt.
Zeke shook his head, hardening his heart. It did not matter. Whoever this woman was, he would not let sentiment stay his hand. The Empire was the enemy.
No matter who they sent.
"Keep going."
The woman twisted and soared like a leaf in a storm. But it did not matter what she tried, she could not approach. With Akasha’s calculations, there would never be an opening. Perhaps she knew that. Perhaps she believed she only needed to endure until the Alexandria ran out of mages to power the formation.
Zeke’s smile widened.
That would never happen. Ten Archmages and dozens of Grandmages were now fueling his attacks. It would take days to exhaust them. No. With proper rotation, he could likely sustain this level of output indefinitely.
The woman was visibly frustrated as she failed again and again to close the distance, her movements growing more frantic with every passing second. It did not matter. She should not have come. It had been a mistake from the start.
This was exactly why Zeke had needed to eliminate the commander first. One wrong decision could trigger a cascading avalanche of mistakes and, in the end, bury any chance of victory.
It was a mistake the commander would not have made. After witnessing the Alexandria’s firepower, it would have been far smarter to send the Earth Mage instead. There was little Zeke could have done to stop him.
Ironically, the Earth Mage was now tied up restraining Rhea, while the Wind Mage wasted her time trying to breach the camp.
Meanwhile, the Bloodguard scoured the area, every passing second bringing them closer to finding the hidden commander.
Zeke was utterly relaxed. The battle had been decided the moment they allowed him to take the camp. For every move they made, he already had a counter prepared. This was what it meant to hold all the cards.
This was what it meant to dominate the battlefield.
Finally, after so many trials and setbacks, he had lived up to the goal he had set for himself when he went to war. Back then, he had vowed to claim the skies, hadnt he? He had vowed that wherever the Alexandria went, the very air would belong to him.
Today, Zeke felt he had achieved that goal.
Watching even the mighty Windtänzer Mage flounder helplessly, unable to draw any closer, Zeke felt an unprecedented surge of pride.
It was as if an invisible line had been drawn across the battlefield. It marked the point where Zeke’s dominance began. A silent declaration.
Until here, and no further.
It was almost pitiful to watch the woman struggle. Like a moth drawn to a flame, only to be stopped by the glass of the lantern. Even so, Zeke felt no trace of empathy. On the contrary, with every failed attempt to breach his realm, his chest swelled.
Was this how Exarchs felt? Was this how it was to possess a domain?
The thought only deepened Zeke’s longing for that realm. Today, he could simulate such a state by employing hundreds of mages alongside the Alexandria. But one day, his mere presence would have the same effect.
That was what he truly wanted. That was what he longed for.
Host, the commander has been located.
Zeke broke off his musings and focused on the camp below. By now, almost all the tents had been razed. The Bloodguard worked quickly, as always. There was so much debris that it took Zeke a moment to spot what Akasha had pointed out.
Then he saw the disturbance.
Several of his Bloodguard were engaged in a quarrel. About half a dozen had turned their spears on their own comrades.
Zeke was not surprised. Chimeroi had notoriously weak defenses against Mind Magic. It would not be difficult for a Geistreich to influence a handful of them. But it was, ultimately, a futile effort. How many could he possibly control? Ten? Twenty at most? Against the hundreds present, it was meaningless.
The commander had to know that as well, which meant this tactic would only be used as a last resort. That meant he had been discovered.
Zeke’s gaze moved past the struggling soldiers, who were already being quickly subdued. There it was.
Beneath the debris of an otherwise unremarkable tent lay an opening in the ground. Clever. The commander had hidden his true position in a concealed bunker. Layers upon layers of misdirection.
The Legion truly lived up to their fearsome reputation.
But this time, they had miscalculated. They had clearly been prepared for the possibility of the Alexandria’s arrival, yet they had still underestimated him. It was a gratifying realization. His choice back then had been the right one. The only way to escape the Legion’s calculations was to do something impossible to predict. To do the unthinkable.
That unthinkable existence had now emerged before everyone's eyes. It had blotted out the sun and razed their camp to the ground.
"David," Zeke called mentally. "The commander is in the eastern quadrant, third row, fourth plot. He is hiding underground."
A moment of silence.
"Go and kill him."