The air whistled past his face as the ground rushed toward him at an alarming rate. Still, Zeke did not panic. Even the fact that his Space Magic would not work in this suppressed zone was not enough to give him pause.
A moment later, roughly a few dozen steps above the ground, he struck something. It felt as though he had dived into a layer of water, yet the resistance was evenly spread instead of concentrated on a thin surface. The sensation could best be described as landing in water without ever hitting its edge.
Zeke simply felt himself slow, and slow, until he was gliding down at a sedate pace. If not for gravity continuously pushing him onward, he might have stopped completely. Then the resistance that had kept him slowed vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Zeke dropped the remaining distance and braced his legs.
The moment he hit the ground, the sounds all around him came crashing in like a tidal wave. Screams, shouts, the clash of metal. All the things he had been spared while observing the battlefield from the command center of the Alexandria. Even the very air smelled of death and carnage.
Zeke took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with the all-too-familiar scent, before looking around. He had landed just behind the ever-retreating line of his Bloodguard, roughly in the middle of the entire formation.
Beside him stood the ranks of recovering Fleshshapers. There was even that woman he had seen at the meeting. Had she not been the second-in-command? They were currently staring back at him with wary eyes, clearly unsure what to make of this sudden intruder.
Zeke took note of their ragged condition for a moment before dismissing them from his mind. His full attention shifted to Zelkara, who was fighting not too far from his current position. She was holding the center almost single-handedly. But judging by her ragged breathing, even her strength was slowly beginning to run out.
Zeke stepped forward at a measured pace, keeping watch over the surrounding troops within a hundred steps through his Sphere of Awareness. One hundred steps. That would be his limit for today.
He closed his eyes, focusing solely on the input from his spatial senses. Sight would only interfere, and he could not afford to hesitate if he truly meant to pull off something of this scale without Akasha.
Slowly, he extended his right hand, fingers splayed as if he were about to play the piano. But instead of musical notes, crimson claws sprouted from his fingertips. Five in total. They were made of his most saturated blood, heavy with draconic essence. If he had to name it, he would call this his Heartsblood.
Without ever opening his eyes, Zeke took aim. Three to Zelkara’s right. Two trying to exploit a gap. One preparing to grab at her feet when she repositioned, and another two charging her in a suicidal rush.
Zeke did not see their faces. That was not how spatial perception worked. He merely perceived the space they occupied. It was not sight, but something closer to the sensation of a million invisible tendrils probing an area with a sense that lay somewhere between touch and sound. It was hard to explain. But even through that strange perception, Zeke could sense the moment of shock that ran through all eight of them when his Magic struck.
Though it lasted only a moment, because in the next, they were all dead. Hearts and brains had been his targets. Bark skin or not, his claws punched through their defenses as if they were not there at all. A moment later, the five streaks of crimson returned to his hand, attaching themselves to his fingers once more.
Zelkara lowered her spear, hesitantly, as for the first time in nearly half an hour, she had been granted a few seconds to breathe. But already, another half dozen barkskin warriors were on their way to replace the fallen.
Zeke saw their movements as clearly as day. In his perception, slowed by nearly half by his [Sanguine Clarity], and combined with his omnidirectional awareness, there was nothing these untrained brutes could attempt that he would not see through in an instant.
Once more, the claws on his right hand flashed, and another batch of berserkers dropped to the floor lifelessly.
Only then did Zelkara finally turn.
Zeke could not see her face, but he immediately noticed how the tension in her body shifted when she saw him standing there.
“Leave this place to me,” he said before she could ask.
Zelkara hesitated for a moment, but then her demeanor changed abruptly. Likely, she had received new orders from Akasha.
“Yes, Progenitor. I will not disappoint you.”
The air whistled past his face as the ground rushed toward him at an alarming rate. Still, Zeke did not panic. Even the fact that his Space Magic would not work in this suppressed zone was not enough to give him pause.
A moment later, roughly a few dozen steps above the ground, he struck something. It felt as though he had dived into a layer of water, yet the resistance was evenly spread instead of concentrated on a thin surface. The sensation could best be described as landing in water without ever hitting its edge.
Zeke simply felt himself slow, and slow, until he was gliding down at a sedate pace. If not for gravity continuously pushing him onward, he might have stopped completely. Then the resistance that had kept him slowed vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Zeke dropped the remaining distance and braced his legs.
The moment he hit the ground, the sounds all around him came crashing in like a tidal wave. Screams, shouts, the clash of metal. All the things he had been spared while observing the battlefield from the command center of the Alexandria. Even the very air smelled of death and carnage.
Zeke took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with the all-too-familiar scent, before looking around. He had landed just behind the ever-retreating line of his Bloodguard, roughly in the middle of the entire formation.
Beside him stood the ranks of recovering Fleshshapers. There was even that woman he had seen at the meeting. Had she not been the second-in-command? They were currently staring back at him with wary eyes, clearly unsure what to make of this sudden intruder.
Zeke took note of their ragged condition for a moment before dismissing them from his mind. His full attention shifted to Zelkara, who was fighting not too far from his current position. She was holding the center almost single-handedly. But judging by her ragged breathing, even her strength was slowly beginning to run out.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Zeke stepped forward at a measured pace, keeping watch over the surrounding troops within a hundred steps through his Sphere of Awareness. One hundred steps. That would be his limit for today.
He closed his eyes, focusing solely on the input from his spatial senses. Sight would only interfere, and he could not afford to hesitate if he truly meant to pull off something of this scale without Akasha.
Slowly, he extended his right hand, fingers splayed as if he were about to play the piano. But instead of musical notes, crimson claws sprouted from his fingertips. Five in total. They were made of his most saturated blood, heavy with draconic essence. If he had to name it, he would call this his Heartsblood.
Without ever opening his eyes, Zeke took aim. Three to Zelkara’s right. Two trying to exploit a gap. One preparing to grab at her feet when she repositioned, and another two charging her in a suicidal rush.
Zeke did not see their faces. That was not how spatial perception worked. He merely perceived the space they occupied. It was not sight, but something closer to the sensation of a million invisible tendrils probing an area with a sense that lay somewhere between touch and sound. It was hard to explain. But even through that strange perception, Zeke could sense the moment of shock that ran through all eight of them when his Magic struck.
Though it lasted only a moment, because in the next, they were all dead. Hearts and brains had been his targets. Bark skin or not, his claws punched through their defenses as if they were not there at all. A moment later, the five streaks of crimson returned to his hand, attaching themselves to his fingers once more.
Zelkara lowered her spear, hesitantly, as for the first time in nearly half an hour, she had been granted a few seconds to breathe. But already, another half dozen barkskin warriors were on their way to replace the fallen.
Zeke saw their movements as clearly as day. In his perception, slowed by nearly half by his [Sanguine Clarity], and combined with his omnidirectional awareness, there was nothing these untrained brutes could attempt that he would not see through in an instant.
Once more, the claws on his right hand flashed, and another batch of berserkers dropped to the floor lifelessly.
Only then did Zelkara finally turn.
Zeke could not see her face, but he immediately noticed how the tension in her body shifted when she saw him standing there.
“Leave this place to me,” he said before she could ask.
Zelkara hesitated for a moment, but then her demeanor changed abruptly. Likely, she had received new orders from Akasha.
“Yes, Progenitor. I will not disappoint you.”
Zeke nodded, though he had no idea what Zelkara’s new orders were. But he was certain the Spirit would put her to good use. That was not something he had the leisure to dwell on, however. One hundred steps was not a large area, but neither was it small. Every second, more than a dozen new warriors stepped through the shimmering haze of the barrier and onto his ground.
Zeke raised his second hand, and another five claws emerged. He now had ten in total. It did not seem like enough to stop such a horde, but he would have to make it work. These were the only weapons he would use. Though there were enough corpses on the ground and blood already running freely, that would not be enough. It would leave him with the exact same problem Zelkara had faced: his killing speed would not be high enough to keep from being bogged down and overwhelmed.
That was why Zeke had chosen to use his Heartsblood. His strongest weapon. Every strike would be a kill, and with his Concept of Return layered onto it, he would never run out of ammunition. The real challenge was optimizing his attacks to strike as many enemies as possible.
However, with his cognitive speed increased and his perception close to perfect, this was more a matter of focus than skill. It was hard to hit two birds with one arrow. But if those birds were moving in slow motion, and you could see through bodies, the task became infinitely easier.
Ten claws left his fingers, and seventeen elves dropped dead. Another volley, another fifteen dead. The next, thirteen. At this point, Zeke’s hands were moving as if he were conducting an orchestra, and in truth, that was not far from reality. However, instead of directing musicians, he was guiding his claws, and instead of producing a musical symphony, he was creating a symphony of slaughter.
Though horrifying in concept, Zeke barely even registered the deaths he caused. His eyes remained closed throughout, and the only thing he truly perceived was the fading warmth of bodies as his claws struck their most vital points.
Instead of reaping lives, he felt more like a repairman sealing breaches in a leaking dam.
***
“Hey... isn’t that him?”
Viola barely heard the question. Her mind had stopped the moment her eyes landed on the figure who had leaped through the air.
It was really him.
Up until now, she still had not been able to fully believe it. It was just too absurd. Little Zeke, rebelling against the Empire? Little Zeke, striking down his own countrymen? Little Zeke?
Somehow, she had still convinced herself that all of this had to be some kind of misunderstanding. There had to be an explanation. But now that she saw him actually step onto the battlefield himself, there was simply no denying it anymore. This was not some misunderstanding. This was not him being dragged into something he did not truly want.
And little Zeke, her little Zeke, was not so little anymore either.
Viola watched as he landed on the hard-packed ground, his legs bending ever so slightly to absorb the impact. Then he straightened. Viola immediately noticed how tall he had become. They had once been of similar height, but now he likely towered over her by nearly a head, despite how much she herself had grown. Even his hair had grown longer, now reaching past his shoulders.
But the most noticeable change was in his face, the lines that had gotten sharper, harder. It seemed both familiar and alien to her. It was definitely the same face, yet it looked as though a stranger was wearing it. And then there were his eyes. There was an arrogance there now that she had never seen before. The way he looked at the world carried a sense of superiority.
“So this is him...” she heard her superior say from beside her. “Quite handsome, I have to admit.”
That managed to snap Viola out of her stupor. “I thought you said you fought him before?”
“Him? No. I only fought his fortress last time. It’s actually my first time seeing the boy, but I had heard the rumors...”
“What rumors?”
The woman stared at her in surprise, before a look of realization crossed her face. “They really locked you up and threw away the key, huh? Well, no wonder. Your relationship with that kid could only hurt us.”
“What? Why? By the Winds, aunty, what happened?” Viola felt that familiar anger rise within her chest, that suffocating feeling that always surfaced whenever she realized how many important things had been kept from her.
“It’s not my place to explain it to you, kiddo,” the woman said with a shake of her head. “But what I can tell you is that your little friend over there has made quite a name for himself while you were gone. Some even claim that he is the greatest genius on the continent right now.”
Viola gave a slight nod before shaking her head. “Zeke is really gifted. He won the tournament that time, after all. But then again, so did I. Isn’t number one on the continent a bit too...”
The words froze in her throat.
At that very moment, a slew of crimson spikes emerged from his hand and killed eight of their half-elven warriors with little more effort than slaughtering chickens. Then another six. Ten. Fifteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Ten. Ten. Eight. The numbers kept getting smaller, but not because his efficiency was decreasing. It was simply because those were all the targets left alive in his area.
Within roughly a hundred steps around him, every soldier who stepped through the barrier died immediately. There was no struggle. There was no screaming. Only death. It was a slaughter so efficient and merciless that it felt almost clinical in its execution.
Soon, an area of deathly stillness emerged on the chaotic battlefield.
Viola looked at Zeke, who stood in the middle of that massacre. His eyes had remained closed the entire time, as if he were taking a nap. It was as though he were saying that this entire battle was beneath him. As though he could do it in his sleep.
Meanwhile, the number of his victims had already reached three digits and continued to climb.
Viola felt herself gripping the railing of the ship tighter and tighter as she watched. She did not even notice when it had started, but two steady streams of tears were trailing down her chin and pooling at her feet as she watched her childhood friend commit one of the most heinous acts of slaughter she had ever witnessed.