A land of ice and fire.
The battleground where Carvel Horin had clashed with the now lifeless Birmond Ramus was a scene of chaos.
A clash of frosty ice-element mana and scorching magma-element energy had transformed a portion of the field into a frozen abyss, while the other portion, bigger in size, resembled a seething pit of fiery inferno.
The struggle between the opposing forces was evident in the landscape's transformation. The fire element's relentless advance was gradually overcoming the icy domain, causing the once icy expanse to dwindle to a mere fifth of the original terrain, surrounded by the encroaching lava, magma, and intermittent flames that erupted randomly.
Amid this shifting battlefield, Birmond's lifeless body lay within the boundaries of his own masterful icy domain. Despite appearing relatively unscathed, his skin bore the crimson hue of magma-mana infusion, with veins that once carried green and blue now pulsating an ominous red. This physical transformation was an unmistakable sign of Foreign Mana Invasion, the result of Carvel and the wyverns' combined onslaught.
Even in death, Birmond's eyes remained open, a testament to his unwillingness to submit to fate. Layos had achieved tactical supremacy by deploying two formidable wyverns to the battlefield, catching Edinburgh's forces off guard.
Intially, Birmond had been confident in Naya's assistance to counter Carvel and his wyvern, relying on her potent Demon Spells and the wyvern's magical might. Little did he anticipate the resurgence of old injuries, a cruel twist that led to his downfall in the midst of combat.
At Birmond's side lay Naya, her form weakened and frail. A loyal companion and demon beast, she had thrown herself into the fight to support Birmond against Carvel's onslaught.
Her interventions had prolonged Birmond's resistance, and her sacrifices had been the unsung foundation of his stand. Yet, her strength was waning, rendering her unable to maintain her humanoid form. Each breath was a struggle, her eyes drooping as the toll of mana exhaustion and mana core damage brought her to the precipice.
Their bodies, battered and bloody, were a stark contrast to their former vitality. Birmond's death carried a heavy burden of unfinished objectives, while Naya, on the brink of succumbing, was poised to follow her master's fate.
This was the somber tale of the defeated, entwined in the chilling grip of their own icy creation. But amid this tragedy, what lay in store for the victors of this tumultuous battlefield?
On the opposing end of the battlefield, amidst the fiery tumult and molten rivers, two figures endured as the survivors of the maelstrom. Carvel, his once-mighty armor reduced to ruins by Birmond's relentless barrage, bore the battle's scars both visibly and beneath the surface.
His battered form revealed the toll of Birmond's potent attacks, etching his bare torso with a mosaic of injuries that bled crimson trails across his skin. Tousled hair and a countenance marred by various scars painted a portrait of weariness and determination. His left hand, severed at the wrist, lay frozen, its icy pallor casting an eerie hue. The interplay of blue and red marks across his frame bespoke the relentless battle within, a visceral struggle against the encroaching ice-element mana surging through his mana circuits.
Beside him stood his draconic ally, a once-mighty wyvern now bearing the evidence of the fierce battle it had engaged in. various physical and elemental injuries scarred its massive form, the colossal wings bearing irreparable damage. Ice-element rods jutted from its limbs, the very ice they clashed with in a battle of elemental prowess. Yet, despite these visible wounds, the wyvern retained an aura of strength and resilience, a testament to its indomitable spirit.
Carvel's gaze shifted between his fallen enemies and the steadfast wyvern at his side, his voice a weary mixture of exhaustion and hate.
"Birmond, that wretched bastard... His ice-summons held more power than I could've imagined. Were it not for you, Akass..." His voice trailed, acknowledging the role the wyvern had played in his survival.
In response, Akass emitted a low, rumbling growl, a sound that transcended the boundaries of language. Carvel's hand sought the wyvern's scaled head, a gentle pat that conveyed gratitude and a silent partnership forged in battle.
Akass, the draconic creature with mastery over lava and magma, was no simple tool; it was a being of pride and intelligence, possessing the capacity to comprehend and communicate in the tongues of Anfang's realm.
With his wyvern companion's beastly response, Carvel's expression shifted, adopting a look of focus and acknowledgment. However, the wyvern's demand wasn't far behind, a testament to its inherent nature and pride. Its voice, a blend of authority and insistence, cut through the air.
"Carvel, elven commander, heed my words. You must provide me with the resources fitting my contribution. This battle's demands exceed our predictions." Akass's words held the nuance of loyalty coupled with the assertion of its worth, a reminder that even the potent elven magic's bonds could not suppress the innate nature of the creatures it sought to control.
Carvel hesitated to approach his fallen enemies while a faint breath still stirred within Naya's form. He held back, waiting for that final exhalation that would confirm the cessation of life.
Moments crawled by, and as Naya's humanoid façade waned, she transformed into her true essence, taking on the form of a black-panther-like demon beast. A faint smile etched its way onto Carvel's face, his anticipation rewarded as Naya's heartbeat dwindled to an almost imperceptible murmur, as if on the cusp of stillness.
"Finally!"
Carvel exhaled, the weight of his relief palpable. With Naya's apparent passing, he contemplated taking the necessary steps to ensure the end of his adversaries. Yet, his intent was interrupted by a sudden arrival, a rapid and potent rush of mana signature that bespoke a Master Ranker's prowess.
"Fuck! Who the…."
Carvel's experienced senses discerned the newcomer's ascent from the ranks of an Expert, an achievement realized amidst the maelstrom of battle – an audacious feat that would etch the newcomer's name into the annals of history books of both the kingdoms.
Swoosh. Zoon. Snap.
Instant Reset!
