Broken by the Ferocity of War

Auld Mountain Pass is a narrow ravine, riddled with dry violet tall grasses that looked like overgrown mosses, coating the stone floor and perching high. Small tree saplings took root from within the large cracks on rocky walls and hooked upward as if stretching their branches towards the sky, begging the heavens to accept their logs into the clouds. Vines slithered from the spiky peaks of the ravine, blanketing the walls with a pinkish violet hue.

A person like myself would often find themselves grinning on their lonesome after taking in the macabre nature of this literally god-forsaken land. And that would be true to some dreamers like me who long to be alone, allowing the embrace of silence to take over their bodies. It will be even better if I stay here for long periods, embracing the love of myself and talking about the beauty of the universe after a brutal day at work. However, not only is that impossible now after her unjust execution, but our quiet mood would also turn sour with all these goddamn metallic clanks and horrid screeches ruining the peaceful vibe.

And isn't that just the truth behind a world of gigantic machines, mighty works of technology, and an unprecedented amount of magic? Such a peaceful view would never find its much-needed silence, broken and forever terrorized by the ferocity of war.

Dominion's soft and tender voice now turned rougher, deeper, and rugged. Even when yelling snarky comments and embarrassing insults, Dominion will still retain a fundamental level of delicate majesty in his voice. Such a level of elegance is one I could only describe as queen-like. Sturdy but soft. Deep but high-pitched. Laddish but delicate. Even at his worst, Dominion would never forget to carry a sense of reverent authority in his demeanor, no matter how foul his words can often get.

That's not the case right now.

His tone was a bit shaky, and I even heard his voice crack when he said the word hostile. His spoken words are much, much deeper than usual. A twinge of fear blots his indifferent demeanor, a quality I had grown to like from the ever-so-calm Charm god. The commotion is definitely making Dominion anxious, for, in his spiritual form, there is nothing a god such as him can do to help the three Vyurbornes.

'I'm running as fast as I can.'

Whenever I took a step forward, my broken ribs would poke an internal organ around the lower part of my chest. After the crash, a sprain I received forced me to drag my left leg, rushing towards the battle in a limp. I have no idea how my presence would ensure the survival of those three Vyurborne soldiers, but I'm the only one here who can liberate Times from the shackles of that electric net thing using my HARVEST command. That's not much help, I know, but it's better than nothing. Leaving those three to die is the worst alternative for me right now. It's okay if they return to Skystead Keep with injuries, as long as they're not dead.

I need them alive to tell the tale of this encounter.

But Dominion's worries are absolutely valid. With these wounds, my pace lagged; I don't even know if there are still people left to protect when I got there.

'No. We can't do that yet. I don't know why you're hiding, but we've gone through all kinds of hell for that. You have a lot of explaining to do later, but I'm starting to agree with you.'

'It's stupid to be asking so many questions out here.'

'I don't know, Dominion. I seriously don't know. I'm not even sure if we're doing the right thing here, rushing towards certain death like this. I'm just running around aimlessly; I have no clue what I'm doing.'

'No, Dominion. I need all three of them to live.'

'Can you imagine what would happen if you return to the Keep with three people hailing you as the god who delivered them away from death? Do you understand what your people would feel if your warlord and his bodyguard not only acknowledge our divinity but our benevolence as well?'

I quickened my pace a few steps away from the source of the battle noises, but an extremely sharp turn obscured my vision of what's to come.

'They will love us.'

With absolute exhaustion coupled with raspy wheezing that forever held my chest captive in its tight grasp, my feet stopped. I stood with reddened eyes and mouth agape upon seeing the terror that awaits.

The dry and moss-like violet plant slowly faded away as it reached the mouth of the ravine where towering spike walls await those that wish to enter. However, those puny so-called "fortifications," if it would even be right to call them that, would not be enough to quell the five kapres marching forward into the ravine.

And as if that was not enough threat, leading the small band of warriors was the great warlord of the kapres, Bismarck. I was already aware that he's a giant, but the warrior at the mouth of the ravine was much, much bigger than I had anticipated, a real anomalous monstrosity befitting of his name as the ruler of the giants. He stood almost twice the size of the already burly kapres around him, and the cannon-like weapon on his shoulder was just grandiose as his appearance.

Violet armor so dark that it almost turned black.

A similarly colored helmet that covered most of his face with a horn from god-knows-what-animal on his forehead.

A thick whip covered in thorns three inches long rested on his waist.

Bismarck strides forward with loud laughter accompanying his small party. Smoke hissed out of the giant warlord's weapon as he slowly, very slowly, marched forward into the convulsing Vyurborne warlord on the ground. Cackling, his small band of helmet-less soldiers bellowed with ungodly huge grins, revealing their black and yellow teeth with weapons of steel in hand.

"I'll kill you myself, traitor!" Bismarck bellowed out loud before laughing out loud again, clearly doing his best to be as slow as possible. He's confident that no one would be able to free the winged warlord from the net. And clearly, he's just playing the long game to make Times suffer even more; this is like sports to him. "I'll have your wings carved off, a fitting trophy for my people!"

Right next to Times is his daughter and his bodyguard. They were trying to claw the net away, electrifying their feet in the process; not only are their efforts hurting their bodies, but it also harms Times. The two Vyurborne's talons scratch the net, trying to shed it away, but they're only clawing Times' skin, leaving many unwanted wounds all over the already miserable warlord's body.

I dashed forward towards the Vyurborne idiots with my limping feet, hissing as I felt the pain course all over my body like needles flowing through my bloodstream.

"MOVE!" I pushed the two idiots with all my strength away from Times. It didn't really do much since they barely moved back. I really used all that I could there, though. So much for a warrior's body.

"Aleph?" Gertrude's voice echoed along with the slow marching stomps of the kapres. Her raised eyebrow showed her confusion, but a twinge of intrigue painted her eyes.

"What are you doing?" The soldier spoke in her usual distrusting attitude, brows furrowed with gnashed teeth.

I pointed my palms into the net.

"Oi, what are you planning!?" The soldier's voice boomed beside me, loud enough to leave a nasty ringing sound in my eardrums. He tried to rush towards me with barred talons, but Gertrude stopped his advance.

"Let the human do his thing, Corbel!"

"But my lady..."

Gertrude looked at me while the soldier spoke. "Ignore the boy, Aleph." She nodded, hovering away from me. Her gaze then locked into the soldier as she beckoned him wordlessly to do the same by raising her eyebrows. "Show us what sort of human magic you have to offer the Keep."

I looked at her, not believing what I'm seeing. And sure enough, with a face filled with regret, the soldier whose name was apparently Corbel, moved back with gritted teeth and a long sigh.

'Right.'

"HARVEST!"