The Mad Berserker (1/2)
Being at the very front of the army, Haalfrin can't make much sense of what's really going on; all he sees is a rain of arrows pelting the soldiers around him and lines of organized, burly men with tightknit shield and spear formations in his face trying to scream and kill him.
Haalfrin, having mostly mastered his body-strengthening spell, isn't going to be easily killed by the magicless humans in front of him… though if a stray arrow happens to hit him in a spot where his body reinforcement spell is lacking at the time, he'd still get injured or die.
Battle is risky, and risk is why he's here, after all…
Sure, Haalfrin figured there'd be a lot of Death Aura released during the battle, but he didn't expect it to be so exaggerated. The black smog only he can see is so thick that the entire world around him is given a greyish, dead tint, and the entire noon sky has turned black. The ground beneath his feet appears barren and ashy – much like his own soul realm.
What Haalfrin also hadn't anticipated is how quickly his soul can absorb this black Aura and make use of it.
Haalfrin is so focused on fighting that he isn't even trying to absorb the death energy… yet the killing around him is so abundant that it's flowing into his soul like water spirals into a hole at the bottom of the basket.
While the Death Energy in Haalfrin is growing almost exponentially, his image in the minds of the soldiers around him – both friend and foe – is starting to change.
Given that Haalfrin's fear spell casts itself on its own when he feels close to death, the spell has been activated since the start of the battle.
Before, however, he had such a pitiful amount of Death Energy that his spell made next to no difference... but that all changes when thousands of people start to die around him, and their Death Energy flows into him.
From a mildly intimidating warrior, Haalfrin's appearance is now akin to a demon sent to drag them to a late appointment in hell... at least, in the eyes of all the soldiers around him.
The front line of Alsa'ree in Haalfrin's way all part in fear, and their line simply collapses completely in other places. A few clansmen even faint and fall in a puddle of their own piss, while others fall on their knees and prey to whatever gods are listening.
This would have been a huge tactical opportunity for the Alastan army… but the fear of death is indiscriminate; the Alastan soldiers around Haalfrin are also immobilized in fear and unable to fight.
Seeing that the battle is trying to run away from him in his little corner of the field, Haalfrin roars out in rage, "Get back here! All of you! FILTHY COWARDS!"
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Prince Tallus sees this from the back of his battalion, and he slaps his forehead, "No! Get that fool back here at once!" he shouts… yet no one listens to him.
The prince looks around fearfully now. With no mage to protect him, he suddenly feels a lot more vulnerable.
… At least he's far enough away to not get affected by that strange "fear spell."
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Haalfrin raises his sword and lunges straight into the retreating lines, yet despite all his efforts, a gap in the battlefield is forming around him, as each side of the battlefield is trying its best to stay away from him.
To make matters worse, with thousands of people killing each other all around him, the Death Aura attached to his soul is steadily growing larger, and as his pool of Death Energy grows larger, so too does the gap between the terrified Alasta and Alsa'ree soldiers.
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Up on the cliff face, General Kaalhyme is staring down at the battlefield – studying it carefully. Every now and then, he holds up his hands in silent, but quick signals. Some of his men are lined at the front of the cliff face, and they lift up the flags in their hands to signal to the rest of the army which way he wants them to move.
Kaalhyme looks down at the middle-left side of the battlefield and remarks, "Why isn't Hurrok's forces responding? They're all running when they weren't ordered to!"
Unlike the Alasta, Kaalhyme's country doesn't have powerful enchanting technology, so he can't just whip out an enchanted stone and ask his Captain down there personally. Instead, he's only left with an assumption and a quick decision to make.
"Something must've gone wrong down there… Best to pull them back officially… It won't make much of a difference anyway, since the Alastans are retreating too…"
Seeing such a strange anomaly, Kaalhyme quickly casts a spell to enhance his vision.
"There's… a lone mage looks like. There are strange spiritual fluctuations around the man, so he's probably casting a powerful fear spell."
Using a fear spell that affects such a large part of the battlefield is preposterous in Kaalhyme's mind; spells that affect the Will are based on the strength of your spirit, just like how elemental and force magic is based on the strength of your body.
The thing is… is that no human has a spirit strong enough to send hundreds of people fleeing in terror. That would be as ridiculous as having a mage pick up a mansion and chuck it at somebody a hundred feet away.
"No," Kaalhyme thinks, "I've heard there's a race of people on the other side of the world gate that has absurdly strong spirits. Maybe the Alastans managed to sway a member of this tribe into their army? If so, then that mage has to die right now."
So, the Alsa'ree general sends a signal, "Focus half the archers on the left flanks on that mage there."
General Kaalhyme crosses his arms and spends a moment observing the strange spirit mage down below.
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Haalfrin just wanted to come here and find a quick death… but why is everyone trying to run away from him?
Wait. That was a dumb question; he knows why. "D*mn that stupid Name I have. Can't I shut it off? …Maybe with some more practice, but for now…"
He doesn't get to pursue the enemy very far before hundreds of arrows fall onto him. He has no shield with him (he left it behind on purpose, after all), so he just uses his body reinforcement spell to toughen the skin in his arms and torso.
Due to most of his body not being a simple flat surface, coupled with the added toughness from his spell, the arrows that do hit him in these places are just deflected off, though a few of the more direct hits leave bruises.
Even still, a few arrows pierce him in the leg, and he gasps in pain. Perhaps it's because of the thick Death Aura within him, but he can't seem to feel the pain. Instead, he keeps running forward as if the leg injury wasn't there in the first place.
Haalfrin then moves the reinforcement spell from his torso, into his legs, and he gets running again - this time even faster.
More arrows come down, and Haalfrin is shot twice in the gut and another time in the shoulder. "Can't these people aim?" Haalfrin yells out. "I'm leaving my heart and throat open."
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While this is happening, some of the Alastan soldiers are looking at the black-eyed demon right in front of them. "SHOOT IT!" some of their captains shout in a crazed panic, "SHOOT THE DEMON!"
However, the Alastan soldiers were aiming their arrows at Haalfrin even before the order was given. For all they know, this monster might be here for them as well. Why would they have such a powerful sense of dread unless this man is an enemy too?
With everyone's minds clouded by fear, no one else is able to think of anything except finding a way to get rid of that fear… preferably from a safe distance.
The next moment, Haalfrin, who had focused all his attention on the arrows coming from the front, is hit several times in the back by arrows coming from his own army.
Twice, he's hit in the back, once in the shoulder, 3 times in the legs, and once in his left arm. One of the arrows bounces off his helmet; otherwise, he'd have been skewered through the skull.
Either way, the demon stumbles forward in pain and falls to the ground - unmoving.
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General Baalri is looking over the battlefield with concern – particularly at the right wing of his army. "I don't know what that spirit mage is doing, but the enemy's fleeing from him too, so he's probably not one of theirs. I was thinking of pulling the right wing back anyway, so his presence makes no difference."
He squints harder with his perception magic. "F*CK!! WHY ARE ALL MY ARCHERS AIMING AT A SINGLE MAGE!?"
They were supposed to be putting pressure on the enemy lines - not getting distracted!
He tears a far speak medallion off his neck and holds it up to his lips. "Captain Tallus! Captain Alkan! Tell your men to stop firing at that lone mage! I need you all focused again on what I TOLD you to aim at!"
Each of the two men's voices stammers back, "Y-yes sir. I'm sorry!"
"Don't say sorry!" General Baalri yells furiously, "Go fix it!"
"Sorry, Sir! On our way!"