The War's End (1)

The journey to the front lines was an uneventful one. Veridin and the Grand Marshal didn't speak about that conversation again. It was as if they had never spoken about it. Instead, Veridin helped the soldiers cook and clean in the three weeks of their march. When he wasn't volunteering his help or tending to the horses, he retired to reading in an isolated place. Several times while reading, he witnessed the two priests that followed him send and receive a few messages from High Priest Malas. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The Church, specifically the high priest, as well as many others were watching him. There were always eyes on him in one way or another. Despite how utterly useless that was.

Having a spotless reputation didn't mean you had no enemies. On the contrary, you unwittingly make more. It was precisely the fact that Veridin was known as 'the Hero' that he had a lot of enemies. Someone known to be altruistic tends to miss their own enemies. Veridin wasn't altruistic. He was well aware of the fact that High Priest Malas was wary of him. The high priest always liked to keep a close eye on him. So much so that Veridin was often tied down with a myriad of official duties, and given attendants to watch over him.

All of it was useless; spies, reports, and wild goose chases. Veridin dealt with all of it with a cold, calm mind. And by no means was he a patient person. It was extreme stubbornness coupled with the satisfaction of getting what he wanted that shaped Veridin into a frighteningly "patient" man. This "patience" stemmed from his desire for entertainment.

It was for that same entertainment that Veridin never passed up an opportunity to stand on a battlefield. Those official duties that the Church pushed onto him mainly consisted of heading out to fight the demons anyway. Veridin was known as the hero who would end the war against the demons, so there was no reason for him to step back. There was only one reason that he would abandon the battlefield.

Veridin turned his head to the side as the grand marshal rode up beside him. "What is it, Commander?"

"It's been a long time since we've been to the front lines, hasn't it, Ver?"

"It has," Veridin paused, "Rowan must be having a headache."

"Certainly, seeing how we've been pushed back across the river."

Dark clouds loomed threateningly on the horizon. A flaming orb lit up the sky before the sound of explosions rang out. A cold wind carried the smell of burnt flesh and blood to the soldiers. The knights and horses that hadn't been to the front line before shuddered. The horrors of the front line were only spread amongst the armies: Avoid going there at all costs. Even the public didn't know what truly happened on the front lines of the war. As the group drew closer to the noise, what was happening became terrifyingly apparent.

The Delos river and the surrounding area had become a burnt, muddy wasteland. Balls of fire rained down from each side. Each one exploded into smaller fragments upon impact. Shouting and the sound of clashing swords rose from the field of fire. Veridin glanced behind him at the soldiers. Most of them were staring in horror at the carnage happening in the distance. He glanced at the grand marshal before turning back to the soldiers. Viscount Brandy stepped out of the carriage he rode in as the grand marshal began to shout.

"In the next few hours, you will witness greater horror than you see here right now. Your fellow men will die beside you. You may lose your limbs. Or get burnt beyond recognition. You may experience a hell so bad that you wish you were dead. Some of you here won't make it out alive. But Goddess forbid you die without taking one of those damned demons down with you!"

The soldiers glanced at each other hesitantly. Veridin inhaled before yelling, "What do you have to be scared of? Death, or telling your family that you ran away? By your side stands me and the grand marshal, will you run away or will you fight?!"

Their nervousness faded slightly. Viscount Brandy who had clad himself in armor rode up beside the two. Seeing their lord ready for battle seemed to harden their resolve. The grand marshal nodded to Veridin before speaking.

"May the goddess grant us a swift victory! CHARGE!"

Those on horseback were the first to reach the carnage. Veridin rode confidently into the blazing fire, his white cape becoming a beacon of hope to the soldiers that had been fighting. Shouts rose up over the battlefield.

"Reinforcements are here! The Hero is here!"

Veridin leapt off of his horse before it threw him off, plunging his sword into a demon that was deadlocked with one of the human soldiers. He dashed through the battlefield with deadly swiftness. Demons fell at his hands one after another with an expression of amusement on his face. His pure white cape became splattered with blood and soot. It was as if his spotless image was stained an abyssal black as he danced through the chaos.

Before he struck another demon down, a sword clashed against his own. Veridin turned, glaring at the demon. "You're fast."

"And you're strong," the demon spoke solemnly, "Why don't you fight me instead of slaughtering my subordinates?"

"Where would the fun in that be?"

Veridin deflected the sword pressed against his own to the side. The demon lowered himself before striking again. The two exchanged dozens of blows that would be deadly if a single mistake was made.

"You have so much mana, why don't you use it?"

"I could ask you the same." Veridin twisted to the side and parried the next strike aimed at his abdomen.

"You must be mistaken. I do use magic."

The sword in the demon's hand turned a bright red. Veridin could feel the intense heat seeping into his side as his sword began to melt where it came into contact with the demon's. He pulled the two swords upwards, taking advantage of the fact the two were interlocked, before stepping out of the demon's reach. Veridin glanced at the molten metal dripping down from his sword, then looked at the demon calmly.

"How sloppy."

The demon's expression twisted. "How so?"

"Your swordsmanship isn't bad, but your mana usage is inefficient." Veridin sighed and lowered his sword, making the demon even more irritated.

"And what would a human like you know?"

"Evidently, more than you." Veridin grinned, a condescending expression in his narrow violet eyes. "It was fun, but this game is over."

"Game? You think this is a game? What can you even do with that broken sword?"

Veridin tilted his head upwards, still smiling. "I don't even need a sword to kill you, so yes. This is a game."

"TRAITOR!"

The shout turned the head of everyone on the battlefield. In the midst of the fight, one of Viscount Brandy's soldiers had stabbed the grand marshal. The shining scarlet knife breached through his neck and dripped fresh blood onto his stained armor. Veridin's eyes widened in horror. He took a step towards the commander but was stopped as the demon's sword plunged through his chest. Veridin coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't have time for this…!"

Veridin turned his eyes back to the scene of the commander falling to his knees, blood gushing from his throat. In the sky above, a fireball was on its way right towards the fallen commander. Healing magic wouldn't work from here. He couldn't use transfer magic without taking care of the sword plunged into him. Veridin stumbled forward, the sword sliding out of his chest, only to be stabbed again. He watched in dismay as the fireball crashed into the commander, exploding on impact. Veridin's mind was in shambles as the demon behind him kicked him to the ground. Blood seeped out of his wounds and mouth as drops of rain began to fall. The commander was dead. Not even his body was left. Veridin stared at the puddle of red flowing out of his own mouth; The clamor of the soldiers falling on deaf ears.

Wasn't this supposed to be like every other battle? What went wrong? There was a traitor? One of Viscount Brandy's soldiers? Why? To claim all the glory? There were so many things he had left to say to the grand marshal. If not for this war, would he have been able to say them?

Veridin pulled himself to his senses. There was still a traitor to deal with. Veridin healed himself as he pulled himself to his feet. The two stab wounds disappeared in an instant, leaving no evidence besides blood and the holes in his armor. The demon that struck him down stood dumbstruck as Veridin rose from the ground. He disappeared the moment he got to his feet, only to reappear in front of the traitor. His violet eyes burned even fiercer while the rain quenched the fires on the battlefield. He grabbed the soldier by the neck and lifted them off of the ground.

"Why?"

The soldier laughed and coughed, their features burnt beyond recognition. They stared Veridin in the eyes as they clung to his arm. "Everything will be as he wills it! For our salvation! For–!"

The soldier's next words became garbled as red foam seeped out of his mouth. His eyes rolled back and his body fell limp in Veridin's hands.

Veridin dropped the body with a frustrated expression. His eyebrows furrowed before his shoulders dropped. The traitor had died without giving any useful information. With a glance at the blackened ground behind him, Veridin called out over the battlefield.

"Soldiers of the empire," Veridin clenched his fists, his voice wavering, "retreat to backline!"

With his words, the soldiers clamored back towards the trenches dug in the ground. The shouting and the sound of footsteps splashing through mud surrounded Veridin as he stared at the ground where the commander's body once was. Rain drenched the battlefield, soaking the two armies, causing steam to rise from the burnt ground, and washing blood into the Delos river. The joints in his armored gloves began to creak while he stood there. Blood began to seep through his gloves, flowing down like the rain on his cheeks. A hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice dampened his rage.

"Veridin. You gave the order to retreat. Let's go," Rowan spoke solemnly. "Right now, the soldiers need you."

With one last glance at the blackened earth, Veridin turned to Rowan. "I know. Let's go. Viscount Brandy has to answer for his negligence."