War Part 9

"LLarm, stay focused!" Darfin's voice, sharp as a blade and beautiful as a song, sliced through the chaos of battle, snapping Llarm out of his distraction.

The wind elf winced, pulling his gaze away from the battlefield far below. 'Is he... fighting a general?!' Llarm screamed inside his head, panic shooting through him like a lightning bolt.

Without missing a beat, he summoned a fresh gust of wind, sending it barreling across the field. The invisible force knocked a blade off course, saving a dragonkin soldier from a quick, messy death.

From his position on the rear cliff—elevated a hundred feet above the frontlines—Llarm had an unbroken view of the war below. Well, mostly. The lumbering giants moving across the battlefield were like mountains with legs, obscuring everything in their monstrous wake.

But Llarm had a secret weapon: the wind itself.

Thanks to Darfin's brutal training (and more than a few cracked ribs from "friendly" spars), Llarm had learned to feel the battlefield through the currents of air. His wind spiraled across the field in constant motion, brushing against bodies, armor, and spells—an unseen network of information only he could understand.

He wasn't perfect at it yet, he could barely distinguish individuals, but he had trained enough to recognize a few important presences. One of them, right now, stood out like a beacon in the swirling storm: his best friend.

Lucy had entered the fray between two generals.

The realization hit Llarm like a punch to the gut. His knees almost buckled.

'I mean... I'm the AMAZING LLARM, and even I wouldn't fight a general!' he thought frantically, running a hand through his already-messy blond hair. 'What the hell are you doing, best friend?!'

Unable to contain himself, Llarm threw himself into his signature hero pose, hands planted firmly on his hips, chest puffed out so far it hurt, chin tilted to the sky.

Across the soundscape of clashing steel, roaring monsters, and the sickening splatter of blood, Llarm shouted with every fiber of his being:

"Don't worry, best friend! The AMAZING LLARM will keep you safe!"

For a glorious, shining second, Llarm imagined a golden beam of sunlight illuminating him, music swelling in the background.

Then reality came crashing down.

"LLARM! Enough of that stupid pose!" Darfin's voice bellowed again, raining all over Llarm's heroic parade.

Llarm visibly sagged, deflating like a balloon. He trudged back to his post, muttering under his breath, "Fine, Mr. Asshole..." careful to keep it quiet enough that Darfin's sharp elven ears wouldn't pick it up.

Sighing dramatically, he pushed the world's most noble pout out and refocused his wind across the battlefield.

Llarm knew from painful experience that his powers weren't exactly ideal against the giants and ogres. Their immense bulk laughed at his strongest gusts—he could barely shift their footing, let alone stop them. It gnawed at his heart. Heroes were supposed to save everyone, right?

But even if he couldn't topple titans, he could still make a difference for the others, for his friends.

Feeling the wind once more, he searched the chaotic battlefield, hunting for familiar presences. Then he felt it: a ripple in the current, a texture he recognized instantly.

Gindu.

The blue-skinned dragonkin was locked in fierce combat with another of his kind.

At first, it was hard to tell them apart, as both had glimmering azure scales and hulking frames, but the wind whispered secrets to Llarm that no eye could catch. He recognized Gindu's stance, the slight scrape of his claws, the rhythm of his breath.

Llarm grinned. "Gindu! You're still kicking, you beautiful bastard!"

Despite how poorly Gindu and Eri sometimes treated Lucy, they had always treated Llarm kindly, like a younger brother they couldn't help but look after. In Llarm's book, they became honorary members of Team Hero.

Gindu seemed to be holding his own. His scales had hardened into sharp, reflective armor, but his opponent was fast, dodging and weaving through Gindu's powerful strikes. It was only a matter of time before fatigue took its toll.

'A true hero acts before disaster strikes!' Llarm thought, chest swelling with righteous determination.

He clapped his hands together dramatically. "Be ready to thank the AMAZING LLARM, Gindu!"

With a flick of his wrists, he sent a concentrated blast of wind surging toward the enemy's legs. The moment the dragonkin opponent tried to sidestep Gindu's next attack, the wind hit him, throwing his balance completely off.

In that tiny, critical opening, Gindu didn't hesitate. His razor-sharp arm tore through the enemy's exposed neck in a clean, brutal arc. The dragonkin dropped instantly.

Llarm threw a mock bow toward the battlefield, soaking in his invisible applause.

Darfin, from somewhere behind him, unleashed another furious scolding that Llarm dutifully ignored. Heroes didn't need approval—they required results!

Still grinning, Llarm tuned his senses back to a different section of his wind network.

The battle between Lucy, Tara, and the tiger general raged nearby.

Llarm's heart clenched. Even through the swirling chaos, he could feel the intensity radiating from their clash.

The tiger general's aura burned like a sun, heavy and relentless. His strength felt overwhelming, stronger than Lucy and Tara combined.

Llarm swallowed hard.

Through fragmented glimpses, he assessed the conditions of his friends. Tara's spotted fur was matted with blood, her once-beautiful pelt now crisscrossed with vicious cuts that leaked crimson onto the trampled earth. Her movements were slower now, desperate, her feline grace hampered by pain and exhaustion. Lucy, too, was battered and bleeding, his body covered in at least fifty visible wounds, each one a testament to his stubborn refusal to fall.

Though Lucy fought on, refusing to falter, Llarm could feel the strain in every step.

His fingers clenched into fists.

'They could use a hero right now,' Llarm thought, jaw tightening.

However, deep down, Llarm knew the brutal truth.

His winds couldn't touch the tiger general.

He had already tried, more than once, sending sharpened gusts toward her, hoping to knock her off balance or slow her down. But just like the towering giants, the attacks had bounced off her without so much as a flinch.

It was maddening.

Llarm wasn't sure if it was some ability, innate power, or just sheer monstrous strength, but either way, it left him feeling powerless.

Grinding his teeth, Llarm forced himself to look elsewhere. He kept part of his mind tethered to Lucy through the wind, ready to dive in if—no, when—his best friend needed saving. But for now, he turned his hero's eyes across the battlefield once more.

And then, like a star bursting through a stormy night, he found her.

A familiar flash of silver hair darting between the chaos.

"Eri!" Llarm beamed, his grin splitting wide across his face.

The last time he had seen her, she had been lying lifeless on the ground. His heart had nearly shattered on the spot. He had almost broken down right there, but he hadn't. Heroes didn't cry, and more importantly, Darfin would have probably drop-kicked him off the cliff if he had started bawling in the middle of battle.

Now, though, Eri was very much alive and very much kicking.

Relief flooded through Llarm.

She didn't seem to be in any immediate trouble, weaving through enemy lines with surprising speed and brutal precision. Each slash of her blades found flesh, leaving a trail of fallen foes in her wake. Still, LLarm made a mental note, tagging her location in his invisible "friend tracker" list—just in case. The wind around her carried the metallic scent of fresh blood and the distinctive lavender oil she used on her weapons.

With a proud sigh, Llarm stretched his arms high into the sky, the wind tousling his hair dramatically.

He surveyed the battlefield below—the citizens of Llarm Town, as he had secretly named it. Every soldier, every fighter, they were under the Amazing Llarm's protection, whether they knew it or not.

Letting out a deep, satisfied breath, he flashed a heroic smile and declared, loud enough for the swirling wind to carry his words across the blood-soaked field:

"All in a day's work for a hero!"

Behind him, Darfin pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something about being cursed with the most ridiculous pupil in elven history. But even he couldn't completely hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.