Chapter 198: 72 Gaw: Clean Slate
Chapter 198: 72 Gaw: Clean Slate
Sweat trickles down Rathos’ brow as he watches the shadow flit away.
Shock and disbelief still wrack him. One of the most dangerous individuals in Orbis, a man who can assassinate [Kings] with ease, somebody who could lay waste to an entire city, is retreating. Rathos has studied the corroborated stories about Umbra, and so far, only one individual has ever made the Suffocating Shadow retreat. Zeek the Untouchable not only fought off Umbra, but nearly killed him outright. Apparently, Umbra sacrificed seven of his peers among the Ravens to create an opening and escape.
Even now, in spite of the counter-measures employed by the men in high places, Umbra is still the monster for whom they check under their beds.
With sword still in hand and pointing where the shadow retreated, Rathos turns his head to look at the Kitsune. He sees her smiling, seemingly relaxed, eyes closed. However, there’s a sharpness to her presence, as if he were to tap her shoulder, he would be shredded to bits.
“You’re allowing him to escape?” he asks and the Matriarch’s smile drops.
“To defeat him, I would have to use my full strength, which would destroy both the city nearby and most of your army.”
Rathos swallows.
After Umbra leaves her ken, Volpe retracts her domain and folds her arms. She turns to him, her fur ruffling with the wind as it passes through the destroyed tent.
“With that done,” she looks at the two girls goggling at her with mouths agape, “let’s return home. I’m sure our [General] would prefer not to be distracted by children.”
Aisha and Izabella nod. They both walk forward, eyes trained on Volpe with what Rathos can only describe as hero worship. Once the girls draw close, one of Volpe’s tails begins to shimmer with a subdued green and the wind howls in response. It twirls around the girls, rising in speed and sound. He watches, amazed, as all three ascend slowly, then quickly.
As they rise, a certain wyvern wakes up from his sleep. Frosty looks around, growling in confusion until it chances to look up and see Aisha. It growls loudly and takes flight, following as quickly as it can.
Only after they are gone does Rathos let his legs give out and fall to his knees. His hand holding Joy starts to shake as the adrenaline leaves his system. That… should have been the end of him. With the way things were going, Umbra might have killed him out of annoyance. All in all…
With a slow breath, he stands and sheathes the blade and turns around. Just another lesson in hubris. Not even the greatest army in the world can stop all threats.
He steps out of his tent, and his army surrounds him. All his elites are there, awaiting his word, ready to support him in battle.
After a small hesitation, he fully releases his aura, connecting himself to his army once again.
“Ready for war. We march in five minutes,” he orders and the ground rumbles as the army falls in.
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To an experienced [General], sieging under the cover of night is vastly preferable to sieging during the day. The reason is simple: Accuracy. The most efficient way to stop an army from knocking on your door is to shoot volley after volley of arrows at them. With the help of gravity, skills, and a defensive position, [Archers] become formidable killing machines. But, attacking from the cover of night makes it difficult for [Archers] to aim their volleys.
If it was Doreson’s choice, he would wait for the brilliant light to disappear before attacking. A smart choice he believes, but the [General] disagrees.
So now he watches as the infantry marches forward behind their thousand-man shield wall, accompanied by the heavily armored minotaurs and a Kitsune mage right behind them. Onwards they trod, the ground rumbling in time to their unison steps. And, as expected, the first volley descends from the skies… and most fall short.
“What?” he gawks, unable to comprehend what he is seeing. Another volley lands Again, most arrows miss their targets while the rest are stopped by shields.
He doesn’t understand. These are professional [Archers], guided by [Captains] or [Sergeants]. Their aim should be perfect! Even low-level [Archers] wouldn’t miss so badly.
Again a volley flies, slightly more accurate, but still mostly missing.
“Centaur [Archers] squads one to four, circle forward, release and retreat.”
The centaurs quickly rush towards the wall, zigzagging constantly. Doreson watches from afar.
“[Accurate Aim], [Projectile Riposte]”
As they get in range, they release their own volley.
Arrows fly and strike their targets. At the same time, shots are fired at the centaurs, most missing while the few that do fly true are parried by bows.
The centaurs circle back as they nock fresh arrows, their formation steadily in motion.
“[Focused Sight], [Piercing Gaze]”
The [Strategist Captain] frowns at Rathos’s choice in skills, both of which improve sight. He can sense it too. The skills were only used on the centaur [Archers] after they fired and were facing away from the enemy. Why would the…
His eyes widen as he looks up and back. The blazing ball of light sits right atop their camp… and currently to their backs.
“They’re blind,” he realizes, but Rathos ignores his revelation, wholly focussed on the siege.
Doreson swallows, his eyes watching as arrow after arrow shoots wide. The enemy [Archers] have to stare into the light, and are unable to properly take aim as a result. He can’t help but find this superior to a night battle. Then again, the [Archers] will have progressively better aim as the army nears the wall thanks to their elevated position.
“Hetairoi, advance.” comes the command.
The shieldwall opens up and an eclectic company of warriors charge forward. The Hetairoi, a designation given by Rathos to those he considers the army’s elites. Individuals who he believes are equivalent to an army on their own.
He watches five of them step forward, each one a person he recognizes.
A hundred arrows fall on Darrow. The gejan doesn’t even deign to raise his shield as they break upon his armor. His dozens of passive defensive skills let him shrug off everything. Doreson believes that even a ballista wouldn’t be able to scratch the Gejan.
Another hundred fall towards Aldonis, but the [Flickering Blademaster] has already moved several paces ahead. The arrows pass harmlessly through his afterimage.
Further away, his daughter gracefully twirls through the hail of arrows, twin blades glinting under the light of the false sun. Each spin, each flick of the wrist, and an arrow is batted away with ease.
Next to her runs Lilly. She barrels ahead with her tail boulder in front of her, arrows glancing or bouncing off as though striking an adamantine wall.
Doreson’s eyes finally fall on the last member, the largest of the five and the only one wearing robes. Grognak walks behind the rest with an almost casual air, belying his boredom. The [Scholar Archknight] walks between the arrows, each step fated, each miss preordained, his safety guaranteed. Arrows come and pass him by, missing his body by micrometers, each bolt’s trajectory already observed and measured from the smallest movements of the [Archers] before they even drew their bow.
The enemy concentrates their fire on the Hetairoi in a desperate attempt to stop their inexorable advance. The remainder of the army advances freely, unharried and with reduced losses.
Eventually, they near the wall, and thus the gates.
“All wyverns, attack.”
Doreson watches the master plan unfold. On the other side of the city, a massive swarm of wyverns hidden behind a hill takes flight. As one, they ascend, flying high and then racing towards the city. An aerial attack from the rear, easily countered by massed [Archers]… [Archers] who are all manning the other side of the city.
Doreson sees it in the distance, the panic of the [Soldiers] yelling alarm, but it’s too late. The Wyverns arrive in force. [Soldiers] burn and freeze, others are crushed by boulders and some are picked up and dropped. They swarm into the city, much to the terror of the civilians. They rush into houses which are promptly set on fire. Without remorse, the beasts set upon civilians, an immoral and dishonorable act, but serves to better distract the [Archers] and commanders as they turn to fire at the beasts. A basic, but amateurish mistake.
Not that it mattered in the first place.
“Lilly, bring down the door. Heavy cavalry, to the front. All units, Charge!”
Lilly lopes towards the gate while the cavalry form up behind her. Her tail, as large as a carriage, begins to shine red. Twenty yards from the door, her lope becomes a spin. With each step, she twirls faster, her tail held centered over her head. Her weight increases and her feet sink into the earth. At the last second, before the gate, she stretches out her tail, swinging it with all her accumulated momentum.
She roars a skill, the tail whips forward and strikes the stone wall.
The adamant tail arcs up, curving in direct defiance of inertia, and tears through the stone archway. [Archers] are sent flying as the battlements are blown to bits, the strike so powerful that the walls to the left and right collapse.
When the tail retracts, the gate still stands, secure in its frame, but the wall around it is no more.
Doreson hears Rathos grunt, but the [General] doesn’t lose focus. Behind that gate wait [Soldiers], ready to defend their falling city with their lives.
“[Tactical Retreat], [Burst of Speed], [Smashing Impact], [Piercing Charge]. Hetairoi, move aside!”
Doreson hears the skills and watches as enemy [Soldiers] rush out of the way. Not a moment later and the heavy cavalry arrives. Their lances are down, skills already activated as Dragkenoss leads his team around the door. The [Royal Cataphract Herald] roars as his regiment’s lances punch through shields and armor and straight into flesh and bone. They don’t slow, and the row of men falls. Then the next row falls, and the next, and the next within seconds, any organized resistance at the gates is gone and the infantry rush into the city unopposed.
Rathos activates several more skills, to capitalize on the opening, but otherwise relaxes as his army filters inside. The city has fallen and the war all but won.
The [General] takes a deep breath after a moment and looks at Doreson.
“And that’s how you win a war,” he states and hops off the carriage. “Now let’s go meet with Orlan. He should already have captured the castle.”
Doreson gulps and nods, matching his pace with the [General] who strolls slowly towards the city, a smile on his face.
But Doreson can’t help but shudder from fear. The [General] enjoyed this victory far too much.
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Rathos reaches the keep of the city. The fighting had stopped a while ago with the enemy army’s surrender. The residents have been ordered to stay in their home and the [Soldiers] disarmed. A war of only a day, and now there is only one man left to deal with.
The castle drawbridge falls, revealing the corpses of the [Guards] and two Gejan [Lancers] standing in their places.
Rathos pays them no mind and walks past. More [Guard] corpses litter the hallways. Bodies dragged away, bloodstains and viscera furiously mopped, broken and shattered stone swept, all by dauntless maids.The [General] ignores them and they ignore him as he heads upstairs where he senses Orlan.
It doesn’t take long for him to reach the [King]’s study. He opens the ornate door and finds Orlan, several [Lancers], a maid replacing the lamps’ glass, and two men kneeling. He also notes the broken wall where Orlan had probably made his entrance.
“[General], here they are.” Orlan announces, his lance pointed not at the [King], but at the man beside him.
Curious, Rathos uses [Silent Analyze] on the scowling man.
Joseph Selenos
Level 138 [Inquisitor]
Level 57 [Noble]
He grunts, but ignores the [Inquisitor] for now.
“I’ve kept him alive, as you have asked,” Orlan gestures to the [King].
Tersus looks up and glares at Rathos. “So, what now? What are your pla-ugh-”
He is cut off by the blade in his throat. Blood fills his airways, choking him, drowning him, pouring out and onto his-
He raises a hand to touch the warm liquid staining his immaculate, kingly garb. Lifting his hand to see the offending substance, he is greeted with crimson wet fingers.
Unclean.
Rathos pulls Joy from the [Cleanly King]’s throat and the despot falls forward with a wet noise into a pool of his own blood. Joseph remains stoic, having expected this.
“What? Why ask me to keep him alive if you planned to kill him?” asks Orlan.
Rathos flicks his sword, spattering the blood on a wall before sheathing the blade. The maid slumps at the new mess.
“Killing a [King] will curse you with [Regicide],” Rathos explains as blood pools under Tersus, “Only certain classes are immune to the curse.”
Orlan frowns, watching the blood taint the white carpet, but he grunts and steps back.
Rathos shifts his gaze to the next person on their knees.
“Now then,” he begins, “what are you doing here?”