Chapter 718 – Shock and Awe
Point out to me precisely one conflict, even one, where the Ardans engaged in something called a ‘fair’ fight. The bloodshed of the Great War could have been ended in a thousand different situations had the Divines of Arascus and the Divines of the White Pantheon chosen to duel out their differences and proclaim a winner through that. I will, at the very least, give the Ardans their own morality. They value life, even if the only life they value is their own. Yet even then, any rational world filled with rational actors would have spotted these irreconcilable differences between Allasaria and Arascus quickly enough and forced them to engage in a duel.
What would rational actors not do? They would not proclaim them as leaders. They would not rally to their banners. They would not willingly walk into a century of warfare. Had Arascus not been defeated then, the war would have dragged on for another century. Every battle was a massacre, armies engaging in the open field, as they do on Tartarus, was considered a failure of strategy strong enough to warrant the dismissal of the local commander from their position if a suitable reason was not provided. When the Empire engaged, it would swarm, it would destroy, it would just as frequently leave in some paranoic caution as to not overextend. The White Pantheon acted in much the same way.
Every development of warfare that the Ardans have taken has been a step forward towards achieving total annihilation of the enemy. The White Pantheon’s greatest victories were always displays of overwhelming magical superiority, in which cities were buried or seas raised to flood entire countrysides. Any blame they choose to shift on us is banal, for anyone who has served with them knows exactly that they struggle to believe we are capable of strategy and tactics.
The warning of Arda is that if we once again go to war with them, to do it totally, as they would. Break their skies with ash, send Archdemons immediately, deploy countless Legions, do not let them secure so much as a foothold, because they would not let us do the same. The Ardans say we are incapable of strategy but it is they who are incapable of peaceful diplomacy.
War, to them, is merely an extension of political theory. The weight they give to systems is measured precisely by how well they are able to stand against enemy invasion. I would go a step further, there is no diplomacy on Arda. There is merely two different states of warfare, one without bloodshed and one with.
- “Lessons From Arda”, written by Prince Asmodeus, of Tartarus.
Cloudbreaker slammed into the southernmost point in Esberia, not even a full kilometre from where the mile wide landbridge cross the narrow entrance to the Eparika and the world shook as sand, ash, stone, demons, their beasts, their armour and arms were knocked up and away, or over by the impact and the buried in the rubble of the Intercontinental Drop Tower dropping from low orbit. Ashen Skies had been torn open, a hole was plucked apart b the raw, furious force of so many tons of metal crashing straight through them. It was followed by a trio of smaller meteorites falling from the sky.
Before they even landed, the tower’s automated systems began to work. The endless horde of demons streaming into Esberia stopped in stunned surprise at the black shield of a sky opening up to reveal Arda’s pale blue dawn. A commander in black armour and a cape of fire called out, as did another. A drum banged somewhere in the distance. A bugle signalled the command to charge and close the distance. The flooding torrent of demons, brought to a halt by the spectacle, once again began to rush forward like a river of bodies.
Poisonous gas streamed forth from the mid-section of the ICDT, a wave of noxious air to counter the wave of bodies being sent against it. It broke down in the air quickly, leaving a faint blue smear on the rocks and the ground as it passed by. The Tartarian forces, whether the towering, hulking barn-sized demons in thick black plate or the tiny imps which were only used to carry the logistical support of the army, needed only to take a single breath before they collapsed.
Raptor One screamed overhead and broke the sound barrier as it disappeared behind Ashen Skies to escape the wave of ash that had been sent into the air by the ICDT tower. Its payload, the trio of Divines that smashed into the demonic ranks, a roaring ball of golden fur that killed with glee as it ripped apart everything and anything caught in its path. Fer exploded out of the cloud of dust she created, claws extended, eyes blood-red red and sunk her jaws through the steel plate of a demon half her size, moving away just as quickly and before the force surrounding her realised what was going on. The saint in silver made an almost graceful landing, Maisara swept her axe around her in one quick move, her eyes searching immediately for the closest commander or enemy she could considered noticeable enough to put a dent in the enemy morale. And Fortia dropped, her spear moving like Maisara’s in axe to carve a circle around her herself. She jumped up into the air, arm raised, above her head. Her eyes immediately settling upon the largest demon in view. A hulking greater demon that stared, wandering weather to panic or to charge when its enemites were dropping from the sky. Fortia’s spear materialized in her hand, she twisted, the air crashed around her, the sonic boom swept the closest demons off their feet and her weapon tore the demon in half, cleaving perfectly through its armour and spine before stabbing a crater into the ground. By the time Fortia landed, cold bronze eyes already locked on the next target, the spear had reappeared in her hand.
Cloudbreaker defensive shields cackled to life, bright blue lines carved into the tower’s hull blinked when the first flame hurled towards it was intercepted by the solid air compressing into a wall. Then again, and again, as the steady pulse of the main crystal began to charge up. The ground around, now smeared into a bright blue, shook again when piston hissed, gear turned, lock twisted and plates began falling off the tower. From the top first, to reveal the huge, car-sized diamond that was the main payload of the tower. Then from all around the mid-section, as the first knighted men of the Empire slid down ropes in stunning, glowing armour of steel and silver.
And then touched down into battle just as they had been trained to do, with the proper knightly independence that Arascus had instilled in them. They split up into pairs, threes or packs no larger than four. Some drew longswords which spiralled with magic and hummed in tune to the pulsing of the transmutation crystal at the top of the tower, others slipped their rifles off their backs and took up firing positions near the tower. They knew their job, the Divines were to serve as the three rocks that the flood of Tartarus would crash upon, they were to make sure nothing reached the tower.
And nothing did reach the tower. As ash turned to diamonds and began to fall from the sky, a fully armoured knight, stepped ahead to catch a demonic legionnaire armed with a hammer. The creature gave one blue which was parried away, then fell as the knight’s fist collided with its helmet and sent a jolt of lightning. One of the gemstones on the knight’s belt flashed brightly as it released its magical energy, another man fired a round that could have been mistaken for a tracer. Tracer bullets simply left a trail though, they did not explode with electricity upon impact. A group of four moved to engage a greater demon, then stopped when they heard a sonic boom from ahead and saw the demon’s head ripped from between its massive shoulders by Fortia’s spears. The Goddess of Peace had already turned around, the spear simply flashing back into existence in her closed palm.
Maisara carved long trails through the enemy lines, wide and arcing as she hunted for magicians and commanders. A succubi in the air that had managed to conjure a smokescreen of fire to hide itself from the gunfire of the Imperial Knights met its end when the fire was crossed by Maisara’s whirling axe and the Goddess of Order did not even bother to stop and inspect her kill. She took minimal steps, attacks that should have hit suddenly became attacks that should glance, and then a twist or a turn or a rapid step in a certain direction would make those glancing blows slice harmlessly through the air. It could not be described as a dance, Maisara’s movements were far too rigid for that, it was just combat perfection born out of thousands of years of experience from fighting Divinity and Heroes and hunting the overwhelming beasts of Arda.
Fortia retreated, or rather, carved a path out for herself towards the ICDT tower, where she took up position as the living artillery piece that would catch whatever Fer and Maisara let past them, or her spear would carve long trenches directly through the enemy lines, each time signalling its charge with yet another thunderous boom of the air crashing as sound failed to keep up.
Fer dove through a pack of demons, tearing and ripping and shredding with claw and tooth and tail and her own bulk. She suddenly raised her head, her ears spun from side to side. Drums, thunder, the rumble of massive footsteps of a predator, she knew the sound before she even spotted the Imperial navy from both sides. The trapped western Eparika fleet under Admiral Sprance and the newly constructed Alanktydan fleet under admiral Nintz both turned broadside, their massive guns already beginning to fire and hold back the tide. They only needed to buy a few hours, enough for Irinika and Anassa to arrive here after those Goddesses swept through Esberia and destroyed the spewers. The army itself would be able to deploy the airforce then, and Esberia would be cleared up.
The storms of explosions from naval artillery and from missiles which erupted out of the back of ships, burned for a few moments, then turned and reignited to shoot across the blue sky did more to thin out the numbers than the three Divines could ever do. The landbridge was a bottleneck, the Tartarian horde had already been clustered at its mouth before the battle even started. Now the mass was only beginning to swell as it proved itself impassable. Eventually, after what felt like day of fighting even though it could not have been any longer than an hour, maybe even less than that, Maisara lowered her back and grabbed Fer by the back of the neck then threw her backwards to cease the advance of the pair. Fortia still launched her spears, also rarer now. The dune had become a layered cake, first sand, then ash which had been beaten down by countless boots and finally diamonds which fell from the sky every time the gemstone in the ICDT tower pulsed. “They’ve stopped.” Maisara snapped, she held her arm out, her axe materialized in her palm to physically bar Of Beasthood’s blood-frenzied charge.
Fer walked into the weapon, then blinked, the licked the blood off her lips and blinked again. Crimson eyes returned to gold as she caught hold of herself. “Oh.” She said. “They’ve stopped.”
“I just said that.” Masaira replied dryly and turned around. “They’re waiting for something.”
“How do you know?” Fer asked.
“Because they’re germs and germs just charge in. They’re waiting for something.” Fer blinked, licked the back of her arms as another volley came from the ships and Fortia’s spear once again smashed into the enemy ranks. Explosions rung out, south of the short landbridge as the Imperial Knights rearranged themselves. The sky to the north was becoming more blue than black at this point, and the intersection between those colours was a dazzling display of light refracting within crystal. Fer licked once, licked again, tasted the fine warm blood of demons which always felt as if it had just come off the stove, and then her tongue touched prickles.
The hairs on Fer’s arms and on the back of her neck stood up. Her ears tilted, her body moved automatically, ignoring all the commands from her screaming mind to keep going with the attack. Her heel dug into the ground, she twisted, grabbed Maisara and coiled to the ground.
Her eyes caught the sliver of darkness as it was loosed. It crossed the miles in the blink of an eye, like an artist flicking his pencil across the masterpiece of reality, splitting it in two. She felt the freezing heat of eternal black fire shoot past her shoulder. If she hadn’t had trusted her instincts, it would have hit her in the chest.
This was not going to be as easy as she had thought.