Chapter 90: Desperate Fight
Lea stood alone, facing the charging army.
The chanting shook the earth beneath her feet. Thousands of soldiers, all followers of the Blood God, all trained to value honor and courage above life itself.
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!"
"COURAGE AND HONOR!!"
They crashed into her like a tidal wave.
Lea moved on pure instinct. Her enhanced cognition processed threats faster than thought, calculating trajectories, predicting movements, and identifying weak points in armor all within fractions of a second.
Shadow Sneak let her flow through the first line of attackers like smoke, her body becoming darkness itself to slip between their weapons.
Hastur's blade flashed, cutting through armor and flesh. Each strike was surgical, throats, joints, gaps in protection. She didn't have the luxury of wasted movement.
Her gun blazed.
Energy tore through clustered soldiers, each shot devastating. The three Paths intertwined into coherent blasts that punched through shields, scattered formations, and left smoking craters in the ground.
And the gun was charging from the battlefield's cacophony of screams, clashing weapons, war drums, all of it fed into the Melody component, resonating with the chaos, providing endless ammunition.
She could fire perpetually.
Golden Judgement blades manifested and shot forward, exploding among the ranks. Soldiers flew backward, bodies broken by the force of divine retribution given physical form.
Her Cursed Constructs lashed out like living whips, creating a perimeter of writhing darkness that impaled anyone who got too close. Inflicting them with curses like no other.
But there were so many.
For every soldier she killed, three more took their place. Her Fourth Step speed let her dodge attacks, weave between strikes, a spear thrust here, a sword slash there, but exhaustion was catching up.
Her movements were getting slower, sloppier.
A hammer blow grazed her ribs; she felt something crack.
Her Dream Eater was useless here. She tried using it on the conscious soldiers charging at her, reaching out with her Fourth Step power to touch their waking minds...
But could only daze them, make them stumble for a moment. It wasn't enough.
They just kept coming.
She swung Hastur in wide arcs, the sword humming through the air. Fired her gun in controlled bursts, each shot finding clusters of enemies. Manifested Judgement blades until her mind screamed in protest, the golden light in her eyes flickering as she pushed herself past safe limits.
A soldier broke through her defenses, sword aimed at her throat.
Lea shadow-stepped and appeared behind him. Hastur drove through his spine with a wet crunch. She pulled the blade free and spun to face the next threat.
Another attack from her blind spot. Her Cursed Constructs caught him mid-leap, wrapping around his torso like serpents, then threw him into his allies with bone-breaking force.
A third used a spear, thrusting with professional precision that spoke of years of training. Lea deflected with Hastur and fired her gun point-blank— the energy blast sent the soldier flying backward, armor melting from the heat.
One hundred down. Two hundred.
She was holding. Somehow, impossibly, she was holding the line.
Blood soaked the ground. Bodies piled up. And still they came, chanting, fearless, driven by faith in their god and orders from their commanders.
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!"
"COURAGE AND HONOR!!"
Then the Pathstriders arrived.
Third Step warriors, Blood God followers with mystical powers of their own. They moved with coordination that regular soldiers lacked, attacking from multiple angles simultaneously, using abilities that required her to actually think instead of just react.
A woman wielding blood-forged weapons struck from the left. Fast and deadly. Her attacks came in patterns designed to overwhelm.
A man manipulating honor-bound contracts attacked from the right. Mystical chains materialized, trying to bind Lea's movements, slow her down for the kill.
A third Pathstrider created barriers of courage that made surrounding soldiers fearless, completely immune to the intimidation her presence should have generated. They stopped hesitating, stopped showing the natural fear that came from facing someone so clearly above their level.
Lea's advantage evaporated.
She dodged a blood-blade by centimeters, felt it whistle past her cheek. Fired her gun at the barrier-user, but the shot dissipated harmlessly against his protection— the energy scattering like water hitting a shield.
Her Cursed Constructs tangled with the honor-bound chains, struggling to break mystical contracts. The chains glowed with authority, demanding she keep her "promise" to stand and fight rather than retreat.
As if her defensive stance was a binding oath.
A blade found her shoulder. Not deep but enough to draw blood. Pain lanced through her arm, hot and sharp.
Another cut across her leg. She stumbled, her perfect footwork faltering for the first time.
"She's weakening!", someone shouted.
The army pressed harder. More Pathstriders joined the assault, she counted... five, seven... nine Third Step warriors now coordinating against me.
Then the Fourth Step Pathstriders arrived.
Two of them.
Warriors who could match her speed, counter her techniques, and predict her movements because they operated on the same level.
One wielded twin axes wreathed in blood-fire.
The other manipulated the power of Retribution, making every wound she inflicted on him reflect back as guilt, as spiritual damage that bypassed her physical defenses.
Lea's vision blurred. Blood loss...she had cuts across her arms, her legs, her torso now. Her muscles screamed with every movement. She'd fired too many Judgement blades, used too much power too quickly...
She was running on fumes.
A blood-axe caught her shoulder guard, shattering it. She twisted away, but the second axe grazed her side.
Pain. More pain.
The Retribution Pathstrider spoke a Word of Binding. Her Cursed Constructs froze mid-strike, held by mystical force.
Spears thrust forward. Swords slashed downward. Blood-weapons materialized inches from her throat.
But she kept fighting.
Because behind her were people who needed time, wounded soldiers, Auger being evacuated, the remnants of Ryteline's forces. Because giving up meant everyone died. Because she was the Avenger, and she'd sworn to protect—
A blade pierced her thigh. Lea gasped, dropping to one knee.
"HOLD!!"
A voice boomed across the battlefield, carrying divine authority that made even her presence as a demigod feel small.
The Zankur forces stopped advancing. Weapons froze mid-swing. The coordinated assault simply... ceased.
A man stepped forward. Massive, easily two meters tall, scarred across every visible inch of skin, wearing armor decorated with symbols of the Blood God and Zankur's crimson banner.
His presence was overwhelming. Fifth Step possibly touching Sixth.
The general.
"You fight well, warrior.", he said in accented but clear language, his voice carrying across the sudden silence, "Alone against thousands. Your courage is..."
He searched for words, genuine respect in his tone.
"Worthy of song."
Other soldiers nodded, murmuring agreement in Zankurian. Even while trying to kill her, they respected her stand. The Blood God valued courage above all else, and she'd shown courage in abundance.
"You deserve honor!!", the general bellowed, raising his voice so all could hear, "Not death as nameless enemy, but recognition under the Blood God's gaze!!"
He raised his weapon, a massive double-headed axe that hummed with energy, its edges glowing faintly red, "I will perform the Rite of Blood! Your name will be remembered! Your courage will be praised in our halls!! Your spirit will join the honored dead!!!"
He began chanting in Zankurian, and the army joined him.
Thousands of voices creating a prayer, a ritual honoring their enemy before delivering the killing blow.
This is it... Lea thought distantly, blood pooling beneath her wounded leg...This is how it ends.
She tried to raise Hastur, to fight back, but her arm wouldn't respond properly.
Too much damage. Too much exhaustion. The blade fell from nerveless fingers, clattering on blood-soaked ground.
The general's axe began to glow with red light...
Brighter, brighter, until it burned like a small sun. The Rite of Blood, granting her honorable death, ensuring her name would be spoken in Zankur's warrior lodges, that her courage would inspire future generations.
Small comfort when she'd be dead.
Lea tried to activate Shadow Sneak. Nothing.
Tried to manifest Judgement blades. Nothing.
Even her Cursed Constructs barely flickered around her, the black tendrils weak and listless.
I'm sorry, Dawn... she thought, tears mixing with blood on her face. I'm sorry, Auger. I couldn't...
The general raised his axe, ready to strike. The entire army watched in respectful silence, bearing witness to an enemy's honorable end.
Lea closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate...
But a hand reached out to her, silently placing on her shoulder. She looked back, seeing Lady Keter stepping forward.
"A monarch always saves her people, Dantes.", she spoke without glancing at the demigod, "I won't let you handle something you can't do."
With a light push, Lady Keter made her sit down.
While the 'Goddess of Time' smiled under the gaze of the Zankur army.
The general paused, his axe mid-swing, staring at the silver-haired woman who'd appeared from nowhere. His eyes widened with instinctive understanding that he was facing something far beyond his comprehension.
"You are...", he started.
Lady Keter's azure eyes with their eight-pointed stars gleamed in the fading light. The general felt an oppressive aura weigh down upon him, as if thousands of scrutinizing eyes were laid upon him, judging him.
"Just a passing by Monarch.", she stole his worlds.
She raised her hand, beckoning them to come at her.
"By the Rite of Steel and Gunpowder, I shall grant you Finality."