Chapter 30: War Part 21 - The Ten Generals
The air was heavy, thick with tension and damp with the morning's mist, as Lucy and the Generals stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the black obsidian field below.
A low breeze curled around them, carrying the faint scent of blood and ash from the battles fought just days prior. The obsidian ground stretched like a battlefield carved from polished night, its surface marred with old burns and scars, a graveyard of memory.
Lucy stood among the four generals, each clad in shining silver armor forged by the ogre general. The metal shimmered in the pale sunlight, a haunting contrast to the death-stained land they were about to descend upon. The armor didn't make them invincible, but it made them look like gods.
They were preparing to die. Each of them knew it. No one said it out loud.
Then, slicing through the oppressive silence, a soft voice, emotionless yet unmistakable.
"Lucy. You called for me?"
Lucy turned, eyes locking onto Alia. The quiet, expressionless elf stood at the head of the army gathered behind them. Though Ithriel had promised that only the five strongest would battle, Seraphine had kept her full force ready just in case.
Alia looked almost out of place among the soldiers. She was a small figure in a black robe, her blonde hair braided with precision, and her expression blank.
"Yes," Lucy said, his voice calm but tired. "I need you to heal me."
He began unfastening his armor, the silver plates clinking as they fell from his chest. Cold air kissed his skin as he pulled off the final layer, revealing faint bruises across his stomach and ribs.
Alia blinked slowly, tilting her head with that eerie, mechanical grace. Her green eyes pierced through him like twin daggers of moonlight.