A whirlwind of jade flame, and a deafening screech with each twist of air within it, every ember clashing with its siblings. An attack from such a familiar face, drilled into the minds of every soldier training to invade mainland Ravenna; an attack unseen by any eyes but his own, a new technique seemingly adapted to his previous fighting style on the spot. The man was familiar with the concept of scorch magic, an easily irritated fire with the temper of a dragon, but for it to be irritated by an attack it was imbued into was not something he’d even considered possible. Perhaps due to Asher’s inexperience in using it, or that he was unfamiliar with the use of traditional magic entirely—and thus couldn’t consider the intent of his attack—it blew up in his face with a force that nearly knocked him off the ship, and cracking the deck to a degree that it was unrepairable by even the best of shipwrights.
Asher was unprepared for such a potent reaction, stumbling back, singed by his own flame.
“Fucker…” he mumbled, before returning to a confident attacking position. Think back to what Valerii taught you, numbnuts, he thought, he’s a mage, he taught you the basics of Aura control. Think, dammit! Asher scoured every corner of his mind for anything at all relating to imbuement, but found naught. Whatever, go for it. You’re a god now. He leaped into the sky, his jump propelled by a half-controlled explosion of scorch magic beneath his feet. He raised his flaming axe into the sky, then sliced it downwards—with a scorch explosion to propel it—and let the inertia carry him more than gravity could. Though, before he was even halfway to the ship, his foe had begun surrounding himself with frostmetal. Bastard! Thought Alpinus, setting off several more scorch explosions behind himself, hoping to reach the deck before the man could finish building his defenses. His efforts, however, were futile, and only managed to destroy the ship further.
As the rumbling of devastation outside of his fortress settled, the man lowered his defenses with the haste of Thorne’s retreat at Cassia Town.
“Are you stupid, Alpinus?” Shouted the man. “This will only end poorly for the both of us!”
“Silence, Thorne scum!” Replied Asher, outraged. “I will defend Ravenna to the end!” The man simply sighed, before launching a spike of frostmetal at incredible speed at Asher, who deftly weaved out of the way, and summoned a pillar of flame in response, finally landing his first hit. The man was knocked back several feet, withstanding heavy damage from the attack.
“You fight with the tactics of a mage, yet you’ve never used pure magic in your life! What the Hades were you taught?”
Asher chose not to reply, his Ravennan pride denying this man the honor of speaking to a Ravenna general; though he knew precisely how and why he knew these techniques: his training with Valerii as a legionnaire. Battling a mage taught him to counter one completely, a skill both useful and remarkably scarce in the Bronze Legion. Through this, his body instinctively used the techniques he had seen Valerii use, or at least mimic them as well as a newly made conjurer could.
It took a moment for the man to recover, and his strike was without a doubt spur of the moment—something Asher had deduced by the lack of form in the swing—leading to a weak hit to the General’s breastplate, which he took advantage of. Alpinus quickly grabbed the man’s wrist in the ricocheting of his sword, and shoved a circle of magic brimming with anger and power into the man’s face, seconds away from blowing his head halfway to Frostmill.
“Wait!” Shouted the man, sweat dripping down his face from the heat of the arcane circle, and squinting from the light. “I’m not from Thorne!”
Alpinus tilted his head a moment, vexed. “And that’s why you’re a soldier on their galleon?” Asked Asher, mockingly.
“I’m from Frosthelm, General Alpinus. I was forced into this war. I-I hate the Prince as much as you!”
“How should I know you’re telling the truth, then?” Responded Alpinus, knowing full well that he had all the power in this situation. The magic circle poised at the man’s head was crackling with energy, begging to execute him.
“You can’t, but as a noble general of Ravenna, you can’t possibly kill somebody like me! I was… er… drafted, I suppose, into this; I have no gripe with the Land of Bronze!” Asher, with his ego so big, was flattered by the compliment this man gave him, releasing his grip on their wrist and letting the magic circle fade.
“I shall spare you. Cherish my mercy, for it’s not something General Julian or General Argos would have given you.” In his apparent naïveté, he turned his back to the man. “What is your name, soldier?” Asked the General.
The man breathed a sigh of relief, before readying his blade. “Axel Schneider, Sir.” He responded.
“I see. And your occupation?”
“Blacksmith, Sir.” He raised his sword to split the General’s skull in two and slashed down as fast as he could.
“Dumbass,” replied Asher, “I’m not as egotistical as Thorne taught you.” His hand was raised behind him, one finger steadily on the sharpened arcanium edge of Axel’s weapon. “Now, would you rather be cremated or buried? That is, if Thorne can recover your rotting corpse—or what’s left—from the shipwreck.” The General swung his greataxe at Schneider with enough power to cleave a mountain in two. Axel quickly parried the attack, sending him tumbling back as scorch magic roared from the impact. General Alpinus, anticipating the parry and following recoil, leaped forward, spinning, his axe poised to split the ship in two.
“Crushing…” bellowed Alpinus, building up magic in his axe, which was burning as furiously as the sun. Axel had less than a second to react. He thought back to his training in Thorne, then to his training in the Syndicate, then to his training in Frosthelm as a young soldier. Throughout everything, he had never seen an attack vaguely adjacent to what he was facing now.
Is this really the end for me? He wondered. It can’t be… I have to fight for Thorne, I have to fight for valor… His heart raced, the General inching closer and closer every millisecond, seemingly accelerating. No. What the hell am I on about? I have a family. I have a daughter, and I’m concerned about Thorne? Fuck all of that, to Hades with it! Angelica told me to be safe, dammit! I’m not letting Andrea grow up an orphan, no! I have to kill this bastard before he can kill me!
“Judgment!” Roared General Alpinus, swinging his blade down with a force unseen from him ever before. Emerald embers filled the air as scorch magic was sent from the axe into the air, spreading out for hundreds of feet in all directions, incinerating all in its path. A flaming hole was bored through the ship, and Axel was nowhere to be found. Asher fell onto the deck, the charred wood crumbling beneath him. He stood up, proud to kill a powerful soldier of Thorne.
Suddenly, a burst of frostmetal flew up from the hole in the ship, Axel Schneider stood atop it as it rose. He looked upon the General, dropping off his magic chariot and spitting seawater onto him.
The General screamed in pain, his flesh and muscle melting off his bones as he released an eruption of jade flame across the ship, launching himself off the ship with a burst of scorch, continually propelling himself as he fled the battlefield to mainland Ravenna.