The Last Resort

         “The Smarana Kingdom has already fallen,” Kalun reported.

         “So, we are the last one standing,” the king interrupted. “You may continue.”

         “Thank you, your Majesty. The refugees are coming in droves and the guards are letting them in out of pity. Lord Resma is the only military commander left and he is now busy delegating commanders and consolidating soldiers for the remaining battalions. The walls are being repaired day and night but the quarry reserves are running low.” Kalun knew the news he brought is not a pleasant one which made him distressed.

         The king let out a sigh. “Tell Resma to let them in and let them settle then order a conscription from the citizens and refugees to bolster the defenders of the gates.” The king turned to his guards in the throne room. “Have my family ready to depart. Ready a caravan with the people and refugees to hide somewhere in the west. Bring some soldiers to guard the caravan. I will remain here with the others.”

         The guards are stunned. “Yes, your majesty.” Some of them hurried out of the throne room.

         The king asked Kalun, “How is the cult’s ritual coming along?”

         “I have ordered my squad to bring the artifacts to them,” Kalun replied.

         “I hope they succeed,” the king blurted. “You may leave now.”

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On top of the wall, Resma oversees all the activities in the eastern gate, the weakest part of the kingdom. The refugees flood in through the gates and the people inside the walls are frantic. Resma ordered citizens to help the exhausted and frightened refugees. He also instructed to gather the supplies coming from the refugees and add it to the kingdom’s stockpile. The combined stockpile will be used in order to feed the masses. The battlefield just outside the wall is riddled with fallen enemies and allies alike. He instructed a group of soldiers to salvage armor and weapons littering the ground outside the walls and have the corpses burned. He knew the kingdom will not fall without a fight. Such is the pride of the warriors of Militaria.

The dusk turned into night. The gate is still flooded with refugees and the soldiers patrolling the wall walk remained vigilant but the tense atmosphere relaxed.

         “Enemy forces, incoming!” Resma heard one of the archers shout.

Resma leaned on the embrasure and saw countless torches moving towards the walls. He heard screams and cries combined with the revelry of slaughter as the noises echo in the darkness. The refugees outside the gate panicked and rushed to get inside. People fall in the ditch as they crowd onto the wooden drawbridge and clog the gates by sheer numbers. He saw the enemy force pushed the siege towers into the ditch and on top of the towers, they begin the escalade. The defending archers positioned themselves on the embrasure and balistraria to repel the enemy assault.

         “Guards, engage! Do not let them overwhelm our position! Mages, combat support!” he shouted as the enemy forces begin to climb over the embrasure.

When the wall walk is under control, he rushed to the gates, hoping the gate has been closed. When he arrived, the opposing horde has already crossed the drawbridge and the soldiers are struggling to hold the enemy at the gate. Aside from the usual rogues and bandits, he saw the invading force has monsters and inhuman creatures within their ranks. The defenders, with battered armor and weapons, fought head-on. The battle is fierce and the defenders are able to cut down the opposing force but still, countless more engage them. Resma assumed command to strengthen their morale and push the enemy outside the gates. He rallied them into formation on the gate with tower shields huddled into a barrier.

         “On my command, stab then push them back,” he shouted.

The mixed defenders of conscripts and soldiers clumsily execute the commands but with every passing moment, their number dwindles, weakening their formation.

         “Men, we must hold the line until the call for retreat!” Resma shouted, rousing his troops. “Your families within the kingdom are depending on you! And this war has already killed many of your loved ones! Protect your families and avenge your dead!”

He saw one of the conscripts charge at a large monster.

         “This is for Martha and Rhea!” the conscript shouted, plunging his blade into the monster.

The stabbed monster growled and swiped the conscript aside.

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         “This ritual requires a large amount of mana to materialize the fragment of Siryo’s mana from the orb. I am entrusting you the cult and appointing you the new head mage,” Jaravia said to Abelia, one of the assistants of the cult. He turned his head to a man by the shelves. “Janus, take care of her.”

         “Yes, milord. I will make her a worthy and befitting head mage,” the man answered, bowing to the head mage.

         Abelia is shocked. “Do you mean...”

         “Yes. It takes ten people just to activate the orb to perform the ritual,” he explained.

         “Milord, are you sure this will work?” she asked.

He is uncertain if the magic will work. This will be the first time they will perform the ritual. They have studied all the books, argued which magics, and seals to use and pieced together the different kinds of magic seals to draw the magic circle. His doubts turned to resolve.

         “It will work.” He pats the young girl’s head and smiled. “To be chosen by the orb, I am so proud of you.”

         Kalun barged in and reported, “Lord Jaravia, the enemy forces are already outside the walls.”

         Jaravia barked orders at the people preparing the ritual circle. “Hurry lads! We must start the ritual before they get through the walls. We must not let our brothers’ and sisters’ sacrifices be in vain.”

After the circle is completed, Jaravia and nine of the greatest mages of the cult stood around the ritual circle. The assistants and other mages stood nearby to witness the ritual. He turned to Abelia and gave her a reassuring smile. He saw tears ran through Abelia’s eyes. He turned to Kalun and his men standing nearby carrying the artifacts. They gave him a salute.

         “Pleasure knowing you, milord,” Kalun said.

The orb awoke with an arcane glow and levitated from its pedestal.

         “Now we start the ritual. Consolidate your mana to me.” Jaravia said, trying to control the inflowing mana. “Frenum, Grasis, Elenor, Reath, Merantil, Predetas, Alanur, Emennus, Lavira, it is a pleasure working with you all.”

The mages in the circle returned him a smile.

         He started to chant. “I, Jaravia, call upon thy essence to bind thyself unto this material plane.”

He started to feel weak and his legs collapsed with his body resting on the floor. A white blinding light shone and dimmed and out of the light, a wispy form appeared.

         He saw the wispy apparition with his fleeting consciousness. “We succeeded.” Breathing his last.

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Kalun saw Lord Jaravia and the nine mages fall on the floor. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light. Out of the light, a small figure emerged. The figure, about the size of a child, shimmered with a hazy glow. He fell silent, in awe of the inexplicable event.

         Abelia, with eyes full of conviction, approached the apparition. “Please help us! The enemy is already at the gates.”

         The figure looked at her in a condescending manner and smiled, “I really have a good eye in choosing you.” Siryo turned to the men carrying the artifacts. “Throw them outside.”

The men are baffled with the instruction, after all the effort they spent collecting them.

         “You heard him! Go!” Kalun ordered his men. “Put those behind the defenders’ line.”

Kalun and his men hurried to the eastern gate. After throwing the artifacts, Kalun heard a shout. Another light shone, blinding the whole area. Kalun covered his eyes from the blinding light. When the light subsided, he saw the two opposing forces halted, distracted by the light. People, who none he recognized, suddenly appeared.

         “Lord Resma, fall back!” Kalun shouted repeatedly.

Four of them suddenly appeared, carrying bunched up herbs from the nearby forest. The four are fully covered in leather, wearing leather helms covering the whole head and beaked leather masks. He found another, without a mask, mash different herbs and apply the concoction to the injuries. Its skin is pale and its face akin to an undead. Kalun, together with his squad, helped in distributing the concoctions to heal the wounded soldiers. He is astonished by the sudden disappearance of the grievous injuries and even putting back together torn limbs.

         “Are you Rick the witch doctor?” he asked.

With bloodshot eyes, the pale one responded with a hideous smile.

         Resma approached Kalun. “How are the wounded?”

         “They are ready for duty now, milord,” Kalun answered. “The potions worked miracles. The wounds closed up as if nothing happened and the torn limbs are grown back.”

         Resma is surprised by his answer. “Are they the Vermillion Battalion I heard from the stories? The original owners of the artifacts? I cannot believe my eyes they are true.”

         “Yes, milord,” he answered. “I think they came from the artifacts. Lord Siryo materialized them after he was summoned by Lord Jaravia and the others.”

         “Report to his Majesty,” Resma ordered.

         “Yes, Lord Resma,” he replied.

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         “BATTALION! FRONT AND CENTER!” Siryo shouted.

The artifacts responded and awakened with a bright glow. Figures emerged like flesh and blood, equipping their corresponding artifact.

         “One.”

         “Two.”

         “Three.”

The count off continued.

         “Fifty. Battalion all accounted for,” Siryo reported, hovering above the figure with the glaive artifact. He looked at the forces at the drawbridge with a sea of torches beyond the ditch.

The defenders disengaged and retreated but the unfortunate ones are caught and cut down. A monster chased a retreating soldier. When the soldier passed them, the one with a glaive poised for a strike. When the monster passed, the figure returned to an eased stance. The monster slowed down to a halt with three slashes on its vitals, stumbling to the ground.

         “Aeron, those mongrels in front of you are the adversary,” Siryo said to the figure with the glaive, like when they still have their communication earpiece.

         “ATTENTION! Enemies of Militaria,” Aeron roared at the horde at the gate. “Surrender or not one will be spared!”

The enemy, in response, charged.

         “Siryo,” Aeron called. “Give them a warning shot. Apothecary squad, tend to the wounded.”

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         “Idiots, they didn’t even lift up their drawbridge,” Arocles said as he commands the siege of Militaria. He gave a chuckle and his guards followed suit. “Let’s wrap this up by the break of dawn and you all can take whatever is left.”

His guards cheered.

Amidst the ongoing chaos, he looked forward in governing Militaria after the successful siege of the kingdom. The previous attempt frustrated him. He almost destroyed them but their tenacity turned the battle into a standstill. He underestimated them. Now, it is different. He rallied a force stronger than the previous one and he knew their losses are irreplaceable, crippling them. He knew they can’t endure a battle of attrition. He will execute the king and his family himself in front of his soldiers. The thought made him thirst for wine. Any wine will taste good, cheap or expensive, after his victory. He can leave the loot to his soldiers; the kingdom is his.

Suddenly, he saw an unusual glimpse of light from inside the wall but dismissed it. He assumed it as one of the magics their enemy used out of hundreds of arcane lights he saw throughout the siege. He noticed the assault on the drawbridge halted for a moment and then resumed. A beam of light struck their front lines and a strong gust of wind blew, pushing him forward making him lean on his horse. Moments later, the wind blew the opposite direction. He instinctively covered his face from the incoming gust. After the wind stopped, he saw the aftermath. A large crater where their frontlines are supposed to be, the pulverized remains of golems and the horrified look of the sorcerers. He nerved himself from the display of their opposition. His forces lost their morale after witnessing the destruction.

         “Those golems are invulnerable to magic and can resist damage from mythical beasts,” Arocles thought, perplexed. “All officers slay one from your squad. Tranak won’t tolerate this dissension.”

The squad leaders executed a soldier in their command in a harrowing fashion to remind the remaining ones of their role.

         “Surround them!” Arocles ordered. “These petty force of theirs is no match to our superior numbers! Sorcerers, disrupt the spell materializing these apparitions.”

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Resma went on top of the wall, looking over the battlefield. He saw a child-like mage float up above the wall. Beams of light came from the north, turning into orbs and hovered around the mage. The mage wrote a magic circle on the air and the orbs lined up in front of it. A beam of light passed through each orb and struck the area of the enemy formation. The area where the beam struck sucked all the soldiers nearby. The implosion turned into an explosion. The enemy sorcerers summoned several golems to shield their forces from the explosion. Resma watched in astonishment at the aftermath.

         “So, this is Siryo of the Ether,” he thought.

After recovering, the enemy started to charge again. The figures of the Battalion broke up into small groups and engaged the enemy in several fronts. The figures cleaved through the enemy formation like a sickle cutting grain. When the enemy force pulls a counter, the figures would adjust easily then punish them with severe losses. Killing the enemy soldiers like a choreographed dance, the figures maintained the pressure on the opposing force denying them room to breathe.

         “Resma, what is the situation here?” The king asked, arriving with Kalun.

         “Your majesty.” Resma took a knee and delivered a report. “The Vermillion Battalion are engaging the enemy and pushed the enemy back. We need to know how their magic works so we can assist in covering their weakness.”

         “The Vermillion Battalion?” the king blurted out in surprise. “Call Jaravia.”

         “Your majesty, he sacrificed himself to perform the ritual,” Kalun answered with a downcast expression. “Along with nine of our most powerful mages.”

A long pause entered the conversation. Resma felt the sadness in both Kalun and the king.

         “Who is left that we can call?” the king asked.

         “I will get Lord Janus,” Kalun answered and rushed off into the gatehouse.

         “I am sorry for your loss, your majesty,” Resma said.

         “I am alright,” the king answered. “Jaravia and I go way back. Let us do in all our power to make sure the sacrifice of our brothers and sisters-in-arms will not be in vain.”

         “Yes, your majesty,” Resma answered.

Resma continued to observe the battle and he noticed something peculiar about the Battalion.

         “Your majesty, you called for me?” Resma heard a voice. Janus took a knee in front of the king. He and Kalun brought with them stacks of books.

         Resma pointed at the apparitions. “I would like you to deduce how that magic works so we can assist them.”

         “Yes, Lord Resma.” Janus searched through the books while observing and studying the mana on the apparitions. “The main base of the magic is the golem creation using the mana fragment from the artifacts as the core, consciousness implanted in the mana fragment and the material for the body……looks like air …. compressed air used in wind spheres of wind elemental magic... looks like it…illusion magic for appearance…. the auxiliary magic used….is odd…. they are not …. enchantments or buffs….” Janus, baffled, picked up a certain book and browsed in it. “Each auxiliary magic is enhancement type. One is sensory enhancement and……. pain amplification used in torturing criminals….and the golem body is linked to the core so the mana fragment can freely manipulate its golem body. The odd part in this linking magic is it can only control, in this case, the golem body, according to the strength of the mind of the wielder and can only move according to the original capability of the wielder including the integrity of the golem body. Basically, the apparitions are moving like in their original bodies including their five senses, sense of pain, and fatigue.”

         “You mean they are trying to imitate themselves as if they are still alive and the integrity of their bodies are tied to their mental strength.” He tried to confirm if he understands the explanation with the king attentive to Janus’ explanation.

         “In summary, yes,” Janus replied.

The explanation enlightened him and justified the peculiar movements of the apparitions. However, he still cannot believe that the other-worldly skill and movement of the apparitions are originally from their previous life.

         “What kind of harsh training did they went through?” Resma thought. “Janus, what can we do for the counterattack of the enemy to dissipate the apparitions?”

         “Apparently, nothing,” Janus responded. “The magic is sustainable and the linking magic is complicated. About 20 basic magic to achieve that kind of quality and sustainability of linking magic. And Lord Siryo is already supplying mana and maintaining it.”

Resma ordered the abled men to assist in the commotion inside the gates and stationed a few soldiers on standby.

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         Aeron, upon seeing their enemies’ response, ordered his forces to mobilize while laughing in a deranged manner. “Arcane squad, destroy the siege towers and keep the communications working. Wait for my signal for heavy bombardment. Vanguards, we will lead the assault. Sappers, follow through. Rangers, creeping barrage. Emissaries, disrupt their recovery and prevent them from encircling us. All other squads, purge them all. Not one will escape!”

         “Roger.” All the other figures responded.

With the drawbridge cleared, the figures started rushing towards the enemy and go through their formation.

         “The enemy numbered fifty thousand.” A blackened figure reported in a depressed tone.

         “What? Fifty thousand! Are you sure, Shiren?” Aeron shouted, hacking and slashing through the enemy. “All squads, no need to go all out. It’s only fifty thousand. Fuck this shit.”

Aeron heard reactions of disappointment from the others.

         "Why can't your forces have more numbers?" A shout was heard. "Don't worry, I can do something about it." And slashing and cutting was heard.

         "I think Billiam misunderstood how these monsters reproduce," Shiren commented.

At the crack of dawn, the enemy forces have been defeated.

         Aeron heard another report from Shiren. “Aeron, there is an enemy camp spotted two days’ walk from here.”

         “How many are they?” Aeron asked.

         “About two hundred thousand,” Shiren responded.

         Aeron smiled with bloodlust, “Sentries, relay the enemy position to the arcane squad.”

         “Roger,” Shiren responded.

The sentry squad activated the magic runes they had planted earlier. The arcane squad sensed the mana which pinpointed the location of the enemy and the area the enemy covers. Meanwhile, after dealing with the wounded, the apothecary squad rallied back to Aeron.

         Then Aeron ordered, “Arcane squad, teleport them here.”

A mass teleportation spell is cast. A horde of powerful monstrous warriors, beasts, and inhuman spell casters appeared out of the shining light. Aeron found few vampires lead the horde and shaded from the morning sun. Scrambled in confusion, the enemy forces gathered in formation.

         “Why don’t we give our guests a good welcome?” Aeron said. “Arcane squad, darken the skies.”

The skies darkened. The vampires felt a surge in power. The necromancers brought forth the dead littered on the battlefield. Demons, angels and eldritch horrors are summoned.

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The horde gave a booming war cry as they ready for the assault. Tranak hovered at the rear of his horde, observing. He expected an army for the last stand of the kingdom of Militaria but saw 50 odd figures standing to confront them with the one in front grinning with bloodlust. His final conquest will be complete. With the taste of victory within his grasp, he did not care whether the enemy teleported his forces there or they darkened the skies. Such peculiarities do not matter to him. Their resistance is futile.

         “Arcane squad, bring on the light show! Sappers, let the ground dance!” He heard the grinning one shout. “We are the Vermillion Battalion of the eternal House of Arioch Vermillion. The strongest army of Militaria! Let the feast of our victory begin!”

The figures started stomping their feet and banging their weapons. Five of the figures floated and conjured several spells. Another five of the figures, held a sledgehammer and the sledgehammer became five, each of the big figures holding one. They spread out and did a dance. Tapping the ground with the sledgehammers in several different manner. The rest of the figures stomped their feet and banged their weapons faster and faster.

         “All hail Lord Vermillion! Long live Militaria!” the figures shouted in unison.

         “Command squad, on me,” the grinning one shouted staring at him. “We have a bigger fish to catch.”

Tranak saw his forces being hunted like beasts and decimated like insects. He did not expect a devastating trump card from mere fifty magical ghosts. Suddenly, the grinning one along with three other figures engaged him and he fought them simultaneously. Despite their coordinated attacks, he overpowered them through his combat techniques and the sheer power of his magic. Although not polished, his magic is still very powerful even for the midget mage figure. He noticed they are already exhausting their tactics. Again, and again in unrelenting flurry of attacks. However, he anticipates and counters their attempts and the successful attempts cannot even faze him. He finds the attacks more of an annoyance than a threat. They cannot hurt him but they are not backing down. No matter how much he batters them, they will stand back up again and engage him. The figures engaging him suddenly multiplied. He realized his army has been already decimated and he is the only one remaining. At once, all fifty figures rushed to attack and fought him into a standstill. The figures are unwavering in their assault and he opted to deliver more stronger blows. His counter attacks proved debilitating and through sheer attrition, he is beginning to break them.

         Tranak hovered above them as they lay on the ground. “You cannot defeat me. I have already transcended mortality! I am invincible!”

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Resma stared silently at the catastrophic sight to behold. Lightning, storms, hail, blizzards, and meteorites simultaneously rained on the area of the enemy formation. Ice spikes, volcanic eruption, earthquake, large stone spikes, rock pillars, and fire pillars rose and heaved. The grounds turned to a sandy desert then to muddy plains. From steep mountains to large gaping trenches. He heard the people inside the kingdom were getting anxious with the ground trembling and the booming sounds coming from the outside. He saw the Battalion dive into the apocalyptic battlefield and started picking off the enemies. The enemies spread in terror while the others fought back, being hunted by the Battalion amidst the anarchy. The battlefield looked more like a chaotic game hunt than a real battle. He heard cheers of the soldiers from the gates and the walls. The citizens and the refugees gave cheers of relief.

Tension soon filled him, watching the apparitions have a hard time in their skirmish with Tranak. The hope of defeating the transcendent being is dwindling.

         “Janus, do you have anything to seal Tranak?” The king asked.

He saw the king stare at Janus. He and Kalun followed suit. He knew this attempt might fail but the king cannot dishonor his royal bloodline by giving up just yet. It may be a desperate attempt but it is worth the try. They all knew it is hopeless but it is not how the kingdom do. It is a disgrace to give up when there is even a slim chance of an attempt to defeat the god-like being.

         “I will get the cult to find something to seal him,” Janus answered and he hurried back to the cult with Kalun.

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It has been a long time since they had encountered a strong opponent. A strong being enough to take on all fifty of them and bring them down to their knees once again. The feeling brought Aeron to the last time they were defeated. It was during the last phase of training. It never occurred again. Only victories of varying degrees. He saw his hand is fading. He is fading. He looked at his soldiers. They too are fading. They are all heavily battered and morale has already waned. Even with trained mental fortitude, he and his soldiers cannot withstand the power of their enemy and strained themselves to their limit. Aeron smiled, satisfied of encountering a strong opponent. But curiosity gave him an interesting question. Can the opponent take them all at their strongest?

         “Nostalgic isn’t it, boys?” Aeron said with a grin while he stood up.

All fifty, though worn out, grinned as they stood up and looked at Tranak with a killing gaze like hunters on a game. Aeron, amused, looking at his opponent having a realization.