The Sergeant grinned crookedly and gestured to his soldiers.
“Ten...” he laughed. “It’s too late.”
The arrows flew across the sky. They didn’t fly toward the screaming, unarmed men. They’d been launched in the direction of their wives and children.
Omarik, as well as the other men, could already see his beloved wife, Nela, falling to the ground in a bloody heap, his children crying right behind her as she’d shielded them with her own body.
But…
Nothing like that happened. A firestorm arose. A violent conflagration, bursting out of the ground. It spun the black arrows around itself, burning the wooden shafts and melting the metal tips. When the fiery tornado dissipated, everyone froze, staring at a goddess descending from the Heavens.
Elaine’s blue eyes were glowing with a savage, animalistic fury. She’d drawn her sword and now stood in front of the mothers and children, shielding them.
“Who-”
The Sergeant didn’t get to finish before the Princess dashed forward and his head was rolling across the ground. The soldiers didn’t snap out of their shock right away and this delay cost them the lives of two more riders.
Then the fight truly began...
Chapter 220
When Hadjar fought, he was like a feather gliding over the water during a storm — fast, barely noticeable, and elegant. He sometimes seemed to end up trapped by a rapid flow, but he eluded even the most vicious attacks. Where others would’ve made three movements, Hadjar needed only one. Therefore, his style could be called something like: ‘A feather soaring gracefully in the face of death’.
Elaine was different. Like a fiery demoness, she fell upon her foes with a hail of deadly blows. Every slash of her white blade caused flashes of fire to spread across the battlefield. They engulfed the armor and the unprotected faces of the soldiers rushing toward her with scorching heat. The soldiers would then fall from the backs of their frightened, neighing horses, and roll across the ground, unable to put out the fire devouring them. Their shouts were full of pain, horror, and despair.
However, not a single peasant dared to move. They were captivated... In addition, the two wide rings of fire that Elaine had conjured around both groups of villagers protected them and kept them from interfering and risking their lives.
One of the soldiers managed to dive under the flapping wings of the fire falcon and attacked the Princess. The bird, which had been woven together using the flames, gnawed through his breastplate and burned his heart to ashes. Hadjar wondered what these terrified, charred soldiers would’ve said if they found out that it was the Princess’ sword that was killing them.
The young man rushing into battle certainly didn’t know who she was. He hefted his spear with both hands and threw it sharply. He shouted something and whirlwinds of gray energy swirled into being around his wrists. A rain of barely noticeable gray sparks showered Elaine. If they touched her skin, they would leave deep cuts behind. The soldiers from the mine were quite skilled practitioners.
Hadjar would’ve probably dodged the attack. He wouldn’t have wasted his time on it. However, Elaine, eyes glowing with anger, swung her blade. A wave of fire spread out from her body. The ten-foot tsunami of flames swallowed the young man’s Technique, and then the young man himself. Nothing but ashes remained.
Elaine was swift and terrifying when using her style full of rage and fire. With each slash, she sent fiery crescents toward her opponents. This was enough for the soldiers, dozens of whom had already been reduced to little more than smoking embers, to turn around and flee. Panicking, they threw their weapons down in an attempt to mount their horses faster. Elaine wasn’t going to let any of them go.
She pushed off the ground and soared into the sky. She seemed to hang there, somewhere high above, for a moment. Like a spirit of fire or the goddess of battle. She whispered something and streams of orange energy enveloped her. At the same time, the Princess ran her index and middle finger over her blade, and then swung it, aiming the attack down, toward the ground.
Alongside Elaine, thousands of fiery feathers fell from the sky. They blazed, leaving behind a hazy trail of dim smoke. The soldiers who got caught by this Technique died before they could even scream, little more than charred husks left behind. Those feathers were, in fact, clones of the sword that the breathless Elaine held in her hands. They hadn’t stood a chance
“Damn you,” said one of the dying soldiers, gritting his teeth. The feather hadn’t killed him like the others, having only brushed past him. He ended up the victim of the undying hunger of the flame which devoured him slowly, the horrific pain magnitudes worse than being savaged by any wild beast. With his last breaths, the soldier did the last thing his body was capable of. He took out a knife made from a special material out of his boot — it was very similar to obsidian, but much denser.
The Princess couldn’t possibly know what it was, but Hadjar did and only managed to cry out: “Elaine!”
Even the bravest, most frenzied officers of the Moon Army would immediately come to their senses upon hearing that scream. Elaine fell into a stupor, like a person who’d gotten lost in the well of their memories of a long-forgotten dream. This second of confusion was enough time for the soldier, straining with all his might, to stab the dagger into his solar plexus.
An explosion shook the world. Waves of energy soared into the sky, turning the ground into a raging sea of death. The sand rose up to throw the villagers down like helpless ragdolls, and deep cracks formed in the ground.
Hadjar was quick. Perhaps the fastest swordsman in Lidus. He blurred into motion like a black shadow, using his fastest Technique ‘Ten Ravens’. That was enough to get Elaine out of the epicenter of the
