251. Frozen
“It is time…” Nyrethein raised a palm. Her back arched, a curve of enticing confidence; there was not a speck of fear in her expression. Rather, a wide grin stretched across her lips, her eyes glowing with the pure intensity of euphoria.
The enemy had crossed into her effective range. Their fate was sealed.
“Arcanists, stand down!” Stephen Vale bellowed, his tone crisp and authoritative.
The weaving mages ceased their channelling immediately, the light of their Phoros faltering and receding.
The war horns and battle cries grew louder with every passing second. The demons banged on their shields and armour with feverish anticipation. Some licked their lips, others bared crooked fangs, hungry for violence.
“Hammerhead!” a tall demon in a long robe shouted, spit flying from his thin lips.
With a loud hiss, an ironclad brute with massive heads stepped forth. Its shaking head swayed left and right, testing the weight of its own power.
Nyrethein appeared at the front of the plain.
“Hmm…” She studied their war strategy as she drifted forward, her bust swaying elegantly as she moved across the flat terrain. The blades of grass brushed gently against the exposed skin of her sandals.
I would’ve thought they were unorganised fools… but they have various tactics after all, she mused. Cannons for long-range attacks, the big thick-heads to ram against solid obstructions… Intriguing indeed. Her keen eyes dissected them, like a scholar studying an alien species.
“And this is their best warrior?!” the demon in the long robe grimaced. Wide horns poked out from each side of its temples, much broader than the rest of the horde.
On the top of the wall, Luger reached the edge of the ramparts, his claws gripping firmly into the coarse stone.
“Just in time!” He chuckled to himself.
“Lunarius…” An acquaintance mage gave him a respectful nod before turning back to the scene.
“You’ve arrived, Luger.”
Another Nyrethein appeared, leaning over the ledge casually beside him.
“Oh—” Luger started, startled, before gathering himself. “Celestius Nyrethein. You called for me.” He bowed his head, though he frowned slightly. The twin arcane, the Gemini duplicate, always irked him somehow.
“Nothing I couldn’t have done myself. But I’d feel comfortable with you here,” she rationalised, twisting a lock of her hair.
“I see.”
“Thanks for saving my brother. I owe you one,” she said, before returning her gaze to the battle below.
“It’s my duty, Celestius.” Luger smiled faintly.
Tension bubbled up along the wall. The other mages watched with sparks in their eyes, partly because they were excited to see how the event would unfold, but more importantly, they were curious about the true depth of a Celestius’s power. Nyrethein had not been in serious combat in decades.
“What a disgrace!” the demon commander growled, its face reddening. He bared his fangs, waving for more juggernauts to gather at the front lines.
That must be their chieftain… or at least a commanding demon, Nyrethein thought. Perhaps twenty of them at the front line. Oh… they’re not rushing to attack me. How odd. Nyrethein smiled, her curved finger pressing against her sharp chin as she pondered.
“Let’s kill the hag already!”
“For Hades!”
“Tonight, we feast on their corpses!”
The demons grew louder, exchanging looks with one another; some sneered, some snorted. Confusion spread across the demon troops like the Black Death. Soon, the banging and cranking of their weapons betrayed their impatience.
Nyrethein extended her palm, rotating it toward herself. With a condescending smirk, she flicked four fingers back in a 'come here' motion.
“Hammerhead, ATTACK!” the robed demon screamed at the top of his lungs.
The war horn erupted, signalling the ironclad demons to accelerate. Rocks and dust jumped into the air under their sheer weight as they charged.
“Anemax!” she chanted.
A gale gathered at her back. Nyrethein levitated into the air, her hair fanning out like the wings of an angel — a terrifying one.
Both sides surged toward a single location.
A juggernaut rammed forward, but Nyrethein spiralled skyward, her palm gently tapping the top of the hammer-like head.
“Fall!” she commanded.
Wind pressure crashed down from above. Her glowing eyes looked down from under lowered lids.
A boom echoed like a heavy slab of rock sliding. Metal deformed as the enemy was crushed into the earth.
“KILL THE WITCH!” the demons roared with bloodlust.
Another heavy fist flew at her side. She spun on her heel like an acrobat, and the attack missed its mark, sending the brute tumbling past her.
With her palm fully extended, she shouted, “Anemax!” Her voice reverberated with ecstasy.
A sharp, high-pitched boom rang out as the air rippled.
A head flew. Blood splashed onto the next enemy’s face.
Seems like they aren’t as tough as they look, she speculated. Perhaps a mid-tier spell could have cut through them.
Two Hammerheads thrust forward with their heads. She circled them with a clasp of her hands.
“Vortexis!” She smirked.
A powerful whirlwind sucked both Hammerheads in, forcing them to collide. Friction sparked until the two enemies were shredded into chunks of meat.
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The wind ceased, leaving the remains to crash into the ground. Their lifeless corpses rolled a few metres away, arms and legs twisted at awkward angles.
“Im—impossible!” the robed demon winced, taking a step back.
It scowled at its reluctant troops. “What are you doing? DON’T STOP! ATTACK HER!”
Three juggernauts surged at her location.
Calm and calculated, she lifted her arm and cut down. “Anemax~Slash!”
The vertical slash thundered, cutting the air in half. The impact shocked the ground, tearing a fissure easily hundreds of metres long.
Two brutes were split in half, spraying massive amounts of blood.
“Oh…” Her smirk shifted to a small ring of awe.
The surviving demon reached her, its fist thrown out in desperation. The attack arched toward her calm face.
Her body, dark as midnight, shifted into a hazy figure.
One foot landed on its fist. Elegantly, she stood there with flawless balance.
“That’s all the information I needed.” Nyrethein smiled with her eyes closed.
The brute snapped at her leg, but she was already floating up into the air, a surge of wind mustering beneath her.
“This mana…” The robed demon gasped, its eyes jutting, and its face distorting.
Its survival instinct screaming, the demon turned to its troops. “FLEE! RETREAT!”
Before the demons could snap into action, Nyrethein outstretched her arms. The heels of her palms connected and rotated.
She envisioned a pack of Siberian tigers edged on the high slope of a snowy mountain, the sharp scenic ridges breathtaking and grand. Suddenly, the blanket of snow vibrated erratically. The wind shifted. A seismic force transmitted through their legs. The beasts cried out, signalling the group to rush forward. Paws leapt, pushing one another down the slope.
The leader of the pack picked up a weak cub with its mouth. A massive shadow crept over them, blocking out the sun entirely, its blue eyes darkening.
A massive avalanche came crashing down on top of them. The entire ridge reshaped under the sheer weight of monstrous, moving snow. It consumed everything in its path.
“That’s her dual casting!” Luger burst out with excitement.
“Anemax… Cryomax… Avalanche!” she cast.
Demons’s breath turned to frost; their feet froze to the ground; their bodies twisted backward in futile attempts to flee. The frigid, abrasive wind burst out, crushing the demons under immense weight. The avalanche, the size of a mountain, cascaded down and thrashed about like the wrath of a legendary beast.
Horrifying screams and the scrambling noise of armour were muffled under the twirling white cyclone of snow, rocks, and soil.
The earth opened up, and the snow beast consumed all. Until there was nothing left.
Slowly, Nyrethein descended, her sandals touching the white rug of snow. To her surprise, the brute was still standing, although its body had turned into crystallised ice with jagged, horizontal edges.
“Begone!” She opened her palm, unleashing a gust of wind.
The demon shattered into pieces.
On top of the wall, Lunarius Luger shuddered at the sight. Tens of thousands of demons had been wiped out flat. Buried under ten metres of solid ice and soft snow.
His wide eyes scanned the area. On the far edge of the forest, the withered branches of dark trees stuck out. On the plain, only a few remnants of warbands remained. Desperate fingers sticking out of the snow, broken armour pieces glinting under the afternoon light, barrels of cannons split in half, war banners frozen rigid in the white ground.
“A Stellius mage would be able to take them out…” Nyrethein said, reappearing next to him once again. “There is a cheapness to quantity.”
“Oh…” Luger’s eyes darted to the top left, avoiding her gaze.
“However, we must pace our Arcanists’s mana. Tell them to use arcane sparingly,” Nyrethein lectured.
“Yes, My Lady.”
“This won’t be the end of it. This is just the first wave of the Helltide,” Nyrethein continued, her eye twitching with irritation.
“Sister, your coat.” Stephen joined them, a mink coat in his arms.
“Brother! You shouldn’t have!” Nyrethein’s pitch rose an octave, her stiffness vanishing instantly. Obediently, she donned the coat with the help of her beloved brother.
She hadn’t noticed that the atmosphere had become chilly, with ice plains now surrounding them. An artificial winter had arrived.
“Lunarius, I must take a short tour to the keep,” Nyrethein said, her waist rotating toward the main walkway. The sentry mages bowed to her with reverence, their heads dipped low.
“Understood, Celestius,” Luger nodded, wiggling his whiskers.
“Stand guard for now. Send flying scouts to find out where the enemies are coming from,” Nyrethein commanded sharply.
“Celestius? You mean like the Dark Portal?”
“Perhaps… I saw…” She forced her eyes shut, seeking the image in her mind. “It’s like a massive abyss with spiral ledges around its edge. It only makes sense for an army of this size to pass through quickly.”
“I’ll relay that information without fail!” Luger bellowed and kneeled on one knee.
“Excellent.”
With a casual wave, Nyrethein left, her arm interlaced with her brother’s, their discussion fading into the cold wind.
***
Further away, at the south gate of the outer wall of the Britainian fortress.
Two sentry mages sat at the watchtower. A thin mage bobbed his head, his arms crossed close to his chest.
There was no real danger on this side of town, or so they thought.
The chill air breezed past, sending a shiver down his skin. His eyes snapped open, blinking a few times.
“Huh? Snow? Am I dreaming or something?” the mage said, his voice groggy. A snowflake landed on the tip of his hooked nose, and the elf sneezed.
“Wha? What’s going on!?” His colleague snapped to a stiff standing position. His chair rattled against the stone ground. He was barely awake, his legs swaying side to side. He was noticeably long-eared, even for dark elf kin.
“Sorry, mate. I just sneezed,” the thin mage chuckled, wiping his nose. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early for winter?”
The long-eared elf watched the thin snowfall. “Weird.”
“Right. We… um… shouldn’t sleep during the watch,” the thin mage said, scratching his cheek.
With a quick fidget of his ring, a holographic image beamed up from his arc comm. He frowned at the content. “It seems… umm… Celestius Nyrethein just clashed with the enemy force.”
“Really?” His eyes bulged. “We missed the whole thing?”
“Ye~yeah…” The thin mage fidgeted with his feet in shame, and the chill air just made him yawn.
“How did it go?”
“Of course, she decimated the whole warband. They were reduced to nothing but frozen meat.”
“Ahaha, I knew it! Our Celestius remains unchallenged!” The long-eared elf clasped his stomach.
Suddenly, an explosion erupted from the distance, followed by the screaming of air as a wrecking ball arched toward them.
The thin elf’s eyes snapped to the source, his staff raising on instinct. “Magnetos!”
The magnetic field hummed to life, but the ball slammed into them with a loud shockwave. The shield crumpled, and the force threw them from the watchtower, over 5 metres onto the solid ground.
The air heaved out of his lungs as he landed hard. Debris of rock and splintered wood fell beside him.
“Hey, mate! Get up!” The thin elf forced his legs to move, limping toward his fellow. He rolled the body to the side; his long-eared friend’s head was dripping with blood.
“Hang in there!” he bellowed, his hands clenching tightly at the collar. He heaved and dragged. His eyes focused skyward, watching the whooshing projectile like a waking nightmare. Another attack was coming.
“HELP! HELP! Enemies spotted on the southern wall!” he shouted through his arc comm, his legs pushing, his hand dragging the unconscious body.
BOOOM!
The heavy projectile crashed into a section of the wall. Rocks and debris flew everywhere, leaving a gaping hole.
War horns and battle cries reverberated from outside the border. War had come knocking.
“Oh no!” The mage felt the tremor from the ground; loose pieces of rock bounced up and down. How did they get here so fast?
“This is Lunarius Luger, southern sentry mages, report!” the voice returned over the comms.
“Enemies sighted! They are destroying our wall as we speak!” the mage said, his voice strained. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t contemplated leaving his comrade there. Still, he dragged the body, finding the closest shelter — any house would do in this dire time.
The ambush was precise and swift. There was no way they could have intercepted this. Desperation etched on his face.
“Clever bastards!” he hissed as he made his way across the street.
After a long pause, the arc comm crackled. “Stellius, this is Zetius speaking…”
“Oh! Zetius.” Luger responded.
“Let me handle the southern front.” The voice was husky, devoid of emotion.
The elven Stellius scowled. “Come again?!”

