Chapter 44: Charge

Charon had barely registered the command before half of the groups present eagerly rushed up the hill. Armor clanked on the grass as a hundred men charged. Various bursts of light covered the hill as buff spells were cast, some of the men beginning to move faster or their armor beginning to glow. Not long after them, the second group went over, their rush being almost exactly the same. This time, Charon paid more attention and noticed that a handful of the officers in the APC were leading the groups. In their hands were weapons that were far more gaudy than everyone else’s. From a series of runes running up and down their length, to uniquely colored edges, they seemed to give off an aura of dominance that regular weapons lacked. Glancing down at his dagger, Charon scoffed. ’I’ll have a relic like that one day!’ An explosion hit somewhere nearby, the ground shuddering from the impact. It was followed by a couple more before laser fire joined in. The telltale sound of whizzing energy lit Charon’s nerves on fire. He blinked, the vague outline of a ruby-armored warrior with a power spear appearing in his vision before vanishing. He shook his head to clear it. ’This isn’t home. This is a different battle in a different land.’ A dangerous light danced in his eyes. The commanding mage barked out at them, giving the signal they had been waiting for. "Groups Omicron through Rho, advance!" The final handful of mages lazily made their way to the hill, a few shifty-eyed individuals already eyeing out routes to escape with. Emerius and Charon, however, had an entirely different objective: to make a name for themselves. In their drive to the attack point, they had whispered it between themselves, agreeing that there was no point in playing possum during a war. People would die either way, and it was better than the so-called "barbarian" Claytons. Emerius had even justified it by comparing it to the Death Trials, and how this was essentially practice. Charon was still on the fence about those, the largest issue being the killing of innocents, but fighting aggressive invaders with no morals? He had no problem with that. That’s what heroes did. "Stay close to me, we need to push through the field, then reach a building." Charon nodded at Emerius’s order, accepting that it was the best idea. With a slow count to three, they rushed over the lip of the hill. And all hell broke loose. One of the men in their group was instantly hit with a laser bolt, his arm disintegrating in front of their eyes. His mouth opened in shock and horror before a second bolt slammed into his chest, burning through his lungs and ending his suffering. Charon watched it all silently, offering a silent prayer to Death to save his soul, and the souls of the others dying. He didn’t stop to consider the fact that they were all already dead. A long flat field of grass separated them and the village outskirts. Buildings of wood and stone loomed in the distance, a short metal wall surrounding them. Blurry figures sat just above, red trails zipping from their laser guns every second. The streaks reached their targets in no time, ricocheting off armor or slapping into robes. Despite being hit, most of the mages in the front just ignored it and pressed on, Charon watching them with surprise. ’They must be a high enough rank to be able to ignore mundane attacks.’ His group was not so lucky, their numbers being mostly made up of Novices. Charon heard a whistling sound from above and instinctively threw himself to the right. Something hit the ground where he was standing, and a small crater formed. He was blasted with dirt and debris, but couldn’t stop his charge without risking being an easy target. Emerius was far ahead, moving at the speed of lightning as laser bolts zipped past his body. A few times, he even seemed to be able to see the future, leaping over shots that he should not have known of. To his left, a red-robed mage stopped, a ball of fire forming as his fingers danced in the air before he threw it like a baseball. It soared over the advancing men and struck the metal wall. An explosion went up, followed by the screams of those injured. The Mages of the Fort cheered, buoyed by the first attack landing. More magical projectiles soon followed, the range-based mages realizing how much easier things would be if they didn’t have such stiff resistance. Fire, water, lightning, and a dozen other elements mixed as magic met technology with fury. It wasn’t without its costs, however. Charon watched as a mage paused to throw his own attack, droplets of blood dripping down his arms as they coalesced into a series of daggers. The enemies seemed to notice, and a hundred laser bolts slammed into the man. He weathered the first few with a grunt, but the number was too great. Scorch marks appeared on his face and arms as he began to scream, the skin bubbling and peeling as it roasted from the high-intensity attacks. The last thing Charon saw of the man was his charred hands falling limp. This event was replicated a dozen times across the line as the mage’s defenses fell victim to sustained fire. Even with the casualties, the offense was still going well, the first group within a hundred yards of the wall, but suddenly the enemy line went quiet. From his distance, Charon could barely make out something reflective being moved onto the wall. A needle-like nose peeked just over the wall’s top, followed by a loud whirring noise. The next noise Charon heard was one of the officers shouting. "Graviton Lance!" The world lit up as a brilliant pale blue line shot from the mounted gun. The sun turned dark as a new apex light source appeared, cutting across the field and ending somewhere far beyond. Before he could react, he felt the Warden drag him to the ground, his body falling flat as the ray passed above him. Black spots appeared in his vision as he rapidly blinked to reorient himself. His skin drained of color, and his jaw went slack in a silent cry. A breath caught in his throat as he struggled not to look away. Where the officer had been, there was now only a pair of legs, everything from the torso up having vanished completely. Similar sights stood across the field like stoic sentinels, their frozen lower halves a warning to the other mages. A blood-curdling scream pierced the silence as men watched their friends’ dead bodies fall. Luckily, not everyone stood by and watched. Those closest to the wall jumped to their feet and continued the charge, their war cries more fervent than ever. The first mage that grew close enough pushed off the ground, flying into the air and coming down with a crash. Others soon followed, the focus shifting from the field to the melee as the enemies retreated. It gave Charon more breathing room as he ran closer and closer, even catching up to Emerius, who had slowed. The two wordlessly stared at the brawl that was forming. Men screamed behind and in front of them, both from pain and anger. Injured mages dragged themselves across the grass, calling for medics or, dishearteningly, mercy. A large explosion rocked the wall, a plume of smoke appearing where the village streets began. Gray clouds appeared overhead as small pockets of rain started to descend. Initially confused by the sudden weather, his curiosity was sated as massive bolts of lightning zig-zagged from the sky to impact both friends and foes alike. Once less than a dozen yards were between them and the fight, both Charon and Emerius drew their weapons, their expressions set in grim determination as they prepared to kill. Emerius reached the wall first, crouching down before springing up a full five feet. He rolled it into a somersault as he crossed the border and came down on the other side. Unable to do anything as impressive, Charon identified a small gap in the stacked sheets of metal and lodged his foot inside before pulling himself over. He landed on his feet, the black dagger clutched in his fist as he looked for any enemies. Chaos greeted him as hundreds of men fought. Spells went in all directions, matched in equal numbers with laser fire. Swords clashed in echoing rings intermixed with the twang of bows. Grimacing, he turned to find Emerius and froze. A group of five men wearing scrap metal armor complete with spiked shoulder pads and blood red trim were staring at him, their laser rifles raised. A flash of red light followed.