Chapter 54—Black field

Chapter 54: 54—Black field A field, open and wide, thoroughly blackened, spread in front of the army. Smoke hung in the air and followed Lucen wherever he went. The high grasses that once covered this plain were burnt away days ago. And in their muddy deep soil, trenches were dug to force the wolves to move around them. Forming a chaotic tapestry of black A thousand people felt so much more overwhelming than Lucen imagined. Lines of men, covered in leather armor and armed with long pikes, stretched as far as the eye could see. Strangely, he felt more comfortable in such an overwhelming crowd. Maybe it was because all their eyes were fixed on the horizon, waiting for a wave of red to cross it. Helie kept tying and untying her metal whip around her arm. Kon kept trying to crack jokes that no one wanted to hear. Lucen was quiet, still, looking rather calm. But he always hid his panic the higher it rose. They were on the flanks of the vast army. Trenches and traps would funnel the beasts into the center. There, Koril sat carelessly on the ground, a great sword that wastaller than a man was stabbed into the ground in front of him. Huge pikes rose from the ground in front of him. Falgner was smiling behind Koril, whistling carelessly. Warren, Sandor, and Heimar stood beside him. The fields were marked and curated for the past week in preparation for the battle. Spots painted red for traps, and others green for places where the beasts would flood—both rather nerve-racking. In front of Lucen, was Thomas standing valiantly as wind ruffled his black hair. But he just didn’t want to face any of them. Helie occasionally sent him nervous glances. "Where are they?" Hither murmured. "Maybe they stopped for some tea," Kon said, smiling. Lucen flexed his fingers around his spear. His mana sense trembled slightly. "They’re coming." A flare rose from the horizon, flying toward them. It exploded in a brilliant cloud of golden light that illuminated the battle. Like morning had finally come after a long dawn. More flares rose into the air. Different colors, dancing hypnotically against Lucen’s Blacksteel armor and his silver spear. His mother had made him a simple red cloak to wear over the armor Koril had gifted him. He pulled it closer as the ground began to shake. Behind them, the backline of Knights, armed with Arcia staves, closed their eyes and began spellcasting. Normal soldiers pulled arrows from their quivers. Some had special crossbows that were loaded with silver balls that transformed into arrows. On the frontlines, they all cast their enhancement spells. Lucen felt heat surge through his veins as [Surging Flames] was cast. There was a loud neigh beside him. A Buckmount, the flightless brother of the Farrowmount, bucked and neighed nervously. The rider fed it some snacks from his pockets; its yellow beak snapped them up. The rider was armed with a net and a javelin. The other Buckmount riders held the same and would use them to slow down beasts for the foot soldiers. The Farrowmount riders were armed with those magical crossbows. The griffin-like beasts flexed their wings, but their yellow eyes were stoic. Farrowmounts didn’t scare easy. He should have become a rider, and then he could just safely attack from the air. But Lucen couldn’t understand how anyone could take Farrowmounts seriously, even now, their weird faces brought him relief. The air was still and quiet as they waited. But a soft hymn rode the air, sliding between the silence like it was perfectly natural. "The boy crossed the sky, skipped over the stars, and returned to his father," an elderly priest hummed as he blessed a soldier’s blade. His eyebrows were blue crystal specked with red and yellow. A soft golden glow covered the dull blade, and a reluctant smile crept on the soldier. The old man staggered. Bright red blood dripped against his white cassock. The soldier caught the old priest, cursing, "I told you, you’ve done enough!" They carried the man off, but he still sung the hymn, "All children will return to their fathers one day. Crossing the sky, leaping from star to star." Lucen watched them carry the man toward Castaway Valley. They set up their lines far from the high, white walls of the city. But civilians had volunteered to stay close by and carry things to and from the city. The weary group of civilians met the soldiers halfway and took the weak priest from their hands. Lucen could see the entire valley from here. The brown-roofed houses, the wide stone roads. All the chimneys were smokeless, and the usually packed road was empty and silent. Lucen’s enhanced vision caught a window moving slightly. It was a boy, beaming at them from the window. Even from this far, Lucen caught the wonder and pride shooting from his eyes. The ground began to shake even harder. His belly turned, and he looked away. Liam. He hoped Liam was somewhere safe, eating something nice. Chester strode forward, making sure the entire army could see him before he turned back. His well-kept black hair caught the wind in a flattering way; his golden eyes drew everyone’s attention. His smile was even dauntless in the smoke and fear. "I think all men would love to live in peace," he said. "We would tend to our fields, love our families, and celebrate life." He turned to the horizon. Huge shapes began to cross over, their large bodies cutting across the land swiftly. People began to pray, their voices running over the hymns they were taught since they were children. "All men would love peace, but war comes nonetheless," Chester continued, his voice booming across the burnt fields, rising over the trembling sound of the ground. "Wolves come to take our sheep, and rip out our throats. Old friends betray us and seek our downfall. Heretics slit the throats of our champions!" "And though men would like to live in peace, we are always ready for war!" Chester roared. He pulled his sword from its sheath. "Hear me! All men must die. But death is not enough to dull the blade, to break the shield, to stall the hearts of men." The Crown of Stars burst over his head—an intricate halo of silver light. Chester’s authority washed into Lucen’s pounding heart, and he didn’t reject it. "Let the most peaceful man among you raise his sword, and lead the rest into war!" Furious roars crushed the sound of the approaching wolves. Lucen banged his spear against his chestplate to calm his heart, and yelled at the top of his voice. Helie and the others followed. They couldn’t hear their voices as they fused into the great roar of the army. The huge forms of the wolves drew closer. Their maws were full of white, sharp teeth. Their fur was a furious red, and grey horns curving from their skulls. Their furious charge shook the earth. Almost a hundred wolves the size of an ox. Some leapt over the trenches and right into traps that exploded in a jaw-rattling bang. Many followed, shoulder to shoulder, into the funnel, snarling and snapping hungrily at the men. Lucen expected a slow clash. Many men circling one wolf, an orderly battle in his mind. The wolves crashed into them like an avalanche. Things went flying into the air, great columns of dust rose, men screamed, and blasts filled the air like explosions. They weren’t even in the middle. But Lucen couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. It was like an explosion of black, red, and silver. Colours and bodies mixed around like an abstract art piece. The lieutenant in charge of their group roared, "Here they come, boys. Hold on to your heads!" The roar snapped Lucen back to reality as a group of Bull wolves bore down on them. He clenched his jaw and promised himself this was going to be easy.