His words rang out; each child knew they lost the battle, but not the specifics. Hearing it from a warrior who partook in the battle himself was an array of insights they'd never find anywhere else. Jason began pacing around the room, his mindless gaze flowing around the room as he recalled the events; Those that troubled him till this day. "It was an operation to kill the Twelfth Pillar at the time, who betrayed the Heretic Cult and had intentions to feed information to the Revered. His goals remain unknown, but the danger posed by his betrayal was too great to deem minor, and a full mobilization was set in order.
When we arrived, Anti-Air Systems were disabled; we don't know how or who, but after that, everything went to hell."
His words drifted into the dull air, his irises dimming a shade darker as his mind reached the apex of events that took place on that fateful day. "Before the operation, while we were in the ships, we were told they would have 15 Emperor-tier warriors present, at best, so of course, we brought our match, 15 Emperors, plus our Paragon. A force so domineering we should've taken the planet with ease. Yet, when we landed, we were met with 25 Emperors and two of their Paragons. The only two the Revered had in their ranks.
The massacre began immediately, and each side engaged in a furious battle for Fortress Kupali.
If you were under the King-tier, you were slaughtered nearly instantly. We brought 436 MILLION men, and we lost 373 million of them. In the midst of that battle, we managed to kill 7 Monarchs and 1 Paragon, but we lost far more. The blows dealt to us impacted us significantly more than those dealt to our opponents.
On that day, I lost one of my best friends." The children stared at him with silent respect, their expressions somber as the last sentence dug into their hearts.
For Jason, his mind replayed the events clear as day, the never-ending nightmares attacking him every night.
—
[Planet Oxtal, Assault on Fortress Kupali. 7/9/2230, 6:11 PM]
Explosions vibrated the ground beneath them, tremors flaring throughout the ground like a wave. Blood stained the land in a crimson red; the sight of millions of corpses lay scattered throughout the planet.
5 Hours after the assault commenced, the war still raged on, hundreds of thousands of lives being extinguished each minute. Three powerful figures fought on a battlefield of their own, their bodies so far yet their presence tingling down the necks of every soldier present.
Each blow reverberated through the planet, the strength behind them making the soil beneath them whine as the force caused it to erupt in a cluster of craters. Invisible forces clashed against eachother, the space in front of them warping to their command. A man with ivory hair skillfully weaved through the relentless barrage of spells and attacks that threatened to slay him, his composure unrelenting as he found himself on the defensive without any pause.
For each blow he inflicted, he received three. The fight was one-sided, it was brutal, yet he never faltered. His determination wrapped around his body, a glistening purple hue wafting from his armor. He faced two men of equal power, a height of power so rare that only 3 Paragon's existed in the universe. Lorus was one of them, under the Heretic Cult.
His power was undeniable, and it was shown. The swipes of his sword dispersed the clouds above him, the extent of his aura reaching a whole 10 Kilometers around him.
Death was inevitable, yet he never swayed.
His sword struck true, each slash fought with conviction, each drop of blood a catalyst for the future of his people. He wasn't a mere soldier; he was the embodiment of the people's will, he was their salvation.
If he died here, he would be happy. His life as a soldier was hard, the trials dreadful. However, he was going to die fighting, something he couldn't be sad about.
His name would remain a pillar in the Heretic Cult, and the absence of his presence would hopefully inspire the next generation of soldiers to chase something more than just power within the cult, but the power that lets you stand apart from 99.99% of the universe.
The power that would let your name be feared in your enemies' hearts, the fear that would make a veteran piss his pants.
His sword plunged downward, cleaving the space in front of him in half, literally.
A candescent streak of white was imprinted onto the world, and the tear in the fabric of reality slowly healed itself. Each blow carried the maximum of his power and the complete willpower he had in him. Defeat was sure, yet he wouldn't die alone. He would bring one of them down with him, and he was set to do that.
From the corner of his eye, a sheen of silver was caught in his vision as it faded through multiple dimensions, seemingly flickering out of existence. Yet, something in his mind pinpointed the exact location of it, and he calmly tilted his head back, narrowly dodging an attack that wouldve severed his jaw clean in half. Only a few milliseconds later, the dagger redirected, its apex pointed lethally at the heart of Lorus. His gaze narrowed as a fluctuation of mana erupted outward from his body, narrowly diverting the dagger enough to burrow into his stomach, missing his heart by only a couple of centimeters.
Above him, an axe that caused the space around it to warp downward was descending upon him like an executioner, threatening to cleave him in half.
He lifted his left arm, smacking the arm holding the dagger down, before taking a deep step with his left foot, his right shoulder now directly under the axe.
His future was grim; as to any other soldier, he was going to take the brunt of a blow so strong it would possibly dislocate his shoulder, if not completely break it. A Paragon wasn't merely an existence of immense power; each Paragon was skilled. Their techniques are mastered to a tee, whether as a mage or in swordsmanship. For Lorus, however, he has wielded a sword since he was 4, and his mastery was far superior to anyone else's.
He dragged his right foot back, taking a stance so wide it could be mistaken as a failed split. His torso torqued as he turned his body to face against the Axe, bringing his sword up in the nick of time.
A tight clench around the hilt of his sword was a brief comfort to his mind, as the axe clashed against it. There was no deafening bang or explosion that would cause a new crater to be born.
Only the sound of metal scraping against metal.
Lorus caught the axe with the edge of his blade, his right hand, which was on top of his left, turned towards the man, while his left hand rotated away, causing his sword to spin as it simultaneously brushed against the axe. The dreadful force behind the swing was dispersed as it traveled down Lorus's wide stance, ending as it hit the ground.
Lorus wasn't finished.
As soon as his sword was aimed straight into the sky, he pushed his arms forward, the blade rotating flawlessly in sync with his motion as it dug into the shoulder of the man, a flurry of blood erupting outward as the air around them was polluted with a red hue. A thump followed after, as the arm of the axe-wielder fell to the ground.
"YOU HERETIC FUCK!" He cursed outward, his axe bellowing through the air as it caused a rush of wind to flutter Lorus's hair back. In a fit of rage, he wildly attacked, a mistake so naive it was hard to believe the man was a Paragon. Lorus ducked under it, his sword ensuing in a quick slash across the man's torso, an ethereal streak of white trailing the apex of the blade.
No blood poured from the wound, no innards spilled out.
The man simply fell to the ground, his auburn eyes fading into a murky grey as he lay lifeless.