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Ch 71 - Did I Make You Proud
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 20:43:09 +0000 UTCA/N -
Sorry for the late chapter, hot days kill my productivity xD
Enjoy <3
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“Hurry! We must stop them before they reach the walls!” Mirion shouted, already sprinting toward the barricade with a temporary weapon Gundir had given him.
The Yellow Tribe was in chaos. The beast tide bearing down on them wasn’t just large, it was overwhelming, packed with monstrous creatures far stronger than what usually got closer to the tribe.
“I will try using fire magic, but I doubt it can scare them,” Ninali called from the lookout tower. A massive, blazing diagram was already taking shape in front of her, its intricate lines pulsing with heat. She was pouring every bit of mana she could into the spell, but her expression betrayed doubt.
Nia was racing toward the nearest tower as well, bow already drawn. A group of archers followed close behind. They’d been training near the gates when the alarm was raised, which made them the first to respond. The Yellow Tribe, however, was only now beginning to stir.
Four neat rows of archers, ten Velmoryns each, lined up in front of the entrance. Frontliners were taking formation just ahead of them, shields at the ready. It was clear this wasn’t some panicked scramble, but a drilled tactic, something they had practiced repeatedly.
But it was also stupid.
What the hell are they doing?
Forming ranks in front of the gate, the exact point the beasts were charging toward, was a recipe for disaster. If the creatures broke through, those lines would be trampled instantly. And if even a few managed to survive the initial impact, panic would scatter them. The moment that formation broke, the tribe would fall.
“Archers, get on the walls, not in front of the damned entrance!” Mirion barked, running toward the wall. “That shield wall’s useless against a beast tide!”
None of the Yellow Tribe warriors so much as glanced at him. Either they didn’t hear, or they simply didn’t care.
Gritting his teeth, Mirion turned his focus elsewhere. “Ninali! Don’t try to stop them, try redirecting them!”
She didn’t respond as her spell was already taking shape, however the slight nod she gave confirmed that she heard every single word.
A swirling vortex erupted beyond the gate, flames twisting upward like a spiraling pillar. It began small, then grew into a full fire tornado, crackling with heat and hissing as it came into contact with snowy floor. The first wave of beasts burst from the treeline just as the fire surged upward.
The reaction was instant.
Winter beasts’ instincts kicked in. Most of the them veered to the side, snorting and snarling as they avoided the rising heat. But one did not.
A mammoth-like brute lumbered forward, too big, too thickly furred to register the threat, or perhaps it felt particularly heroic that day. It plowed straight into the fire. Its coat ignited in an instant, the flames licking across its back like oil across canvas. The creature roared and surged faster, likely enraged by the mix of pain and heat.
“The rest will also realize the fire can’t kill them!” Ninali shouted, her voice strained. Her hands trembled as she fought to hold the spell together. The longer the tornado remained active, the more mana it demanded.
She hadn’t learned it for battle. When her affinity shifted from dark to fire magic, it was the simplest large-scale spell she could master. It was meant to scare off or startle predators in the wild, not to repel a tide of monsters.
And despite her high rank, Ninali had no powerful fire-based arsenal. Not yet.
“It’s a shame that our guests must protect our home,” came a calm, gravelly voice near the entrance.
An old Velmoryn stood on top of the wall, leaning heavily on a gnarled staff. But he wasn’t just standing, he was casting. And not a single spell, but a full array.
Five massive dark crimson diagrams bloomed into the air above him in an instant. The speed of activation was so unnatural, I briefly questioned whether these were spells at all, or skills gained through blessings.
“Archers, follow my lead,” he commanded, vaice far too unfazed considering the situation. The moment his words reached them, the rows of Yellow Tribe archers snapped to action, notching their arrows and taking aim with mechanical precision.
“Mages, quickly! Form lines before my spell lands!” he ordered, never once glancing back where the mages were slowly setting a formation, their faces draining from color the moment they heard the old Velmoryn’s voice.
Then the five diagrams shimmered.
From beneath the mammoth-like beast, crimson mana erupted. Chains burst from the ground, spiraling upward like grasping vines and wrapping tightly around its legs and torso. The creature kept moving, but its momentum was faltering.
Then came the arrows.
A storm of projectiles rained down, streaking through the air toward the restrained beast. But they barely scratched it. Its hide was thick, more armor than flesh. Even Nia’s squad, firing explosive arrows that burst on contact, only managed to scorch its skin and cause a pained growl. A few burnt patches appeared across its back, but the beast was barely hurt.
“Ninali…” Mirion turned toward the tower, where the mage was leaning to the wood, breathing hard after canceling her earlier spell.
“I know,” she rasped, already raising her hand. Her fingers trembled, but the runes started to slowly form.
Dariel arrived below the wall, already gathering the frontliners. If the ranged barrage failed to bring the creature down, the next wave would have to do it up close before the beast managed to reach the settlement.
Meanwhile, the mana chains had fully ensnared the beast. They coiled tighter with every second, binding its limbs and torso like a nest of blood-hungry serpents. The beast stopped moving entirely.
Then it roared.
A thin crimson line tore down its back, and for the first time, blood spilled; thick, red, and steaming against the snow. Flesh split apart showing the white layer of fat.
Lucas landed a few paces away, blades dripping with beasts blood. He was already getting ready for another attack, but not yet. He was waiting for something.
The fireball flew above his head.
It shot past him, roaring through the air before slamming into the beast’s skull. The blast burned the thick fur and blackened its forehead. One cyan eye was burned out completely; the other was left scorched and unfocused.
The beast shrieked in blind fury, thrashing against its bindings.
Lucas moved.
Blood glowed along the blades in his hands, drinking deep from his veins as he poured more mana into Bloodwave. In a blur, he vanished, reappearing atop the beast’s back with inhuman balance. He stood there, effortlessly, like this was where he belonged.
Then the slashing began.
Again and again, his twin blades struck the same open wound, deepening the gash carved earlier. One blow wouldn’t cut through the creature this size, but dozens would. Especially when each slash was followed by a shockwave
Blood sprayed. Skin tore. Fat parted under the unrelenting assault.
He was nearly through.
Then, in a sudden, violent lurch, the crimson chains shattered; whether by the beast’s raw strength or the caster’s limit being reached, it didn’t matter. They were gone.
Lucas, mid-swing, lost footing. His final slash, aimed for the spine, missed. He tumbled off the beast’s back, landing hard in the snow just beside the lumbering monster’s leg.
I briefly considered stepping in to save him, but then I saw two figures leap from the wall. The sheer distance they crossed in a single bound made it clear just how powerful Mirion and Dariel’s physiques truly were.
Still, they were nowhere near close enough.
Luckily, Lucas had landed in the beast’s blind spot. The mammoth-like creature, half-blinded from Ninali’s fireball, couldn’t see anything to its left. And before its massive frame could even begin to turn, Lucas was already on his feet and gone, vanishing from its path before it could react.
Another wave of arrows and spells rained down, a few found the weak spot. Projectiles tore deeper into the same open wound Lucas had been carving, spilling even more of the beast’s blood onto the snow with every second. Its movement was starting to slow down, its breath growing heavier.
“Stop the attacks!” the old Velmoryn ordered. His voice cut through the noise, just as calm and cold as before.
Pushing the beast further risked sending it into a berserker frenzy. And without his crimson chains to restrain it, they would all pay the price if it charged the walls. “We conserve mana and manpower. Let the two of them finish the creature.”
Mirion reached the beast first. But unlike his usual head-on assault, he circled wide, maneuvering to its blind side. He wasn’t looking for glory. Only the kill. And only striking the beast in an open wound would offer that.
“I’ll go first,” came Dariel’s voice, rough, guttural.
He was already mid-transformation.
His body had grown larger, more bestial. His fingers had become claws. Then, in a single burst, he launched forward, the snow exploding beneath his feet.
The beast didn’t react in time, its mind and body already sluggish
Dariel slammed into its side on all fours, clawing deep into the exposed gash. He scrambled up on its back, raking through the torn flesh like a feral wolverine. Blood poured freely as his claws ripped through flesh and fat, digging closer to the spine.
Mirion stared for a second, visibly stunned. Just as Dariel had been shocked by my tribe’s growth, Mirion now found himself surprised by the Yellow Tribe’s Vael, by the raw force he was demonstrating.
The beast thrashed weakly, groaning as it swayed. It tried to shake Dariel off, but its strength was fading fast. Dariel didn’t let up. He kept hacking and tearing, widening the wound with brutal persistence.
The beast dropped to its knees, blood soaking the ground beneath it with each breath.
And then Mirion moved.
He leapt high, gripping his axe with both hands, and came down hard. The blade sank between the backbone with a sickening crack, splitting the spine.
The beast released one last guttural cry and slumped forward, motionless, its eyes dimming.
But Dariel and Mirion didn’t celebrate.
It had taken nearly two full minutes and their strongest fighters to bring down a single beast. And now, from the trees, the second wave emerged - larger, faster, angrier.
Most were the same mammoth-like creatures. None would from Ninali’s fire this time. Only a handful of Varnoks still lingered behind them, following like lost herd animals, but the rest… the rest were coming strong and heavy.
Mirion turned to Dariel. “What’s the plan?”
Dariel didn’t respond.
His silence said more than any words.
“Dariel, I don't think…”
“High Father, please allow me to show them your might.” Tekla’s voice drifted gently through my thoughts, soft as a prayer. And at the same moment, I felt the pull. She was reaching for my divine power.
I focused on her thoughts, checking what she wanted to do. Then I let go, giving her what she asked for.
She waited until the crimson current surged through her. Then she smiled and formed a tree symbol above her heart with her index and middle fingers.
“Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, reverent. “I swear I’ll show them why Velmoryns can only thrive beneath Your light.”
As she moved, the divine energy around her swelled, no longer just a presence, but a blaze. She strode toward the entrance, past the anxious Velmoryns bracing for the next wave.
“Priestess?” Ninali called from the tower. “It’s dangerous…”
The words caught in her throat.
What she saw below wasn’t just Tekla, not anymore.
Power radiated from her in waves. Her long white dress and crimson decorations shimmered with life, flowing like strands of molten thread. From her back unfurled wings, not vast like a bird’s, but slender and glowing, like those of a fabled fae. As she moved, they left behind a luminous trail that shimmered in the cold air.
But none of it was random.
It wasn’t the divine energy shaping her, it was Tekla’s will. Every detail, every thread of spectacle, was intentional. She wasn’t just using my power. She was making it unforgettable.
She pushed the giant wooden door open effortlessly, shocking Velmoryns who ran to help her. The beasts were already in sight.
She stepped into the snow, calm and composed. The tribe watched from behind her, silent.
“Bear witness,” Tekla said quietly, raising one hand. “This is our Lord’s strength.”
And I felt it.
An immense surge of divine power left me, answering her call.
It rushed toward her and then took the shape of a massive basilisk, coiling and writhing like a creature born of fire and rage. Its mouth opened in a roar that wasn’t sound, but force. A psychic pressure that gripped every soul nearby.
Tekla’s lips curled faintly as the creature tore toward its target.
The beasts ahead froze.
They tried to run, their instincts screaming that death had come, but it was far too late. The basilisk ripped through them, its form barely tangible, like a living blade of wrath. Bodies were torn in half, heads severed cleanly.
The Velmoryns could only watch. Their jaws hung open, breath caught in their throats. Eyes wide with disbelief.
“Tekla?” Mirion muttered, stunned.
The fear he’d felt seeing his daughter walk alone into the field had been replaced by shock, pride, and awe.
Dariel, who had already shrunk to his normal size, stood frozen. Words failed him.
The battlefield was painted red. Torn bodies collapsed where they stood, and the divine serpent’s form began to dissolve, its task complete. What remained of the beast wave scattered, retreating in blind terror.
And in the center of it all walked Tekla - a living symbol of my power. Her blazing figure moved calmly across the snow, wings still trailing fire.
But then her steps began to falter, her movements losing balance.
She stumbled.
But before her body could fall, the divine power still lingering around her softened the descent. It caught her gently, cradled her, and laid her down in the snow like a parent taking care of their child.
[Warning: Passing the Divinity consumed 86 Divinity Points!]
“Father…” she whispered with a bright, happy smile. Her eyes already closed as her mind started to trail off, “Did I make You proud?”
Comments
FoxTheorem
Good soup
Mohammed Sheekh
86 point? I would've been like "the return on the investment better be worth it"
