Chapter 18: The Ghostblade Part 1

During the night, Roderick fell from the warm embrace of his dreams to the cruel memories of the original, every day the tattered soul stirred and grew stronger, demanding his place.

---------------------

The sun hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow upon the battlefield, illuminating the twisted and tangled landscape. The ground was scarred by the ravages of war, pocked with craters, and riddled with trenches that snaked through the desolate terrain. Each side was dug in, their positions fortified by a combination of mundane defenses and magical barriers.

Soldiers huddled within the trenches, their eyes wide with fear and anticipation, knowing that death could come from above or below.

The air above the trenches was a maelstrom of magic, a chaotic whirlwind of shimmering, deadly energy. Mages from both sides lobbed their spells into the fray, the magical projectiles dancing through the sky like some macabre ballet. From within the trenches, the mages could not see their enemies directly. Instead, they relied on divination and scrying spells, peering through magical windows to locate their targets.

Among the entrenched mages, a small group had banded together, using their combined knowledge and expertise to devise a new weapon. These mages, known as the Mirrorcasters, had developed a deadly system of hovering mirrors and laser spells that could bypass the magical barriers protecting their enemies. With their mirrors, they could bend the path of their laser spells around the barriers, striking from unexpected angles and catching their foes off guard.

From within their trench, the Mirrorcasters worked in tandem, each responsible for a specific aspect of their intricate plan. Some focused on maintaining the hovering mirrors, ensuring they remained stable and correctly aligned. Others channeled their energy into the laser spells, their eyes locked on the scrying windows that allowed them to aim with deadly precision.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the battlefield, the Mirrorcasters sprang into action. The leader of the group, a grizzled mage named Eldric, barked orders at his comrades, his voice barely audible over the din of magical explosions and the screams of the dying.

"Mirrors in position! Laser mages, prepare your spells!" Eldric commanded, his eyes fixed on the scrying window before him.

The Mirrorcasters obeyed, their hands weaving intricate patterns in the air as they called forth their magic. The hovering mirrors glinted in the fading sunlight, reflecting the beams of deadly energy that began to streak across the battlefield.

The laser spells cut through the air with terrifying speed, their path manipulated by the hovering mirrors to bypass the magical defenses of their enemies. Soldiers huddled behind their barriers were suddenly caught in the deadly crossfire, their cries of pain and terror echoing across the battlefield.

As the laser spells found their mark, Eldric, and his team shifted their focus to the magical fortifications that dotted the landscape. These barriers, designed to repel the more common forms of magical attack, were ill-equipped to handle the Mirrorcasters' unconventional tactics.

With each successful strike, the barriers began to crack and crumble, their protective magic unravelling under the relentless onslaught.

From their positions, the enemy mages watched in horror as their defenses were torn apart. Panic set in, their carefully laid plans and strategies disintegrating before their eyes. Desperation took hold, and the mages scrambled to counter the Mirrorcasters' attacks, but they were outmatched and unprepared.

The Mirrorcasters pressed their advantage, their laser spells tearing through the enemy lines with ruthless efficiency. The hovering mirrors danced through the air, their surfaces reflecting the carnage below like some twisted kaleidoscope. The magical barriers continued to fall, their defenses overwhelmed by the relentless assault.

As the last of the sun's rays dipped below the horizon, the battlefield was plunged into darkness. The only light came from the flickering glow of the laser spells and the fires that now raged across the devastated landscape. With the enemy's magical defenses shattered, the time had come for the final assault.

Eldric turned to the other mages in the trench, his voice heavy with purpose. "The defenses are down! Signal the artillery mages and the archers. Now is the time to strike!"

A young mage near the edge of the trench raised a glowing flare into the air, a signal for the other forces waiting in the wings. As the flare streaked into the sky, the battlefield erupted with renewed fury.

Artillery mages, sensing the vulnerability of their enemies, unleashed a torrent of spells upon the now-undefended trenches. Fireballs and lightning bolts arced through the air, their destructive power amplified by the vulnerability of their targets. Explosions rocked the battlefield, the concussive force sending shockwaves rippling through the earth.

In the distance, the archers nocked their explosive arrows and took aim. The air was thick with tension as they drew back their bows, their fingers trembling with the weight of the lives hanging in the balance. With a single, synchronized motion, they released their arrows, the missiles hissing through the air like vengeful spirits.

The explosive arrows rained down upon the enemy trenches, their impact detonating the volatile payloads and sending plumes of fire and smoke billowing into the sky. The earth shook as the explosives tore through the trenches, the destructive force gouging deep furrows into the once-solid ground.

Geomancers, their palms pressed against the earth, called forth their brand of destruction. The ground beneath the enemy trenches heaved and buckled, the soil twisting and contorting as if possessed by some malevolent spirit. Sinkholes and pitfalls yawned open, swallowing soldiers whole and burying them beneath the shifting sands.

As the relentless assault continued, the enemy forces were decimated, their ranks reduced to a fraction of their former strength. The once-mighty army lay broken and scattered, desperately clinging to the remnants of their defenses.

With the enemy weakened, the time had come for the final push. Waves of mundane human soldiers, their weapons glinting in the firelight, surged forward from their trenches, followed closely by a phalanx of magical knights. Their armor gleamed with arcane runes, the symbols pulsing with energy as they prepared to unleash their formidable power upon the enemy.

The charge was brutal and unyielding. The resistance of the enemy was fierce, their desperate counterattacks cutting down scores of the advancing soldiers. But the relentless tide of humanity, bolstered by the indomitable will of the magical knights, could not be stopped. The melee fighters waded into the fray, their weapons flashing as they cut through the enemy ranks, massacring all who stood in their way.

In the chaos of battle, a lone wizard followed by two hoovering swords sneaked past the battered enemy lines, his target hid in the heart of the empire of Stalia, away from the fire of war and pain he had caused. So Roderick had volunteered to bring him a taste.

Meanwhile, in the trenches, hell had descended between the enemy lines, magical beasts and knights alike run amok, too fast to give the enemy the needed respite to regroup and organize a counterattack.

Soon, the trenches became veins flowing with the blood of the fallen as the air went quiet, another day over, and another battle concluded, but as Eldric looked at the horizon, he could see the signs of another trench where the survivors had prepared the new line of defense.

He sighed, as he pondered on the futility of this exercise of death, it wouldn't matter how many they killed, as the empire could just send more, bolstered by a massive population four times their size, the imperials would sooner or later stop bickering and roll over his side, his real objective was proving that peace would be more beneficial than the losses they would incur in continuing the war.

"I hate war, and I hate being so good at it that I can't abstain from participating in it."