Battlefield

Tycon ran across the hard-packed sand of the battlefield, reverse-gripping a dark iron short sword.

Normally on a battlefield, Metal-Rank adventurer teams were held in reserve, in order to conserve their mana and stamina. They would only be fielded to counteract Metal-Rank threats fielded by an enemy force.

Under Captain Lang Hai's reckless orders, every participating combatant was important to the Sea Wolves' success and survival as a whole.

Tycon ran past an axe-wielding pirate, slashing his blade through the man's side with little resistance. Unranked. Weak. Tycon cut down 3 more pirates utilizing only his speed-- admittedly only average in Invictus.

Pale, wherever he was, was likely cutting down the Saltspray pirates in swaths.

Rushing past the hordes of weaklings, Tycon spotted an Iron-Rank, a pirate wielding a heavy staff with two spiked ends. The man whirled it over his head, knocking back two Sea Wolves and battering back a third.

Two pirates were in Tycon's way.

He raised his blade horizontally to block a downward sword slash, then sidestepped and stabbed the man deep in the abdomen. Cruelly wrenching the blade, Tycon was rewarded by the look of pure agony on the pirate's face.

That was... not his best work. He shoved the man away and swiped the blood off of his short sword.

The second pirate swung horizontally, so Tycon took a measured backstep to dodge. With his sword pointed forward, Tycon lunged. The very tip of his blade pierced the man's throat.

That kill was more satisfying. If only all kills were so easy.

The quarterstaff pirate turned with a bloodcurdling yell and began barreling towards the youthful murderer. Tycon smiled knowingly, swapping his sword to his offhand and raising up a lightly clenched fist.

Sergeant Garret came from behind the pirate, smashing his sledgehammer into the man's back, "Got'cha, bitch!"

Tycon snickered softly, "Kehe. Well~ done."

He snapped his fingers.

[Commander's Strike activated.]

Garret looked over with a look of confusion, "What the? I didn't do it to--"

Tycon saw the moment the surge of mana hit him. Garret's eyes glowed abyssal black and a growl escaped his lips. The bald man kicked the back of the pirate's knee and smashed his hammer into the man's spine.

Tycon snapped again.

[Commander's Strike activated.]

Garret lifted his hammer to the sky and smashed it down with full force into the back of the man's skull.

After a brief second, his eyes gained clarity, "What the... hells was that?"

Tycon patted the tall man on the shoulder, "It was a respectable young Sea Wolf defeating an Iron-Rank with ease."

The man shook his head adamantly, "Baron, I ain't stupid. You did something."

"...How you swung your weapon... how you utilized gravity to increase your force... the muscles that activated in your arms and core and legs... It felt wonderful, did it not?"

Garret rubbed the back of his bald head, "Y-yeah... It did. Did I... really do that?"

"Let us continue, young Sergeant." Tycon smiled. It was a gentle smile considering he essentially sentenced a man to death by broken spine, "Perhaps you might learn something."

"I uh... Yeah. Let's go," Garret nodded, obediently following Tycon towards the next fight.

...

"PROTECT THE BARON!!" "PROTECT THE BAAARONNNN!" The Sea Wolves yelled.

Baron Tycondrius had taken a red sash and tied it around a crossbow injury on his right arm. He had wrapped a torn blue flag of the Kingdom around a spear and held it up as a banner, "SEA WOOOOLVES!! BLOOOOD ANNNNNND THUNDERRRRR!!!!"

"VICTORY AT SEAAAA!!" Came the howls of the dozens of Sea Wolves within shouting distance.

[Commander's Strike activated. Commander's Strike activated. Co...]

The System's messages ran in Tycon's mind like the glorious music of triumph.

Guild Invictus was participating in the Sea Wolf raid as a favor to Lang Hai. Tycon still needed to head to the Holy Country to finish his quests... But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the one-sided slaughter.

"Come, this is no place to die," Tycon picked up a fallen Sea Wolf.

[Inspirational Surge activated.]

The Sea Wolf winced as he pulled a curved scimitar out of his gut, "Thanks, Baron."

"Now, sod off and put that sword to use."

"Aye aye, Sir!!" The Wolf ran off while screaming and raising the bloody scimitar in the air.

Tycon pointed, chuckling, "You are INVINCIBLE!!"

[Jumping Knee Counter activated.]

The Lone Shadowdark deftly dodged an overhead strike from a greatsword. He planted his knee into the man's gut before braining him with a wolf-hammer.

"Thanks, Boss!!"

"Shut up and keep killing."

The battlefield was chaos, as they all were. Tycon's senses were filled with swords clanging, firearms blasting, and the desperate prayers of the dying. Occasionally, cannons would fire-- either from the beaches or from the Elizabeth Dare, and flashes of magic would tear through the sky.

It was glorious.

The moving platoon of some 30 Sea Wolves moved quickly and lethally through the battlefield. At the center of the death ball was Baron Tycondrius, shouting orders and activating his support Skills. It didn't matter the number, single men or scores of them, the pirates died without complete corpses. It didn't matter the rank, the horde mowed down even Iron-Rank pirates with impunity.

However, Tycon discovered something he had surmised but had no evidence of. The Sea Wolves could die. Marines and sailors fell and those remaining raged to avenge them. Tycon accepted it. It was impossible for every Sea Wolf to have the same level of accelerated healing as Lang Hai.

The tide of battle had turned against the Saltspray Kings and many of the pirates were beginning to withdraw towards a large, defensible wood and stone fort.

On both sides, casualties were inevitable. Too many casualties were unacceptable. For the guild leader of a small company like Tycon, even a single loss was deeply felt.

"Where's Pale?!" Tycon yelled in order to be heard above the din of battle.

Lone pointed, "Over there! That side!"

Tycon yelled back, "The west wing, you idiot! Just say the west wing!"

"The west wing, Boss!!"

"Go find him!!" Tycon tossed Lone a pouch full of healing potions.

"Can I have one??" Lone yelled back.

"Stop asking stupid questions, you dunce. GO!!"

...

Corporal Jacque of the Beaurte Marines was assigned a special mission by Captain Lang Hai. He had been ordered to shadow the Guild Invictus half-elf, Pale, and keep him out of trouble.

Jacque didn't know what business the boy had on a battlefield. The kid didn't even look 10 years of age. Still, Jacque wasn't one to question clear orders.

Anyroad, the Captain looked only a year or two older than Pale... and Rico was literally 3. Age wasn't a good way to judge combat prowess.

Upon debarkation, the boy was unfortunate enough to have landed in a burning coral reef from when he jumped off the ship. When he'd made it to the beach, he dropped and broke an expensive healing potion in the process.

The sea god hated the boy.

Jacque made a mental note to get the crew together about it. The kid needed to be lent a charm or five to ward off the bad luck.

Jacque thought that perhaps his mission would be cut short and Pale would ask to reboard the ship. A coral-cut wound was prone to infection and was painful as hells, to boot. He recalled that Lieutenant Eleven of Seven used coral-blades for that very reason.

The injury seemed to only anger the boy.

The boy cut through the battlefield with his spear, like a stabby crimson whirlwind. He moved from target to target almost effortlessly, accurately piercing throats and hearts. Jacque could barely keep up with the boy's speed-- and he got the feeling that the boy was holding back on his account.

Three skirmishes and over a hundred men dead later, Captain Lang's predictions were beginning to come true. The boy began to slow due to injury. After a fourth skirmish, though the boy killed near 30 men on his own, he earned a crossbow bolt pierced through the meat of his left forearm and he suffered a bleeding gash in the leather armor on his chest. He was in no condition to continue.

The Sea Wolves they were with had either rushed ahead or were killed, leaving him and the boy surrounded by more than a dozen pirates. Jacque flourished his two daggers and focused on calming his labored breathing. He wasn't in his best condition, either.

"Got any bright ideas, kid?"