Millennial Mage

Tala exerted her will to pull another weight of authority down upon herself to protect her fighters as the siege cannon behind her blazed.

The fortified emplacements were set up once more, and within each, the siege weaponry was firing in steady rhythm.

Arcanes and Archons—Fused and above—held the walls.

Wolves fought against the throngs outside the walls, small groups of arcanes and gated were alongside the roving packs, nipping at the fringes of the Black Legion Leshkin that were pressing and striving to overcome—or even just clamber over—the walls.

The Pack clashed with offspring of the Forest Spirit, that battle taking place above the emplacements as the powerful arch-beasts from each side vaulted off great trunks and even the air itself to slam magically and bodily into one another above the heads of the more mundane fighters.

More than just their physical clashes, however, the magical creatures were wielding that magic to great effect.

The offspring of the Forest Spirit manipulated the trees and called upon the air, water, rock, and stone.

The Pack pulled on magics of all types, not limited to natural magics as they created freeform spellwork to counter every attack and launch their own.

Tala—backed by twenty Pillars of various houses—was sheltering their forces from the clash above. That included diverting rising earth and stone around their defensive positions and denying any attempt to grab that which was within those spaces.

The ground across the allied side of the battlefield was speckled with Tala’s iron spikes beneath the stomping feet, and the air thrummed with her aura, power and authority rising as she continued to lead the war upon the Black Legion.

Rane and the Eskau were countering a flurry of Commanders and two more senior commanders that Tala was itching to face herself, but she was utterly necessary to protect their forces from the higher level—both literally and metaphorically—clashes above.

As such, Tala floated over the central fortification—positioned a bit off-center to not block the blasts of the siege weaponry—those supporting her were directly down behind the walls, in meditative positions. She was the standard bearer, the unifier of these forces, and if she diverted her attention to fight in person, that purpose would slacken, and their forces would be presented with another disaster like that of the Forest Spirit blasting through their lines just to get to Anatalis.

Speaking of the Forest Spirit, he was apparently in the area, being stalked directly by Botulf and Conri. Anatalis circled the battlefield as well, unwilling to put his back to the elk, as it were, but also not willing to charge forth, committing fully into the domain of the elk.

In truth, she wasn’t sure if she should be frustrated or impressed that the singular Sovereign god-beast elk was all but entirely checking three god-beast wolves, but she supposed that it made sense at some level.

In the wild, it was never a single wolf that took down an elk, and while that disparity melted away as mundane creatures advanced, it was still pertinent. Add to that the weight of Sovereignty?

It would take a pack to lay the elk low.

Anatalis wasn’t limping any more, but some of his fur remained stained with his own blood, a stark reminder that they’d underestimated the elk once already, to almost disastrous results.

Walden was coming slowly up behind the army, dragging his domain with him by virtue of slow, creeping expansion.

Even so, he was slowly rendering the forest untenable for the Forest Spirit to hide in or flee through. That was in addition to the slow weakening that the taking of the domain would bring about.

It was frustrating that he was still miles behind them—having focused on extending his reach in a contained line to achieve even that speed—but he could no more leave his domain than most magical creatures, as doing so would lead to quick degradation of power and eventual death.

That was the state of things unless some other power bridged the gap.

A rabbit-elk sprang from a tree, heading straight for Tala, magics building up within it as it moved to end her. As it drew closer, Tala got a good look at the authority of the Forest Spirit bridging the distance between the magical beast and its domain, which was… some two hundred miles to the west? And apparently a handful of miles underground?

That’s not great… Tala sighed.

Humanity had long known that there were caves and even entire ecosystems underground, but the prevalence and power of creatures in them increased with the depth—and those creatures effectively never came to the surface—so they were generally ignored. -Don’t act like you’ve always known. You just had this confirmed this week.-

Yeah, yeah.

The location of this overgrown jackalope’s domain did go a long way toward explaining where the Forest Spirit had been keeping and empowering all his spawn.

Thankfully, the reality thread connections from the last factory that Tala was still sensing and following didn’t lead underground.

None of the Black Legion factories should be under there.

Still, this bunny was approaching like a falling comet, head lowered, antlers lancing forward, magics pulsing.

Tala didn’t even bother to defend.

A wolf slammed into the bunny from the side—precisely wielded magic to entirely counter the arch-bunny’s workings—and the audible crack of a breaking neck reached Tala even over the din of battle around her.

She checked over that battlefield, ensuring that Alat was making as many Black Legion deaths as possible into permanent ends.

As she scanned the lower fight, she noticed that the walls of her own fortification were being hard pressed. As such, she reached out and shifted another set of magics in the walls.

Siege orbs blasted out in a wave, each blowing through a line of automata before its magics were negated, sending more enemies flying back in the subsequent blasts of expanding air and coating the area before her walls in frost.

She huffed, a contented smile pulling at her lips. Delaying tactics.

That’s all this was.

They were here to destroy the factory, and nothing the Black Legion or Forest Spirit could bring to bear would stop them. All of this could only slow the alliance down… at least for the moment.

So, the question really is: can they slow us down enough to allow them to bring something else to bear?

* * *

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Verity was… tired.

Before him, the broken husk of a human tried to stand strong, the animating magics flowing through her surging with the collective fear and will of those she strove to protect.

Pathetic. This should be over soon, and he should then be able to gather the needed power sources for another unit of the legion, maybe more than one if he and his forces were careful.

His sword lifted for another casual strike, but then he returned, in power if not in physical presence.

A root shot from the lower dimensions of magic, rising up and spoiling Verity’s strike even as a forest of hair-fine roots sprouted forth to usher the fleeing power sources forward, away from Verity’s advancing legionnaires.

Verity gritted his teeth at the interference. Didn’t the humans know they were beaten? Why did they have to resist the inevitable?

He hated the pain and destruction they were forcing upon him.

Why couldn’t they go quietly into the next world? Didn’t they believe it was a place of peace and perfection? Shouldn’t they welcome that end?

If they would only embrace that which they claimed to seek, then he could right reality and finally, finally find rest.

Instead, he’d been forced to expand the legion to many, many times its intended size.

Another prime commander was already in existence—greeted by the weeping of reality at the requirement—and four more were in production.

When the final one was completed, Verity would ascend yet again.

Will it be this time? Will this step take my ability to find rest, even once my work is done? He prayed to all that was real that it would not be so.

Still, these stubborn abominations had forced his hand.

His blade flicked out, there were no roots below the ground, no tree within range for them to be connected to.

With an explosion of sundering, the magical roots detonated, but the Devouring Tree had enough control in the end that all the splinters showered Verity and his fellow servants of reality.

Hundreds of those pressing in close behind him were washed away in the tide of magical splinters, and that was even with the reality field that he, himself, bolstered and reinforced.

No matter, they would be added to the queue for rebirth, their broken bodies already being absorbed by the domain of the Forest Spirit for return to the factories as raw materials.

The husk came at him again, and Verity bisected her, the body detonating in an attempt to take him with her.

Irritatingly, his form was staggered, driven back a step as he was forced to pull material from his reserves and recreate his exterior shell.

In the distance, he felt the collective profane will of the abominations drag the bedraggled soul of their ‘protector’ back from the precipice of entering the other world, building a body around the trembling, jittering soul, now less real than ever before.

It would be so easy to send forward some of his soldiers, have them detonate their cores and be done with this group…

The commanders who had seized the columns had used that tactic to great effect… even though they used it timed so that it would be countered and cause less damage. But they’d done so against his orders and to the detriment of reality.

He would not sink to the level of the gated, the users of magic. He existed to fix reality, not break it for expediency.

He’d destroyed the offending commanders himself, and he wouldn’t put that choice to lie now.

No. Veridicius was already on route to aid the Forest Spirit, and the prime commanders were profanity enough.

He would be profane enough when he took the next step.

Then, all of this would end, and he could seek peace… if it was ever attainable to begin with.

* * *

Tala radiated power as she wound up, Flow cocked back to throw.

Endingblade magics coated the surface.

Broken commanders littered the ground and the siege engines had stopped their work. It was time for Tala to destroy the underlying structures of magic and reality that were the core of this abomination.

She threw.

Her aura and authority took the now spinning blade that was Flow and guided it around the entirety of the tree again and again, cutting deeper and deeper, destroying material, magic, and reality connections.

It took a full dozen circumnavigations before Flow broke through, into the interior of the tree.

Tala’s aura and authority flooded into the space, and she flickered forward, appearing within, already looking up.

She opened her mouth and let out a dissolution breath, the containment magics in her throat and mouth altered to create a wide dispersal and quick ignition.

It did just that, the dissolution eating through the very air even as it reached the already disconnected tree, turning all parts of it to dust from bottom upward.

As she continued to spray the magic toward the sky, the entirety ignited, the column of flame blasting skyward to carry the roiling endingfire through the totality of the magical marvel that had been a spawning tree, remade into a factory.

It took surprisingly little time for the tree to dissolve and burn away, leaving Tala standing on a stump of blackened wood.

Everything around her radiated heat like a crucible.

She stood, unaffected, at the center, a content smile on her lips.

An elongated, purposely shaped portal opened on her back, beginning to suck in air and sending out a deep, resonant hum that Tala found comforting and gratifying in equal measure.

The Forest Spirit had tried to interfere near the end of the fight, but that simply led to Anatalis and his sirelings charging after him in a renewed hunt. That clash was still ongoing, nearly a dozen miles south at the moment, and Tala couldn’t tell who had the upper hand.

Most of the Pack was resting, their opponents defeated or driven off.

Walden was barely a mile away through the trees, and he’d be here within the next hours.

Her moment of peace and victory was short-lived.

A clearly automaton voice suddenly boomed across the previously quieting battlefield. “I am Veridicius, and I herald your end.”

Existence itself thrummed, and Tala felt something horrific click into place.

What?

A black figure strode from the trees, flanked by what looked to be five senior commanders and twenty-five commanders, all fresh, all wielding concept blades, all intrinsically interlinked with their leader, Veridicius.

Tala’s forces were momentarily spent, most resting or under the ministrations of healers in Ironhold, with the worse afflicted by reality splinters being tended to in groups, far behind her.

Eskau Pallaun and Meallain came up behind her, along with ten more Eskau of various Houses, only five backed by their Pillars.

The Black Legion had been targeting Pillars with reality splinters through methods Tala couldn’t determine, but the result was that most of them were in desperate need of healing. Many Eskau had gone down with them as they attempted to protect their sworn lieges.

Regardless, this would be… interesting. If they could delay even five minutes, however…

Rane walked up past Tala, tapping her shoulder and getting a nod.

Her husband strode forward. “I am Rane Sappherrous, Sculptor of Motion and Reforged of Humanity. You walk onto a battlefield of defeat. If you proceed, you will join the fallen.”

Tala felt a lesser resonance within existence at the words as Rane wielded what connection he had to reality and the void in opposition to Veridicius.

The automaton’s authority ticked slightly higher, and she flinched slightly.

Somehow, even thinking its name had given it strength? How did that work?

The clearly powerful automaton laughed. “My survival is not required. My mere existence has begun the process of the ascension of Verity. My fellows will follow whether I reconstitute or not.” His blades came together briefly before he crouched into a combat stance. “So, you see, I either exist to see my victory or rest in peace, knowing my victory is assured.”

Rane slashed the air with Force, sending a wave of kinetic energy toward the enemy even as he countered the words. “Your existence is a violation of your own strictures. We all agree that you and yours are abominations. Let us see you to the next world.”

Tala’s eyes widened as she saw the next actions in slow motion.

Veridicius shot forward like a siege-blast, a word echoing around him, “Die.”

Tala flickered forward, her armor reinforcing as her authority clashed with the thing’s injunction. “No!”

Flow caught one of Veridicius’s blades even as Force caught the other, husband and wife now side by side before the oddly towering automaton.

One in white steel and reality iron, the other in magical bone and white steel, they were a matched set, complementing in their distinctiveness.

The prime commander gave an inhuman grin with all-too-human looking teeth. “Good, then you will die together.”

Behind him, the commanders—senior and not—poured forward, set on sweeping through the exhausted allied forces.