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Chapter 195: Magic at War
🕑 Added 2023-05-19 17:36:00 +0000 UTCEdgar hovered high above the eternal glaciers.
Below him was a flurry of activity. Buildings were etched in the ice, half-buried into the glacier and half-exposed to the freezing air. A snow-covered expanse spread as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by the sea in the distance. Emaciated polar bears sat in a massive steel cage, waiting to be fed or sparred against.
Between all that walked a large number of people. Some were dressed heavily, like Alaska's inuit. Others wore laxer clothing, just a jacket or coat—these people had high enough stats that the Siberian cold didn’t touch them. There were men and women, all humans, either training or meditating.
The headquarters of Ice Peak resembled a palace dug into the glacier—it was actually the F-Grade Dungeon, Iceberg Palace, that they’d conquered. Originally occupied by mermaids, merfolk, and ice spirits, this place was now filled with humans, from its wide courtyards, to the several stories dug into the ice, to the impeccable sculptures that dotted its balconies. Fountains lines the front, with statues of mermaids holding vases from which dripped water.
It was a scenic place that struck Edgar’s chord for beauty. Only the knowledge of its inhabitants’ cruelty kept his mind in line. After all, the mermaids and merfolk that once occupied this place had been exterminated. It was a hollow memory, a beauty on the shoulders of which rode cruelty.
Nobody had noticed Edgar yet. Though there were anti-aircraft weapons and radars on top of the glacier, he was not an aircraft. He was flying just by himself. At best, he would register as a large bird.
A particularly destructive large bird. He had just broken through to the E-Grade. Everybody below him was F-Grade.
Edgar clenched his jaw. The people far below were humans, just like him. Perhaps they had been coerced into working for the Ice Peak; perhaps they had done nothing wrong yet; perhaps this place was all they had ever known. Could he fault them for the war currently taking place? Not necessarily. Not all of them. Did they deserve to be eviscerated?
Edgar didn’t know. But he had to save his own. If left alone, these people would kill his friends. He had to kill them first. Just this once. Just to tilt the balance, so everyone else could handle it, because Edgar sure couldn’t. Even now, his stomach was turning, his vision was fading, and a voice in his head screamed at him to stop.
All he wanted was to get away. The voice in his head grew louder and more demanding. Leaving this place was all he could think about. His heart was beating fast. He was panicking.
But he had promised. Just once. He had to do this.
Edgar suppressed his rising fear and dove for the glacier. The wind screamed around him. A shield of air blocked most of it, keeping Edgar safe, though his control was faltering as his mind was occupied by panic.
Blue sparks appeared on his fingers. They were beautiful; a spectacle to watch, enough to fill one’s heart. They carried the power of hopes and dreams and wonder.
Edgar unleashed them in a beam that struck the ground, melting the ice and upturning the snow. People screamed. Everyone looked up to find a wizard hovering above them, attacking without warning.
Edgar’s hands shone again. He took his newfound powers and channeled them into destruction.
The steel cage shone brilliantly and began to melt. As the bars disappeared, emaciated polar bears stepped out—each at around Level 30, and starving. They growled and fell on the people walking past, tearing them apart and covering the snow in blood.
Arrows of pure magic formed around Edgar and shot down. Each had unerring aim—with his intelligence, guiding all of them at once was a simple matter. People were skewered. Blood sprayed everywhere. Between the arrows and the bears, the people of Ice Peak had nowhere to escape. Unable to respond appropriately at such short notice, they were swiftly ground down to corpses. Even the strongest amongst them fell.
But Edgar knew that the bulk of the Ice Peak’s forces were inside the palace. It stretched deep into the glacier, enough to house thousands.
There could be children there. There could be innocent people. Civilians. Prisoners.
Edgar almost hesitated. The horror of what he had already done, and what he was about to do, weighed on him terribly, squeezed his soul so hard he wanted to puke.
The polar bears, consumed by hatred for their mistreatment, abandoned their victims and rushed into the palace. Edgar heard the screams of confusion mount into horror. He heard the sound of flesh being torn by jaws and metal striking ice—or maybe he imagined those, as he was too far away.
He wanted to leave, but the rampaging polar bears drove home that he had already committed to this destruction. It was happening. He had to see it through.
Just once.
His hands shone green. Vines rose from the ground, growing quickly until they dug into the glacier’s most brittle parts. Chunks of ice began to fall. He used his magic to directly wrestle the ice apart. He showered the front of the palace with cyan orbs of arcane magic that exploded on impact.
The beautiful shrines and statues shattered. Columns were demolished. Courtyards were marred, balconies broken. Under Edgar’s bombardment, the air was filled with a heavy cloud of snow and stone shards, and the palace groaned under the pressure. From inside, the screams kept mounting. The people of Ice Peak didn’t know what was happening—killer polar bears rampaged through the halls, and someone bombarded them from outside. They were in hell.
Edgar’s vines hadn’t stopped advancing. They grew around the glacier and into the palace, slowly but steadily strangling it. The ice began to shake. More chunks broke off. Edgar could also see the roof of the glacier from where he flew, and he saw parts of it collapsing inward, burying whatever lay under them.
It was utter destruction. Mayhem. Lives were lost by the second. And yet, Edgar pressed on. He buried his own mind and heart as he pressed the attack, hurting the Ice Peak as hard as he could. He sent animated ice statues into the palace. He formed large mallets of arcane power to strike the glacier’s roof, forcing it to collapse in places and detonating the anti-aircraft weaponry. He sent arrows of magic raining in through every door, every crack, and every window.
He closed his ears to the screams and kept attacking. Some of those screams were his. But he knew, deep inside, that he did not deserve to scream alongside the people he was slaughtering. Their pain was far greater than his—so why did his suffering feel so gargantuan?
Edgar’s attack on the Ice Peak headquarters lasted for only one minute. By then, his mana reserves were dwindling, and his heart could no longer take it. But it was enough. The palace lay broken, half-demolished. Hundreds had been killed. The military force of Ice Peak had been deeply wounded.
When commanding voices spread through the palace, gradually restoring order, Edgar was so happy. He had to leave now. Even as an E-Grade, he couldn’t battle the entirety of Ice Peak—especially now, with his mana mostly exhausted.
People shot out of the debris. Humans faster and stronger than the previous ones. Elites. The sound of gunfire filled the air. Bullets flew past Edgar, a rare few colliding with his arcane shield and bending it. Magic came at him, too—spikes of ice that he had to struggle to avoid.
But he could fly. He gradually rose higher until they couldn’t reach him. A man with majestic wings of ice broke out of the ice, filled with righteous fury—Alexander Petrovic—but Edgar was already running away.
A scream came as Alexander rushed after him, his ice wings flapping furiously through the air, but he couldn’t catch up. Even exhausted, Edgar was an E-Grade now, and not even a weak one. His speed was incomparable to Alexander’s, who still hadn’t broken through.
The bird of ice stopped chasing after some point, but Edgar kept running. He wasn’t even sure he had the right direction. He couldn’t be. His vision swam in tears, and his heart was cracked by wrenching pain, digging into it as his vines had dug into the glacier.
What have I done? was all he could think as hills flowed under his feet and ice gave way to sparse greenery. I am a monster.
He had committed slaughter. It was in the service of war. In the service of his people. He would be celebrated back home.
But it was a slaughter.
His magic, a conduit of wonder, had been used for death and destruction. The flowers and vines that brought life had collapsed a glacier on the heads of its inhabitants. The brilliant arcane orbs had been used as bombs. The thousand forms of his magic had been reduced to arrows, which he shot in through every opening he could find, hoping to claim as many lives as possible, cause the maximum amount of pain.
Edgar screamed, and the sky echoed, but the ice underneath did not respond. Neither did the birds, which only ran away. Edgar was alone with his guilt and crushing pain. Nobody could help. Nobody could understand. The world was cold to him, as he had been cold when he slaughtered the Ice Peak.
“Never again!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, uncaring about the razor-sharp, icy wind that jammed into his throat. He had dropped his shield. He didn’t care about the pain. No; he welcomed it. He deserved it. After what he had done, this cutting wind was the least he should endure.
If only war could be solved by one man’s suffering.
“Never again!”
He cut through the clouds at full speed, the air booming around him. He had to resummon his shield at some point, or he would be too wounded to return.
He didn’t stop to sightsee. He didn’t look back once. He simply darted through the sky, a brilliant comet over the sea, as he rushed to the west. To the Forest of the Strong. To Valville. To home.
There were hours of flying between them. Edgar only wished it could last longer. He needed the time.
After all, he was now a hero. The alliance’s first E-Grade. The one who struck a crucial blow to Ice Peak. He would be celebrated, and he couldn’t cry during that. Regardless of how he felt…he had to smile.
Comments
Jumping Flounder
i feel like he should’ve called out petrovic and killed him. that would’ve been enough to tip the scales
Joseph
I mean, he is a monster lmao. No one asked him to slaughter the civilians, they wanted him to kill the people at the top. He literally did the opposite of that. His attack was worse than useless, now the elites and petrovic will go on the full offensive and also slaughter civilians. He just made the war much worse for no reason. Could've literally just sat his ass outside and waited for the elites to come out, then killed them. Then he could've continued to sit outside, so no one could leave to go to dungeons to get stronger, allowing his allies to advance and finish the rest off.
