My position from the ruined ambush onward had not been ideal, and I realized things were about to get even worse once I noticed the other ascended warrior was also approaching us. Luckily, he wasn't as fast as the first ascended, which meant I had some time before I had to deal with the both of them simultaneously just yet.
It was truly a messy situation.
For a moment, I considered opening a gate and leaving, but I still didn't know what those mages could do with an unattended gate — even if I closed it — so it wasn't as appealing as I had first thought.
Then, there were the strategic implications. Disguised or not, the Radiant Flame attacks were too distinct for anyone to miss who I was. Running away immediately would impact morale, giving the enemy a boost while ruining ours.
The last thing I needed was for the enemy soldiers to have a reminder. Their broken morale was the thing that was proving decisive on the battlefield, and if they decided to fight rather than run in panic, the battle could change immediately. I didn't need to be a student of history to understand the risks I was facing.
Instead, I decided to break their morale … in a way I hated. I raised my blade and released a dozen attacks, using the limited time I had before the arrival of their commander. Each slash massacred the panicking soldiers in droves.
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It would have been easier if I felt a sense of visceral disgust, that I was using violence to kill dozens of people who likely had little more say in their place here than we did, if any. But, the only emotion I felt was a jubilant satisfaction of a job well done.
And, intellectually, that scared me even more. I wanted someone to tell me that it was for the best, that breaking the morale of the enemy kept the number of deaths lower than usual, but it was hard to be convinced of that when every attack cut through several soldiers, just like they did against the monsters, and it was far more difficult to think that.
The ascended and rushed toward me, his whole body radiating anger. "I'll kill you, bastard!" he shouted even as his blade landed against mine, showing the full might of his swing by sending me a few steps back even with the deflecting parry. For a moment, I respected him, and the anger he showed at the loss of his men. Enemies we might be, but that didn't change the tragedy of the moment. "How dare a mere blacksmith humiliate me . You ruined my life," he lashed out as he continued to swing his blade.
Just like that, all the respect I had toward him had evaporated, replaced by disdain. He had just watched me slaughter his men, and all he cared about was how the failure would impact him. Worse, Wisdom helped me to read him enough to know that he was being completely honest.
He cared about nothing but his own pride.