Alden immersed himself in his meditation.
His mind was empty and clear.
Which honestly was a great relief.
Because the alternative was just that much worse. Because it kept the pain and the guilt away.
Because It saved him from having to watch the warriors on the front lines dying a miserable death.
The reasons were almost endless.
It was a cowardly move. Depriving those intrepid humans of someone watching their final stand was perhaps even worse. But it was necessary. If he wanted to rejoin the battle later, he needed mana.
For he did not doubt that he would meet more Dark Elves. His Magic Class would be vital in helping him triumph over these beings, hence the need for him to recover more mana. And so, against his instincts, Alden forced himself to relax.
The world around him turned indistinct. He turned his attention inward.
Alden sensed his body slowly absorb the ambient mana from his surroundings. The sensation made him feel like he was a whirlpool - sucking in the mana at a steady speed. His reserves were slowly and surely being replenished.
After an interminable length of time, Alden estimated he had amassed enough mana to last him one big fight. It wasn't a lot. But at the same time, it also wasn't little.
If he ran into another Dark Elf - similar to the one he had just faced - he was confident he wouldn't have to worry about conserving his mana too much. Alden would probably only start having to ration after the first round of attacks was over.
'This is better than nothing.'
It was already a massive improvement from having to be mindful of his expenditure right from the get-go… like he had done at the start of the battle against the vast horde.
Alden appreciated the small dose of fortune. Suddenly, he exited his meditative state.
A wave of alarm and peril abruptly washed over his figure.
…His body had instinctively alerted him of the nearby danger.
Alden's eyes swiftly snapped open. There, he saw the enemy had advanced considerably and pushed the forces of the Sanctuary back. More people died. More blood flowed.
He gritted his teeth, desperately doing his best to ignore the sight. He couldn't keep moping in the face of danger.
He had to retreat and bring Celeste and Ignia with him.
However, before he could stand up, Alden paused. His eyes reflected a golden light similar in sheen to the sun.
A boisterous laugh suddenly escaped his lips.
He watched as the Sunbrawlers crashed into the vast horde, Alistair among them. The Expert Mage was like a scythe, reaping the lives of the Defiled with utter ease.
A hair-raising aura surrounded his figure.
The Guildmaster wore a pair of lethally sharp gauntlets. He punched an abomination, its head bursting in a splatter of blood. He elbowed another Defiled, the spikes on his armour piercing straight through the tiger's skull. A third received a heartrending kick to the gut, swiftly vomiting blood and what remained of its entrails that hadn't turned into a paste.
As he stared at the macabre display, Alden's eyes shone. A little pride also surfaced in his heart.
His father was being extremely cool right now.
After killing the trio of Defiled, Alistair stomped on the ground. Small cracks spread through the earth, upturning the thin layer of frost.
As the abominations in his immediate vicinity lost their balance, the Guildmaster moved with stunning speed. Alden lost sight of his father for a second, the older man's figure blurring within the horde. A shower of blood erupted in his wake.
The other Sunbrawlers were not to be outdone either. Each held truly frightening proficiency for combat. They carved through the Defiled like they were just mere ants blocking their path. Alden had seen his father's Guild fight before, but even then, he couldn't help but be awed at the spectacle before him.
It was just that gruesome and dark.
Very, very, satisfying.
Alden revelled in their killing spree.
True to their name, the Sunbrawlers fought in a brutal, vicious and savage manner… befitting a brawl. Most chose to forego using a weapon, opting to use their fists, legs and any other body part instead.
The select few that did wield weapons, however, stood a little distance away from the front line. They commanded a small division of archers. A volley of flame battered the vast horde, merging with the Ember Clan's attacks to form a truly blistering conflagration.
Alden's crimson eyes reflected the raging fire. A dark grin marred his face.
At the same time, the tiniest spark of a tenuous hope ignited in his chest.
They had a chance of winning this.
The young man's smile widened, his joy refusing to go away.
However, soon, Alden's smile dimmed. His happiness disappeared. An extremely bitter and resentful expression appeared on his face.
…The flow of the battle had changed once more.
It seemed like the Dark Elves matched whatever the Sanctuary threw at them. It was incredibly frustrating.
Their numbers increased. So too did the flashes of ice.
It was almost as if they were just testing the waters, assessing humanity's strength in preparation for a greater and more harrowing invasion later in the future.
'I hope the heavens smite them!'
He gritted his teeth, discarding the absurd idea his mind had just formed.
Just then, through the edges of his Mana Sense, Alden noticed three Dark Elves converging on Alistair. He frowned, a hint of worry in his heart.
The last thing he saw - or rather sensed - was the Guildmaster reaching for the sledgehammer strapped behind his back. A torrent of furious flame manifested around Alistair, coalescing beneath his feet and propelling him toward his corrupted adversaries.
Similar scenes played out across the battlefield as the Dark Elves made a beeline for the Sunbrawlers. Alden prayed with all his might that his father and the warriors under his command would emerge victorious.
The young man slowly stood up, his expression firm and lips set into a determined line.
The mist continued to roil as the battle progressed into a new stage.