The impact was fatal but not enough.
A sound like reality itself being torn apart rang out across the battlefield. The attack connected, and where it struck, transformed soldiers fell.
But unlike normal combatants, these enhanced warriors showed unprecedented resilience. Those not completely destroyed by the initial strike continued their advance, their wounds seeming to affect them far less than they should.
Jolthar's next attack required everything he had.
His muscles strained with effort as he channelled more power than he had ever attempted before. The sword in his hands became a conduit for pure destructive force.
Each swing required his full strength, the enhanced durability of his opponents demanding nothing less than his absolute maximum effort.
Each of his swings landed with devastating impact, but he could only cut a single one at a time. If his attack was divided, it wasn't effective on those brutes.
He struck them one by one, and it was starting to hinder his movements as others pushed him, and one such attack of the brutes connected and landed on his left flank and sent him flying towards a building that he crashed into.
Cleora, who was looking at Remin, from the time he came, noticed his every move.
General Remin observed this display with calculating eyes.
As the transformed soldiers began to move in his direction, he remained unperturbed.
With a casual gesture that belied the gravity of the situation, he turned to his mage.
"Wymar, deal with those pests."
The acrid smell of battle hung heavy in the air as Lord Remin surveyed the chaos before him. The soldiers of Chittera had transformed into something unnatural—their bodies warped and elongated until they towered at eight feet tall, muscles bulging beneath taut skin that had taken on an ashen hue. What troubled him most wasn't their physical transformation but the mindless fury in their eyes.
"My lord," Wymar's voice cut through the sounds of clashing steel, "these soldiers of Chittera, it seems they've used something like a pill to enhance their strength."
Remin nodded grimly, his keen eyes noting the small cylindrical objects scattered around the fallen soldiers. "The pill they took, it has something to do with their transformation."
He had seen many horrors in his years of battle, but this perversion of the human form struck him as particularly abhorrent. Thɪs chapter is updated by N()velFire.net
Jolthar had come out of the crashed building and patted his shoulders; he looked like a complete mess, blood now mixed with dust. His silver hair now became like strands of red bundles, swinging in front of his face. He had come and joined the battle once again.
Jolthar was fighting against three of the transformed soldiers. His attacks now had more strength and were destructive; his voidwrath was manifesting as silver-dark energy that swirled around him like a protective shroud.
The gifted young man used his telekinetic abilities to push through the enemy ranks, creating space where there seemed to be none. He used the rubble to hit them and then launched his sword strikes.
[Telekinesis Advanced]
Within no time, he had reached another level in the telekinesis as the voice rang in his head. It was pretty fast considering he had only used it a couple of times. But his control over the ability was getting more and more precise.
Remin watched as Jolthar cleaved through one of the eight-foot monstrosities as if it were made of parchment rather than flesh and bone. He stood atop the body as he raised his hand, a spear pulled towards his hand.
People who were watching from the beginning could only gasp and stare in amazement at his resilience and willpower. They all thought he was no ordinary young man.
Those who thought as such were Preeyonka, Arvant, Milan, and Cleora and her men too.
Preeyonka was grinning every time Jolthar had pulled off something on the field.
"People!" Wymar's commanding voice rang out across the battlefield. Wymar also saw the young man who was fighting exceptionally, but he had work to do, so he turned to the soldiers.
"Now let's get to business. Grosbek Knights, flank those savages from behind!"
"Do not let any of them escape. Not one single one of them, do you understand?" Wymar said, his voice rang throughout the square.
The elite cavalry unit responded immediately, their armour glinting as they manoeuvred to the rear of the enemy formation. The tactical repositioning created a devastating crossfire, with the transformed soldiers caught between hammer and anvil.
Remin continued his deadly dance through the battlefield, each stroke of his blade ending another corrupted life.
Wymar appeared beside him in a flash of movement, concern evident in his voice. "My lord, how about you stay behind? We will take care of them."
"Wymar," Remin's voice was heavy with authority, "whatever these people have turned into, don't let a single one live. Something is deeply wrong with them."
He paused, considering the implications of what they'd witnessed. "Burn the bodies after they fall. We can't risk this corruption spreading."
Wymar bowed his head slightly, "Yes, my lord."
Remin's attention was drawn to Jolthar, who found himself increasingly surrounded by the transformed soldiers.
"Kid, you should fall back!" he called out, but it was clear that Jolthar had no avenue of retreat as more enemies swarmed around him.
With one fluid motion, Remin swung his sword in a wide arc, clearing a path through the press of bodies.
Jolthar shot him a look of doubt as he retreated. For some reason, he felt like it was a warning to him. So he created a distance between those men and himself.
Soon he understood why.
The time had come to end this madness.
Remin raised his sword skyward, and a column of dark green light erupted from the blade, piercing the clouds above. A single beam of energy shot straight upwards, illuminating the entire area in green light.
Then the energy coalesced and multiplied, forming hundreds of ethereal swords that hung in the air like deadly stars.