Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Emperor

Frances narrowly dodged as her opponent's sword slashed through the air towards her. She cursed under her breath, swinging her own blade up, blocking his second attack. As metal hit metal, her enemy's eyes suddenly narrowed, recognition flashing across his gaze.

"I remember you," he snarled, their blades crashing together once more. "You used to be an imperial knight." He smirked, striking again with enough force to send Frances stumbling backwards. "What kind of idiot sacrifices everything just to follow an inexperienced child?"

"An idiot with morals," Frances spat back.

"Morals?" her attacker scoffed, swerving out of the way as France's blade lunged at his shoulder. "You're willing to die over a few stupid rumors?"

"Bold of you to assume I plan on dying," Frances answered, her sword darting forward, nearly glazing her opponent's throat before his own blade flew up to block it.

"Surely you don't think you actually stand a chance?" the man jeered. "The rebel army is half our size. Attacking was a suicide mission."

"Oh really?" Frances mused, arching a brow as her gaze locked on something behind him. "I figured someone like you would know better than anyone that it's not about size..." she let out a low chuckle, "it's how you use it."

"What the hell are you--"

And then suddenly her opponent was falling, a burst of purple fire striking his legs. Cries of alarm rang out from their enemies across the battlefield, more and more collapsing to their knees. Horrified, her opponent turned, looking up to see what Frances had noticed only a moment before.

The palace rested on a small hill, overlooking the battleground, and slipping out from behind it now was Mulock, the rest of their army behind him. The demon sent a sea of fire flying, the tendrils of flame striking only the legs and hands of their enemies with perfect precision, causing countless soldiers to either fall or drop their weapons. As instructed, Mulock was prepared to advance to more violent magic if necessary. For now, however, as per Wheeler's orders, the goal was to simply disarm, causing as few casualties as possible. Behind him, the rest of the mages shot down a wave of spells, hitting their marks easily with their advantage of the high ground.

Mulock's strategy had been simple. If the emperor thought they had a small army, then that's what they'd give him, splitting off a fourth of their mages to follow Mulock for a surprise attack. By bringing the fight to the streets and palace grounds, they'd managed to hide their true numbers, drawing their enemies to them and away from the castle itself. The emperor had fallen for it, sending the entirety of his army to fight them on the grounds, giving Mulock and the remaining mages the perfect opportunity to easily claim the high ground the castle rested on.

They took full advantage of this vital position now, enemies and weapons alike falling around them just as the opponent before Frances had. Her grip on her sword tightened, unable to bite back the grin spreading across her face.

At last the tide of the battle had changed—and they were winning.

***

Fighting this battle made Wheeler want to vomit.

His vines and branches held countless enemies in the air, practically creating a small forest across the battlegrounds. By doing so, he'd been able to spare their lives...but that didn't change the fact that there were still bodies on the ground. They weren't just the corpses of his enemies. Countless rebels lay unceremoniously scattered around him. Could Wheeler have saved them if he'd just used his magic to slaughter the emperor's men? How many lives had been spared by his actions? But how many more had been lost?