Shattered Line

Chapter 45: Second Wave

She ignored the collision of forces, instead, focusing on the last row. They were channeling aura, the magic baring life above their heads as thick shards of ice.

Kneeling down, Isla tapped into her reserves, pooling her aura. She directed the life sustaining sustenance into the cool marble floor. The magic penetrated the material, spreading wide, but contained by her thoughts. Her eyes watched and she waited.

Biting her lip, she observed the ice forming. The light reflected off the sharp constructions as they multiplied.

Yet, a charge from the side knocked her over. The blow connected with her stomach, bruising her ribs. The air deserted her lungs and she wheezed. Still, her sights remained fixed, her palm locked and her magic ready.

The shadow of death reigned overhead, but the ice stopped forming. The magic users flung their hands up and Meissier howled his command, "Release!"

Isla activated her spell. The magic pulsed through the ground moving and launching upwards. She controlled the space as her unformed aura sped ahead.

Her seconds superseded the ice. Thrusting upwards, she activated the spell and two earthen hands sprouted from the ground, growing towards each other.

The ice smashed against her self-created wall, but the middle failed to form. Several spikes flew past, her gaze widening as Calimitrin melted the shards, a steam cloud whishing past.

Her vision warped as her body flew sideways. She smashed into the far wall, the force rebounding through her body, cracking her ribs. Images blurred and swarmed, but the jagged outline of Lucifer slashing through the axe cleaving death stood strong.

With trembling legs, she rose and brushed the back of her head. She winced, pulling a sticky blood soaked hand away.

The battle continued with her sidelined. The earthen wall remained whole, concealing her location. She breathed deep, a sharp ache stabbing her side. But once more, she collected her aura. The channeling burned her core and weakened her muscles. She gasped, the last bit collected, but heavy and suffocating.

Transferring her aura, she duplicated her unsheathed sword's blade. She crafted the barrage of illusionary swords, each splitting into one more, behind her earthen wall.

With one hand, she restrained the spell's execution, and the other eradicated the dirt wall, enacting the remaining aura.

The earth crumbled and dropped, revealing her attack. The mages scrambled to conjure shields, but she released the magic. The magically crafted swords shot forward. Several Gods ducked or dodged, but her attack's breath consumed all, piercing through their flimsy protective defenses.

Isla collapsed, her lungs alight from forced gasps.

"Isla, is all well?" Lucifer voiced as he rushed to her side, two Gods chasing him. Blood coated his armor, but he wore no marks of defeat.

Lucifer turned his back, covering her position. He intercepted a quick strike, the metals clanging. His form obscured their movements but opened her view of the battle's sacrifices.

The dead pelted the marble floor, the red bright against the white backdrop. Their numbers dwindled to a handful, her gaze watching two more join the departed. Outnumbered before, but now disparity showed murderous teeth. With one chance more, they would be devoured.

Scooting against the wall, she lifted herself. She would not be a stationary target. She would continue. One less God and one more Noble could be spared. They fought this battle without purpose unlike her.

Insanity stoked their purpose. A desire to sate their own bloodlust? Who would throw their life away for such reasoning.

Righting her stance, she pushed off the wall towards a charging God. She deflected his heavy blow, his blade sliding towards her hilt.

The God stepped back, raising his circular shield and rushed. Isla dodged left, rolling once then planted her foot, slashing his exposed back. But he pivoted, calculating her location and recoiled her attack.

She wobbled, her legs trembling. Another charge, and the shining metallic slab smashed into her. Isla crashed backwards onto the marble and skidded. Without pause, the man launched a downward slash. She slide, skirting the blade's path, but her side still reaped a shallow gash.

A ripple of pain jolted her body as she stood. The God relented her time, his sharp green irises locking her down. He circled her, watching and searching for weakness.

Isla lowered her stance, matching him turn for step. Her wound throbbed but hushed behind the battle's heat and intensity.

Again, she tumbled, a sharp piercing blow knocking her sideways. Quickly, she flipped over and craned her neck. A second more, and she defended against the infiltrator's attack, the metal zinging down her blade from her throat.

Isla kicked his legs, putting distance between them, and scrambled upwards. But their attention remained and both Gods delivered powerful overhead strikes. She lifted her blade, her arms defying the first bout. Yet, their weight disappeared alongside their forms. One flew into the adjacent wall and the last crumpled before her, a sword piercing his chest.

"Are you well?" Lucifer whisked beside her, turning to survey the rest of the group.

"Fine," she choked, her lungs burning and her side throbbing.

She scanned the empty room, the remaining duel between Meissier and Calimitrin the final bout. They stood within the cesspool of death, the bodies broken and discarded.

Their two weapons clashed, unleashing a sharp clang. Meissier's blade glowed brighter with each strike, the inscriptions

Despite the weapon's advantage, Meissier angled his weapon, reducing the power of each blow. He moved back and forth, his swift steps placed with sufficient distance and poise.

Another downward strike and Meissier retreated. He hissed, drawing air and energy to sustain a defense against Calimitrin's heavy strikes. Yet, opposing him, his enemy's stonewalled face remained unfazed and relaxed.

The two circled each other, both waiting and searching for opportunity. Meissier broke first, rushing forward and sidestepping Calimitrin. His attack's swiftness pierced through an opening, but Calimitrin caught the blade.

Calimitrin grunted, blood dripping from Meissier's sword. Yet, he refused to give. He jerked Meissier forward, dragging him along with his weapon.

Meissier released his hold, but instead of withdrawing, he crouched and connected his palms to the King's lower chest. Ice sprouted, extending and encasing Calimitrin. But the effect slowed and the greatsword descended upon Meissier, slicing into his upper body.

Meissier groaned and sagged to the ground, grasping his wound. He pulled a bloodied hand away, his face souring.

The ice slowed, and Calimitrin shattered the encasement with his weapon's hilt. The spell's remains turned to dust, the aura consumed.

"Monster," Meissier croaked.