Before Skullius and Elita reached the Purity Headquarters...
The woman had never felt this kind of relief before. No one had cared for the commonfolk since the Great Trembling. When the creatures of darkness had begun their evil campaign, rising from the Under and slaughtering endlessly without rcy, she had watched as her oldest son, who, while exhibiting bravery too great for a common man, had attempted to protect them all. He had shielded his younger sister, and her while stomaching the sight of his beheaded father only a few inches away.
If bravery was a dragon, he might have saved the whole of Aigas on his own, but alas, the woman had watched him get gutted like a fish. She and her daughter couldn't have looked away. Closing their eyes was no comfort and looking elsewhere only gave them a different picture of death.
The horrendous image was burned into her eyes even now. It would never fade, but her heart was starting to rest and accept the new future.
Her daughter, small, skinny and particularly large-headed, had fallen asleep in the arms of one of their saviours.
The dimpled young man decked in a white, silver and blue armour, made sure to walk close to her so that she didn't get anxious about her daughter. The little girl was even sucking her thumb as she rested her head on his shoulder.
Oddly, many of the children in the vast group were walking close to the n and won in the sa suit of armour as the dimpled young man. There were only about two dozen of them, moving in a perfectly circular formation around the forty thousand and so civilians, but their presence was extrely reassuring.
The common n who knew anything about mana and combat prowess in Aigas had been whispering among themselves, awed at how these armoured people all had purple cores and strikingly controlled mana. They were disciplined and they were gentle.
They had been moving around dispatching the dark creatures, healing wounds - even fatal wounds casually - and feeding them all delicious, stamina-granting foods that even brightened everyone's moods. So even told stories to keep everyone entertained and they smiled a lot. The odd brands on their foreheads, constantly sparkling with lightning, always shone bright when they interacted with them.
It was bizarre.
The woman with the skinny daughter wondered where this fighting force had been all these years. The Capital Service, the Purity Knights, the Contract Knights. She had seen them all. Most were strong but cold, or kind but weak. Either way, they wouldn't be suited for the current Aigas, but these people...
"Ah, I wish I could be like them," soone from the large group said as he drank a curious, peach-coloured juice from a flask. "I can't say I'm not a little jealous that my little boy feels safer walking with one of them than with , but jealousy be damned!"
A few around him laughed heartily.
A woman walking with her head on her husband's shoulder smiled shyly and looked up ahead, at the front of the formation of armoured figures.
"I-I wish I could more like her," she said, staring admiringly at a figure that stood out. "She's the most graceful person I've ever seen." Everyone followed her gaze.
Ah, indeed.
Heading the formation of the Stark Troops, was a woman with long, black hair tied into a ponytail. It turned green at the ends, dancing and brushing against her back. Only she among these armoured figures wore a beautiful black armour littered with moving, shining stars. It beca a poufy, pleaded skirt at her waist before continuing to her legs as tall black greaves that had an uncanny, glossy sheen.
Two swords were sheathed on the side of her waist and she always had a hand on them, tracing their scabbards with her long fingers.
While the woman just now had called Pherdanta the most graceful person she had ever seen, most of the n here could only say she was the strongest person they had ever seen. Unlike the others, she didn't expel a subtle, controlled pressure. You wouldn't feel anything from her when she was close, as if she didn't exist.
In fact, the only reason anyone could see her now was because she was having a partly audible discussion with soone by her side. It was an old man who was shrouded in a strange, illusory image of a dense forest of pale silver trees all over his skin, and clothing. A mighty pressure pushed forth from him, casting a dull light flare around him.
Those who were knowledgeable would know at once that he was a Transcendent Stager, and that he had superimposed his Majestic Territory over his body.
"I grow more and more curious about this master of yours," the old man was saying with a wide smile that transcended his rough beard. "He's all you've referenced in your answers to my questions."
"I am all I am because of him. I'm marching out to protect Aigas only because he asked to. It's all for him and no one else," Pherdanta said as she fixed a cool gaze on the old man. "So, you better get used to hearing of him in each one of my sentences."
The old man laughed.
"Is he as cold as you are? For you to have reached this unreasonable sort of strength, he must have pulled you apart and reassembled you countless tis. In my ti, I have never known an Incandescent Stager with the ability to take my life in the blink of an eye," he said, his eyes narrowing.
Pherdanta read the man's intent quite easily.
"It's no secret, you don't need to be witty in getting the answer. My fellow Unlimited Stars would have bragged about it already," she said. "The secret to our strength is as simple as it is tedious. My master called it the Impossible Task."
The old man's eyes sparkled with intrigue.
The Impossible Task?
What Task could that have been?
'Wait! Could this woman's master be a Deity?' he found himself wondering against all
common sense.
But Pherdanta didn't elaborate. Instead, she stopped and fixed her narrow eyes at sothing no else could see. The group stopped.
"What's this?" Pherdanta said.
"What's what?" the old man asked, alternating his gaze between the nothing ahead and Pherdanta. What could she see that he couldn't?
Pherdanta grabbed the hilt of Demion's Dance, but she did not draw the sword.
But even though she didn't, everyone, even the commonfolk behind her, heard the crisp whistle of a blade's edge cutting sothing. The sound was loud, and a little frightening, but even more harrowing was the effect it accompanied.
A neat, thin but humongous 'X' was drawn right beyond the formation of Stark Troops and a sound akin to a thunderclap followed. Sothing unseen screeched in pain. It was writhing, and soon it revealed itself. It was a huge bed of yellow snakes forming an ugly ball on the ground. About a third of them fell away, slashed to death, but those that remained hissed at Pherdanta and began repairing the odd shape they made.
The old man beside Pherdanta recoiled.
"By Quintess!" he cried. "What are these ungodly creatures?"
Pherdanta remained composed, as did the Stark Troops. Their collective calm diffused to the commonfolk, so much so that even though they had seen the atrocity ahead, they didn't panic.
The serpents were hiding sothing, Pherdanta discovered. She had seen a glimpse of what it was before the snakes restored their form.
Strangely, both the snakes and the object had a note of a presence vaguely similar to the new pressure her master exuded. On top of that, they were not alone.
Carven walked out from pools of darkness around the bed of snakes and brandished their weapons against her and the Stark Troops.
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