The kid didn’t understand the words, but sothing in the tone made him react anyway. He wiped his uncontrollable tears with the back of his hands, still trembling as he looked up at the figure standing over him, his small body caught between fear and sothing else he couldn’t na.
Razeal didn’t look at him for long. His gaze shifted to the man lying on the ground. "Filling him with hate might give him a reason to live," he said calmly, "But beleive that life won’t be worth living." His voice wasn’t harsh, just matter of fact, as if stating sothing obvious.
The man’s eyes welled up further, understanding exactly what was being said. He knew it himself. He knew what he had just placed on his son’s shoulders. It hurt but he still believed it was necessary.
"At least... he would live..." he thought, even now. And despite everything, despite knowing what kind of life that would lead to, he would still make the sa choice again. Because without sothing to hold onto, the boy wouldn’t survive what ca next. Cruel or not, a purpose was needed.
Razeal watched him for a mont, then shook his head slightly. "That won’t be needed," he said.
Before the man could react, Razeal flicked a drop of blood from the tip of his finger. It shot forward and struck the man between the brows.
For a split second, nothing happened.
Then his entire body was covered in a crimson light.
It spread instantly, wrapping around him like a thin veil. The torn flesh began to pull itself back together. The crushed ribs rose and reset into place. The ruined organs reford as if ti itself had reversed. Blood stopped flowing. Skin closed. Breath returned.
The man’s eyes widened as sensation ca back to his body. Pain faded, replaced by sothing unfamiliar relief, confusion, disbelief.
The boy noticed it too. He turned sharply, eyes locking onto his father as the glow faded. The pale, dying complexion was gone. Color had returned. The wounds... were gone.
He didn’t understand what had happened. But he saw enough.
"Father...?" he whispered, then threw himself forward, hugging him tightly.
The man sat up slowly, still trying to process it himself. His body... was whole again.
"Now," Razeal said, his tone unchanged, "clear the child’s head of what you just filled it with. A child should remain a child."
The man froze for a second, then looked up at him. His son was still clinging to him, crying into his chest. Gratitude, shock, and sothing heavier all mixed in his expression. There weren’t words for what had just been done for him.
"My lord... who are you?" he asked quietly.
He already knew this wasn’t soone ordinary. Not even close. Healing soone on the verge of death like that without effort, without preparation he had never even heard of such a thing. Even the greatest priests didn’t do sothing like this with a gesture.
"Your new king," Razeal said simply, already turning away. There was nothing more to add for him. He hadn’t stopped for thanks. He had only intervened because he didn’t like what he saw a child being pushed toward sothing he didn’t need to carry.
He had other things to deal with for noe.
The man’s eyes widened at the words. My king? He didn’t fully understand what that ant here, now, in the middle of all this. Still holding his son, he looked at Razeal’s back as the distance between them grew. He was greatful beyond he could ever express.
Behind them, Grace and Nyssa had watched everything.
Neither spoke imdiately.
This wasn’t what they had expected afterall.
From everything they had heard, Razeal was supposed to be ruthless, crude soone who acted without restraint, without care. But what they had just seen didn’t match that image. He had stopped in the middle of a collapsing city... not to show strength, not to intimidate... but to save two lives. And not just save them he had corrected sothing that could have shaped that child’s entire future also?
Nyssa’s eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful.
Grace remained quiet, her gaze fixed on Razeal’s retreating figure. The weight she had been carrying since arriving here the guilt, the sense of failure shifted just a little. Not gone. Just... moved.
Maybe... she thought, watching him, he isn’t exactly what rumours said he is.
Or maybe this was all deliberate.
She couldn’t tell.
But for the first ti since they arrived, the thought ca if he really can do what he says...
Nyssa kept walking, but her mind lingered on what she had just seen. That healing... it didn’t make sense. There had been no trace of divine energy, no familiar pattern of restoration magic, nothing she could recognize or even categorize. She had felt nothing at all when he did it no surge, no flow, no signature. It was as if the act itself had bypassed everything she understood about magic.
Healing was rare. Not just uncommon rare enough that entire institutions were built around it. The Church of Light held its influence for a reason. High-level healing and blessing magic belonged to them, refined and structured, sothing others could hardly replicate. Even then, it required training, resources, and ti. Even she, as a Great Saint, had limited capability in that field. Outside the Empire where it was seen as most common thing.. if not most people relied on herbs, alchemical mixtures, or basic restorative spells just to stay alive after injuries.
But what she had just witnessed... that was different.
Healing soone at the edge of death, with a single gesture? Without preparation, without visible effort? Even within the empire, she doubted there were many who could do that and certainly not like that. Not instantly. Not so cleanly.
For a mont, a thought crossed her mind. Divine blessing? But she dismissed it just as quickly. There had been no trace of holy energy. No presence that resembled the Church’s thods.
Which left her with nothing.
Just questions.
She glanced at Razeal again, quieter now. Shadow manipulation, instantaneous long-distance movent, and now this... none of it fit together in a way she could explain. It wasn’t just power. It was sothing else sothing she didn’t have a frawork for.
And that unsettled her more than anything.
Still, there was no ti to dwell on it. They moved forward.
"See? This is why I said your idea for future is bad," Sofia spoke as she caught up beside Razeal, her tone lower now but still firm. Her eyes flicked briefly behind them, toward where the father and son had already started running, trying to get out of the collapsing streets. They didn’t even have ti to process what had just happened no relief, no pause. Just survival. "You won’t be able to look at yourself the sa way if you go through with it."
Razeal didn’t respond. He knew exactly what she ant.
That was enough.
Sofia exhaled quietly, a hint of frustration slipping through. She could already tell he had made up his mind. Whatever he was planning, he had already accepted it as the only path forward. And that was what bothered her the most. Not the decision itself, but the way he treated it like there was no alternative.
She didn’t push further.
Grace and Nyssa walked just behind them, both listening without interrupting. Their expressions remained controlled, but the curiosity was there. Future idea? Both of them caught onto it imdiately. If Razeal had sothing planned, sothing beyond just fighting the enemy, then that mattered. It mattered more than anything else right now.
But neither of them asked.
They couldn’t.
Not yet atleast.
So they stayed silent, keeping it in mind.
It didn’t take long before they reached the edge of the city.
A massive wall rose ahead of them well over a hundred ters high, built from reinforced stone, its structure designed to endure sieges and direct assaults. Under normal circumstances, it would have been an imposing line of defense. Now, it looked strained. Sections were cracked, parts of it chipped away from repeated impacts.
They had covered the distance in seconds, moving at speeds far beyond what ordinary people could manage.
From this close, the sounds were clearer.
Explosions echoed from above.
Heavy impacts struck the wall at intervals deep, resonating crashes that shook the structure itself. The air carried the sharp noise of combat tal clashing, stone breaking, voices shouting orders. It wasn’t just destruction anymore.
There was fighting.
On top of the wall. And beyond it.
They didn’t waste ti thinking it through. One by one, they moved pushing off the ground and leaping up toward the wall. Sofia caught Maria mid-motion, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her along without breaking pace, carrying her up as if it was nothing.
They landed on the wallwalk.
And then just as they did... they paused.
No one spoke as seeing the unexpected scene in front of them.
In front of them, lined along the wall, were massive magic cannons each easily thirty feet long, constructed from dense, reinforced tal, their fras built to withstand extre force. Even from a glance, it was clear they weighed hundreds of tonnes. These weren’t ant for constant firing at this scale.
But they were being used like they were.
As.. So of the cannons had already started to fail. The front support fras were cracked or broken entirely as result of the recoil chanisms long past their limits. A few had lost their structural balance completely.
Still all the cannons were firing..
Soldiers had stepped in to compensate.
Two or three at a ti would lift the front ends of the cannons onto their shoulders, bracing them manually, aiming upward toward the distant flying targets in the sky. Their bodies shook under the strain, but they held position long enough to fire.
And every ti a cannon discharged..
The recoil would hit.
It didn’t just push them back. It tore through them.
Necks would snapp instantly under the force.. parting off from there bodies as directly falling to ground roiling. Bodies collapsed where they stood. So were thrown aside. So didn’t even fall cleanly.. just dropped, lifeless, where they had been holding the weapon.
Blood covered the stone underfoot.
The wallwalk was soaked with it, thick enough to darken the entire surface. Bodies lay scattered across the length of the wall headless, broken, unmoving. Severed heads had rolled away from where they had fallen, resting against the base of the cannons or near the edges of the wall.
And yet
The cannons didn’t stop firing.
The mont one soldier would fell, another stepped forward.
No hesitation.
No pause.
They picked up the sa position, lifted the cannon, took the weight, adjusted the aim and fired again.
Then fell.
And the next one stepped in.
Over and over.
It had turned into a cycle.
But what made it worse what made it harder to process wasn’t just what they were doing.
It was how they were doing it. There seems to be no fear in them.
Behind each cannon, a line had ford. Not ordered. Not forced.
Chosen.
As.. Soldiers stood waiting their turn, stepping forward the mont a space opened. So even argued quietly, pushing ahead, trying to take position first.
"Let go."
"I’m next."
"I said I’ll take it."
There was no panic in their voices.
No hesitation.
If anything, there was sothing close to urgency not to survive, but to be the one who stepped in first.
As if they didn’t want to miss their chance.
As if dying there, like that, was sothing they had already accepted and chosen.
Razeal and the others stood still, taking it in.
No one moved.
The noise of battle continued around them the cannons firing, the impacts from above, the shouting but for a mont, it all felt distant compared to what was right in front of them.
A chill ran through the group.
Not from fear.
From sothing else.
Sofia was the first to speak, her voice lower than usual. "What a... heroic mont to behold," she murmured, her eyes fixed ahead, unblinking. There was sadness in her expression, clear and unhidden but also sothing else. Recognition. Understanding. The kind of resolve that only showed itself in scenes like this.
Grace though couldn’t hold it.
Her composure broke as she covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling. Tears slipped down her face as she looked at the wall at the bodies, at the soldiers still stepping forward. This wasn’t sothing she could steady herself against. Not like this.
Nyssa tho didn’t look away.
Her gaze moved across the wall the fallen, the living, the line waiting to step into the sa place. Her chest tightened, but she held it in, forcing herself to remain steady.
She saw the severed heads on the ground.
She saw the soldiers smiling faintly as they waited their turn.
And she understood exactly what it ant.
"...The kingdom will rember this," she said quietly, almost to herself. Her voice didn’t waver, but her eyes did just slightly, a faint wetness forming that hadn’t been there before.
Still, her posture remained straight.
Unbroken.
She drew in a slow breath, holding it for a mont before letting it out.
And kept looking forward.
Even Razeal paused at what he was seeing. If he hadn’t stood here himself, he wouldn’t have believed it. n lining up for death, arguing over who would go first, just to fire a single shot from a cannon that might not even hit its target. There was resolve in it, no doubt but also sothing else. Sothing harder to accept.
He glanced sideways at Nyssa. She was still watching, unmoving, her eyes fixed on the sa scene. So this is what she ant, he thought, recalling her words about the plant if denvaar being watered on blood. It wasn’t an exaggeration.
Still... he couldn’t let it continue like this. Admirable resolve or not, this was the stupidest way to waste lives he had ever seen.
He raised his hand slightly and snapped his fingers.
The shadow beneath the cannons shifted.
At first, it was subtle just a dark ripple along the ground. Then it spread, rising up from below the cannon bases and forming solid supports beneath them. The shadows hardened, taking shape like tal, locking into place with a simple, functional structure. They lifted the front ends of the cannons and held them steady, absorbing the recoil that had been tearing through the soldiers.
The design was basic but effective structured like a T-fra, allowing the cannons to pivot within a limited range for aiming. It wasn’t perfect, but it was far better than a man’s shoulder.
In the distance, past the outer defenses, the real battlefield was unfolding.
Massive stone golems tens of ters tall were advancing in formation, their heavy steps shaking the ground beneath them. Soldiers were already engaged below, trying to slow them down, but from this height it was clear how uneven the situation was. The defensive line looked thin, stretched to its limit, barely holding against what felt more like a flood than an army.
And beyond that more movent.
More golems still coming.
The numbers were in millions.
He didn’t need to think long about it. Any shot from these cannons, even if imprecise, would land sowhere useful in that direction. The density of targets made accuracy less important.
As for the aerial threat the creatures high above, dropping boulders he dismissed it just as quickly. The cannons weren’t suited for that. The targets were too high, too mobile. The hit rate would be low, inefficient.
And Kael was already up there anyways.
Razeal could see him in the distance, moving through the air, intercepting and taking down the flying units one by one in pure fury. That was enough.
No need to waste effort here.
Behind him, the soldiers were finally snapping out of their state. The sudden shift the shadows rising, the cannons stabilizing had broken the rhythm they had fallen into.
They stepped back slightly, confused at first, looking down at the structures supporting the cannons, then around them.
Only then did they notice the group standing behind them.
There was a brief mont of tension hands tightening.. They were so lost they didn’t even saw soone spearing this close to them?
But.. juts them Recognition settled in.
The queen and Lady Nyssa.
"Your Majesty... Lady Nyssa...?" The soldiers stiffened the mont they recognized them, then visibly relaxed, drawing in heavy breaths as if only now rembering how to breathe. Confusion flickered across their faces.. why was the queen here, on the wall? but alongside it ca relief. Another Great Saint had arrived. That alone steadied them more than they would admit.
Nyssa gave a small nod in return, her gaze moving across them, not dismissive but asured. There was respect there, quiet but real, for what they had just witnessed raw, reckless courage. Still, it didn’t make it right.
She directly raised her hand.
"Enough."
The word cut through the noise like a blade. It didn’t need to be loud. It carried weight on its own. The soldiers froze, the manic urgency draining from their movents almost instantly.
"Stand down from this stupidity at once," Nyssa continued, her tone firm, controlled, and sharp enough to leave no room for argunt. "Do you think the Kingdom is so poor in defenders that we must grind your necks into the dirt like fodder for cannons? You are soldiers of Denvaar... not disposable bodies for iron and recoil."
A few lowered their heads. Others clenched their jaws. No one spoke. They knew. What they had been doing wasn’t right but it wasn’t wrong either. Their eyes drifted to the ground, to the bodies, to the heads that had rolled free only monts ago. Blood still pooled between the cracks in the stone.
Nyssa didn’t soften.
"Those of you exhausted or injured step back. Rest. Drink water. Bind your wounds." Her voice steadied, losing none of its authority but shifting just enough to carry intent rather than anger. "The Kingdom does not need pointless death. You have already shown your courage. Your loyalty is not in question. The Kingdom will rember this... I will rember this. But now you will show discipline. Hold this wall properly. Not like this."
She let the silence stretch, her gaze moving across every face, making sure they understood not just heard.
"Am I understood?"
For a brief mont, nothing moved.
Then, almost as one, their backs straightened.
"YES, LADY NYSSA!!"
The response ca sharp and unified, rolling across the wall like another discharge from the cannons. The chaos broke apart imdiately. The line of n competing for death dissolved, replaced by structure. Crews began forming three, four per cannon. So stepped back, collapsing where they stood, finally letting exhaustion take hold. Others moved with purpose, adjusting positions, checking angles, coordinating instead of scrambling.
It wasn’t calm.
But it was controlled.
Nyssa gave a short nod. Approval, nothing more but it was enough.
"Good."
Even so, no one left the wall. Not really. Even the injured stayed close, leaning against stone or each other, refusing to step away completely. Nyssa noticed, of course. She exhaled quietly. She could command discipline but not force them to abandon their post entirely. Not here. Not now.
At least they had stopped dying for nothing.
That was enough for the mont.
Her gaze shifted.
Razeal was already looking ahead.
For a brief second, their eyes t. No words passed between them, but there was acknowledgnt. He had seen it too.
Then both of them turned their focus outward.
Far beyond the wall miles ahead, where the ground itself seed to move sothing was happening. In the middle of the advancing golem army, where the Kingdom’s frontline struggled to hold, a concentrated clash had ford. Not scattered fighting. Not defense.
A single point.
A battle farr away within the war.
A Great Saint’s aura was clearly emanating from the battlefield ahead, dense and steady, clashing against the rough, unstable pressure of nearly twenty half-step Great Saint signatures. The collision of those forces alone was enough to distort the air even from this distance, and beyond them, the massive golem army pressed forward without pause. It wasn’t a skirmish it was a sustained, brutal engagent right at the center of the war.
"Lord Kharvek..." Nyssa said under her breath, imdiately recognizing the aura. Her eyes sharpened as she focused on the distant clash, then shifted slightly toward Razeal beside her. "He’s still holding."
Concern crept into her expression despite her control. One Great Saint against that many half-step entities was manageable in most cases but not like this. Not against golems. Not against sothing that didn’t tire, didn’t bleed, and could regenerate damage as long as their cores remained intact. And worse, Kharvek couldn’t disengage. He wasn’t just fighting he was anchoring the line. If he stepped back, even for a mont, the city behind him would take the full force of those attacks.
She clenched her fist slightly. "I should go help him."
There was urgency in her voice now. Not panic but impatience. She had already started calculating the approach in her head. The distance. The angle. The timing.
Twenty half-step Great Saints... she still couldn’t fully process it. That number alone was abnormal. The strongest golems she had ever seen before barely reached sixth tier. This was sothing else entirely.
She took a step forward
..but stopped.
Razeal’s arm extended in front of her, blocking her path without force, but with enough presence that she didn’t ignore it.
"Leave it to ."
His tone was calm. Not dismissive. Just certain.
Before she could respond, his other hand lifted toward the battlefield. He didn’t rush. He didn’t strain. He simply opened his palm and turned it downward, as if pressing against sothing unseen.
Then it suddenly.
Across the battlefield, beneath every Denvaar soldier still fighting, shadows shifted.
At first it was subtle a darkening beneath their feet. Then it spread, stretching outward unnaturally, swallowing ground, boots, bodies. One by one, every soldier was engulfed before they could even react. No warning. No resistance. Just gone.
Miles away, in the center of the chaos, Lord Kharvek had just deflected a combined strike from three golems, his body twisting mid-motion to avoid the follow-up. For a fraction of a second, he stabilized his footing
But just then his shadow expanded.
And swallowed him whole.
No ti to counter. No ti to understand.
He just disappeared.
In less than a breath, the battlefield emptied.
Where there had been a struggling defensive line monts ago, there was now nothing but golems massive, unmoving for a brief instant as if even they registered the absence.
"What..?" Nyssa’s eyes widened as she watched it happen. The sa shadow ability. The sa unnatural control. But this... this scale was sothing else entirely.
Before she could form the question.. as where the soldiers and army went.. before she could even turn fully toward him.
The shadow beneath the wall surged.
It spread across the stone, climbing, thickening, forming a wide, dark plane that swallowed the ground beneath them.
And then
They all reappeared.
Every soldier. Every injured man. Every fighter mid-motion. One mont gone from the battlefield next, standing at the edge of the wall, bodies colliding, stumbling, shouting in confusion as they tried to process what had just happened.
So still held weapons mid-swing. Others fell to their knees as the sudden shift broke their balance. A few reached instinctively for wounds that were no longer being pressured by imdiate combat.
All of them alive.
All of them out.
The battlefield now lay miles away from them.
Nyssa’s jaw dropped slightly, her composure cracking for the first ti since the battle began. She didn’t speak. For a mont, she couldn’t. Her mind tried to follow what had just happened distance, scale, precision but none of it aligned cleanly.
Theyy just teleported??
The control??
And he had done it in instant.
——
Is this working for you all? I’d really appreciate any feedback especially on where I should go deeper or where things feel unclear or unnecessary. I’m experinting with a different writing style, so I hope the shift is noticeable.
Honestly, my head feels like it’s on fire trying to push myself in a new direction but I’m committed to growing.
Thank you so much for taking the ti to read. It genuinely ans a lot. Love you all
And don’t forget the powerstones and golden tickets to support an author’s hard work
4k words Chapter
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