Through the blinding haze, Mathias forced his eyes open to see the source of the destruction. A gorgeous golden Armatus hovered in mid-air, its backpack thrusters exhausting blue fla and holding it steady. The machine exuded both elegance and nace, gleaming with deadly precision. Behind it, an overwhelming fleet of Armatus suits filled the sky — tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands — all poised in combat formation. Ionised weapons humd with energy, and plasma cannons glowed, their barrels aid squarely at the shattered remains of the chamber, ready to unleash total annihilation.
"Mathias of Germund, it is I, Queen Charlotte—the Arch Monarch of the Agrian Continent, the Cruiser of the Red Sea, and the Usher of the Dunkelheit Empire!" The voice bood from the golden Armatus, stern and commanding.
"I~I, um, I..." Mathias stamred, his trembling lips failing to produce a coherent sound. Fear and panic gripped every fibre of his being as he scrambled on all fours, bowing low before the towering steel giant.
Catching sight of the group of terrified won huddled near the wall, Queen Charlotte's gaze narrowed. "Tsk!" She clicked her tongue in contempt at the sight of their arcane collars. With a motion of her hand, she gestured for them to flee. Though hardened by war, the queen had a soft spot for her fellow won — even for Arcaniis, citizens of the Osten Empire.
"Ah?! Wha—?!" Mathias exclaid, his eyes darting wildly as the won hurried out through the double doors.
When he hesitated, unsure whether he too was permitted to leave, he made a fumbling attempt to rise.
"Not you, fleabag!" Queen Charlotte snapped, her tone like a lash.
"Ah! Sorry!" Mathias yelped, sweat dripping from his nose as his legs quivered.
"I shall claim your head and end your reign of terror!" She declared. The thrusters of her Armatus roared as it launched forward, intending to deliver a swift, rciful death.
Mathias threw himself flat to the ground, his belly slamming against the cold floor. "No! Please~please!" He scread, tears streaming down his face. Yet, no death ca.
Suddenly, an invisible barrier materialised between them.
"What?! What is this?!" Queen Charlotte gasped, her dark eyes widening in shock. Experintally, she pushed with the chanical arms of her Armatus, but the wall was rigid and unyielding.
A tall, broad figure strode into the chamber, his movents regal and purposeful. Clad in an intricate white cloak, his presence exuded mystery and power. A pristine wizard's hat obscured his face, the fabric shimring in white and gold hues. His Celestius cape fluttered behind him, bearing the golden sigil of Ares — marking him as one of the most elite arcanists in all the Osten Empire.
"Ignius Lux Draconus, Celestius of the Ares Division... You!" Queen Charlotte snarled, her teeth gritting in frustration.
As the man raised his head to et her glare, his features ca into view. A well-grood white beard frad his face, his golden eyes glead with wisdom and authority, and his milky white hair glistened in the light.
Mathias scrambled to Ignius's feet, clinging desperately to the polished leather boots and smothering them with frantic kisses. "Thank you, thank you, Celestius Ignius!" He wailed, his gratitude spilling out in incoherent sobs.
Ignius remained silent, gazing down at Mathias with an expression that bordered on pity. With a faint sigh, he stepped aside, his focus shifting to the queen.
"Please, Celestius, kill the bitch!" Mathias barked, his voice high-pitched and desperate as saliva sprayed from his lips. "How dare she disturb in my slumber?"
Ignius gave him a sideways glance of pure disdain but no words to offer.
Queen Charlotte drew back her Armatus to a safe distance, her voice then rising in command. "Artillery!"
Thousands of high-yield missiles launched in unison, the air erupting in a cacophony of explosions. Flas and debris spilled outwards, the light and noise overwhelming. Yet, as the dust settled, the invisible barrier remained unscathed — an impenetrable bulwark shielding the castle.
After a brief pause, Ignius finally broke the silence. "Tell , Mathias... Did you swear a binding oath of Gaia and pledge your allegiance to the Osten Empire?" His voice was deep, deliberate, and calculated.
"Huh?" Mathias was montarily taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure. "Yes, sir! Yes, yes! Of course!" he blurted, his response frantic and unconvincing. There wasn't a shred of nobility left in the King of Germund — a pathetic display that the citizens of his realm would never have imagined.
After a thoughtful mont, Ignius raised his hands with precision, each movent elegant and commanding, reminiscent of the dances of ancient myths. Glowing red runes and sigils materialised in the air, twirling and hovering around him like ethereal butterflies.
"D'Arcane!" The mage recited, his chant reverberating through the ground. A sudden gust of wind swirled around him, causing his cloak to ripple dramatically, almost theatrical in his display of arcane casting.
Realising the gravity of the situation, Mathias scrambled to his feet in a panic. "Celestius! You can't possibly..." He stamred, his voice trailing off into sheer terror as the runes dispersed, flying in all directions as if they possessed minds of their own. One sigil darted towards Mathias, embedding itself into his sternum.
"Sir! You're going to sacrifice every binding citizen of Germund — and~and, !" He cried out, his voice a mix of desperation and disbelief. "Even your own life! Please, do not do this! It's forbidden~Forbidden!" His pleas echoed, trembling with despair.
"You do not command the Celestius, pest!" Ignius's response was frigid, his tone razor-sharp yet regal. He closed his eyes briefly before reopening them, red and gold light spilling forth from his sockets like molten fire in an alternative flicker.
"Apolison Ten Dynamin!" The ancient words resonated without sound, transmitted telepathically to every bound citizen of Germund, including the king himself.
"Nooooo!..." Mathias shrieked in terror as his body began to wither. His stomach caved in, his limbs shrivelled into brittle, ashen sticks, and his cries were abruptly silenced.
The mana and life essence of every bound soul in Germund converged, forming colossal runes and sigils that illuminated the sky with an ominous glow. Far away, Queen Charlotte grasped the grim reality of the situation and swiftly commanded her Armatus knights to retreat.
"Phos Timorias!" (Light of Punishnt)
The celestial ray fractured into countless serpentine beams, slithering through the air to seek out their targets. Each strand struck a fleeing enemy mobile suit with perfect precision. The resulting explosions sent shockwaves through the battlefield as the arcanite engines detonated, triggering microbombs visible from distant horizons.
In the neighbouring country of Porand, children pointed excitedly at the fiery display lighting up the night sky. To them, it seed like a grand celebration. Little did they know, it was the harrowing spectacle of genocide — a catastrophic ritual that claid the lives of 70 million innocent people and annihilated half the Armatus fleet in existence.
***
anwhile, Rhok recoiled in horror as the nun was drained of her soul, reduced to a lifeless husk before his very eyes. The weight of his misdeed bore down on him, but it was too late — the private finger on his groin had inadvertently triggered the sa fate. A surge of horrifying arcane crept up his rod, spreading nacingly towards the base.
Screaming in agony, Rhok felt the relentless force consuming him. Without hesitation, he mustered every ounce of strength, gritted his teeth, and made the harrowing decision to sever the infected finger with his glove hand, successfully halting the life-draining magic before it overtook his entire body.
"Bloody F*ck! This is why I f*cking hate mages!" He roared in agony, his eyes fixed on the bloody ss between his legs, leaving him trembling and seething as a relentless, numbing pain crept through.
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