Xing Wu was probably the greatest warrior in the Four Realms, but he couldn't be everywhere and help everyone. All around him the battle raged, and no matter how many he struck down, or pushed off, there were a dozen more to take their place – and that was only if the one harassing him gave him any leeway to attack the army at large, which only happened twice in the three hours they’d been dueling. Nor was he technically a war god; he had a path steeped in conflict, sure, but he was starting to realize that personal excellence and being a god of war were two different things.
"Brace!" he roared, wiping blood from his lips, elental gods forming a barrier that one of the planet-sized ships the One World used crashed into. Thousands of smaller ships shot off of the main vessel, pouring out of ports to bombard the battlents and walls with lesser explosions than the artillery shells.
Though he called it a wall, the secondary defense was truly nothing more than a fairly hastily erected defensive line, not too sturdy, but quick to be rebuilt. It ford a secondary shell around the Four Realms’ internals, could even be maintained by the formations of mortals, and leeched a bit of power from the Dao Stars.
All that to say, it cracked beneath the force of the attack, and Xing Wu was not in a place to help fix it.
"Eyes on ," Atreum rumbled, blood-red sword cutting through the air where Xing Wu's neck had been not but nanoseconds before. He barely avoided it, riding a ray of starlight, spear lashing out and sparking as it clashed against the man's crimson armor. "You fight well! Your starlight is different than the one I am used to." he rumbled, swinging that massive sword around like it weighed nothing.
Xing Wu leapt up, dodging his wide slash and planting his feet on the flat of the blade, using it as a clear path to run up and stab at his head with his spear. Atreum didn't bother dodging, rely turning his head to the side fractionally, letting Xing Wu's spear glance off the side of his helm, and breathing out a stream of hellfire in retaliation.
Xing Wu endured it, covering himself in starlight to protect himself from the searing, sinful flas, and kneeing the man's face, breaking his nose through the helt - only to find himself suddenly on his back, vision swimming and the man's sword above his chest, already piercing down in a fatal blow. He rolled, hellfire scorching his robes as the massive blood blade pierced the protective shell of the Four Realms, sending a cascade of cracks through the translucent barrier.
"Damnation," he cursed, leaping to his feet and charging forth once more. Atreum spun his sword, blocking his first thrust with the poml, then breaking the whole blasted thing around to force him to dodge. "You're good at this. I haven't had a real fight in far too long,"
"Neither have I. This is simply the difference between our domains. Mine is exclusively tied to the fight. Yours is not." Atreum rumbled, pressing the advance like the unstoppable juggernaut he was. Xing Wu parried, matching him blow for blow as best he could, but it was clear he was being pressed back. "Information gathering is a key part of war. You gave as much information about yourself as you likely gained from that dagger. I have no need to fear a man I know everything I need to about,"
"Yeah?" Xing Wu panted, thrusting once, twice, thrice, each stab ringing off of the armor with a sound like a bell while his divine power swirled within him in a very specific pattern. Atreum swung again and Xing Wu closed the distance, moving into his strike, shortening up on his spear. Atreum snorted, letting go of one hand to punch - Xing Wu grinned right back, and activated his technique.
Atreum's armored gauntlet rung like a bell as it clashed against a body of pure white. The man's eyes widened, fist held against Xing Wu's horns, unmoving - flashes of the life that lay behind him filled Xing Wu's mind; Inesa, Sequoia, ho, and golden fire filled his mouth, spilling out from between his teeth.
"Breath of the Spirit Dragon!" the roar echoed through the battlefield, a stream of golden fire searing the War God's armor and sending him stumbling backward, cleaving a line through the forces behind him - and Xing Wu bit off the stream, his divine power taking a sizable hit from the powerful techniques he just employed. Atreum winced, shaking his arm – the armor blackened, the divine flesh beneath clearly injured, but not unserviceable, to narrow his eyes at Xing Wu, glowing white as he was. "Body of Heaven." He said conversationally, flexing his hand, testing the power. Both techniques he had derived from the Big Four, Alexander and Elvira respectively, but no less powerful for it. In fact, all the more powerful for it. His body was strong, flesh capable of taking blows that would down a lesser god, but he could only keep it up for so long. It was a drain on him.
"...yes, this is exactly who I thought you were," Atreum said, adjusting the blackened armor of his right side. Xing Wu straightened the techniques settling in his bones. The lungs of Alexander, the Spirit Dragon, roared within his chest. The blood of Elvira, the light of heaven, pounded through his veins, strengthening his flesh and muscles far beyond anything he had felt before. Techniques he had never had the need to use, but had long since developed, pounded through his power.
Yet nothing compared to the strength the image of his daughter, giggling gaily in the garden his wife maintained, gave him. His hand tightened around his spear, spitting a glob of golden, divine blood to the side.
"Every inch the man I thought you were," Atreum said slowly. "Fighting to the end for nothing but your honor and pride." I haven’t been that kind of man in a long, long ti. Xing Wu noted idly, twirling his spear. And Atreum charged. Xing Wu fought back with renewed vigor, their clashes shattering the very air, shaking the bones of all who saw. But despite his techniques, he was slowly being forced backward. Each blow from the god of war rattled his bones, the ferocity and pain behind each strike forcing him back again, and again. "Be proud, for none other have stood against this long before." the man said, batting away Xing Wu's spear, shattering the haft with a clean hit. The red ribbon Inesa had tied upon it floated in the breeze created by his sword swing, Xing Wu reaching out and catching the follow-up thrust with both hands. The blood boiled against his skin, teeth gritting as his fingers dug into the liquid tal, cracking the blade.
Atreum smiled, summoned a spear in his other hand, and ran it through Xing Wu's chest with force enough to pierce through the Heavenly Body.
"An honorable warrior you are, but I am of war. The master of it, not just a fighter within." he boasted. Xing Wu coughed, pain echoing through is chest, the pierced lung filling with his divine blood, the man's fiery war burning the wound, preventing him from healing. Sequoia's laughter echoed in his ears as he let go of the sword, batting it aside and yanking the spear deeper, so deep it ran all the way out his back. One hand lunged forward, grasping Atreum by the forearm, the god's blood-red eyes growing wide as Xing Wu forcibly dragged him closer.
"Maybe," he coughed, dragging the god closer, the spear deeper, as he struggled against his grip. Atreum planted a boot in Xing Wu's chest, trying to shove him off, but Xing Wu, in this mont, was stronger. "But if I let you win, my daughter may die. So fuck you." He spat golden blood in his face, and breathed out, pouring almost every ounce of his divine power into this one mont. Golden flas bathed Atreum's face, but that was not the kicker.
In a flash of golden light, two more beings appeared on either side. Atreum's eyes widened as Fu Hao and Stilicho struck, Stilicho's silver spear driving deep into a gap beneath the god's armpit, Fu Hao punching his throat, then his face, then denting his armor with another powerful blow. Atreum grunted and yanked, tearing his hand free of Xing Wu’s iron grip as his techniques finally failed. He leapt backward, trailing divine blood tinged red.
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"Too much tunnel vision," he muttered as if he was chiding himself, eyes flicking to both Fu Hao and Stilicho, blood dribbling from his mouth. Xing Wu coughed, grabbing the god's spear and thrusting it the rest of the way through his body; much easier than pulling the wider head back out. He fell to one knee, grabbing the weapon and using it to brace himself, his wound struggling to close as whatever accursed magic the War God used coursed its way through his body.
He was not done. If he did not stand, who else would hold the line?
His answer was a roar in his ears, low and rumbling, a voice only he and the gods of the Four Realms could hear. His teeth bared themselves.
"Stilicho," Fu Hao said, casting her hand to the side at her silver brother. The angel stiffened. "Get Xing Wu to the dics. We will hold off the god of war."
"We don’t have ti," Stilicho warned.
"What makes you think I'll let you," both Xing Wu and Atreum said at the sa ti, Xing Wu struggling to his feet despite the divine blood pouring from his chest. Atreum stepped forward nacingly; only to freeze in place as the effects of the roar finally hit him and the rest of the army.
A lance of golden fire punctuated it, shattering a half dozen of their planet-ships before the power of their gods managed to halt it in place.
"It's either you let them go," Fu Hao said blandly, readying her fists. "Or you let a true Dragon wreak havoc upon your forces,"
And out ca Alexander. Despite the pain he felt, despite the way his vision swam, dark spots dancing about the corners of his eyes, even Xing Wu couldn't help but admire his entrance.
Through the waves of enemies ca a great serpent of white, breathing flas that put Xign Wu's derivative technique to sha, searing magic and flesh alike. Behind him swirled a great host of his children, whom Xing Wu had rarely ever seen, content as they were to rest in their hos.
Dragons. Thousands of them descended upon the great host that assailed their ho, spreading out like a plague of fire - burning great swaths of the enemy forces, tearing into the thickest throngs with reckless abandon. A few of the great beasts were brought down by the enemy spells, their sheer numbers breaking through even their might scales; but they brought with them more than just a crack in the invading forces.
They brought with them the first clear movent of the Big Four, and with it, pride. They were never alone.
Xing Wu felt the dragon within his chest stir, that simple point of pride that bid him stand - and so he did. Blood staining his robes, the enemy's spear held in his hand, swaying on his feet. Stilicho stepped backward, wrapping an arm around Xing Wu as Atreum began shouting orders, launching skyward on bloody, fiery wings that sprouted from his back, his own injuries not slowing him in the slightest.
Fu Hao took a single step back, watching him go.
"Let's get you -" She began, then jerked, a dark, bloodstained arrow sprouting from her neck. She coughed once, twice, then fell to her knees - Stilicho lunged, catching his sister as she spasd; even Xing Wu managed a single step, batting aside another arrow with his new spear as it descended upon them. Three gods in a chariot rode past, one man trying to snipe key figures from the crowd with a great bow of horn and shadow.
"Fang Xu!" Xing Wu called, coughing blood as Stilicho picked up Fu Hao, slung his arm over his shoulder, and carried both of them away from the fighting, face pale.
He needn't have bothered to call. Arrows of fire and ice hurtled toward the chariot, Fang Xu harassing the thing, never managing to deal a decisive blow but keeping it busy and away from assassinating any more figures. Xing Wu let himself be carried away, using his new spear to bat away any further attacks; other gods and angels closing around them as they descended into the Four Realms and the dical centers.
Xing Wu coughed up another mouthful of blood, half-wanting to shout orders to the defenders, eyeing Fu Hao as she clutched at the arrow still in her neck, blackened lines stretching from the wound. But he could barely maintain consciousness, let alone spare monts to worry for her.
The corners of his eyes darkened as he was laid beside Fu Hao in a dical tent - left wondering how he got here in the first place, the last bit of ti a blur. The moans of thousands, tens of thousands, echoed in the tent around him- yet the only thing he could think of was to get back out there.
There were people depending upon him. And he was loathe to let them down.
***
Atreum, the god of war, fought well in Alexander's opinion, and was an excellent leader. His own sudden appearance had not thrown the enemy ranks into nearly the sort of disarray he had hoped - nor were his children able to slay nearly the number of foes he had wanted - and he attributed that solely to the God of War's decisive actions.
He had summoned a great host of gods around him and now harried Alexander at every turn; ever breath of fire was blocked by magic shields, every snap of his jaws dodged or turned away by the strike of another. Every sweep of his tail felt like moving through molasses as the enemy divinities attempted to tie him down. But he was not a being to be restrained by even the heavens, who were they to try to stop him?
Wars were raged against single dragons, armies summoned rely to stop them. What hope did a re god of war have to arrest his assault? Besides, every god dedicated to stopping him was a god not harassing the Four Realms and her armies.
"Where are your stronger forces? I know this cannot be it." Alexander taunted, tearing through a net of fire that had been tossed at him with ease. Atreum scowled, bleeding from the wound Stilicho had struck - Alexander's mind turned, briefly, to the wounds Xing Wu and Fu Hao had suffered with worry, but they were not the only casualties thus far. His heart wanted to ache for the losses, but the battle at hand required his full attention.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Atreum rumbled, clutching his wound. An arrow of fire struck his breastplate in his montary distraction, the Sun God taking every opportunity he could. Alexander snarled and lunged, jaws snapping at the god of war; only to be stalled, even if only montarily, by the combined efforts of three lesser gods. He tossed his head, horns connecting with one, driving deep into the being’s flesh to tear at her innards.
She scread and was hauled away by another god, Alexander's thrashing body tossing even more off of him, their spells hamring his scales, managing to crack one or two.
"Thank you for admitting there are other powerful gods beside yourself," Alexander said conversationally, seeing the truth in the War God's aura, hoping his taunt would rise to the bait and reveal more - but no such luck. His will was an iron wall, even as he dodged Alexander’s lunge, golden fire leaking from between his teeth to bathe him in flas.
"Enough!" Atreum roared, hurling himself backward, shielding himself with a black tower-shield, splitting Alexander’s flas. He snapped his jaws closed, a growl rumbling in his chest as the war god carefully peeked out from behind his shield, expression as cold as ice. "Sound the retreat." The surrounding gods did not hesitate. Echoing war-horns rippled through the opposing forces, Alexander snapping and snarling as more and more of their armies retreated – another ship split as he dove through it, slaying thousands, but still the enemy gods harassed him, keeping him from taking out too many of the retreating forces.
"Do not chase!" Alexander roared, the Celestial Empress echoing his sentints nearly a split-second after. Techniques and abilities launched out at the retreating army, catching a few ships, injuring a few gods, and they flung a few techniques and spells back, damaging the walls further and even killing another of his children, a red-scaled dragon, that ignored his orders and chased too far.
He roared defiantly at their retreating forms, eyes narrowing to slits. The fallen dead lay around the Four Realms, and his teeth bared themselves. Even from here, he could sense the spores of the Rot amongst the bodies.
Weaponizing the dead. Even souls that drifted skyward, swirling about the Four Realms in confusion as they debated, confused, on which cycle of reincarnation to enter had a bit of taint on them. Alexander huffed, turning his attention back to the surrounding army as they reford their lines, many of the siege engines smoking.
...foul bastards. Dishonorable curs. Utilizing the dead like this? But this was war, he knew, and the reality of the situation dawned upon him even as blood from their enemies dripped from his fangs and the living set about to repair the barricades, tend to the wounded, and cleanse the surrounding space.
Alexander himself would have a role in cleansing the souls, sorting those from the One World and the Four Realms, doing his best to separate the tainted from the cleaned. It was like treating a plague, only each spore could be a bomb, waiting to blow.
He had learned his lesson about letting bombs into his ho from Morgan, in the Sun War. He would not make that mistake again, even if it would take more effort to do so.
And therein lay the problem. If he had to double check and make sure and spend thrice the effort on shepherding souls into the Spirit Realm, then that was effort that wasn't being spent on the Four Realms and defenses.
Clever bastards. Acting like they weren't playing the long ga, when they were doing both. It was a good thing they had their own plans, too.
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