A roar can be heard from a distance. Rain falls, and blood drips all over the grasslands. A large runic circle can be seen above the sky. The smell of burnt flesh and melted iron filled the air as smog filled the lands.
1843 The battle of Guillamor Highlands
500 Rank 5 mages deceased
40 Rank 6 mages deceased
3 Rank 7 mages deceased
The Illustrious M.I.A.
100 Anti-mages deceased
“Half of the company is dead, sire–”
“We killed a lot, but their numbers are many… they’ve gathered their forces for this one last push against–”
A man walks out of the smog. Cloaked and drenched in blood.
“Who goes there!?”
The man screams but to no avail. The cloaked man ignored him.
“Shi–”
The man’s head rolled down the grass. The circle above continues to grow as more heads and bodies go up it. The Marvelous, The Great Sacrifice, The Sorcerer Out of Time, The Illustious, The Extinction Riser. The names given to the sorcerer that reach the highest ranking of mana and prowess, talent and destruction.
“The blood trail ends here, Asseron.”
“The only ones remaining are cowering in their kingdom.”
The cloaked man removed his hood, revealing the cowl of a crow. The man looked in front to see the battlefield. Blood and smoke, broken glass, shards of ice, fire from everywhere.
“Is it ready, my friend?”
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The man behind him seemingly appears out of nowhere, nods. As the man readied himself, a great dragon-like creature flew past him. Grey scaled. Teeth like iron, Eyes like forges, claws like spires.
“Voratius”
The dragon roars as the circle begins to spin out of control. A large beam in the sky breaks the circle and the ground below it with a massive explosion.
“Can you do it now, Protas?”
Protas, the crow-cowled, began to wave his wand towards the dragon, as massive green chains covered its legs and arms, body and wings. It tries to claw the chains, but alas, the green chains are of smoke.
“Illuzam damaged it enough.”
Protas exclaimed.
“Then he has done his part.”
“The great anti-mage. Is a dragon of old–”
“Ironic, a beast with near infinite mana refuses to be itself.”
Asseron looks at the bottom of the circle, a woman in a white dress, unbothered by dirt and blood.
“Sealing it in her. And breaking it after, with her infinite pool, it should be enough…”
“I am warning you, Great Sacrifice, if this doesn’t work–”
A man in holy robes appears in the sky near the circle. Blonde hair and blue eyes and a grin like the devil.
“Do not worry my dear, for this woman will haveth no pain towards the body!”
“Alioriva!”
A greater beam flows down the sky, enveloping the entire grasslands. The beam doesn’t destroy anything but the bodies of the dead and the dragon of old.
“HAHAHA The great mighty dragon IS SEALED.”
The blonde says with a devilish smile.
“And thus the story of the old is gone, for the legend of another has been created.”
He says, looking down on the woman in white now soaked in a black smudge. The other two rush towards her as the smudge begins injecting itself into the woman.
“Oh, my daughter.”
Asseron holds her with a tearful smile.
“We must leave, now.”
“The rest of the kingdom knows that we killed their leader. Like rats cornered, they will find a way out .”
Protas says, hurrying the moment. Asseron still holds her daughter.
“She has a thousand-year-old memory explosion in her darlings, it would be wise to run.”
The blonde says while disappearing into the smog.
“He’s right. For now, your daughter is safe and will be in the hands of good people if we leave him. You, of all people, should know this. Our sacrifices would be in vain.”
Asseron finally stands up and leaves with Protas. Leaving his daughter on the battlefield. The battlefield where another great title is bestowed.
“The Prayala”
