Beyond this scene of bliss and passion, beyond this castle armed for combat and wielding hope, sheer anarchy reigned over Governanti like its king. Masses of barbarians busting through every door, taking what they will, doing whatever they please. But the main forces of the Resistance marched, dashing through the maddening streets and towards the western gate.
The morning sun had begun to burn across the lands, cresting over the eastern plains. It settled upon the back of Raphael Divus Barn and his army, finding a gruesome sight. A vast, wide breadth of carcasses were scattered across the battlefield, the holy, blue adamas streets now sullied in the unholy, hellish bath of blood and bowels. Some corpses were so exenterated, in fact, that their entire gastrointestinal tract laid sprawled upon the ground.
Despite the deep crimson which soaked and dripped relentlessly from their blackened steel, the Loyal Knights went without fret. Some even delighted in this insanity, both a portion of Loyal Knights and Alverrians alike. Yes, even as they watched time and time again as their allies fell, those sadistic barbarians wore wicked smiles. Despite the odds of death over life, they aggressively pursued the fight, making all kinds of unusual sounds as they charged.
As the Loyal Knights collided with the Alverrian savages, with the Alverrian ranks clearly outnumbering the Loyal Knights two to one, there was then a suspicious sound from behind. No, a stampede, an avalanche. Some of the Loyal Knights turned to face it, and revealed before their glowing eyes was that which they did not come to expect...
Another army of blood-coated barbarians came upon them, billowing animal-esque warcries at the top of their lungs. This was a force of measurable strength, some even wore armour. The savages ruthlessly rammed straight into the backs of the Loyal Knights, striking them down with iron and wood. They were crushed in this mighty pincer, if not from the back, from the front.
The Loyal Knights were rattled, their eyes watching as their invincible brethren were slaughtered most brutally before them. Yet even still, the Loyal Knights stood tall and proud, determined and resolute. No matter the odds or the cost, they fought with intrepidness. They truly were like a single collective mind, a grand display of their level of training and discipline. They made a change of tactics without even speaking, forming around one another. They went back-to-back, arms at the ready, making a wall of sorts between the attackers up front and the attackers from the back.
The knights stood there like statues, without word, without motion, not even a breath. They silently awaited the Alverrians with their shields raised, massive hunks of metal almost as large as they were tall. Not even a second passed before a pair of barbarians charged the wall, immediately meeting a swift and merciless end. One Loyal Knight would withstand their efforts to break through, serving as a distraction for another Loyal Knight right behind them to thrust their weapon between the shields and into the enemy.
This solid, black steel wall was virtually impossible to bust open, even as swarms of angry, disorderly barbarians pushed and harassed them. They hurled threats and foul language at them, going completely berserk on this wall. Yet despite the brute vulgarity of their nature, the knights remained stoic and firm. They massacred Alverrians by the dozens, their bodies stacking up in front of them like a barricade.
In the back, the merchant-turned-assassin Kereske heavily pondered their options. An image repeatedly shown off of his dark brown eyes, the image of fools rushing in, getting slaughtered almost as soon as they approached. The Loyal Knights were famous for such tactics, finding victory in countless battles with their fluidity and cohesion.
In the far back, hidden amongst the buildings was an exceptionally talented archer. The archer Shinon found himself a high vantage point, feeling his skin soaked in the warm morning light. As the breeze fiddled with his long, red hair, Shinon smirked rather smugly. His black-as-onyx irises glued to the scene just below him, this impenetrable wall of black steel and the idiotic gods who thought they could bust through.
Regardless of the urgency, the archer was in no rush, stretching and warming up first. He then reached for the quiver he kept at his waist, pulling out no ordinary arrow. Its green metal head glistered rather resplendently in the sunlight, Shinon lamenting that such beauty was to be forced into the body of a filthy god.
Shinon then pulled it back on his bow's string, humming whimsically and tapping his foot to a tune of comfort and familiarity. He aimed high, taking his sweet time to get it right even as he knew he had it perfectly aligned. "Takes one card to bring down a house," he triumphantly proclaimed to himself, letting then his arrow fly.
Down below, the knights battled back the barbarians, unaware of that which had been launched. Their Solasúian senses so preoccupied with the death barging them from the front that they were ignorant of the death which fell from above. And it rained down like a storm without rain, a single lightning bolt suddenly crashing down from the heavens.
Shinon's adamantine arrow came down, catching the unfortunate Loyal Knight it landed upon right in the head. It effortlessly punched right through his great helm, unsurprisingly sending the knight collapsing onto the ground. Even with the sudden appearance of an archer over their heads, the Loyal Knights remained dauntless, unfazed by the act and the loss.
As quickly as the Alverrians tried to capitalize on the loss, the Loyal Knights were even quicker to fill up this gaping hole. The barbarians fought, pushing hard on the weaker side. But the defense of the Loyal Knights was relentless, unyielding even as the archer rained down death upon their heads. They were forced to simply accept it, for they could not defend against the arrows, lest they fall victim to the blood-craving savages in front of them.
Pressuring them even further, Daevarro himself began hurling fireballs at them. They were weak and feeble, but it applied enough pressure on them to force them to continue their turtle tactics. Shinon had now expended all of his adamantine arrows into the Loyal Knights below, his attempts to break down their defenses finally proving successful with his very last shot. The Alverrians managed to penetrate through their defenses, filling in this gaping hole with iron and aggression. The Loyal Knights were separated in this instance, forced to fight by themselves.
A most tumultuous sight was then unleashed, an incalculable number of bodies crammed these narrow streets. A frantic sight of utter turmoil, barely enough space to stretch one's arms without pecking someone on the shoulder. Everything went deaf under the sounds of battle: thoughts, beliefs, ideas... All that was alive now was the hectic, clamorous ring of steel clashing against steel, the pained grunts of injury, the spine-chilling shrills, and bodies dropping as someone met their untimely demise. All of that chaotic atmosphere funneled into every ear, the sound of madness itself.
Each person tossed headlong into this crucible of death and insanity grew mindless, enslaved by a single thought. They cared not for their careless heels as they nearly tripped over or trampled the dead and near-dead. All that mattered was murdering the next and not becoming the next murdered. This was the synopsis of battle, its one and most predominant rule: kill or be killed.
Raphael traveled through this pandemonium without falter or loss of conviction, committing himself to anti-armour techniques to work around the Loyal Knights' imposing platemail. He demonstrated use of his most unusual sidearm against nearly every opponent he faced, catching them all off-guard.
He surprised one such knight of loyalty, entrapping the knight's blade within one of his swordbreaker's serrations. To cash in on this opportunity, the silver-haired prince then plunged his sword straight into the knight's groin. His blade punctured through all of the Loyal Knight's defenses and straight into his flesh, slicing open his femoral artery in a weirdly angled stab.
Raphael launched his left foot forward, putting enough strength into it to push the knight back and rip out his blade from his leg. The Loyal Knight bled out profusely, toppling weakly onto the ground. The prince left the knight to his fate, proceeding to the next in line.
He found then another knight of loyalty, waging a battle with constant exchanges. Yet there was one trick Raphael had up his sleeve, catching the Loyal Knight off-guard with a most unusual looking sidearm. She took one tall swing at him, a swing which he guarded against with his swordbreaker. The knight's blade got caught within one of the swordbreaker's serrations, entrapping the blade in its teeth.
Raphael trapped her blade and lunged Falcon ahead of him in a single fluid motion, striking beneath her arm while it was exposed. Her own blood began to roll down her blackened metal, mixing in with the blood of several others she had slain. It was an act that was almost an insult to the knight, having been harmed by a measly human. She grew furious as she kicked Raphael away, a frustrated sabaton bouncing off of his chest.
Raphael staggered backwards, falling to the ground. He laid among the corpses, the causalities of war, his back swallowed up in the blood of many. But his mind focused not on his surroundings, but that which was in front of him, holding no intention of joining the rest of them.
He quickly flew back to his feet, continuing his battle with this knight. Regardless of injury, the knight fought nearly without restriction, though she used that one arm somewhat tenderly. Raphael took one swing at the Loyal Knight, only to witness his attack deflected by the knight's own blade. The knight stepped forward in this split second of exposure, her speed and reaction time unmatched by any human. She grabbed Raphael and threw him to the ground, a slam which sent a painful shockwave across his nerves.
But with so many barbarians running about, a one versus one duel was an infeasible contest. Suddenly, a great, wooden club came forward at full force, pounding straight into the great helm of the Loyal Knight after Raphael. The single blow dented the helmet inwards, even busting it open. The speed and ferocity of this attack so swift that not even this god had a chance to react.
The attacker was that most unusual Solasúian in but a loincloth, his bare skin and almighty club trickled with the blood of many foes. With a fearsome, vivid expression straight off the face of a wild beast, the unusually-dressed Solasúian dashed off into battle, braced for any attack, ready for whatever death may embrace him.
In the aftermath of the vicious death blow, Raphael gathered himself back up and stood tall once more. As his attacker laid there breathless and bloodied, the silver-haired prince took in the span of strife all around him. Guts and all sorts of bodily fluids of countless emptied-out corpses pooling around his feet, the smell terribly indescribable. Metal melted on some of the Loyal Knights' armour, courtesy of Daevarro hurling fireballs from the back.
He laid witness to his companions, somehow traversing through this chaos. The Desert Assassins and Lamians skillfully deployed anti-armour techniques to decimate their opponents, and Telvern himself managed well in this anarchy with the techniques that his former ilk taught him. Libitina, although superficially injured, practically waltzed around in this hell, doing battle with one Loyal Knight.
She lamented her next course of action, finding an opening in the knight's offense. She deflected his attack, impaling the Loyal Knight's groin with one of her blades, then following that attack up with her other blade. She plunged her blade upwards, going right through the knight's right eyeslit. It was a beautiful, balletic flurry, elegantly graceful like artwork in motion.
The Alverrians were clearly with the advantage here, having separated the Loyal Knights into typically one versus two or more situations. Although these brave, dutiful knights were too proud to admit it, they were on their heels, nigh of defeat. But they adamantly rejected this kismet, attempting with utmost effort to sever this fate. They fought through exhaustion and injury, even collapse, all for the sake of the Barn family.
"It would seem the Alverrians are rallying," the merchant-turned-assassin Kereske then pointed out, finding a place beside Raphael.
"Yeah," agreed Raphael.
"I think it's time we move forward with the invasion. The Alverrians should have it from here."
Raphael agreed to Kereske's suggestion, moving forward with the invasion plan. He gathered together his ranks, those of whom he knew most of all, and moved onward. He marched straight for the heart of Governanti, of this Imperial Kingdom, where his ultimate enemy lied in wait.
Several Loyal Knights, under the command of King Balor Barn himself, fled towards the west. There, an ancient beacon lied, not put to use in quite some time. They swiftly get it to work, igniting a fire inside of its cold, metal shell. Thick, black, billowing smoke barged out from the beacon, flowing up into the sky for all in the land to see.
Raphael was flanked by those whom he grew to consider his friends and comrades, dashing through the city streets upon this morning of a most momentous battle. They found themselves within the market district, the only way to and from the Imperial Palace. The city was not evacuated, likely due to the gods' overconfidence of a quick, decisive victory over a bunch of uneducated barbarians. The district was alive with its typical hustle-and-bustle, both humans and those with glowing eyes filled this place to its brim.
The group was enrobed with blank stares and pale complexions, everyone recognizing Raphael as soon as they saw him. All activity was halted in an instant, even coin fell from the fingers of gods who counted it. The hectic sound of bells clamorously echoed in the distance, alerting all to the invasion which had begun to unfold.
"It's Raphael Béla, puppet of the demon goddess Lamia!" One of the Solasúian nobles pointed out.
Upon that acclamation, the Solasúians then suddenly grew hostile towards that silver-haired rebel's appearance. "'Ey! She ain't no dem'n goddess!" Calvin vigorously rejected. "Dat's-a lie Dias put 'n ya heads!"
"
Kéz
, best not waste your breath," the angry Lamian Shakir wisely advised. "The glowing eyes could never understand the truth."
Raphael remained steady within this pocket of anger, his amethyst gaze reaching out to every human slave in his vicinity. The humans looked to him with hope and despair in their eyes, a conflict of feelings at his sight. Raphael absorbed it all, watching as one god after another ran around and foraged for whatever they could use as a weapon.
Raphael's presence alone made the air begin to shift, to fill with hope, yet they all shuddered at the thought of opposing their masters. Raphael stepped up, for birds required a nudge from their branches before they could learn how to fly.
"Courage is found in the stand against adversity, not in the fearlessness of it," the silver-haired prince told to them, quoting the Neheztelian goddess beside him, which surprised her. Though some tried to attack and cease Raphael, his allies defended him as he spoke to the hearts of the humans. "For nearly a century, humankind has been forced to submit and bend to the will of the Solasúians -- they who claim themselves gods. All of you standing here, sons and daughters of slaves, born into this role. All of you have wept, suffered, bled for them. You've accepted this as the truth, your life, your reality. Upon this day, we can change this, grant the life that all of you have been so unjustly robbed of. But it is impossible to do so without your will, your resolution to take this hammer and forge it yourselves. Hear me! My name is not Raphael Béla, but Raphael Divus Barn, son of Astrid Thaddeus and Divus Nomos Barn, and heir to the throne! I vow to you all, if you help us overthrow this regime which has pained you so, I will right the wrongs of this prejudiced system. Your children, your children's children, all of you will be free to live your lives without discrimination, without binds, without fear! Now, muster your courage! They've taken control over all of you, force you to address them as master. Resist their oppression, take back control! Become your own masters now!"
It was then that that feeling in the air began to grow like a bird spanning out its wings, taking off and soaring. The Solasúian masters struck back, retaliating for the insults upon them. They beat upon their possessions, reminding them of their place. Yet this was just the inspiration they required, for now the humans began to fight back.
It was quite the sight for sore eyes, watching around them as the impossible came into fruition. Some couldn't help but to smile at this sight, proud of the humans who finally found their courage and hearts. Yet the sound of bells piercing the airwaves throughout the city attracted massive amounts of attention, a chilling sound which beckoned many to this very place.
The group quickly spun around, their backs now facing the Imperial Palace, their destination. They found themselves the targets of many pairs of glowing eyes, Solasúians of all backgrounds heeding the call of the distressed bell: nobles, former politicians, Loyal Knights from the other gates, but in particular, ex-Loyal Knights. They proudly represented their family name in this time of crisis, clad in their armour whilst wearing a banner which bore the crest of their particular family.
A practical tidal wave of Solasúians was speeding its way to this place, a howling surge which certainly exhibited a battle that none of the group wanted any part in. The numbers were intimidating, frankly insurmountable to overcome. Yet they had to ready their weapons, brace themselves for the battle... until Telvern stepped forth.
"Proceed onward as planned," the genius told them, calm and focused. "I'll remain here and keep them at bay."
"What?!" Calvin, the first one to react, uttered in outrage. "Egghead, ya can't be serious! Ya ain't throwin' yaself away!"
"You're going to—!" Daevarro then spoke in shared outrage before he was turned down.
Raphael then raised his hand as if to halt any further attempt to reject Telvern's proposal. Both Calvin and Daevarro turned to Raphael with some sense of confusion, watching as his eyes upon Telvern grew solemn and intense. "I thought sacrificing your own life for someone else's was only for fools in children's fantasies?" the silver-haired prince then questioned, quoting Telvern from their previous conversation.
