WHOOO–OOMPH!
"SIEGE BEASTS!"
VHHHRRRMMM!
KRRAA–THAUM!
Massive boulders of raw mountain-stone hurtled through the sky, carving wake-lines through the air before slamming into the earth with devastating force.
The first impact blasted dirt and razor-sharp mud skyward as the ground buckled beneath it, shockwaves rippling outward hard enough to knock soldiers off their feet.
Armour clanged as men tumbled, shields splintered and shattered like dry wood under the sheer weight. Before the dust even settled, the next boulder bounced once, twice, then carved a bloody trench straight through the Dawnish lines, crushing shields, bodies, and any hope of formation in its path.
BHRUUMPH!—GRAA–CHHHK!
Boulders struck and rebounded like living cannonballs, each collision a thunderclap that shook the battlefield to its core. Dust rained down in thick curtains, choking the air and turning daylight murky.
Screams rose and cut short as the next volley descended—stone after stone pounding the formations with relentless fury. Soldiers scrambled, boots slipping on fresh craters, while the ground trembled continuously under the barrage.
From the enemy's eastern rise, the Boulder-Haulers emerged—hulking giants clad in scavenged scrap metal and rusted plating torn from fallen warriors. With guttural roars they hauled dozens of overloaded carts brimming with boulders of various sizes, broken and collected from the mountain side.
They seized the stones by hand, shoulders bunching with corded muscle as they twisted through the throw—weight shifting from back leg to front before the full-body release sent the boulders flying like living catapults.
Every landing hit like thunder—each impact a small apocalypse of stone, blood, and flying debris that left nothing but ruin in its wake.
Dawn Lancers and Drake Riders shifted targets instantly, breaking formation to counter the new threat before the Haulers could do irreversible damage.
"INCOMING!"
More boulders crashed among the Dawn Lancers, tearing through their ranks like living artillery. Some riders wheeled their mounts aside in time, feet pounding as they veered sharply, but others were not as fortunate—the stones caught them mid-charge, smashing both mount and rider alike into mangled heaps of metal and flesh.
Above, the Drake Riders struggled in the haze-filled sky. Stones arced upward in deadly trajectories, chasing the winged mounts through swirling dust clouds. One boulder clipped a rider mid-ascent with brutal precision—the impact folded the drake's left wing inward with a sickening crunch of bone and membrane, sending mount and master into a helpless spiral.
They plummeted, wings flapping uselessly, until they struck the ground hard, the drake's body crumpling under its own weight as the rider was violently ejected off from the impact. Gorgurs swarmed the crash site instantly, spiked clubs and claws tearing into the fallen pair before either could rise.
Heat exploded across the eastern cliffs as the Light-Engine's beam lanced out, shredding enemy positions in a blinding column of pure radiance. The massive artillery piece screamed with venting steam after every shot, its intricate mechanisms glowing cherry-red from the strain.
Crew members scrambled across the platform, hauling heavy water skins for immediate water magic for overheating capacitors while Magei stood ready, hands already glowing with gathered Luminary Essence to empower the next volley.
Surrounding the Light-Engine in a tight defensive formation stood the The Sword Sisters, their gleaming silver-white armour etched with flowing star motifs that caught the light like living constellations. Crested helms framed veils of starlight-thread that shimmered. Commanded by Myra, a chosen of Auriel herself, they held the high ground reinforced by blocks of Sunveil infantry.
Their single task: protect the Light-Engine at all costs while maintaining a deadly firing angle over the entire battlefield.
As the battle raged below, a distant shockwave suddenly rolled up the cliffside, vibrating through every plate of armour and every boot planted on stone.
"General Myra! To the north-east!" one Sword Sister shouted, voice cracking with urgency as she pointed.
Myra turned sharply, following the direction of the new thunder. Fresh shadows rose on the horizon. Her composure fractured in an instant.
"His Radiance, save us…" she muttered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Gargantuan shapes appeared along the distant hilltops—eight of the fattest, most vicious Maw-Fangs.
Shard-Tusk Tyrants.
Each Gorgur warrior wielded oversized polearms scavenged from shattered ballista frames, shard-lances taller than houses, and colossal cleavers reforged from broken drawbridges. They swung those monstrous weapons one-handed while their free hand kept brutal hooks dug deep into the hides of their mounts.
Beneath them rode shard-mutated behemoths the height of large town walls, their bodies crusted with natural crystal plates that gleamed like living armour. Metal-bound tusks jutted forward, wrapped in rusted scrap and jagged shard spikes that could impale entire ranks. Every step of those beasts sent tremors rolling across the field, vibrations strong enough to be felt miles away.
Flanking the Tyrants came more cavalry—sixteen Shardfang Riders mounted on large shard-mutated beasts whose hides bristled with sharp outgrowths. These creatures crush men underfoot with casual weight and shred armour with reinforced tusks. Gorgurs sat wearing scavenged armour and wielding oversized heavy two-handed cleavers that glinted with cruel edges.
Commanding the entire ambush was the Shard General, a towering Gorgur who had clawed his way to rank by gorging on the most shards. His body had become a grotesque monument to his power—crystal growths protruding from every joint.
He climbed the hilltop astride his personal mount, a Chain-Wyvern, flanked by two Tyrant Champions—Chosen of the Shardlord—each riding their own mutant beasts.
The earthquake arrived as a rolling wave of force from the east. A thunderous charge shook the entire field. Shardfang Riders broke off and thundered toward Dawn's eastern flank while the main stampede barrelled straight for the Light-Engine's position.
The Shard General and his Chain-Wyvern took to the skies, leading the Shard-Tusk Tyrants in a devastating aerial vanguard.
"FORMATIONS!" Myra roared, her voice carrying over the chaos.
Regiments of Sunveil infantry snapped into place, their formations gleaming with shades of green as soldiers manifested long pikes in coordinated flashes of Essence.
Blocks of pike walls formed instantly—dense hedges of weaponised points fell over locked shields to block the enemy's approach. Dust kicked up by the quakes caught in the breeze and whipped down the ranks.
Shockwaves from the incoming enemy rolled through the earth, making every man and every piece of metal shake violently. Ragged breathing filled the air. Bravery and morale hung by fraying threads. Only years of brutal training kept them rooted in place. They knew their pikes could only slow an unstoppable stampede of brutal destruction—not stop it.
"BOW SISTERS!"
At the order, specialised units of Sword Sisters activated their own blue and purple shards, massive eight-to-nine-foot bows materialising in their grips.
"LIGHT LANCES!"
FWSHZZZ.
Lances of brilliant light condensed in the hands of every other Sword Sister, humming with condensed power.
"ON MY CALL!" Myra's hand shot high, trembling from the relentless quakes shaking the cliff.
The cliff face cracked and split as a town's worth of wild fury stormed toward them. A single drop of sweat slid from Myra's temple and struck the earth at her feet.
Eryndor… get here quick.
Beacon Flare.
"FIRE!" Myra shouted as a flare erupted from her raised hand and rocketed skyward.
Air pressure blasted outward.
A devastating volley of light and metal exploded from behind the Sunveil formations. The sky rained down as if the stars themselves had been torn loose and hurled at the enemy.
The Chain-Wyvern twisted above the hail, banking sharply as the barrage arced down toward the oncoming Shard-Tusk Tyrants.
Where the volley struck, light detonated in brilliant explosions—fur and hide scorched and screamed under waves of fire. Yet the beasts never slowed. Even the Sword Sisters' powerful bow artillery only managed to punch a few arrows through their crystal plating, the damage minimal. The pain only enraged the Tyrants further, their roars shaking the cliffs.
"SISTERS, SPEARS! DON'T LET THEM—"
SHREEEEEWWWWW—
The sky split with an ear-piercing scream.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
Sound vanished.
Earth shook.
Dust rose in choking clouds.
Heat expanded in a visible wave.
VRRRMMM–
It only returned when the Light-Engine fired once more, its beam engulfing the area in blinding white for a single heartbeat.
PZZSSSSH!
"MYRA!"
"THE WYVERN!" a Sword Sister screamed.
SHRAAK-THAUM-GGRANCK!
The Shard General dived from the left in a blur of chain and scale, straight at Myra.
She managed to raise her shield just in time, planting her feet and bracing her entire body. The collision hit like a meteor—metal and bone screaming on impact—sending her flying dozens of metres backward across the cliff top.
Her boots scraped deep furrows in the stone before she slammed down and skidded to a halt. The Chain-Wyvern took pursuit instantly, wings beating with thunderous force.
Before the Sword Sisters could react, the earthquake arrived in full. Earth, men and metal split apart. Formations shattered like glass. Men's courage crumbled as the Shard-Tusk Tyrants collided with the pike walls. The behemoths smashed straight through the dense hedge of spears as if they were paper, tusks goring and crystal-plated bodies crushing ranks beneath their colossal weight.
The Sword Sisters held their ground with desperate skill, spears thrusting in coordinated bursts at the beasts' legs, blades hunting the gaps between crystal plates.
They brought one Tyrant down after a brutal flurry, its massive body crashing sideways and crushing dozens in its death throes, but the cost was horrific—death left scattered in its wake.
Before they could pivot to protect the Light-Engine, a horn blared from the south.
The horn of the Suncloaks.
They charged, radiant cloaks fluttering wildly in the wind. Their mounts—the Radan—were huge, elephantine-shouldered creatures with broad chests and powerfully muscled legs that drove them forward like living siege engines. Led by their General astride his personal Radan, the monstrous cavalry smashed in the rear of the Gorgurs monstrous cavalry.
Earth cracked and split under the combined weight of the two colliding forces. The Radan were smaller than the Shard-Tusk Behemoths but far more agile, twisting and ramming with devastating precision as both sides tore into each other in a frenzy of tusk, claw and Shard Weapons.
As the carnage unfolded, the two Tyrant Champions bored straight through the chaos, riding hard toward their target.
Metal tore through dirt. The Chain-Wyvern's fangs snapped shut on empty air, missing Myra by a mere inch. She hopped and spun aside, killing the momentum with her planted foot. Twisting back, her shield exploded through the air at superhuman speeds.
The Wyvern's head was smashed away with incredible force as scales cracked and caved inwards, it twisted its neck back to her in raw fury, jaws realigning for a killing bite.
Myra skidded backward, reacting instantly—weight shifting to her rear foot, core twisting, spear lunging forward in a precise thrust that cut deep into the Wyvern's snout. Blood sprayed hot across her face as the creatures wailed.
Radiant Armour.
Myra's armour flared as Luminary Essence bent light around it, reinforcing every plate and joint with shimmering brilliance. She had grown desperate.
The Wyvern's earlier dive had fractured her right leg with a sickening crack, ribs burned with every breath, and her shield shoulder hung dislocated after taking the full brunt of the impact. Even as a powerful Unbound, she knew she was at a severe disadvantage.
"Grogo! Zshes' not prey. We takes' hur shardz' first!" a voice gurgled from atop the Wyvern, laughter booming and wet.
Dawn Burst.
Blazing light exploded directly at the Wyvern's face, blinding white flame searing its eyes. The creature shrieked, body thrashing uncontrollably.
Out of pure rage it swung its massive tail in a whipping arc that carried the force of a falling tree. Myra jumped—legs coiling then exploding upward—spun mid-air with perfect control, spear raised high as light gathered and enveloped the blade.
"Luminary Art—Sun Piercer."
Her spear sliced cleanly into the thicker part of the tail, carving through tough meat and muscle with a wet, tearing sound. The severed section peeled away under its own weight, flopping heavily to the ground. Myra landed in a crouch, spear and shield ready, leg screaming in protest.
THAUM–KRRAAANG!
Metal ruptured in an explosive CRUNCH.
"GAH!"
Myra screamed as a giant axe caved in both shield and arm with crushing force, the impact lifting her clean off her feet and hurling her backward. She slammed into the ground hard, helm colliding against exposed rock.
The chaos of war closed around her—monstrous creatures smashing through groups of half-fighting, half-fleeing men, one soldier dragged down screaming by multiple beasts. Her Sisters' bodies lay still across the cliff, and a crushing guilt of failure settled heavy in her chest.
She tasted iron. The stench of burnt flesh and spilled blood overwhelmed every sense.
The Gorgur General walked forward with deliberate steps, lifted one massive foot, and stomped down on the embedded axe. The blade drove deeper through her arm and caved into her body. Violent screams tore from the puny human's throat as fresh agony ripped through her.
Finally he grabbed the axe handle and pried it free with a wet, sucking sound. Bleeding profusely, Myra groaned with ragged breaths, barely holding on. She forced her eyes upward at the grotesque figure looming above her.
The noise dulled to a hollow ringing.
The battlefield went still; even the fire held its flicker.
Then the sky broke open.
FZSHHH!
Pillars of pure light burst from above, smashing into the enemy General and hurling him backward in a tumbling heap of chain and scale. A calm, commanding voice spoke from the radiance.
"Sunlight's Cradle."
Warm, golden light washed over Myra, knitting torn flesh, sealing wounds, and easing the worst of the pain. She wasn't whole—but she would live.
From the fading brilliance stepped a knight. Light itself bent around him, calm and razor-sharp, motes of dawn dancing like living sparks across his armour. Myra's eyes widened.
She didn't need to see his face to know.
Her Commander had arrived.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
Light Lance
Tier 3 — School of Light
Description:
A focused Vitalis discharge that condenses Luminary Essence into a radiant beam. The lance pierces through targets in a straight line, searing corruption and matter alike with condensed brilliance. Used by Dawn knights and field mages for precision assaults and suppression fire.
Essence Principle:
Luminary Essence seeks directness — the shortest path between two points. When aligned with disciplined Vitalis, that drive manifests as a coherent beam. Intensity equals stability; hesitation scatters the light into harmless glare.
Practitioner's Note:
Aim not with the hand, but with the flow. Vitalis should narrow, not rush. Compress until resistance hums, then release in one motion. The purer the intent, the sharper the beam.
Maxim:
"Light never wavers; only the hand that guides it does."