CHAPTER ASHBORN 417: THE SPIDER’S WEB

Nayan was at his wits’ end fighting the blaze. Blazing the forest was something the Akh Nara and Cirayus had expected the Chits to do, so the action had not come as a surprise. Rather, Nayan wondered what had taken them so long.

Anticipating this, they’d amassed a stockpile of water on the side of the Gate, which was now being brought through by every available hand.

It was, however, nowhere near enough, nor had they expected it to be. The number of demons bearing Aspect of the Eternal Storm or Aspect of Midwinters’ Embrace could be counted on one hand. The ones who had powers useful for combating a blaze, anyway. There were plenty more with weaker Aspects, or ones suited only for combat.

“The blaze continues to expand despite our efforts, sir,” a runner reported. “Your orders?”

“Continue to fell the trees around camp. And shovel as much soil as they can!”

“Understood!” the demon said before running off.

They’d cleared the trees around their camp for this exact reason, but one could never be too careful. At least now, the fire ought to slow or even stop if it got this close. They would eventually be forced to abandon the position, but by then, their work here would be done. The airships in good condition would be flown to their fallback base, some forty miles away, while the remainder would be destroyed to prevent them falling into Chitran hands. The troops would then retreat through the Akh Nara’s Ash Gates, through which the Chitran could not follow.

While the fire bothered Nayan, it was the troops who would soon march out of Samar Patag’s southern Gate that concerned him far more. While the gates remained shut, Nayan knew the moment would soon be upon them. They would strike the moment the fires abated. The Chits had no other choice, after all—Nayan’s actions had ensured it.

Nayan knew he ought to have been happy knowing the purpose of this bombing attack had been fulfilled. Not only had he served as an effective decoy, drawing the army out of their walls so the Akh Nara could liberate the city without opposition, his bombing airships were loaded and ready to maximize the damage wrought upon the Chits the moment they were out. Even now, they circled like Shrikes, high above the battlefield, just waiting to drop their deadly load.

The Chits would storm across the field for the relative safety of the burned-out forest, and while

While the airships would undoubtedly devastate the Chitran army, many would survive. It was Nayan’s duty to ensure none of them got to his base. He could not let them disrupt airship operations until the Akh Nara’s forces had taken Samar Patag’s walls.

Tiring of pacing around, waiting on runners’ reports, Nayan flagged the captain of the next airship that landed for resupply, joining them when they took to the air once again.

As much as he loathed traveling on the contraptions, they afforded him a view of the battle below unlike any other. Each airship was outfitted with a communications tablet, allowing contact between ships and the forest base. Another invention to pop up seemingly out of nowhere. But after flying ships, Nayan was hardly surprised by anything the Akh Nara managed these days.

The damage looked even worse from above. From here, Nayan could plainly see Samar Patag’s battered ramparts. He could see the inferno that had already consumed a third of the forest, and which was rapidly working its way to the core. With just one glance, he knew that it was beyond stopping. The forest would burn until there was nothing left to ignite. Only then would its flames die out.

Even so, most of the trees leading up to his base had already burned down, the fires that ravaged them having moved onto other parts of the forest.

Not long now.

Not a moment after he’d had that thought, Samar Patag’s gates burst open, admitting a flood of Chitran warriors.

Warriors that moved with the uncanny organization and grace of those who were under the influence of the Chitrans’ bloodline arts.

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But when the bombs began to drop, and the Chits somehow avoided them, splitting their ranks organically, like a single living being… Nayan realized he was wrong.

This wasn’t Warlord’s Battlecry, or even Warlord’s Domain. Those arts boosted their organization, yes, but it did not give them the ability to move as one.

There was only one art in the realm that could.

“Noticed it, did you?” a deep voice said from beside Nayan, startling him.

He turned, only to be startled a second time. “Ravager?” Nayan said, thoroughly confused. “How did you—Nevermind.”

Cirayus smirked, and suddenly, Nayan felt very foolish. Cirayus must have jumped onboard at some point.

“So then,” Cirayus said. “What do you intend to do about this development?”

“What can we do, other than intensify our barrage?”

The Chitran were dying, even with their incredible movements.

“Aye, that will help… But will it help enough?” Cirayus replied. “The fact that Demonic Overlord is in use means Matiman Chitra has taken to the field. An unexpected development, wouldn’t you say?”

Nayan’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…”

Cirayus grinned, hefting the newly reforged Sikandar. “Oh, yes, I mean exactly that. Now, help out an old soul and drop every bomb you have over the center of that rushing horde.”

“You intend to fight?”

Cirayus cracked his neck. “No, Nayan. I intend to kill them all. And I will start with that monkey’s head.”

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Demonic Overlord was a sight to behold. No matter how much Annas witnessed it, the spectacle never grew old.

What should have, by all rights, been a massacre, had resulted in relatively few casualties thus far. Annas had been leery of leaving the safety of Samar Patag’s walls from the very beginning, but he had to admit—Matiman’s presence changed the equation somewhat. If their forces could reach the forest, they stood a good chance of crushing the Akh Nara’s base. Maybe they’d even manage to capture one or two of those infernal contraptions, turning the enemy’s weapon against them.

Annas was able to comment on all of this because he was not under the influence of the almighty art. Having been under before, he knew what that experience was like, and he had no desire to ever feel it again. Even now, the sensation made his tail stand on end.

To lose all sense of one’s self—to become a finger or a toe of a greater being—it was both the most intoxicating and terrifying sensation he’d ever experienced. Through the art, Matiman could control an army of thousands as though they were an extension of his own body, though such mastery had taken him centuries to master. Of all the Ultimate bloodline arts, Demonic Overlord

was said to be the most difficult to wield, and Annas fully believed it.

It was akin to watching a raging stream, having just burst a dam. Weaving and flowing across the battlefield, parting to avoid the damage from the bombs.

They’ve increased the frequency, Annas thought, staring up at the dot-filled sky. How infuriating, for them to have the weapons needed to destroy those contraptions, only for them to be out of range…

More kothis began to die, as the barrage proved too much to endure. Annas knew it wouldn’t last.

Moments later, the falling bombs ceased, and the airships flew back to the forest to resupply. They were of no concern. By the time they returned, the Chitran army would be deep into the burned forest, where the Gargans would have a much more difficult time locating them.

Annas frowned. A lone airship hung above the army, poised right above the very center.

What are they—!?

All at once, dozens of bombs fell like a shower of black rain.

Annas’ tail stood on end. With so many, there was no way the Chitran forces could avoid them.

Annas watched on in horror as the bombs impacted, wiping out a tenth of the Chitran in an instant. There were no cries or wails of agony as the chemicals sundered their flesh—there never were with Demonic Overlord.

Masses of trained Chitran soldiers went flying without a sound, or had their skulls silently caved in by the falling rocks. Not a single Warrior uttered a cry or plea for help. Not fled in panic.

As devastating as they were, it was not the bombs that terrified Annas. No, a far more dire threat had just emerged. It took the form of a four-armed Bairan standing in the middle of all that carnage, wielding a gigantic sword that was somehow even larger than the last time Annas had seen it.

“Well, well! I did not expect to find you here, Annas,” the Ravager said casually, as though he’d spotted him on some city street while on an errand. “Isn’t it more appropriate for spineless vermin like yourself to stay protected within the city’s walls, cowering while the real Warriors fight?”

Annas bared his teeth, but managed to force his simmering anger under control. Cirayus was trying to get him riled up. Annas would not give him the pleasure.

Gripping his katars, Annas moved in front of Matiman. In his current state, Matiman could control his own body only to a very limited degree. The only weakness of the bloodline art.

“It seems you were mistaken about my character, Ravager,” Annas said, feeling sweat break out all over his body. He could play these games, but when the fighting commenced, Annas knew he stood no chance. The Bairan was a monster. Annas would know, having fought the Ravager countless times. Fought… and lost, often miserably.

“Indeed, I was,” Cirayus said. “So, what do you say about a friendly duel, honorable warrior that you are? The rules are—we fight to the death. Right here and now. If you win, you get to boast that you bested the Ravager! Something you never managed in the Tournament. The bards will sing praises of your exploits for millennia to come. If I win… Well, then I suppose you all die. You can all come at me at the same time.”

“A most generous offer,” Annas spat, his words full of venom.

“What can I say?” Cirayus said, his lips curling into a vicious grin as he casually swung Sikandar, lopping the heads of three nearby Chitran. “I’m afraid I am renowned for my generosity.”