The Embers of Conflict

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

The Embers of Conflict

"What was I doing?" Michael thought to himself just as he snapped back from reality. Was he really going to kill this woman? It would have been fine if he knew her allegiance. He swore he would not kill anyone from Fiore, and if the woman was from Fiore, or was Rune Knight, this guilt would haunt him for the rest of life. It was a little bit ironic for him, given that he is prepared to kill those from the covenant while sparing a select few. While given the choice, they fought for the lies of their leaders. A pity that Fiore had Bellum’s back.

He turned his gaze towards the front lines as a wide flash of light stole his attention. From how far he is, he can’t make heads or tails on what the front lines looked like. He isn’t sure how the Pergranti army is faring, but that light looked concerning if not for the fact that he doesn’t know whose light that was. Was it theirs, or was it the enemy’s? He isn’t sure, but as the light subsided, he turned his attention to his own fight.

Being high up had its advantages, but given he’s not hidden behind trees or cliff sides, him standing out in the open would make him a prime target. However, his advantages would far outweigh the cons, given that he has a clear view of the battlefield that he’s always aware of his enemies’ actions. And one of them is launching an attack against him, as he notices the same woman that he shot casting a spell as light and dark magics coalesce into a grey mass that spread out, after which it shot a grey bolt against him. As a sniper, he should be trying to move away or even dodge it. Yet there's something about him that makes him do otherwise. Underestimation? He’s hardly one to underestimate his foes regardless how weak they looked. Even though he’s already in a high enough vantage point, he should always dodge regardless. Yet against his principles, the esper stood unmoving as he braced himself on impact while he coated himself with film of dimensional energy, creating some sort of artificial distance that would make it seem that outside stimuli wouldn’t affect him save for air, or unless he would will it, though it won’t guarantee a full protection. He stood defiant against the attack, and if there was a chance it would pierce his defenses, it would only feel like a faint slap.

In the aftermath of the attack, regardless of whether he comes out unscathed or not, calm rage would well up inside of him as his emotional restraints came off, an aura of red psionic energy dancing like flames around him. His lens would be aglow with an eerie red as he channels his powerful telekinetic might, but not before he discards his rifle back to his Cyberspace to allow him to channel this psychokinetic power around his hands. Small sparks would emerge from his fingertips which would immediately grow into bolts of lightning that would bounce off of the palms of his hands. The esper would lock his gaze upon the woman, then towards the man fighting the Pergranti warrior, confirming his targets for his attack. An opportunity to hit the man with the katana where he'd least expected, and a counterattack against the girl moving to and fro from the shadows of the ships, both of whom he intended to bring down simultaneously. He raised his hands up while lightning danced between his hands, and brought them both down as he sent two bolts of paralyzing lightning against the intruders, as if a lightning strike would hit the both of them from the sky.

(Theoretical) Stat Breakdown:

Techniques Used (In Order):

Yelena’s strike burst through the space separating her from the man opposite of her, though in the end would meet only air despite the fact that, for the briefest of moments, she had gotten the distinct impression that her strike had connected and cleaved through her adversary. The sensory impression she had gotten, the image of his form before her, dispersed, and she involuntarily lost sight of him, if only for a couple of seconds. It was enough time for a slip-up.

“Govno!”

It was a feint. The man had moved with even more swiftness than before, her eyes peeling upwards to spot him in the air above her, blade raised to strike. She moved instinctively, spinning her ax from its outstretched position, using the momentum of her swing to bring it back around from the arc of her failed attack, but that was precisely what was the issue. She pulled with all her might, but this same momentum had meant to cleave the opponent in two. She hadn’t expected the dodge, and the swing meant that it would take an additional second to bring the blade back to cover her form. Yelena’s muscles tensed to the point of rupturing. She knew that this was a life-or-death exchange now. It became clear that her foe outmatched her, something that she realized only now, her previous confidence evaporating. She brought the ax back with a speed that was impressive, even to her, but she had miscalculated, the woman only now spotting the hidden weapon the enemy soldier carried.

Her eyes widened, the flash of light and the sound of an explosion prompting an almost primal fear. Her hands twisted, her weapon moved accordingly, intercepted the shot just in time with a spinning slash of the blade, a flurry of sparks thrown about once again as metal met forcefully with metal. The bullet, undoubtedly a large-caliber round, was deflected, sent flying off into the distance behind her with the distinct screech of a ricochet, but she felt the impact reverberate through her entire being. It was as if time had slowed down for her as her every sense sharpened to a maximum.

She had survived this attack, but quiet elation gave way to realization immediately. The man moved in a flash once again and still had his blade drawn. She didn’t have time to bring the weapon around to block. She didn’t have time to concentrate her psionic energy. She grit her teeth.

There was no pain when the blade passed through her torso as the God of Ishgar pushed past her. At first, Yelena was confused. There still was no pain as she turned, eyes trembling in shock as she stared at her opponent. What had he done?

The realization set in only as she sensed the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. From one second to the next, her lungs had filled with blood, a sensation accompanied by agony as if her torso had been stabbed with a thousand knives. She choked, coughing up a stream of viscous crimson. How? How had he been so fast? How had he severed both her lungs and her heart at the same time? The pain did not last long.

The light around her faded swiftly. She leaned on her weapon for support, but now Yelena couldn’t muster the strength to stand any longer, the Esper sinking to her knees. There was no mistaking it. She had failed her mission to protect this ship, but… she wasn’t Pergrande’s only trump card. No matter what, she believed in her cause, until the bitter end, convinced that she had died for the Motherland. With these thoughts, the light faded from the woman’s eyes as she slumped over, her weapon falling onto the deck with a metallic ring. Yelena, without a doubt, was dead, leaving Mura free hand to proceed as he saw fit.

Cardinal Salvina could not do more than stare at her opponent as the woman approached for a number of seconds, her left hand clutching the mangled flesh of her right arm. Her body and her mind had to process the immense pain before she could even think of acting, moving, doing anything other than suppressing her desire to scream out in agony. All she could think about was fighting back the pain, getting a hold of herself again, and it was almost as if that thought played on repeat in her mind. Over and over, a thousand times in the span of only a second. Her entire body tensed, her muscles seizing, cramping in the absolute and unwavering agony that filled her entire world.

It wasn’t those thoughts that finally allowed her to snap out of her paralysis, however, Vivian’s survival instincts kicking in when she noticed the immense concentration of magical energy her opponent was accumulating around her form once again. If she didn’t snap out of it, didn’t get a grip then this next attack would undoubtedly become the finishing blow to her and take her out for good.

Not yet.

She would not, she could not die yet.

The woman thrust out her left arm, her palm facing the incoming ray of light. In a split second, white flame burst from the limb, even hotter, even more powerful than that which she had summoned before, burning with blinding ferocity. The light slammed into the flame, throwing arcane force into all directions. Salvina pushed, threw her own magical power against that of the attack, attempted to defend with all she had, but the time it had taken for her to react to the spell that the Warlord had thrown at her had been too long to form an entirely cohesive defense, and while the hastily conjured power had diminished the effectiveness of the other’s powers somewhat, she found her aegis broken yet again. Another surge of piercing pain shot through her as an unrelenting ray of light enveloped her unscathed arm, albeit briefly. The pain in her right arm was joined by an equal degree of suffering as the skin on her left, from the elbow down, too, was burned by an intense radiance. The Cardinal was thrown backward by the force of the impact, stumbling at first, then tripping and falling onto the singed ground behind her with a groan that betrayed her misery.

It was now evident for all to see that Cardinal Salvina had reached her limit. The Commander of Bellum’s forces was heavily wounded, though quickly raised herself back up onto her knees, then stood. She refused to go down now, though it evidently took all the strength she could muster to remain conscious right then and there, life force quickly evaporating. Her vision was blurred, and even her iridescent mystic eyes had trouble piercing this cloudy veil. She was breathing heavy, short, pained gasps filling her lungs with air tasting of gunpowder, blood, and ash. Still, she desperately hung on. A small trickle of blood streamed down her face from where the woman had hit her head when she had fallen. She couldn’t go down now. She couldn’t die here. The soldiers behind her, the people of Bellum. They were the reason she was here, the reason she was fighting to protect her nation from an invader. The Cardinal found her will again. She had to keep fighting, even if it would be the last thing she did. She raised her eyes upward, briefly. Her lips parted, a quiet, unintelligible prayer leaving them. She wasn’t finished yet. The people of Bellum relied on her. The soldiers around her needed her. She knew that without her, the chances to win this battle, the odds clearly turning against the alliance forces of the Luminous Covenant, would be slim to nonexistent. The realization struck like a surge of electricity. Her body almost moved on its own. She prayed, almost fanatically so, and as she finished an incantation, filled with an unyielding faith and a conviction to do whatever was necessary, she knew that her prayer had not fallen on deaf ears.

Vivian took a deep breath. The aura of magic around her form, weakened and erratic before, would flare up with the intensity of a previously unparalleled, raging inferno, the woman mobilizing all reserves she had left. From deep within her being, she brought forth all of her mana, and when that had been spent, her life force. With great effort and a cry of determination, she moved her arms skyward, her face twisted into a grimace of torment coupled with an unrelenting force of will.


In that moment, the world shifted, moved by a might unfathomable. The entire battlefield, miles and miles of land, flickered for just an instant, the air distorted as if flickering in a particularly hot summer sun. Then, all at once, thousands, tens of thousands of tiny motes of golden light emerged from the ground, floating gently, suspended in a slow, mesmerizing dance for but a few moments before shifting, moving as if on command. The tiny specks of light swarmed together, forming streams of ethereal power that rushed towards the outstretched hands of Salvina, an orb of blinding amber forming between them as more and more magical power was drawn from the land she had sworn to defend. The sphere of golden light, at first no larger than a small marble, grew with each second, amassing an intensity that increased exponentially. After only a few moments, the sphere had grown so bright with magical power that its radiance surpassed that of the morning sun, steeping the battlefield in a blindingly white glow.

This display, a power of enchanting beauty, drew a great many gazes as more and more arcane force was gathered and the soil of Bellum supplied its readily available mana, and with each passing second, the power that the Cardinal concentrated grew in intensity. She needed just a little bit of time, just a few more moments. If she could only do this, the tides of this battle would turn, making the power that the Cardinal held over the outcome of the fighting at this moment immediately obvious.

Drazos stood for a passing second that seemed almost uncomfortably long among the hectics of the battlefield, observing the impact of his strike on his opponent. At first, it seemed that his hit had been dead-on and dealt damage to great effect, but when his adversary got up and shrugged it off, he understood that this foe would be a little tougher than the average Pergrandean. Instinctively, the Commander of the Crusader forces brought around his spear and aimed the point at his opponent, preparing himself for the inevitable counterattack that was to follow. A tactical mind immediately assessed a few facts. Despite the fact that she was clearly a mage among Pergrandeans, this woman appeared to be a close-range fighter primarily. Her mode of attack and melee weapon strongly suggested as much, his mind briefly on the comrades she had killed to grant him this bit of information. He would shift his approach accordingly.

There would be no compromises today. Commander Drazos was fiercely determined to avenge the fallen and defeat his enemy. He directed all of his senses on this woman, his attention sharpening as the noises and events of the battlefield became a distant blur. Within the span of a single second, this strange instant in time that came and went swiftly and yet in a manner surrealistically sluggish, he found himself in prayer to his god. Praying for strength and, paradoxically, praying for peace. He knew that this kind of mindset had no place here. This was simply another hurdle to overcome.

His magic soared, the crackle of carmine thunder echoing forth once more. This battle he would not lose. He brought his spear around, the weapon clashing with her own blade several times as the two blades connected in a flurry of motion too fast for the average person to perceive. Metal sparked and rang, each strike that Drekka made with her weapon and her metallic fists being blocked by an immensely dexterous spin of the polearm Drazos swung. He was more than capable of keeping up with her speed, revealing just how powerful the leader of the Crusaders really was. Indeed, he would not find himself cornered like his adversary had hoped and, instead, held his ground against her relentless advance. He would offer very little room to actually break through his defense, and between the rapid, precise movements Drazos executed one after the other, there would simply be no opening for Drekka to push through, and, in fact, the woman would get the feeling that her opponent would slowly but surely outmaneuver her and gain the upper hand as he shifted from defensive to offensive. It would be evident that an approach like this would not work out in the long run.

When she attempted to seize him with a grab, Drazos would utilize the opportunity. It seemed that this woman, whoever she really was, wielded metallic magic of some kind, and metal, as everyone knew, attracted the strike of lightning. At her motion, he leaped upward and back, bringing several dozen feet of distance between the two. His magic once again surged, his arcane aura roaring as he, with a swiftness that would hardly find parallel on this battlefield, raised his hand and brought it down. A red magic circle would appear both above and below Drekka, expanding incredibly fast, giving her very little time to react. From the circle above, an array of crimson lightning would surge downwards into the circle below, dozens of tendrils composed of electricity a multitude stronger than his last attack all rushing towards her at mind-numbing velocities, not only paralyzing her if she was struck, but rending flesh and burning through her form wherever they would strike, turning the area around her into a kill zone that even she would have immense trouble avoiding unscathed.

Fortunately for Dela, the path that she had chosen appeared like a sensible one. Few of the surrounding people were paying close attention to her, and now, with a uniform stolen from those who could no longer protest against the crime, she would easily find her way out of the field hospital and deeper into the massive military base Pergrande had built here. A wise assumption on her part would turn out to save her. The deeper she infiltrated, the more the Rune Knight would feel her magic power weaken until she cleared a certain, otherwise inconspicuous point, a kind of unseen event horizon, an invisible border. From one moment to the next, Dela would find the connection to her magic, and indeed, to all mana in the surrounding atmosphere severed. With her magic sensory, she would immediately get the impression that she had stumbled into an area where magic, any kind of magic, did not, and indeed, could not exist. This would be accompanied by an onset of minor fatigue, something that undoubtedly would befall any mage who was used to their form suffused by the arcane, but a few moments of disorientation and vertigo later, the woman would find herself stable once more, if a little weary, now distinctly more mundane than she was used to.

Her cover, of course, remained intact, allowing her to proceed deeper into the base without much hindrance. Pergrande’s military was active here, of course. Officers rushed about and shouted orders at platoons of soldiers that jogged by, hundreds of men and women dressed in full combat gear marching toward their deployment points. The hum of motors and machinery appeared everpresent around her as war machines of a make unknown to Dela were moved about. It would be hard to find structure in the general chaos around her, but the center of the base, luckily, was immediately obvious. Large, almost disk-like structures, seemingly made from metal, seemed to denote the presence and a concentration of important military equipment. The antenna dishes were surrounded by barracks that appeared populated mostly by officers. Individuals with stoic faces and of stern demeanor traveled between different structures that, as Dela would be able to read, were labeled with the emblem of a dual-headed eagle and a distinct line of scripture underneath: “Intelligence Corps Headquarters”. A promising sight, no doubt, as the information that Dela was seeking would most likely be found here, several buildings, offices, coordination centers, data storage, officer’s quarters, standing out. The place, however, was also abuzz with activity. All Dela had to do was to decide how to proceed, if this was indeed a lead she was willing to follow at all.

---

Spell cast by Cardinal Salvina (Effect chosen was #2):

Sacrosancta Oratio:

Sadly, the man did not seem as eager as the Marshal of the Imperial Army was. Aleksandra straightened, her eyes briefly upon the destruction she had wrought as dust and dirt settled after being disturbed by the wave of kinetic force. The girl suppressed a sigh, turning in the direction the Rune Knight had moved, now facing her own battle lines. Her senses, of course, would not lose the man’s position, but the irritation settled in regardless. “How boring”, she spat under her breath, the contempt obvious in her voice. It had been a long time since she had gotten the opportunity to play, and this man refusing to participate in her game, well, that was simply annoying. She had no patience for ignorance like this.

“Die a nameless fool, then”.

The time it took for her to move was so minute that the shift had to appear instantaneous. From one moment to the next, the Marshal had, much like the Rune Knight before, changed her position, following him into her own lines, below the position of her adversary. Wordlessly, she extended her own hand, in a blur of motion moving it from side to side as if to swat away a particularly annoying fly. With the same shriek, the same reverberating sound of hundreds of nails-on-chalkboard distortion, the flame that had begun to glow was snuffed out, the tendrils of darkness threatening to reach groundward bursting into sparks, then fading without any effect whatsoever. It was evident for all to see that Marshal Aleksandra Polyakov wore a pleased expression that almost bordered on smug, the superiority she felt clear on her visage as she looked up to her foe. “I don’t believe we were done yet, Rune Knight”.

At this moment, however, Aleksandra turned her head, noticing the commotion that came from one of her flanks, processing the new threat instantly. Another infiltration into their lines? This was starting to get annoying. Moving her free left hand with unparalleled speed, she waved it much in the same way as before, the streaks that shot across the dawn-lit sky immediately dispersing into fog and mist, failing to have any effect on the battle below. Only now her eyes would focus on the other interloper in the distance, a white-haired woman. Why did they have to make it this tough? How could she possibly decide who to execute first now?

She sighed once more. This whole ordeal was proving to be messy, something she did not enjoy very much. She preferred structure, order, and this kind of jumble in which one couldn’t know where one front began and the other ended was, quite frankly, a nuisance. Her eyes still firmly on the female that had thrown her magic so carelessly down at her lines, she pulled three metallic ball bearing from a pocket, aiming for a moment before, with a gathering of massive force, electricity began to arc between her outstretched hand holding the ball bearing and the ground beneath her feet.


One. Two. Then three. All of the projectiles would be fired at the woman in an incredible burst of force, the ground shaking around Aleksandra as dust and dirt were thrown about by the hypersonic shots piercing the air. Perhaps that would be enough to take care of that annoying little bug.

Satisfied, she turned her attention back to the man she had busied herself with previously, her oculi, aglow with a power so otherworldly and incomprehensible in its scope, centering themselves upon the Rune Knight once more. She’d dragged things out long enough, she figured. Pushing a button on her communication device once more, she spoke again, contacting the Commander of the battleships holding position on the ocean near their coordinates.

“Kapitan. Novyye zakazy. Ogon' na liniyakh Belliana. Vy mozhete nachat', kogda budete gotovy (Captain. New Orders. Fire on the Bellian lines. You may commence when ready)”.

On the seas, the steel behemoths anchored in place would spring to life once more, something immediately obvious to Michael, Mura, and Aliannah. The massive turrets began to roar with the buzz of hydraulics and electricity, the enormous turreted artillery of these mighty warships beginning to adjust to a new set of coordinates, and, within moments, they would be ready to fire, making it immediately obvious to the Covenant forces that the Pergrandean warships would become a massive threat once more, and to the Pact forces that protecting them was once again a priority.

---

Three projectiles from "Accelerate" fired at Serilda. Each does about 15,000 HP of damage and moves at 10,000 m/s.

Accelerate:

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

The Embers of Conflict

The esper took the full brunt of the enemy mage’s attack, and yet despite this, he stood steadfast and unfaltering. He wanted to gauge on the strength of these mages as he himself has not fought any wizard of their caliber, other than one of the guild masters of a dark guild who gave him quite the beating. This attack simply paled in comparison, yet it isn’t something he came out unscathed. It did hurt, but it would take a lot more than that to take him down in one shot. Taking necessary precautions, he shielded himself with a film of psychokinetic barrier as an extra layer of protection.

He watched as the lightning struck on one of his targets, and he didn’t anticipate his attack to be very effective as he saw him get knocked out of the ship. And yet, he failed to protect his comrade as the man had slain her. Should he inform the captain of this loss now or wait later? Is she dispensable? Is she replaceable? How valuable was she to the army? And could he have done something else to help her? Maybe, or maybe not. But this is war, and losses are inevitable.

That should be the end for the man, or maybe not. He is not known to him, so there’s little to no information on that man save for the fact that he's a more melee focused combatant. That he is courageous, or rather foolish, enough to attack the fleet is evidence enough that he won’t be an easy opponent to take down, but that’s all an assumption considering that his attack was able to send him flying. He has yet to see him rise from the waters, and if not, well, good riddance. That just means that there is only one more pest to dispose of. Still, it’s in his best interest to be aware of his surroundings, especially with little intel about his opponents or what they’re capable of. For all he knows, they may be hiding their trump card, which could prove detrimental to the fleet he’s protecting.

(Theoretical) Stat Breakdown:

It was hardly more than an annoyance to Aleksandra, that much was true, but the annoyance fulfilled its purpose. The projectiles that she had launched at the particularly persistent little bug lingering in the air above her armored forces missed by a comparatively minuscule margin. A few degrees of miscalculation at most, amplified by the woman’s rapid maneuvering. The glee the Marshal felt vanished, a metaphorical candle blown out by a gust of wind. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She was here to crush these maggots into dust, not to be embarrassed by a few pathetic mages. Although silent, she would find an emotion that she hadn’t felt in a long time come to her in these moments. Anger. Aleksandra was a person who was composed and stoic to a fault, and despite the fact that her appearance and expressions hardly portrayed the depth of her emotion, her eyes were alight with fury. There was no place for honor in the Marshal’s plans. Victory, so uncompromising and total that it would leave the opponent reeling, was the only option.

She stood fast and unmoving like an incarnation of steadfastness, felt wind magic wash over her ineffectually, her eyes now locked onto the male Rune Knight. He was preparing for another attack, another feeble attempt to hurt the invincible lines of an awakened Pergrande. She would show them.

As soon as that thought had come, it would vanish, however. A massive explosion lit the sky, Aleksandra’s attention shifting from the two mages she’d had in her sights to another pair. Her eyes widened.

This was the Cardinal of Peace in the flesh, currently engaged with one of her mercenary soldiers. Not only that, though.

Salvina was preparing something massive, the motes of mana that were floating towards her so numerous that even the Esper had trouble accounting for all of the power contained therein. So massive, in fact, that the Marshal of the Imperial Army of Pergrande had a feeling that even her Oracle couldn’t stand against it, an occurrence that seldomly, if at all applied. For the first time in this entire battle, Aleksandra Polyakov felt her plans truly threatened. In that small moment of time where she was distracted, where her attention had been entirely captured by something else, the spell that the Rune Knight had cast would take effect.

Briefly, the chaos of the battlefield, the flinging of spells, and the omnipresent rattle of machine guns gave way to a deafening crash. At least a dozen tanks and support vehicles were covered in a wave of burning earth, the catastrophe unmistakably swallowing them whole and burying them under a wave of flame and rock. The Marshal turned, the cool and unfeeling exterior giving away to an expression of anger, her brows furrowed as she looked back upon her battle line. She raised her wrist, spoke into a device on it once more, the cold fury evident in her voice when she spoke.

“Warlord. Quit playing and distract the Rune Knights at my position. I will not tolerate any more losses. I will handle the Cardinal myself”.

She paused briefly, the monotonous stoicism now entirely vanished from her speech.

“This is an order”.

One last glance shifted towards the Rune Knights in the air above her again, then she was gone, moving across the battlefield in an instant.

On the other side of the battlefield, the battleships belonging to the Empire continued to shift into position. Only a few more seconds and they would be ready to fire once more. In the heat of battle, it seemed that, at first, one of the combatants here was struck down by lightning and launched off of his position on one of the Pergranti warships into the seas. The other fighter, Aliannah, however, had unsurprisingly been struck, as well. With her already horrible condition, the woman could do little more than watch her attack have little effect on her target in the skies, and the counterattack was swift to follow. Too swift.

The massive bolt of sparking electricity pierced through the blonde woman and struck her in the middle of the torso. She’d already been grievously wounded, but this blow would undoubtedly spell the end of her participation in this battle. Lightning surged through her body, and, within a second, she would feel all of her muscles seize up, her vision fading to black as consciousness left her body. She tumbled for a moment, two, then fell. With a relatively unspectacular splash, her form would vanish into the depths of the murky waters below, far away from her ally who had befallen a similar fate. For the time being, it would appear as though Michael had successfully defeated both opponents that threatened the Imperial Navy. With the waters now clear, the order to fire was executed immediately, the massive barrels of wrought steel lighting up in a symphony of explosions once more. Their targets were the lines of Bellum and the Rune Knights.

Back on the battlefield, Drazos would breathe a sigh of relief. It seemed that his plans had been successful and that his adversary had indeed not been fast enough to dodge his spell or its effects. The electricity flashed and crackled for a brief second between the interlocked magic circles, then a surge of thunder enveloped his opponent's form. Her durability was formidable, yes, but this was a massive chunk of magic power bundled into a single attack. Within an instant, red lightning burst through the Ironheart Pact Mercenary referred to as Drekka, burning through her scales and singing flesh. She immediately lost consciousness, her body unable to handle the stress of such an attack, now heavily injured. Drekka sank to the ground, steam rising from her defeated form. The Commander of the Crusader Order, Drazos, was victorious.

The situation Cardinal Salvina found herself in, despite the prayer she had brought forth, was anything but great. Her spell took effect and the nearly boundless magical power of the Bellian lands was slowly but surely coalescing to fulfill her wish. Despite this, her opponent was still standing with naught so much as a scratch while she was, for the lack of a better description, on her last legs. This spell was her final hope to turn the tides of battle. She simply had to do anything it took to invoke it successfully. The fate of Bellum, the fate of these armies behind her, was resting on her shoulders. She would not give up. Not yet. Not while she still had the will to fight.

Even if it took her life, she would have to endure just a little longer.

Then, in just a few seconds, the situation on the battlefield shifted once again, unfortunately, to the Cardinal’s detriment. She faced her adversary, and just as she absorbed more and more mana, her foe would do the same, casting a spell from a tome at their side. This was another massive one, judging by the magical energy the book absorbed. The fair-haired woman’s mana-sight told her as much. She braced herself. There had to be something she could do in order to stay alive. She was still occupied with casting, the motes of golden hue coalescing around her. Just a little longer. Then, her opponent fired her spell.


Vivian had no other choice. She would sacrifice herself to continue the battle.

The Cardinal closed her eyes, opening them anew to reveal two oculi of a pure and blank radiance, a perfect glow, an untainted white, the leader of the Bellian army activating her Mystic Eyes at the price of her life force. How much had she sacrificed in that moment? 10 years? 20? She couldn’t say for sure, but she had to do it. She would have no regrets.

As her opponent fired her attack, it began to burn away almost immediately, a white flame of an unparalleled incandescence swallowing the darkness as it shifted, moved against Medeia’s will, before finally changing course heavenward. Only a second later, the battlefield was rocked by another massive explosion, a shockwave that coursed through the bones of mage and soldier alike… thankfully without doing nearly as much damage as it otherwise would have had it not been redirected into the sky, if any at all. It made for an impressive display, though. A twisted kind of firework that possessed the capabilities to inflict mass destruction now imploded high in the atmosphere. The sky darkened briefly as a flash of light ruptured the cloud cover, leaving a massive remnant of burning flame and smoke where it had burst.

Where had Pergrande hidden all of this might before?

If only this had been the only thing of concern for the Cardinal. As soon as one rumbling implosion had stopped, more would echo forth, smaller, admittedly, but no less worrisome. The Cardinal turned, her unbound Mystic Eyes widening in shock. The combined lines of the Rune Knights and Bellum were alight with flame. A massive explosion destroyed a trenchline far away, followed by one, two, three more. Dozens of explosions. They tore up the dusty earth, throwing dirt, wood, and bodies high up into the air before it all descended as an unrecognizable, blood-tinted mist. “No… The Fleet!”. The realization was almost immediate. The mages sent to distract and destroy the Pergranti battleships off Bellum’s shores must’ve failed, and the Bellian Army, along with the Rune Knights, would now pay the price. Massive artillery shells fell onto the unexpecting forces of the Luminous Covenant like a rain of steel, bursting in the air above the combined armies and scattering shrapnel across their formation. With each impact, with each shell, hundreds died, again, again, and again. A Shock coursed through Salvina’s system. This was unsustainable. If this continued for much longer, Bellum and its allies were done. Screams filled the battlefield as entire fronts were silenced by flame and metal. There was no evading. There was no defending. They had do to something fast.

It wouldn’t take a strategist to realize that, if the two competing sides possessed any trump cards, they had to play them now or the battle would be decided by the queen of battle: Artillery.

In the camp of the Pergranti Army, Dela would finally find her way into the Coordination Center of the Intelligence Corps Headquarters, the special mission she had been assigned finally getting one step closer to completion. Considering that Dela had access to rank insignia for titles comparatively high on the Pergranti Hierarchy, finding a way in was easier than one would assume. The tent that had become her target, a provisional headquarters at best, was unassuming from the outside, the green-grey hued canvas material of its exterior doing nothing to portray what would become evident upon stepping inside: A command center, built entirely of steel, flashing lights, and a countless, nearly unending amount of paper files. Computers and screens lined the walls of this space. A real-time satellite image of the battlefield was displayed on one massive screen. A map of the oceans around Bellum lit up another. One more showed topography. Another detailed updated battle plans. It continued like this. A true center of administration. Without doubt, this place constituted something of a brain to Pergrande’s operations in Bellum. Indeed, Dela would soon realize that this battle was not the only push into Bellian territory the Imperial Army of Pergrande was engaged in. All along the border, the nation that was associated with the Luminous Covenant was being overrun by a number of troops so large that it seemed, at first, to be false, undoubtedly disinformation, a lie.

But this was the central intelligence headquarters of the Imperial Army of Pergrande, was it not? Would that not mean that this information was accurate? If that was the case…


Regardless of what this piece of information entailed, this room would be a practical jackpot to Dela as far as intelligence was concerned, obviously. Especially attractive documents and files lined the desks that had been set up here. Personnel was openly discussing battle plans as they planned Pergrande’s next strategic moves. After all, how could an outsider possibly enter this space? It was a non-possibility to the Pergrandeans. They were without a single worry. To their disadvantage.

As Dela found her way in, a virtual treasure trove of documents was ready to be pilfered from all over the place. At first glance, they appeared like little more than descriptive handouts meant for newly assigned intelligence officials, but it was information nonetheless. In passing, she would be able to identify three recurring monikers, titles etched into the ink of many documents all over, a pattern to which, however, was yet to be discovered.

One of them bore the ominous title of “Valkyrie”. Another set could be associated with the name “Jupiter”. The last of the bunch was labeled “Nyx” in its Pergranti equivalent. All of these documents sat there, scattered among supply lists and details on upcoming weather. It was now upon Dela to try and scan for any actual information, if she even wanted to delve deeper into any one of these subjects at all. Perhaps looting the desks of other intelligence officials may draw some attention, but as with all things in life, everything bore its risk. It was up to her to decide.

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

The Embers of Conflict

There was a brief pause on his side. He had seen the two of them fall towards the waters, and he was very sure that one of them would not be back into the fray any time soon. He saw her figure disappear as she sank beneath the ocean. The same goes for the other wizard struck by lightning. Yet he has this uneasy feeling that it’s not over yet. He wasn’t spared a single second for brief contemplation before the fleet opened fire. It was deafening, immediately drowning out his thoughts. He is unfazed, however, as it wasn’t something he isn’t used to. It was all just white noise to him.

That the fleet opened fire must mean that the Marshal wanted to end things swiftly. And yet this uneasy feeling remained, which must mean he isn’t done with his job yet. It is a fact he is all too aware, and time and time again he is tested by enemies who had more tricks up their sleeve, and that it wasn’t their final fight. And time and time again, his gut feeling was proven right. When in the past it would come back and bite him in worse ways, like the time he almost died from the hands of a dark guild master, today was different. His eyes were at the blue waters, and then to the fleet. He observed the azure surface of the ocean and the metallic frame of the navy, while the fleet let loose a symphony of explosions. Through all the smoke, he saw it. He saw him bursting from the surface of the ocean. This time, with a blood scythe.

He wondered if this wizard was confident in his new toy that he thinks it would be enough to turn the tides to his favor. He imagines that his attacks would be futile, if only annoying. A vain attempt, sure, considering the man is attacking a ship made of oblivium. However, it would be a shame if his attacks did do something to the ship. What if his new toy is proven to be effective? All these unknown variables crossed through his mind, and it all led to one course of action - interfere.

He commanded the cyberspace within him to fetch his sniper rifle, the same one he used to wound the other wizard. A hexagon sigil would form in front of him, after which the two parts of his rifle protruded from the shapes. They would snap together, and after a brief moment, a faint whir would be heard, as if the rifle was charging. The man was flying very fast, and it would take him a moment to aim at his opponent. He wasn’t aiming at anything specific, just that he’s aiming at him in general because otherwise it would take him longer. And… bang. He pulled  the trigger, a bullet of red psychokinetic energy firing from the barrel of his rifle and coming at his enemy fast, hoping to take down his opponent once and for all.

(Theoretical) Stat Breakdown:

Technique Used:

If nothing else, she had to acknowledge one thing about to these mages...

They were persistent.

The Marshal had expected them to go down easier, but they had tenacity and fought like animals. She wasn’t so ignorant to unconditionally accept Pergrande’s teachings about magic and the arcane, as was the case with most of the noble class of the Empire, but she believed in her supremacy, the supremacy of her country, her people, and, of course, her army. Today, she had found a new kind of respect for the forces of Bellum.

One she would factor into future battle plans after they had all been destroyed and ground into the dirt.

She appeared not far from her opponent, the outstretched sword in her right hand readied for battle. Just in time, it seemed. Her opponent had amassed a stunning power around her, and even without the means to sense magic power, the esper still felt the pressure descend on the battlefield, its immensity growing by the second. She had to finish Salvina now.

But, naturally, the Rune Knight had to interfere again.

The rage bubbled inside Aleksandra, her ice-cold, unmoving demeanor portraying none of her emotion. Her unblinking eyes, alight with psionic might, stared at the Cardinal and the Rune Knight woman as the latter called upon more reinforcements in the form of arcane summons. It only served to increase her silent, frigid irritation. Playtime was over. The Marshal had held back and more or less toyed with her opponents for the entirety of this battle.

No more.

She would obliterate the summons and create an opening to kill the Cardinal. Whatever she did to the Rune Knight didn’t matter. The white-haired woman would find a way to wriggle free from Aleksandra’s grip again like the insect she was. It was no use. She would ignore her and focus on the real treat.

When she spoke again, her voice trembled, rippled with unrestrained might.


Aleksandra’s voice rang out like the crack of ice in a blizzard, an echo laden with such willpower that it drowned out even the sounds of the war around them. Reality shattered and obeyed her command. First was the ax-wielding warrior. It all happened in a span that was close to an instant. His body froze for a moment as the barrier around him caved in before he was twisted, then crumpled like a piece of paper. His bones splintered, his flesh was sundered, and his form broken before being dispersed into arcane sparks as the summon was violently evicted back to where it had come from. Before her opponents had a chance to react, to counterattack, Aleksandra had already acted. Her movements were so swift that none of her opponents could even perceive her as she appeared before the other newly arrived warrior, the dark-skinned woman.


With nothing more than a light slap of her hand, this one was crushed by a wave of kinetic energy that would break every single bone in her body, lift her off her feet and launch her into the air away from the other combatants. The barrier could not withstand the sheer pressure that was put on it, and she, too, was eliminated within only a short moment. The Cardinal’s flank was open. She had to do it now or she risked her forces. Aleksandra twisted her blade, pointed it straight at the Cardinal. The courtesy for last words was something she couldn’t give. It would have been the honorable thing to do, but there was no honor in war. The leader of the Bellian Army was about to cast her spell.


This was Marshal Polyakov’s most potent attack, so fast that it was nigh instantaneous and, as she believed, unavoidable. Human beings weren’t even able to process its speed, and even Aleksandra had a hard time controlling this much energy at once. Her form accelerated past what a body should be able to withstand as she focused to an absolute maximum. The concentrated psionic energy she emitted twisted as she expertly manipulated, directed, and amplified force. The atmosphere between her and her target was ripped apart as she circled the Cardinal, the world in Aleksandra’s vision blurring as the light around her struggled to reach her eyes. Then, within less than a heartbeat, less than the blink of an eye, it was all over.

The Marshal’s blade emerged from the Cardinal’s chest at an angle, the weapon having entered from the back and pierced upward. Her spine and ribs were crushed. Her lungs collapsed. She would suffocate, choke on her own blood, sanguine liquid bursting from her mouth as she coughed… but she still spoke. Not enough to stop the Cardinal. Despite these mortal injuries, she still had life left in her. Praiseworthy, but ultimately futile. For a second, Aleksandra remained in this position before pulling her blade free. She spun around, shifted to the Cardinal’s side, and, in one swift motion, cut her throat. More blood burst forth in a spray, then it was over. The white glow in the woman’s mystic eyes vanished, revealing their iridescent hue once more before the light in them dulled forever. Vivian Salvina toppled forward and slumped to the ground.

The Cardinal of Peace was dead.

Was that all? She’d been awfully flashy for someone so pathetically weak.

Now, the only one left was the Rune Knight.

The fleet continued its massive assault, every additional moment, every passing second allowing it to rain more steel, more shrapnel, more death upon the alliance forces. It was an unprecedented slaughter, and the pending intervention of not one, but two Gods of Ishgar would be the wisest act, indeed. When Mura appeared from beneath the waves to emerge as an antagonistic force to the Pergranti fleet anew, the ships had long zeroed in on their land targets and were in the middle of off-shore bombardment. Impromptu fortifications and battlelines, even defensive magic of anything less than magnificent strength stood little chance when faced with firepower of such caliber. Still, it seemed that the Guild Master of Fairy Tail had developed a strategy to counter the mighty armor of these ships. Oblivium, as he had so cleverly deduced. In a flash, a blade of accursed blood was released and flew into one of the turrets before disappearing. At first, it seemed like nothing had happened, that the slash had simply vanished from sight. Then, one of the long steel tubes on the outside of the armored hull sunk to the ship’s deck and crashed with a heavy and metallic screech. The cut had sunk deeply into the structure, and while it lacked the strength to emerge again on the other side of the turret, it did its job. Metallic sparks and shards of armor had been thrown about inside the turret. A danger for any contained space that housed explosives. A single spark would be enough.

Then, a flash followed. A hatch on top of the turret was blown open by an explosion, a jet stream of flame emerging from it and shooting a good 90 feet up into the sky. A spark had ignited the powder charge for the shells inside the structure, violently burning them up and turning the entire turret into one massive fireworks show. The crew inside was incinerated immediately, and the turret would be rendered unusable. That, however, was only one turret. There were several more battleships, each with an array of these weapon systems. It would become evident that, while his attack had been effective, Mura couldn’t finish the fleet off in this way before the fleet had entirely destroyed the allied forces on the mainland.

There was something else, though. At the same time as Mura’s attack, the waves beneath the ships shook, trembling with a vibration from deep beneath the waves. From one moment to the next, the situation for the Empire’s fleet changed as their formation was thrown into disarray by violent currents. One destroyer found itself in the midst of a forming maelstrom and immediately capsized, keeling over before sinking beneath the ocean waves forever, a fountain of air erupting when its hull was compressed deep in its watery grave. The fleet maneuvered immediately, almost too quickly for it to be natural, but even with what seemed like luck and a good sense on their side, it was too late for two vessels. The battleship Mura had just attacked was driven deeper into the maelstrom, and while it the attack from the other God of Ishgar wasn’t strong enough to outright destroy it, its steering had been completely disabled…

… meaning that there was nothing that the crew could have done when It crashed directly into another battleship. The screech of bending steel was ear-splitting as the gigantic vessels roared. The bow of the damaged battleship sank into the starboard side of another, crushing part of the superstructure and bending the hull inwards. At first, the tear in its side was barely visible, then it widened as the steel behemoth drove deeper into the exposed flank, and then, finally, a chain reaction doomed both ships. The magazines of the rammed vessel had taken damage, and, much like earlier, sparks were all it took to set off powder charges.

In an impressive fireball, the rammed vessel was simply disintegrated, the explosion comparable to some of the more powerful spells that had been set off on the battlefield not far away from here. The other, already damaged ship did not get away unscathed. The armor plating of these vessels was incredibly strong, but not strong enough to withstand a blast of this magnitude. The ship's bow was shredded and it was thrown upward, the sheer awe of this sight invoking the question of just how much force was necessary to launch a steel behemoth like this one into the air. It sat at an angle, almost suspended for a second before it came crashing down, flipping over as it, too, capsized, the wreck sitting there in the water. The maelstrom disappeared, leaving a part of the Imperial Navy completely wrecked. As for the remaining majority of ships, it was safe to say that their aim had been entirely thrown off by the attack, and while the attack had lacked the destructive power to damage the rest of them, the ships immediately seized fire, a fact that would undoubtedly save many lives, alarms flaring up on nearly all vessels as they went into high alert.

The Cardinal simply stared at her opponent before the mage took off and flew away. For a moment, the woman was simply stunned. The Marshal? What did that mean?

Before Salvina could ponder the question much, she noticed the swirl of magic near her, as well as the appearance of the Rune Knight and her summons. It was a relief. After having been battered by an opponent that had legitimately outclassed Vivian, she knew that every surprise could spell her end sooner than later. The arrival of an ally and reinforcements, though, was a welcome one, and the Cardinal turned to the Field Marshal briefly before centering her attention on the Pergranti front line not too far away from here, though listened with great concern to what Serilda had to say. The Director had abandoned the battle lines to try and disrupt the operations of the fleet. A good decision. If the Pergranti weapons continued to demolish the forces of the Luminous Covenant and the Rune Knights alike this wouldn’t be much of a battle at all. When Serilda suggested a retreat, though, Vivian shook her head as she continued to amass magical power. She was nearly there.

“I appreciate your concern, Field Marshal Sinclair, but if anything can turn the tides of battle, it will be this spell. A treasure of Bellum. I have to see it through. I am almost done. Just a few more moments. If this can’t, we are as good as-”

She paused, her eyes falling upon a figure that appeared just before the two alliance members. She had moved in at an unthinkable velocity. Was this the Marshal the other mage had threatened? Shit. She had to cast her spell now.

In a single second, she released all stored-up magical energy. A massive flood of magical pressure descended upon the battlefield, like a weight of an imagined gravity amplified a dozen times over. At this moment the summoned man next to Vivian was crushed by an unseen force and dispersed. Shit.

The Cardinal lowered her hands. Between them formed a sphere of golden light, brighter than any spell she could think of. A glow of unparalleled brilliance. The concentrated power of Bellum. A magic circle of the same color erupted beneath Vivian’s feet, the amount of magical power she released increasing still until it would go critical. The next summon was felled as her opponent moved almost instantly, and the Cardinal whipped around, her hands now close to one another as if in prayer. Just a few more moments. She would unleash unprecedented destruction upon the ranks of Pergrande. She would turn the tides of this battle.

It was now or never.


The Cardinal did not finish her incantation.

Searing pain dominated her consciousness once more. She looked down, the sphere of golden lights between her hands dissipating against the glimmer of blood-stained steel protruding from her chest. Her expression twisted in pure horror, blood bursting from her mouth. What had happened?

The enemy had been before her just a blink of an eye earlier. She looked back, saw the face of a young woman behind her. Realization washed over her. This was it. She turned her head to Serilda. There was nothing she could do anymore. The Cardinal of Peace, Vivian Salvina, had done her utmost to fight for her homeland against an invader. Despite this, she had not been strong enough to lead her army to victory. She had been naive. She had underestimated her enemy from the start, and now it was coming back to haunt her. All that was still in her power was damage control.

“Re…treat”.

As many Bellians and Rune Knights had to survive this battle so that they may have a chance to achieve victory in the future. Her only regret was that she wouldn’t be there to see it.

Her enemy moved again, then the world went black. The cold sensation of steel against her neck was the last thing Cardinal Vivian Salvina felt, then all shifted to darkness.

On the other side of the battle lines, Dela would have entirely different issues to deal with. The papers she picked up were unmistakably written in Pergranti, and why would they not be? The Pergranti itself would not be the issue. It used a variety of deeply technical terms that Dela wouldn’t, couldn’t be familiar with. It was, plain and simple, cryptic in its complexity of describing something that the Rune Knight would not be familiar with. It would take a little bit of time to make sense of the finer details, but eventually, she would, through context, be able to glean the meaning of some descriptions used in the first document she had assessed:










Doctor Igarov and his team have succeeded in the stabilization of a meta-field using purified and enriched samples of Oblivium-alloy comprised of the following materials:

Oblivium - Purity: 99.998%
[REDACTED]
Adamantine - Ratio of [REDACTED]

This means that the old and stationary prototypes could be miniaturized. Large amounts of electricity are still required to power the creation of a meta-field, but small reactors should eliminate that problem. Size of the core is in direct correlation with the size and potency of the meta-field created. Furthermore, the newly-developed cores of purified Oblivium have a much higher efficiency rate. Ethernano inside the meta-field is dispersed at a rate of almost [REDACTED]%. Test subjects inside the meta-field, as a consequence, were unable to manifest magical phenomena at all, a significant improvement over the previous generations of Reality Engines. Continued, further stabilization of the meta-field makes it impossible for mana to overload the Reality Engine as was the case in previous tests.

Doctor Igarov and the Imperial Bureau of Technology request increased funding and personnel to study the development of this phenomenon further. The findings have been presented to the Committe of the Imperial Army and authorization for battlefield prototypes has been granted by [REDACTED].

The development of Project Valkyrie, as predicted in earlier assessments by the Imperial Bureau of Technology, is nearing its completion. It is estimated that battlefield testing may be conducted using selected mobile prototypes as early as 11/04/X892, a little more than two weeks from the point this report is dictated. It is recommended to inform the troops and train intelligence officers in the use of the newly developed engines.


Long live the Empress.



This was all Dela would be able to make out before furor seemed to break out amongst the previously very covert individuals that seemed to staff the Coordination Center of the Intelligence Corps Headquarters. Just as quickly as it had come, though, it was silenced by a tall, grey-haired man in a uniform that was similar to the usual Pergranti military garb, albeit fancier and decorated with some rather shiny medals. He addressed a man who really seemed to dismay his current position before him in a rather agitated fashion.

“Dvoye iz nikh?!? Vy uvereny, chto otchety verny? (Two of them?! Are you sure the reports are correct?)”.

“Boyus', chto da, ser. My poteryali svyaz' s dvumya linkorami. (I’m afraid so, Sir. We’ve lost contact with two of the battleships)”.

The man seemed positively furious when he swung around and shouted at another soldier sat at a display screen.

“Mobilizovat' voyenno-vozdushnyye sily! Pryamo seychas! Yeshche nemnogo poter', i ya poteryayu golovu. Vyyasnite, chto yego vyzvalo, i unichtozh'te yego! (Mobilize the Air Forces! Right now! Any more losses and I’ll lose my head. Find out what has caused this and destroy it!)”.

The attention of the entire room was now on a map of the waters just off the coast of Bellum’s mainland displayed on a screen near one of the corners. Three markers, one smaller and two bigger ones, were greyed out, the rest of them moving positions. A whirr of echoes erupted as soon as orders were given and received, men and women shouting commands and relaying data in a tumult of voices. The focus of the room had shifted and was now entirely set on this issue that had come up. Smooth sailing had turned into a serious predicament, leaving Dela with a distraction, should she need one. The files before her were too recognizable and conspicuous for smuggling, with their bright-red binders that read “CLASSIFIED”, though it was a good time to silently find an exit now that the opportunity to do so had come… or commit more of these documents to memory.

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

The Embers of Conflict

It was true, afterall. His enemy put up much more of a resistance. Normally his precise and decisive skill in sniping would end fights before they even started as one shot was all it would take to cull them down. But him? He was tough and battle hardened, his psychokinetic bullet pushing the enemy mage as he intercepted his attack with his bloody scythe. This just means his bravado in charging the Pergranti fleet wasn't all bark and no bite, and proof of this is his ability to slice through the fleet's artillery. He's strong, he'll give him that. He was right about not underestimating his opponent, especially when they have a trump card against oblivium constructs such as the fleet. Should he be pissed? Perhaps. The enemy did manage to cut through one of the ship's artillery, and that enough gets him pissed off.

Little did he know that another enemy would make their move, as he saw the waves beneath several Pergranti ships move errantly, until it grew to form a maelstrom. He could only watch as the vessels were destroyed one after another, crashing towards one ship and disintegrating in a burst of explosion, with little to no time to react and save its crew. The mage had backup. He had someone even more powerful than him on his side that could create this phenomenon. Did he fail? ...no. There are still several ships still standing. This is war, and casualties on their side were inevitable.

His attention was on the destroyed ships and he failed to notice his enemy disappearing. Where is he? He doesn't know. He was distracted, and he was angry for that. He looked to his left, and he wasn't there. On his right, same thing. The man had vanished from his sights. Did he flee, or did he hide? No, he can't have fled. Did he hide underwater? And if so where? These thoughts were running in his mind as he looked for the swordsman. Then suddenly, the surface of the water broke beneath him as the enemy darted towards him, scythe in hand. He noticed too late. The swordsman raced towards him in a blur and, upon closing in on his position, attacked with his scythe.

It was futile, the blade only stopping a few centimeters short before the attack was finished. It was as if the attack could not reach him at all, like a supernatural force preventing it from tearing through his flesh and bones, which is doubtless what the swordsman had intended when attacking from below. Still, it did numbers to his defenses, but it wasn't enough to pierce through the barrier completely. For a brief moment, his gaze would meet his in the middle of the uppercut. Yes, he will remember the face of the man who got close to him.

The esper would like to return the favor. Psionic power would pool over to his hands, then at the sky. Dust would form out of nothingness, coalescing to form earthen fragments, and then joining with other fragments once more to form a shape - a sphere. No, this is not just a sphere. It looked like a dead planet, and he intended it to send it crashing towards him.

That was the intention, until his attention shifted at the red flares on the battlefield. The backup had also called towards the swordsman to retreat. Did they win the battle? That could be the only explanation if they ceased their assault against the fleet. Then pursuing the swordsman would be a fruitless endeavor. The flow of psionic power through the dead planet would cease, disintegrating back into nothingness as a result.

(Theoretical) Stat Breakdown: