Keith stared at the barren wasteland, where blood pooled beneath the countless corpses that surrounded him. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mingled with the metallic tang of blood. Smoke rose from afar, where funeral pyres were set ablaze, carrying the acrid bite of burning flesh. The ground was sticky underfoot, and every breath he drew seemed tainted with decay. Everything combined to create, perhaps, the most ominous sight that he had ever witnessed.
His senses ran wild on instinct, expanding as far as they could, eventually striking something invisible yet tangible, and it made him frown.
Raising his head to the sky, he saw the faint shimmer of a transparent barrier in the shape of a dome, a few hundred metres high and stretching outwards with a radius of seven kilometres.
He had studied several books on Formations, and his attainments were not low in this field.
The Formation he found himself trapped in was called the Dread Formation, a wartime construct used to isolate battlefields. It could only be lifted by the Commander-in-Chief of the army that emerged victorious in the battle. In case both Commanders-in-Chief perished, the Formation would last for several hours or days, depending on the energy left inside the Spirit Stones that had been used to erect it. Even a Martial Emperor would find it extremely difficult to break through.
Since it was still in effect, and given how fresh the blood on these corpses was, it meant that the battle had ended only a short while ago.
He could hear the cries of the war prisoners, including women being raped, and the terrified wails of children as iron brands sizzled against their skin.
The raucous laughter and cheers of the victors seemed to shake the sky itself, and his heart started racing as he counted their numbers and assessed their strengths.
There were thousands of them. Over two and a half thousand Martial Warriors. Nearly a thousand Martial Knights. More than a hundred and fifty Martial Generals. Dozens of Martial Masters. And four Martial Tyrants.
It was clearly the army of a very powerful force in this world, and judging by the battlefield and the corpses of the fallen enemy, whose numbers far exceeded those of the victors and who were slaughtered without mercy, it was evident that the winning side had come prepared and was of superior quality.
And seeing the bodies of young and old mixed among the dead, who all bore more or less similar features, it was most likely a genocide of a large tribe.
Buzzz...
Suddenly, the Formation locked onto him, and the transparent barrier began to pulse red, casting a dim glow over the battlefield and informing the army that some enemies still remained.
The scouts rushed out of their camps, boots thudding on scorched earth, approaching him in groups, and he sighed as he sensed their intentions.
They were angry that he had spoiled their fun.
"Seriously?" he questioned the Divine Law of Judgement, which had sent him here, and helplessly shook his head.
Without waiting for another second, he called out his two wives, who had been quite impatient to step into the Lower Heaven.
"Welcome to the Lower Heaven."
"Yes..." Rebecca and Avriel, suddenly called forth, froze in their excitement, and as the bells of crisis rang in their ears, their expressions turned solemn.
The ominous battlefield was the last thing they had expected to see upon entering the Lower Heaven. The smoke stung their nostrils, and the crackle of distant flames mixed with the muffled cries of the dying. Both inadvertently looked at Keith, uncertain of what to say to him.
"Never thought you would be this lucky." His blonde bride teased him, then summoned a Wicked Sword into her hand. Its sharp edge sang faintly as it left the sheath. "This should be fun."
Avriel too drew her sword from the Storage Ring, the metallic ring echoing as steel met the air, and both girls were glad they were already wearing their battle-dresses.
There were thousands of enemies, but both knew that it would be harder to escape from this Formation than to face them all.
"They are not at their best, and their supplies should be exhausted after the battle that took place here." The blonde quickly assessed the situation and sensed the Auras of the approaching enemies.
"You're right."
"Here they come." The White Princess lightly smiled as the enemy forces, clad in golden armour and equipped from head to toe, surrounded them. The clink of metal upon metal resounded as shields locked into place, and the growls of beasts rippled through the air.
And there were not just people, but also hundreds of Magical Beasts, all staring at them. Some snorted hot air through their nostrils, others pawed the blood-soaked ground restlessly, the earth trembling under their weight.
Perhaps it was the smiles on their faces that alarmed the thousands of Aurors, or perhaps it was the fact that none of them could see through to their true strength.
Maybe it was the battle instincts of these hardened warriors that told them the three unexpected guests on the battlefield were not ordinary people.
Besides, no ordinary person would suddenly appear on a battlefield that was sealed with the Dread Formation.
Sure enough, when the four Martial Tyrants who were leading this army suddenly stepped forward, they demanded their identities instead of ordering the troops to attack.
"Name yourselves!" A tall, burly man, who was easily eight feet tall, bellowed at them. His voice boomed like a drumbeat across the battlefield, and his thick accent, coupled with his heated gaze, displeased the two girls.
The language he spoke was Ashaya, the most common tongue in the Heavens, which all of them knew, so it was easy to understand what the man had said. However, his accent was utterly horrid, which also revealed his low upbringing.
All three of them could tell that despite being a Rank 4 Martial Tyrant, this man was not someone important.
"Does it matter?" Rebecca said coldly. "You are going to die today."
She could sense that the man was layered with the fresh Aura of multiple women, and from the cries she could hear echoing behind him, it was easy to deduce that he had spent his time raping the women their forces had captured in the battle.
Before the brute could act on his impulse, another Martial Tyrant stepped forward. He was taller than his companion but leaner, with a far sharper presence. He smiled faintly and spoke with unsettling calm.
"I am Droga, a Rank 8 Martial Tyrant, Lord of the Golden Rock, Grand Marquis of the Elysian Empire, and Commander-in-Chief of the 9th Platoon of the Golden Army. May I ask which Faction the three Excellencies belong to?"
He was very polite, and his accent was much clearer. His armour also bore a set of stars and an emblem that was different from the rest.
And though he was not the strongest of the four Martial Tyrants, he was the youngest, only a few decades old.
Droga knew that no ordinary people would stand so carelessly in front of their platoon and on this battlefield that reeked of death. He was also trying to figure out how they had managed to appear inside the Dread Formation, but the answer he received in return for his politeness chilled his heart.
"You are going to die too," Avriel answered him in the same tone Rebecca had used earlier, and as soon as her words fell, a black flame burst out from beneath her feet. Its chill warped the air, and the ground silently cracked beneath her.
She was much more upset than her sister after hearing the cries of the children.
Keith and Rebecca started channelling their Darkness Element as well, and seeing all three of them wield the Origin Element, Droga and his forces tensed.
"They are from the Dark Tower!" someone yelled, and as soon as his voice fell, his severed head toppled from his shoulders.
Keith, who had drawn first blood, disappeared from everyone's sight again and reappeared at the very back of the army, where he started slaughtering the weakest Martial Warriors and Martial Knights. Screams tore through the ranks as steel split flesh, and he moved with such speed that only the spray of blood betrayed his path. His intention was clear. He wanted to cut their numbers as swiftly as possible.
By the time he cut down his third target, he was completely surrounded in Dark Flames. A deathly chill radiated from them, seeping into the bones of those nearby, and an unnatural silence followed wherever they spread. He was leaving a river of Darkness in his wake, which was expanding across the ground.
Avriel too did not waste any time as she rushed to the left, ignoring the four Tyrants and targeting the group of Martial Knights, who were at their weakest, having not recovered from their earlier battle. Her blade shrieked as it clashed against armour, and the thunder of collapsing bodies followed.
Cries of helplessness and fear shook the sky as the slaughter began on the two fronts, and even as the enemies utilised their remaining Talismans, Magical Weapons, and Armour, they were effortlessly cut into pieces by the two Eldeilyon.
"Formation 5! Use the Eagle Arrays!" Droga commanded the troops to pull back and engage the enemy from long range. Then he rushed directly at Keith, having marked him as the most dangerous of the three.
The rest of the Martial Tyrants rushed at Rebecca, who was still standing in her place, enclosed inside a sphere of Darkness that was expanding at an alarming rate.
For some reason, merely looking at that sphere suffocated them. A cold weight pressed on their lungs, and their palms grew damp around their spears.
All three of them were wielding golden spears, and as soon as they summoned their Aura Soul Beasts, they unleashed torrents of flame from their weapons, trying to pierce into this Sphere of Darkness, and failed miserably.
Their action instead acted as a catalyst, and the Dark Sphere expanded even faster. Before they could even take their next breath, the Darkness engulfed them, and they found themselves trapped inside their worst nightmares.
Away from them, Droga watched his Commanders swallowed by Darkness, and cold shivers ran up his spine.
He had the utmost faith in their abilities, but all of them were very tired now, and they were masking the injuries that they had suffered earlier. He had to pull them out of that Sphere of Darkness.
Just for a brief moment, he considered running away, but remembering what his Emperor would do to him if he deserted his platoon, he gritted his teeth and summoned a golden disc into his hand.
It was the last remaining treasure that he had on him, and it was his life-saving card.
"Hold him for a minute!" he ordered, and even though the soldiers knew that approaching Keith meant death, they still rushed at him bravely, accompanied by their Magical Beasts.
A strange thing suddenly happened, and they felt a wave of psychic force wash over their senses, rooting them to the spot and rattling their souls. Their ears rang and their vision blurred, and when they regained clarity a while later, they found their Magical Beasts fleeing from the battlefield, claws and hooves pounding the ground in blind terror. Many were missing altogether.
They had vanished as if they had never existed.
Fountains of blood rose as several Martial Warriors were decapitated, the spray hot against the air, and with them, the War of Might ended and the War of Magic began...