3 Path of Oblivion (3): End of Reigns

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The resounding clang of metal upon metal echoed through the battlefield, as axes clashed fiercely against swords and shields held strong.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Accompanied by the booming sound of spells being cast and launched into the fray.

Amidst the chaos, crimson rivers flowed freely, their source being the brave souls who stood valiantly in defence of their cause.

The once magnificent forest, home to diverse flora and fauna, now resembles hell on earth.

The forest, once cherished by barbarians, now bled alongside its offspring, fiercely defending their cherished habitat.

The forest that once thrived with millions of barbarians and whose name resounded throughout the world was the Great Barkos Uba Forest.

And now that forest stood as a mere speck of dust, a faded echo of its past glory, while the barbarians it sheltered thrived only in their thousands.

All manners of anguish gripped the mother forest, witnessing her children's growth and now beholding their descent like her withered leaf.

But there was still hope.

She could feel it.

Hope coursed through her veins like an unwavering flame that ignited her spirit.

She understood that she must wholeheartedly believe in her children and provide unwavering support in any way possible. And so she did; she granted her Shaman children unrestricted access, allowing them to draw upon her strength to safeguard themselves.

She struggled with her children, but nothing was going her way.

No, this was not an event she desired to behold but found herself powerless to avert.

This was not the spectacle she longed for; she did not want to witness the anguished cries and mournful demise of her beloved offspring.

This was not the spectacle she longed for.

A man who too could feel these emotions stood on the edge of a cliff, gazing upon the panoramic expanse of the entire battlefield.

The battlefield sang a symphony of pain, fear, cries, suffering, struggles, and death, which echoed through the air.

Even after witnessing it all, the man endured and waited, for he knew it was not the right moment as the main force of the enemy remained absent.

At the edge of the horizon, the early rays of the sun shimmered and gleamed, casting their radiant reflection upon the expansive river. On that precipice, he discerned the approach of boats.

Their numbers loomed vast, stretching as far as his eyes could discern, saturating the horizon with their presence.

He inhaled deeply, drawing in a breath that filled his lungs and steeled his resolve.

Looking at the situation, he could confirm that this would not be an easy fight and that today he would have to give his outstanding best, and even then, the possibility of defeat lingered in the air.

However, the thought or even the strand of giving up didn't even linger in his mind or his attitude; rather, thinking of the fight where he would have to give his all started making his blood churn.

The warrior within his body grew increasingly restless.

Bolt!

zing!

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning erupted from the man, hurtling towards the nearby boulder with unfathomable force.

Boom!

Just this unconscious and sudden change in his emotions caused the colossal boulder to shatter into countless fragments.

This man stood as the embodiment of power, none other than the Chief of the last barbarian tribe.

The Scourge.

Yakarl Reigns.

He walked back several metres from the edge of the cliff.

Step-step!

Every step he took felt heavy today.

The weight of his tribe, his people's expectations, his wife, and his only child

Each one burdened him with an overwhelming weight.

Walking back, he gazed towards a high palace that was visible from where he walked—the palace where he inherited his father's legacy, his will, and his dreams. Today, he would either fulfil them or falter.

This palace was also the place where he saw his newborn son.

Shaking off the swirling thoughts in his head, after several metres away from the edge of the cliff, Yakarl halted and looked at the barely discernible horizon.

Hooooooo!

Exhale.

Taking his signature running posture, his body tilted at a fierce 60 degrees, his left hand thrust forward while his right arm surged back, and his legs extended behind.

Boom!

A surge of mana erupted from his legs, propelling him forward with unparalleled speed and determination, racing towards the precipice, to the edge of the cliff, or perhaps the edge of oblivion.

The ground quaked under his thunderous steps, and small craters were the aftermath.

Leap!

At the moment he reached the precipice, he catapulted himself into the air, propelling himself towards the distant horizon and spanning kilometres of open space.

Crumble!

The entire cliff succumbed to the destructive force of Yakarl's jump, crumbling under the sheer momentum unleashed by his bound.

Cutting through the early wind of dawn, he soared towards the horizon.

In his flight, a wondrous phenomenon unfolded within Yakarl.

His entire body started to get wrapped in bright blue lighting, acting as armour, and as he reached the horizon, he extended both hands skyward.

All the dark clouds in the atmosphere started to gather, unleashing powerful gusts of wind. Undeterred, Yakarl continued his flight towards the horizon with his hands stretched upward.

In an instant, the dark clouds began rumbling, and lightning flashed in the clouds and began coalescing into a single focal point.

On the horizon, the army of the empire saw what was coming for them.

Yakarl, akin to a colossal thunderbolt, seemed to amass even more power from the swirling clouds as if preparing to unleash devastation upon them at any moment.

Many soldiers, seeing this sight, slumped to the ground; their will to fight vanished into thin air even before the fight started, and a collective madness gripped their tongues, their mutterings bordering on the edge of insanity.

"What in the world is that?!"

"I've never seen anything like this before. It's madness!"

"Is this some kind of sorcery? We can't fight against this!"

"By the gods, it's massive!"

Everyone had different thoughts, but one thing was certain: 'fear.'

"Fall back! That will obliterate us!"

The origin of these words remained unknown, but amid the chaos, with minds clouded and in disarray, fear gripped every individual, triggering a frantic stampede for survival. No trace of patriotism remained; their actions were solely driven by a desperate fight for their lives.

"Tch. What can we even expect from these low lives? They can't even offer worthy sacrifices." A man donning a white robe, wielding a sword that had claimed innumerable lives yet retained its pristine hue, spoke with a contorted expression etched upon his face.

His gaze ascended towards the sky, and he could see the bolt of thunder, but compared to the soldiers, he possessed a heightened perception; he could discern a man covered in lighting and the dark cloud behind him, amassing thunder.

His hands trembled as he saw this, and he balled his fist. "S-So that bastard finally showed his toothy teeth."

He gritted his teeth as he realised he stuttered and was feeling fear from the enemy in front of him.

This made the veins on his head and neck swell, and in extreme fury, he bellowed, "Magicians, cast the shields!"

Hearing this, many magicians came forward and started to form shields in different places.

This scene unfolded not merely within a single legion of the empire's army, but across all twelve legions, each legionator roaring orders for the magicians to manifest their formidable defences.

The army that hailed from the empire with an illustrious reputation, the army in which they took pride, and the army that had annexed many lands in service of the empire.

-The Legion of Twelve-

Each member of all these twelve legions is known as a "Legionist."

The commander of each of the twelve legion is known as the "Legionator."

Ascending above all the legionators, overseeing the entire might of the twelve legions, reigned the illustrious "Supreme Legionex."

Each legionator wielded command over a formidable army, their authority resonating across their respective legions. Each legion boasted its own distinct strengths and weaknesses.

However, when all the legions came together, the weakness dissolved into nothingness.

All the different legions made up for each other's weaknesses, transforming weaknesses into strengths and fortifying their resolve.

The forces of the empire who had arrived earlier and were engaged in battle with the barbarians were ecstatic at the sight of reinforcement, but now looking at the bolt of thunder, which looked like the wrath of God, they too lost their nerves.

Who could stop such a thing?

Or who dared to go against God's wrath?

Seeing this scene, all the barbarians who were taking on multiple empire soldiers started to massacre with new fervour and enthusiasm.

They never lost their vigour and warrior spirit, even in the face of death.

And now they could see the most infamous thunder.

With the bolt of thunder that their chief used, they became certain, and with loud shouts, they advanced, obliterating the enemy ranks.

Amidst this overpowering enemy, only one person on the empire's side had a calm and collected demeanour.

"Starting off big!"

"Show off."

The man shook his head.

"Hmph!"

"No matter, I'll put him in his place."

Smirk!

His lips started to rise in a twisted arc, and his whitish-red teeth shone like the light of thunder.

The thing he hated most on the battlefield were showoffs.

Those who looked flashy and did flashy things without his permission

This was in stark contrast to his attire, which was completely incongruous amidst the battlefield. He donned a crimson-coloured, well-tailored shirt that hugged his form, complemented by a long black coat and fitted black pants—a gentleman amidst the chaos, his lunatic smile completing the enigmatic picture.

"Ah!"

He massaged his temples with his right hand as if he were contemplating things.

The only thing in the world that had the right to be flashy in front of him was himself.

The closer the enemy descended from the sky, like a thunderbolt, the more the wind intensified and raged like an angry bull.

The man started to open his arms, and his clothes fluttered in the wind.

As he outstretched his arms, his laughter erupted maniacally, and a strange phenomenon lifted his body, suspending him in the air.

"Uhauha!"

"Welcome!" The veins on his neck were swelling up and down as he shouted.

While his hands were still open and with a maniacal look on his face as he was becoming more and more ecstatic to see this chaotic situation, he continued,

"I, Van O. Zhill, the Supreme Legionex of the Legion of Twelve, welcome the last Chief of the barbarian tribe."

Everyone's attention, which was on the incoming thunderbolt, now shifted to the man with the highest authority from the empire's side.

A man with a strikingly bald head, his face devoid of eyebrows, beard, or moustache, exuded an air of handsomeness.

The Supreme Legionex

Van O. Zhill.

"And I'll have you know you are not the only one who could pull off flashy moves."

The soldiers, previously running in disarray, halted abruptly and fixed their gaze upon the man; a glimmer of hope ignited within their eyes.

Yes.

Not only did the enemy have such powerful warriors, but they too had such powerful people on their side: their Legionator and Supreme Legionex.

The moment of collision inched closer.

The Supreme Legionex, Van O. Zhill

His hands ignited with a dark crimson glow.

Soon, his entire body became engulfed in the consuming flames of dark crimson.

The temperature of the surrounding area surged rapidly.

The direction of the wind shifted, and the chaotic wind came to a smooth halt in his surroundings.

Yakarl, his entire being enveloped in thunder, hurtled towards the enemies with his hands raised high. Even before he closed in on them, his sheer momentum alone struck them with shock and instilled a paralysing fear.

The dark clouds ceased their gathering and were looking as if they were ready to unleash their fury.

zziingg!

In that very moment, a colossal yellow thunderbolt erupted from the depths of the dark clouds.

Boom!

Boom!

The sky trembled, and the ears were assaulted by deafening roars as the thunderbolt was unleashed.

It surged forth like a fatal decree.

Woosh-Zziingg!

However, as if the thunderbolt had its own will, it crashed into Yakarl's outstretched hands. The moment Yakarl caught the massive thunderbolt, it started to transform.

It materialised into a long, heavy, double-edged thunder axe.

The world turned dark.

Everybody who saw this sight that looked out of a myth felt as if they lost strength in their arms and legs.

Their bodies felt as if they were going cold.

It was because they could imagine the terrible nightmare that was to befall them.

"N-Nature weapon..." Van mumbled to himself in a quivering voice.

His hands were shaking at the sight of this.

"I guess he does have the qualifications to be flashy!"

"Uhaaauhaa!"

He started laughing manically.

Soon, the inevitable happened.

The war that decimated the mighty and indomitable army of the Hydra empire, the Legion of Twelve

In the annals of history, this horrific war is etched as the "End of Reigns."