Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave had been hearing reports from Anneliese about how the reignited battle looked. She called it many things—chaos, indiscriminate destruction. Looking upon it with his own two eyes, he could think of few adjectives beyond that. Aspects of dragons, great chasms in the earth, titans formed of wind… it was a grand display of death. Spells of the highest order battered at the elven gods, cast without end.

From their spot in the distant canopies, the emissaries of Erlebnis almost looked… normal. They seemed nothing more than a lone regiment, perhaps a little more than one hundred in number. But from his perspective as one endowed with the sight of an A-rank mage, these emissaries were alight with unprecedented power, catching his eyes like falling stars in a pitch-black night. They used their lord Erlebnis’ blessing, and Argrave saw its true potential on clear display.

The gods and the elves had been split into two separate forces, each retreating from the open plains Kirel Qircassia made back into the forest. Dimocles had been lying when he said this battle was already decided, just as Argrave had thought. Nine or so emissaries dealt with the elven army, doing nothing more than engaging with the spellcasters on the elves’ side—they sent wards and the occasional probing attack. Though the spells were enough to rock the earth, both forces possessed spellcasters capable of S-rank spells.

The rest of the emissaries, however, dealt solely with the elven gods. With nine on the army and one hundred on the gods, it seemed an uneven split… but the gods needed to be their sole focus, as they were the true threat on this battlefield. They kept them contained with constant spells, assailing from all sides. Even still, they could not fully stop their retreat. They advanced steadily backwards, abandoning Kirel Qircassia’s breach.

Leading the emissaries was the traitor, Chiteng. His ivory blade caught some spells the emissaries cast, using them to add power as he fought against his own family. Merata met his blade time and time again with his crook, showing crude strength and expertise in equal measure. Each time the ivory met wood, a loud crack echoed out, like a bat struck a wall.

“Ghan is badly injured. A great cut renders him incapable, starting from his throat and leading down to his groin. He bleeds spirits in abundance, despite attempts to staunch this,” Anneliese told Argrave. “Merata is leading them. From something I overheard, they attempt to retreat back to their heart of power. I think… for now, they can manage a retreat. But as Erlebnis’ power grows, and as more emissaries come to bear… they will be overrun.”

Argrave watched closely. As Anneliese said, Merata, the eldest son, took the defense in their retreat. Gunlik, the third eldest after Chiteng, supported his father while the matriarch Ujin attempted to clear a retreat path with the rest of the gods. But the emissaries were a cold and unfeeling regiment possessing mechanical discipline and a near-foolproof strategy.

“They divide themselves into three units,” Anneliese observed beside Argrave. “One actively engages. One is reserve. The other is resupplying.”

And it was just as Anneliese said. The frontliners attacked, their Blessing of Supersession fully engaged. Mana ripples filled the air as they used spells far beyond Argrave’s ken—dragons born of flame burned through Merata’s power of woodworking while great stretches of earth gave beneath them, turning into inhuman jaws that ate at their legs. Swords of wind as tall as trees stabbed at their heads, swung towards their throats… it was a constant devilish assault. On the inverse, any attempt at attack from the gods was met with a complete defense from multiple S-rank wards, each so large and strong that all of the emissaries were protected simultaneously. Erlebnis’ emissaries were small—but small size was an advantage, not a disadvantage, in this case.

When the vanguard emissaries lost their power of the blessing granted to them by Erlebnis, they fell back, joining the resupplying unit while the reserve unit became the frontliners. With the reserve up front, the assault began once more. In the resupply unit, the now-diminished emissaries used another of their abilities—rapid absorption of ambient magic, to repay any debt incurred. The emissaries had very little natural magic: all they had was an intense ability to replenish that supply. It was all designed to repay the debt the Blessing of Supersession incurred.

When the frontliners ran out of their five minutes, they became the new backliners. The reserves became the frontliners, and the backliners became the reserve. It was a revolving door of efficient destruction. The spells, though grand, were measured and precise, spending enough magic to slowly kill their foes while retaining the ability to recover before joining the front.

This display of magic defied human standards. And it was why they weren’t human.

“The gods can get away if they play this right.” Argrave looked to where the breach was. Merata’s fortress of wood constructed around it still stood strong, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last. “But I’m not sure how long they last after this. A few days? A week, two, at best? And without pressure on Kirel Qircassia and his breach, in a while the emissaries aren’t going to be the only ones hunting them.”

“Did you truly say Kirel Qircassia was stronger than Erlebnis?” Anneliese questioned, watching all ahead.

Orion narrowed his brows as he watched. “Kirel can’t be stronger. We won against him. Against this… can there be victory?”

Kirel is likely stronger than Erlebnis” Argrave justified himself. “But the emissaries circumvent the slow period of manifestation. They tap into Erlebnis’ power directly through the Blessing of Supersession, and then use mortal methods—namely, magic—to make full use of that power. His servants are the weakest imaginable, physically speaking, and not especially numerous. But this trick

his head. There, an emissary emerged, walking on the high branches delicately. They had been speaking

moved his weight. Just after the emissary came

it entwined them as it spoke. “The new acting Supreme Myriarch Altan has been informed of this new development. She is ready and willing

so I know

faithless lot, yet many soldiers need spiritual fulfillment in the wake of death. Many seeking spiritual satisfaction or more… material advancement, shall we say,

this alive, I have to rouse the Spanish Inquisition back

me,” Argrave concluded, then looked at the tan, white-haired elf at the emissary’s side. “She’ll be coming

emissary put its big hand on her shoulder, and

gaze, and seemed generally frustrated with this situation. He decided to brief her, saying authoritatively, “You seem to dislike talking, so

“Okay,” she answered flatly.

puppet cut to size by those who’d raised her, he couldn’t afford to pity her. He’d keep interactions to a minimum, do what needed to be done, and then part

Argrave waved his hand onward as he readied to jump off

#####

from afar was wholly different from

of the emissaries ate away sound, almost entirely drowning out the constant horn the elves sounded in desperate call for retreat. The earth shook, the air was equal parts

shouted to the two with

army and provide aid. With the Magisters spent from the battle the day prior,

Erlebnis’ servants held back a great deal. Regardless, Argrave didn’t care if they were being benevolent, holding up their side of this twisted deal. In truth, he didn’t intend to put on a show at all.

distant onlooker might think he split into many. Each of them readied the

immediately. Their relentless assault on the elven forces abated somewhat, and their disciplined force broke away to face Argrave squarely. The

It took the spell gracefully, persisting. But after the tornado came other spells—a winding serpent dragon of flame came next, but it was soon overtaken by a loud explosion of too-quick lightning magic, and the silver defense shattered.

the elven army seized this opportunity to disengage. Just as they moved

through approaching attacks entirely, heading directly for the emissaries. For a brief moment he was ecstatic, feeling he might get a kill after all. But in tandem, each emissary cast an S-rank ward. The arrows broke through the first, certainly… even the second and third, impressively

could withstand a gods’ attack. What hope did Argrave have

a brief moment, replaced by the sound of the retreating army and their horns spurring them onwards. And in that eerie stillness,

of power was turned against them, reduced by a multiple of ten and with the opposition deliberately lessening the intensity of their attacks. It was almost too much