Jackal Among Snakes

Everyone, including Argrave, had seen Anneliese descend down from the wyvern into the field of grass between the two armies. He had watched it with a heavier heart than anyone else, but he knew that she was the only one who could reliably pursue the most important goal—cutting off the head of the ugly beast that had wormed itself around the Great Chu.

Perhaps, however, it would be more accurate to say this Dimocles was a mere hand of the beast—the true beast was above, raining hellfire upon the countryside of the Great Chu. While Anneliese did battle on the ground, Argrave’s battle would be altogether different… while she fought on the front, he was to swat away the gnats: Erlebnis’ emissaries.

Their scouting capabilities were robust, fortunately, and they noticed the monstrosities lurking throughout the surrounding countryside long before they could ambush and destroy vast amounts of people by channeling Erlebnis’ power as pure magic. Dimocles must’ve called in Erlebnis to ensure victory. These creatures, while possessing the Blessing of Supersession the same as Dimocles, lacked the capacity to use shamanic magic. This made them vulnerable to spells like [Requite], whereas a mortal like Dimocles would be capable of neutralizing any such spell.

And standing with him on the battlefield for the first time Argrave could recall… the Alchemist rose dozens of feet above the army, clad in chitinous armor made of his own flesh and blood and still brimming with magic even after the procedure on Argrave and Ji Meng. With him on his right, and Orion on his left… Argrave felt infinitely reassured.

“Such tedium,” complained the Alchemist. “I have better things to do with my day.”

Argrave’s royal guard eyed the giant figure warily. The perceptive few were vaguely aware that this person existed, but now he stood openly on Argrave’s side. It was a marked change.

“If you do your best, we might be able to go home early,” he tapped the Alchemist on the wrist. “For now… let’s keep the nosy pedestrians off Anneliese’s stage.”

Forward they marched, seeking to cut off the grasping hands of the Qircassian Coalition. The gods watched the skies close at hand, ready to intercept any interference.

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in between the two armies, she stayed still as both continued to advance. Dimocles, sensing something was wrong, let his army advance somewhat ahead as he hung back. Perhaps he wanted to retreat, but Anneliese’s weapon would surely be preventing

had long ago embraced. It was in the heart of the

powerful ice magic. The now-lighter staff in her left and the blue-gray sword in her right proved no obstacle to spellcasting, as she’d ample practice fighting like this. A writhing blizzard, shards of ice formed into daggers, hurtled across the field

defensive wards buckled beneath the sheer pressure of her attack, straining, and as they broke they became her strength. It was against an army that [Life Cycle] was most at home, sapping the magics

like the army was a giant swatting an insect it had just been made aware of. When their first effort failed, spells fizzling away on her

of an army came sheer waves of power. Anneliese sent her own attacks—writhing whirlwinds to blow away the blades of ice that sought to bleed her, great walls of rumbling earthen magic to ward away the lightning that sought to stun her, towering infernos to turn geysers into naught more than steam… she cast without thought, with reckless abandon,

ahead and behind splitting in twain in deference of the absolute destruction bridging the gap between Anneliese and Dimocles’ entire army. Where there had been a serene plain of grass once, there was now only a desolate field of earth that was blackened, twisted. All before the two

lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the

at a young age. She dealt with A-rank ascensions uncountable—people that could meld with the earth and appear near her, those who could

Anneliese outlasted them all.

some attacks landed. Yet the Inerrant Cloak lent to her by Argrave consumed her magic to block most any attack. Magic flowed into and out of her in the heart of this absolute chaos, meaning it could absorb countless blows—she deliberately let some pass

her opponent’s intensity lessened while hers remained static. While she stood tall, they began to falter, to shrink away. Key players fell back one after another, exposing more and more of Dimocles’ elite forces to Anneliese’s wrath. Her allied forces, meanwhile, were a constant pressure that sought to constrain rather than decimate. Their

flesh and blood. She was like rushing water against dirt, wearing people away into oblivion as she cut toward the heart of this army. And soon enough, she saw what

lamellar armor of the palace guard shone brightly in the battlefield, their helmets bearing silver crescent moons. They bore divine armaments as they stood around the Blue Emperor, Dimocles, who had been rooted in place. Even they seemed jarred that their emperor would not retreat… but they couldn’t know he was entirely barred from fleeing. He wasn’t physically restrained from moving backward, yet any thoughts he had of retreat, his

boldly in defiance of Anneliese’s power. As befit those that guarded the emperor in his palace, they were well-suited for defending their master. Their weapons could cut through magic itself, reducing it to nothing more than black mist:

Dimocles glowed with power unimaginable, the Blessing of Supersession pouring oceans of magic all throughout his body. The Blue Emperor’s