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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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 him from acting on these thoughts. As the two armies ahead and behind folded in on each other, probing attacks flew her way. Magic-imbued arrows, spells… yet she patiently blocked them all with humble

there was something Anneliese had long ago embraced. It was in the heart of the battlefield, caught

the blue-gray sword in her right proved no obstacle to spellcasting, as she’d ample practice fighting like

spells whirling through the air and stealing from mortals the very heart of their magic. Their defensive wards buckled beneath the sheer pressure of her

than the eye could see, but she had been prepared. It struck her ward. Shortly after, countless other attacks followed. It was like the army was a giant swatting an insect it had just been made aware of. When their first effort failed, spells fizzling

bleed her, great walls of rumbling earthen magic to ward away the lightning that sought to stun her, towering

the armies 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 froze, melted, or turned to dust in a state of constant flux from the volleying energies

lifted; should you spot it on Amazon,

ambitious that, much like herself, achieved outsized advancement 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 leave

Anneliese outlasted them all.

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

and more time passed, 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 goal was not slaughter: it was

taking magic not from the spells of her enemies but tearing it free from their very flesh and blood. She was like rushing water against

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 mind would

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: Ji Meng had warned her of this. They demonstrated that ability ably, and for the

she felt that problem was soon about to be remedied. Dimocles glowed with power unimaginable, the Blessing of Supersession pouring oceans of magic all throughout his body. The Blue Emperor’s body