Chương 44: A Shadow Beneath the Flames

The air began to vibrate before the battle started. The sensation wasn't caused by marching feet or distant explosions. Heat rolled away from the approaching Firians in visible waves, making the tents, soldiers, and defensive barriers appear to tremble. Breathing became unpleasant. Every mouthful of air felt too dry, and the smoke surrounding the camp scratched against exposed throats. Soldiers wrapped damp cloth around their faces, but the moisture evaporated within minutes.

The red-haired Firian leader stood at the front of the eastern formation. Flames no longer burned above his hand, yet his presence alone made the surrounding air shimmer. Those who looked directly at him flinched. Some defenders lowered their weapons without realizing it. Others stepped backward until officers shouted at them to hold their positions. The leader hadn't attacked yet. He didn't need to. His slow advance communicated enough confidence to weaken the defenders before the fighting began.

He walked as though everyone standing before him had already become ash. Sieghart observed the reaction from the lower section of the lookout platform. The soldiers had endured several attacks, but none had faced an enemy radiating this much pressure. Several archers glanced toward the rear of the camp. Their eyes searched the tents, supply crates, and defensive barriers for the small figure who had supported them during the previous battle. Some didn't attempt to hide what they wanted.

"Where is the water mage?"

"The child?"

"He stopped them yesterday."

"He could slow that man down." A broad-shouldered shield bearer turned toward the whispering archers. Anger overcame the fear that had been visible upon his face moments earlier.

"Have some shame. You're waiting for a child to fight your battle." The archers looked away. The rebuke didn't erase their hope. More soldiers glanced behind the lines, searching for another enormous sphere of water to appear above the camp. Sieghart understood both sides. The defenders were frightened, exhausted, and facing an enemy powerful enough to destroy a wagon from hundreds of meters away. Wanting assistance wasn't cowardice by itself.

However, placing their survival entirely upon a five-year-old remained unreasonable. Sieghart possessed infinite mana, but he lacked the training, knowledge, and physical ability of a professional fighter. If he made a mistake, he would die faster than most adults standing on the front line. That didn't mean he intended to remain useless. Sieghart waited until Edric looked toward the northern formation.

His grandfather had joined the archers defending the central path through the camp, where he could support either side if necessary. The moment Edric lost sight of him, Sieghart descended the platform. He used its supports to conceal his movement, landed behind a row of equipment crates, and slipped between the nearest tents. Edric had ordered him not to draw attention. Sieghart agreed with that part. The previous battle had demonstrated the problem with advertising his position through enormous flying spheres.

His water magic changed the battle, but it also invited an attack capable of obliterating everything around him. This time, he would help quietly. There is nothing dishonest about following the practical half of an order and ignoring the suicidal half. Sieghart moved deeper between the tents until he reached a narrow gap facing the eastern battlefield. The canvas concealed most of his body while providing enough room to observe the enemy. He crouched behind a stack of water barrels and examined the distance.

The Firian leader remained far beyond Sieghart's ideal range. His Fireballs could cross one hundred meters reliably, but those spells followed simple paths toward visible targets. Manipulating water precisely at that distance was much harder. Power wasn't the problem. Sieghart could create enough water to fill the space between them. Doing so would expose his location, obstruct the defenders, and probably invite another enormous fireball. He needed control.

A small quantity of water placed correctly could accomplish more than another massive sphere. Sieghart only needed to determine where and when to use it. The Firian leader continued approaching. The glow beneath his skin intensified with every step. Orange lines spread from his chest into his neck and arms, pulsing like molten veins beneath the surface. Sieghart wondered how much heat the man's body contained.

If every glowing line represented stored energy, the leader had absorbed enough fire to keep an entire forge operating for days. A direct water sphere might weaken him, but it wouldn't empty those reserves. The attack could even be counterproductive. The leader had already witnessed Sieghart's large-scale spell. He might possess a method to split the sphere, evaporate it before impact, or follow its path back to its source. Sieghart needed a strategy that didn't look like his. An officer raised his sword.

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"Hold!" The archers tightened their grips but waited. Firing too early would waste enchanted ammunition, especially against an enemy formation that had already learned how to avoid volleys. The Firians continued approaching. Their movements differed from the previous battles. The ordinary warriors remained behind their leader, using his body as the point of their formation. They weren't spreading widely to avoid ranged attacks. They believed the man at the front could protect them.

The red-haired leader reached the edge of the defenders' preferred range. Several officers shouted simultaneously.

"Release!" The night sky filled with arrows. Ordinary projectiles formed a dark cloud, while enchanted arrows produced trails of frost, wind, and pale light. Every attack converged upon the leader and the formation behind him. The Firian raised one fist. He punched the air. A blast of compressed heat erupted from his knuckles. The shock wave struck the approaching arrows before they crossed half of the remaining distance. Ordinary shafts spun away, while frost-enchanted projectiles vanished inside clouds of steam.

Several stronger arrows continued forward. The leader moved his arm sideways, sending another wave of heat across them. The surviving projectiles changed direction and struck the ground around his feet. Sieghart's expression became serious. The man hadn't used an obvious spell. He simply released enough force and heat through one punch to disrupt an entire volley. No wonder the ordinary Firians followed him so confidently.

The defenders prepared another attack, but the leader accelerated before they could release it. His calm walk became a charge that covered the distance with frightening speed. The ground blackened beneath every step. Shield bearers rushed forward and formed a wall between him and the archers. Blue, silver, and brown Auras spread across their bodies and reinforced their equipment. Some shields grew visibly thicker. Others became surrounded by translucent barriers that overlapped with those beside them.

The formation looked strong enough to stop a charging animal several times larger than a horse. The Firian leader didn't slow. He reached the first shield and punched it. The impact produced no flame. It didn't need one. A blast of hot air exploded from the collision, tearing dust and burning grass from the ground. The shield barrier bent inward before shattering like glass. Three defenders were launched into the air.

They flew several meters before crashing through a tent, taking the wooden supports and part of the canvas with them. One didn't move after landing. The remaining shield bearers staggered. Their defensive Auras flickered, and the sudden heat forced them to protect their faces. The leader stepped into the gap before they recovered. He struck a second shield with the back of his hand. The metal bent around his fingers. Its owner spun sideways and collided with another defender, sending both men across the ground.

The Firian hadn't used his full strength. Sieghart could tell from the man's posture. His movements remained relaxed, and the orange lines beneath his skin hadn't dimmed noticeably.

"That guy is bad news." The statement felt inadequate. The ice swordsman intercepted the Firian leader before he reached the archers. Pale-blue Aura spread across his armor as he touched the bottom of his blade. Frost followed his fingers toward the tip. The swordsman swung. A crescent of freezing air struck the Firian leader directly. Ice spread across the man's chest, shoulders, and arms, briefly covering the orange lines beneath his skin. The leader stopped. Several defenders cheered. Then the ice cracked.

Heat erupted from beneath the frozen layer, turning it into steam within seconds. The Firian stepped through the cloud without displaying a wound. The ice swordsman attacked again. His blade moved toward the leader's neck, carrying enough cold to leave frost across the surrounding ground. The Firian caught the weapon between both palms. Orange light surged through his fingers. The ice coating the sword vanished.

The metal beneath it glowed red, forcing the swordsman to release the hilt before the heat reached his hands. The Firian leader kicked him in the chest. Silver armor folded around the impact. The swordsman flew backward, struck the earth, and rolled several times before stopping. Sieghart clenched his teeth. The leader possessed overwhelming heat, physical strength, speed, and enough control to direct that power without wasting it. He also understood how to counter the defenders' strongest fighter.

A simple attack wouldn't stop him. Sieghart examined the battlefield while maintaining water-aligned Protection. The defenders possessed several fighters capable of inflicting damage, but none could remain close to the leader long enough. The green-Aura spearman might pierce him if someone created an opening. The golden archer could strike from several directions, while the ice swordsman possessed the element best suited to suppressing his heat. Together, they had a chance.

The leader prevented them from coordinating by attacking continuously. Sieghart didn't need to defeat him personally. Weakening the man enough for someone else to finish the job would accomplish far more. The ordinary Firians treated their leader as an unstoppable weapon and shaped their formation around him. If he fell, their confidence would collapse. The attacking force might retreat immediately. Depending upon how important the red-haired warrior was, his death could end the entire eastern offensive.

Killing one person to end a war sounded horrifyingly efficient. Sieghart disliked that he could think of it so calmly. However, allowing the leader to continue would produce far more bodies. Another group of shield bearers attempted to surround the Firian. He released heat from his entire body, forcing them backward before punching through the opening. The defenders couldn't maintain the line. Sieghart considered launching a compressed stream of water at the leader's head.

The attack might blind or injure him, but its straight path would reveal Sieghart's hiding place. A large water sphere would be even more obvious. Mist could cool the battlefield gradually, although the surrounding smoke would make controlling its direction difficult. It might also conceal the Firian from the archers. Earth Magic could trap his feet, but the leader's strength allowed him to break solid defenses. Loose soil alone wouldn't restrain him for more than a moment.