Chương 109: Chapter 105 - Havoc Has Entered the Battlefield

"I'm fine, standing. Thank you," Chelsea replied coldly. The king studied her for a moment, then leaned back into his sofa. The mage remained standing beside him, hands folded, face carefully blank.

"Very well," he said.

"It would seem that Adriane Wixx never figured out our ruse then." Chelsea went still. Ruse?

"Miss Chelsea, how much does Adriane know about summoning a champion?"

"I don't know," she answered just as coldly.

"Her knowledge of summoning is exactly as vast as we wanted it to be. Including one small incorrect detail." He looked to the mage. The mage cleared his throat. Chelsea's hand moved closer to the cord tied to one of her weapons.

"There was no second summoning. It was an impossibility from the start. One chance at a summoning was all we would get and," he gestured to her, "we got you." The words took a moment to settle. Chelsea remembered Adriane's fear. The urgency. The way everyone had spoken as though Chelsea's life had depended on leaving with her. She remembered being small, confused, and unable to speak the language without that one princes' help.

She remembered Adriane taking responsibility for her because the alternative had been unthinkable. Passion spoke before Chelsea did.

"Then why tell her the wrong information?" Passion asked. King Paul's expression did not change.

"We learned some details of her past and before even summoning you, we made sure she would think you would be killed if she didn't save you." Chelsea ripped her helmet off.

"Why!?" Chelsea yelled. She threw the helmet to the floor hard enough that the sound cracked through the room.

"You manipulated her!?" The mage flinched. King Paul did not.

"We don't have the resources or knowhow to train a true champion. Adriane Wixx was the only person we could think of who could," King Paul explained calmly. Chelsea's anger rose quickly. Passion remained beside her, steady and silent.

"You used her! Promised her something and used her past against her for what, the betterment of the continent!? So far, still not seeing this 'god-like being' you were spouting off about the last time I was here. You put that poor woman through hell. You know that?" The king did not look away.

"Did we?" the king calmly asked back.

"From the information we gathered. It sounds like she's doing just fine. Daughter who is the most powerful of the Valkyr. The same daughter made her a millionaire in less than a month's time. A daughter mind you, whom is a genius from another world. Where's the hell Chelsea?" Chelsea stared at him. For a moment, she could not believe he had said it. Because he had reduced her mother's pain to the outcome… just… results. As if that justified his manipulation. Chelsea's voice dropped.

"That's not for you to decide," she said menacingly.

"When my mother finds out what you did, it may be best to prepare for much worse than a few supply line disruptions and destroyed medic tents. Not even the full might of the Valkyr can stand against her." The mage's face paled. King Paul remained calm, though something tired moved behind his eyes.

"We didn't call you here to discuss her. I wanted to check on your progress and inform you that the god beast I spoke of. It is very real and to prepare yourself. Do whatever you can to continue your forward momentum. Though you think the worst of me, I still believe my actions are the right ones. You would not be where you are if you remained under our watch. We are proud of you Chelsea, please come back whenever you wish." Chelsea stood there for a few seconds longer.

Then she bent down and picked up her helmet from the floor. She did not put it back on immediately. She held it at her side and turned toward the door, taking several steps before stopping. The anger had not left. But beneath it, something colder had formed. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. She turned back to them.

"Can I have a teleportation card here? For me. Not my mother." King Paul looked to the mage and nodded. The mage reached into his robes, pulled out a card, and walked it over to her with careful, quiet steps. Chelsea took it from him without thanking him. She looked from the card to the king.

"How do we get to the battlefield?" They arrived among the mids and rears on a ridge overlooking the field of battle. The vibe changed the moment Chelsea stepped off the teleportation point. Chelsea was used to noise. Valhalla was not a quiet place to live. The battlefield was different. The sound below rolled up the ridge in waves. Steel struck steel. Men shouted. Something exploded somewhere in the distance, leaving a low tremor beneath Chelsea's boots.

The mids and rears were already organized across the ridge, working behind the front lines with practiced efficiency. Messengers moved between groups. Pain bearers prepared supplies. Archers watched the field below, waiting for orders. Chelsea could see the flow of the army from where she stood, but not enough to understand it. Suffering turned when Chelsea and Passion approached.

"Oh, you made it," Suffering said.

"All go well with the king?"

"It did. What do I need to do?" Chelsea asked, trying to be helpful.

"You," Deceit cut in.

"Do nothing. You don't even look or smell the battlefield until you're cleared. Get on your turtle…"

"Tortoise," Chelsea corrected.

"And take a fucking nap. The last thing we need is triggering your bloodlust too early."

"Wait, where are my berserkers?" Chelsea yelled over the battle happening below them.

"Not here. It's just you." Deceit replied.

"No need for that much fire power for a small battle like this one. Now go take that nap."

"I love that plan," Chelsea said with a smile.

"When you need me you…can…" Her words slowed. She had looked past Passion's shoulder. Down below, the battlefield opened wide. There were too many bodies moving at once for her to follow individual fighters, but the blood stood out immediately. Red on torn ground. Red on armor. Red in the places where men fell and others climbed over them. Chelsea's breath caught, and the world seemed to narrow around the motion below. Her heart began to pound.

"Her eyes are doing the thing," Deceit yelled. Passion moved fast. She stepped directly between Chelsea and the battlefield, blocking the view with her body, then blew hard in Chelsea's face.

"What the hell?" Chelsea exclaimed, startled. The shock broke the pull for a moment. Chelsea blinked rapidly and stepped back.

"You were doing the eye thing," Passion said.

"Get Bradford out and like she said, go take a nap. I can't babysit you. You need to do as we say. You could fuck everything up."

"Fine," Chelsea said. Her voice came out tight. The bloodlust had not taken hold completely, but it had touched her thoughts. She could still feel it there, waiting, making her want to look again. Making her want to do more than look. She forced herself to breathe. Chelsea pulled Bradford from her pouch and flew away from the overlook before she could change her mind. She did not go far, only far enough that the ridge blocked most of the battlefield from view.

Once she found open ground, she set Bradford down and waited while the tiny tortoise grew. His legs thickened. His shell widened. The tree rose above her, and the patch of soft earth and wildflowers spread across his back. When he reached his full size, Chelsea flew up and landed beneath the shade. The noise of the battle was still there, but it felt farther away. Chelsea walked to the tree and lowered herself onto the soft earth beneath it.

Her armor settled around her as she lay down, and she stared up through the branches for a few moments before closing her eyes. Surely they would not actually need her. What could she do anyway? She was just Chelsea.

"Havoc." Someone was shaking her shoulder. Chelsea stirred beneath the shade of Bradford's tree. For a moment, she did not know where she was. The soft earth beneath her cheek was familiar. The flowers around her were familiar. The distant noise below was not.

"Havoc." Chelsea opened her eyes and found Suffering crouched beside her.

"Hey, what's up?" Chelsea asked, stretching. Her armor shifted with the movement, perfectly comfortable despite the hard plates and glowing crystalline shoulders. The nap had not been long enough to make her feel rested, but it had been long enough for the first pull of bloodlust to fade. Suffering's expression was serious.

"It's time. We've been cleared to unleash you."

"Oh," Chelsea said. Then the wind changed. The smell reached her before she looked toward the ridge. Blood carried on the air, warm and sweet and impossible to ignore. Her eyes widened, and a smile crossed her face before she could stop it.

"Please walk toward the battlefield Bradford," she said. Bradford obeyed, his massive body beginning to move beneath them. Chelsea stood and stretched from side to side while the tree swayed gently overhead. The movement of the shell under her feet helped steady her for a moment, but the scent kept reaching her. It was everywhere now. It filled her nose and settled into her thoughts. Suffering watched her closely.

"Havoc, please be careful. I've seen too many of you lose yourself in the blood and remove armor to get more on you. Try to remain you. Passion needs you. You've got this." Chelsea found it interesting how no one warned her to be careful because soldiers might hurt her. No one said the enemy was dangerous. Every warning was about the same thing. Do not lose yourself. Do not let the blood take over. Do not become something the others could not stop.

She walked forward to the edge of Bradford's shell as he neared the overlook. The battlefield spread out below, filled with motion, color, steel, blood, and screams. She commanded Bradford to stop before he reached the lip of the ridge.

"Which one's are ours? Green or purple team?" she called back to Suffering.

"It doesn't matter," Suffering said, saddling up next to her.

"You have free rein." Chelsea looked back.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Chelsea switched her titles around. The blood smelled stronger. The soldiers were tiny from her vantage point. Chelsea hopped over onto Bradford's head with a flap of her wings and turned back one more time.

"Then which one is the Nordrak empire?"

"Green," Suffering answered. Chelsea held out her hand. She was shaking with anticipation. Earlier, she had discovered that abilities could evolve once they were above skill level 20. Not into an entirely different ability, but into an alternate version of the same skill. She had chosen to push one of her soul attack skills all the way to the maximum level of 25. Now she was about to find out if that choice had been worth it. She grabbed hold of her shield grip that was dangling from her left hand.

Strength rushed through her immediately.

"Spectral Sky Lance," she said out loud, triggering the new ability. She focused only on the purple soldiers. There were thousands of them, too many to count. Their color gave her something to focus on. Purple armor. Purple, not green.

"Form: Rain." she yelled. The dark clouds overhead shifted. A strange hazy-blue essence formed in the sky above the battlefield. It spread outward, restless and bright, gathering into countless points. Those points slowly sharpened and lengthened into spectral lances hanging over the purple army. Chelsea could feel the individual lances. It was a strange sensation. Finally, she dropped her hand.

"Strike."