A Ghost's Wish [MxM]

58. A Messanger

The start of summer ushered in a new war.

The armies of Wynter, Rucrea, Osmela, and Abrorg gathered and set up camp in the plains of Osmela. They had encountered a few skirmishes but nothing to the extent Oliver was used to. However, they finally gathered their army and marched toward Bierze.

Oliver had returned to this timeline a little over a year ago but had already changed the perception around him. However, no one truly expected that the Duke's son would be able to acclimate to army life so well. He never slept in a tent and joined the men in their chores. Although he had garnered the respect of the soldiers, this solidified his position as Guardian. Now the soldiers of all nations looked up to him with fevered reverence.

Oliver and Draco sat on the ground, leaning against each other. Oliver closed his eyes, taking a few moments to rest after spending nearly 48 hours awake. Morris had appeared next to Oliver, but Oliver didn't need to open his eyes to know who had approached.

"Report," he said lazily.

"Ravagers are approaching the camp. At least fifty."

Oliver opened his eyes and frowned. "Leave one alive for questioning. If there is a hint of magic, retreat immediately."

Morris saluted and took off into the darkness. The night soon echoed with the cries of the dying. The noises still alarmed the young soldiers. 

However, a strange wind blew, and Oliver suddenly jumped to his feet with his swords drawn. Draco had stood with him, peering out into the dark plains where the wind originated. A flash of magic lit up in different areas in the distance. Oliver and Draco glanced at each other and took off in different directions.

At the same time, Oliver yelled out. "Defensive positions. Priests, raise your shields!"

The troops moved quickly, obeying his commands. However, Oliver did not linger to examine their formations. He saw a few more magical attacks light up the sky where he was heading. He pulled a horn from his belt and blew into it, calling for a retreat and praying that his men already took off.

He felt relieved when he saw a few of his assassins running toward him, but they still had fear etched in their expressions.

"Guardian! Run!" They called out.

Oliver could see several Ravagers chasing them, magic fluctuating in their hands. Oliver had already gathered his own magic, and with a flick of his hand, large ice spears materialized and rushed toward the pursuers.

Two couldn't block the attack and were impaled by the ice, but three others could block it with their earth magic.

"Go!" Oliver yelled at his men, who faltered.  They gritted their teeth and returned to the camp, trusting that their Guardian could protect himself.

Oliver pulled out his reforged swords and approached the first Ravager. The man did not expect him to attack head-on and couldn't react in time. He tried to pull out his sword to block Oliver's attack, but in the end, he could only look on helplessly as Oliver's sword cut through his neck.

Oliver moved to the next one, but a wall of earth stopped his blade. Oliver cursed and kicked it roughly, the magic flowing down to his feet. When his foot made contact with the wall, it instantly froze. Oliver spun, and his swords shattered the wall. Oliver lunged forward, and his swords pierced into the Ravager's chest.

Oliver felt the ground beneath him shake, and he jumped away in time to avoid falling into a pit the last Ravager had created.

Oliver admitted that he hated that magic was more powerful than in the past. Fighting with swords and spears was a lot more manageable than magic. His senses were on overdrive.