Shattered Line

Chapter 45: Second Wave

"Do you think we'll fail?" Isla reiterated her question while keeping pace with Calimitrin's long stride.

"I'm afraid we'll see."

Isla frowned but her response perished as blasts of fire pelted the lead, skimming their heads.

Instinctively, she lowered her stance, covering herself with aura. Yet, the magic halted before Calimitrin, the flicks of fire curling back. Without a continuous source of aura, the scorching attack diffused.

The advancing Nobles had bore the brunt. They released pained wails as the fire devoured them, melting their skin and eating their bones.

Ignoring his fallen men, Calimitrin quickened his pace and charged the enemy. She watched as his Zweihänder pierced the center of the man. A high-pitched scream erupted from the God but ceased when he turned the weapon with a crack and severed the man's spinal cord. His dead body slumped against the wall, a pool of blood forming at the base.

Calimitrin continued on without respite, his legs carrying him onwards. Isla increased her pace, her eyes dropping to the once leading Nobles. Only blackened carcasses remained behind, their race unidentifiable. Still, they followed the winding corridor, sparing their dwindling numbers more harm.

"Something's wrong," Isla stated while peering behind, the hallway empty.

"Why so, my dear?"

"I don't remember this layout. The corridor never twisted this much."

"It changes," Calimitrin voiced from the lead position.

"Are you saying this place is alive?"

Lucifer coughed, breaking the stagnant silence his King erected. "Elysium—the floating capital. To the Gods, it's considered their last defense. The multilayered landscape can be altered and configured based on it's creator. In a sense, a living being."

Isla's gaze flickered between Lucifer and her surroundings. "Couldn't they continue changing the landscape to make this fight impossible?"

"Though it could work on lesser beings, but not us," he explained as his irises darkened a shade. "If there isn't a path to our goal, we simply make one."

"Easy enough," she mused.

They entered a large, white, rectangular room. Light flooded the space from the ceiling, highlighting the three rows of Gods. Behind the defensive line, standing at the stairs top, stood Meissier. His stance widened as he supported himself by a poleaxe. The entire weapon blazed white with a curved blade doubling the size.

His position deemed him a general, but he neglected to don a helmet, his chestnut hair pulled back tight. What cockiness. Though she was one to talk with her lack of headgear.

Isla turned from Meissier to the defending soldiers. The front soldiers had inscribed weapons, their blades shining different hues. With the last row containing proficient magic users, their formation expanded.

Isla licked her lips, shifting between impending doom and salvation. They tripled their numbers.

"Do not fear," Lucifer soothed while drawing his longsword. "Our King is not so weak when faced with numbers."

She nodded and relaxed her grip. "I've been in worse situations."

Calimitrin initiated the battle with a ferocious roar. He launched himself forward, tanking the Gods forces himself. Though delayed, his men joined, charging without hesitation slacking their step.

"Isla, focus on the back line," Lucifer ordered before aiding the flanks.

She sheathed her weapon, freeing her hands. "Got it."