The Life of a Battlemage

Rifi remained crouched beneath the thick canopy, forcing himself to stay still and keep his presence masked. He kept a vigilant watch over the battlefield in front of him. His eyes alone weren't enough to spot every hidden threat—mages and other dangers often remained concealed beyond ordinary sight. From time to time, a minute pulse of lightning mana would escape from Rifi’s core, barely perceptible to anyone not attuned to such subtle fluctuations. These small bursts allowed him to scan his immediate surroundings, alert to any shifts or signs of ambush.

The Aemiliania Clan's fortifications stood battered and bruised, their defenders locked in a desperate struggle against the relentless onslaught. Rifi watched, every fiber of his being itching to join the fray. It tore at him to stay hidden while his comrades fought, bled, and died in front of him. His hands itched to draw his swords and wade into battle, but he forced himself to remain still. This was the only way—their best chance to surprise the enemy and save countless more lives in the long run. Yet, the logic felt hollow. He didn’t truly believe it. How could he, when each scream of a dying comrade struck like a blow to his chest?

Tessa and Bren:

After confirming the safety of Clan Nithra, Tessa and Bren moved swiftly, navigating the dense forests and undergrowth with the practiced ease of seasoned scouts. Their orders were clear: locate any significant enemy presence west of Nithra’s territory and ensure that no major force lay in wait. It was a mission that demanded precision and caution, one they were well-suited for.

Signs of recent skirmishes littered the terrain—trampled earth, snapped branches, and the rotting remains of corrupted beasts. But as they pushed deeper into the border, it became clear that the enemy’s main force was elsewhere. Only a few corrupted beasts lingered at the periphery, almost like sentinels.

“This isn't the main force,” Tessa said, crouching low as she observed the movements of the creatures. “They’re just here to keep Nithra occupied.”

Bren nodded, his expression grim. “It makes sense. The enemy doesn’t want Nithra’s mages heading to the western encampment. They’re tying them down with just enough to keep them preoccupied.”

Tessa’s sharp gaze scanned the horizon. “Nithra can handle this. The true threat is further south.”

With no sign of a large enemy presence, they retreated swiftly. They moved like shadows, navigating the dense terrain with fluid ease, and returned to the western encampment as quickly as possible. Time was of the essence—the commander needed to know that Nithra was not in imminent danger, and that the enemy's focus lay elsewhere.

Main Encampment:

he camp buzzed with an undercurrent of tension when Tessa and Bren returned. Legionaries moved about with an air of cautious anticipation, bolstered by the presence of battlemages and the small successes they had achieved so far. As they approached the command tent, they found Kaelin and Voren already inside, their expressions dark and focused.

“Report,” Commander Edran ordered as Tessa and Bren stepped into the room.

“We scouted west of Nithra,” Tessa said. “No sign of the enemy’s main force. Just a small contingent of corrupted beasts—enough to keep Nithra distracted and busy, but not a significant threat.”

Edran’s jaw tightened. “Then the true threat lies south, near Aemiliania. That confirms our worst fears.”

Bren nodded. “It’s a distraction, meant to tie Nithra’s forces down.”

Commander Edran gave a nod of approval. “We’ll keep Nithra informed, but our priority is Aemiliania.”

Kaelin, standing nearby, spoke up. “The prisoners we captured have been transferred to the underground cells. The interrogators have started their work, but they aren’t getting much. We are still waiting on information from them.”

Kaelin and Voren decided against conducting the interrogations themselves at the Fabia clan. Time was of the essence, and they knew their skills were better utilized at the main encampment, especially since there were no immediate threats in the area of Fabia Clan. After briefing the Fabia clan on the current situation at the western border, they quickly made their way back to the encampment, bringing the captured mercenaries with them.

Upon arrival, they handed the prisoners over to Commander Edran. Recognizing the potential for hidden information, the Commander wasted no time. He ordered the mercenaries to be taken to the underground makeshift prison, where the Legion’s trained specialists—experts in extracting secrets—could conduct a thorough interrogation. Kaelin and Voren's swift return ensured that the encampment remained the focal point of their efforts, ready for whatever lay ahead.

As if on cue, one of the interrogators entered the command tent, a tired but determined look on his face.

“Did you manage to extract anything useful?” Edran demanded.

"Yes, Commander," the interrogator nodded. "They didn't provide much, either because they genuinely don’t know or they're holding back. What we did learn is that they weren't acting alone—several other mercenary groups have been hired. These prisoners weren't high up the command chain, so their knowledge is limited. Their captain, who might have known more, was unfortunately one of the first to fall when Battlemage Kaelin engaged them."

"Is that it? Those bastards have to know more," Kaelin said, his tone laced with frustration.

"They insist they have no clue how the beasts are controlled," the interrogator said. "They only know that their superiors were given special crystals to command them. That’s all their captain revealed."

"Do they have any details about those crystals?" Edran pressed.

"None," the interrogator replied. "They only mentioned that the devices were supplied by their employer to the higher-ups."

"What can they tell us about this employer?" Kaelin cut in.

"They claim it was one of the larger clans from the neighboring City-State, Argos," the interrogator said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Edrans brows furrowed. "Did you get anything else out of them?"

"No, Commander," the interrogator said, shaking his head.

Edran let out a low sigh. "Even this small piece of information is useful. Keep pressing them—there might be more they’re not revealing."

The interrogator nodded sharply and quickly exited the tent.

Edran dismissed the rest of the scouts, leaving only himself and Kaelin in the room.

Edran shook his head, a deep frown etched on his face. "I don’t know how much we can trust the information from the interrogation. Hiring such a large mercenary force isn’t cheap. This smells of something bigger. I wouldn’t be surprised if Argos is preparing for an outright assault on us."

Kaelin nodded in agreement. "Exactly. This whole operation is far too coordinated. Argos is definitely involved, but they aren’t acting alone. Someone else is pulling strings. The corruption of beasts and draining of mana veins—it’s unlike anything we've encountered."

Edran's eyes narrowed. "Yes... there’s another player in this game, someone powerful enough to orchestrate all this." They continued their tense discussion, their words trailing off as they reviewed the unfolding threat.

Half an hour later, Cale burst into the encampment, his breath coming in ragged gasps and his face drained of color. Without a moment’s hesitation, he made his way directly to the command tent, urgency evident in every step.

“Report!” Commander Edran demanded the moment Cale entered.

Cale saluted sharply, his voice quick and precise. “Rifi’s still holding position near the Aemiliania Clan, but the situation is worse than we thought. The Clan is under heavy assault from the enemy’s vanguard. Rifi believes this is just the first wave—the real attack is coming, and we need reinforcements immediately.”

Kaelin’s face tightened with concern. “Rifi’s there alone?”

Cale nodded. “He’s staying hidden for now, watching the enemy’s movements. But he can’t hold off a full assault on his own. He sent me to request reinforcements—every available Legionary who can reach the Aemiliania Clan, preferably unnoticed so that we can surprise them.”

Commander Edran’s jaw clenched, his mind already calculating the next move. He turned sharply to the nearby centurions who had joined him and Kaelin just minutes earlier to discuss the encampment’s defense. “Prepare a relief force,” he ordered. “Send Tessa and Bren to scout an eastern route. If they can find a way to move in undetected, we might have a chance to catch the enemy by surprise.”

As the centurions moved to obey, Kaelin’s eyes blazed with determination. “I’m heading out now,” he said, his voice firm and steady. “I need to reach Rifi before the situation deteriorates. We can’t afford to lose him or the Aemiliania Clan, and with my help, we can buy you more time.”

Commander Edran’s gaze locked onto Kaelin. “Go,” he commanded, his tone sharp and decisive. “Get to Rifi and hold the line until reinforcements arrive. This might be our chance to turn the tide.”

Kaelin didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his gear, his face set with grim determination, and moved quickly toward the eastern perimeter. “Hold the camp,” he called back to Edran. “Make sure we have enough Legionaries defending this position—we can’t afford to lose it.”

“Don’t worry,” Edran assured him. “I’ll stay here to oversee the defense. Half of the experienced Legionaries, brown core and up, will be dispatched to reinforce you.”

"Sounds good," Kaelin said, giving a final nod as he left the tent with a sense of urgency.

As Kaelin rushed toward Rifi’s position, the camp buzzed with frantic activity. Tessa, Bren, and several other scouts were dispatched, while soldiers hastily prepared for deployment. Voren, meanwhile, concentrated on reinforcing the defenses, anticipating the possibility of an enemy strike at the main encampment.

Cale, now back in the command tent, joined Commander Edran in sifting through the fragmented intelligence they had collected. Slowly, a dark and ominous picture was emerging—one that suggested the enemy's ambitions extended far beyond a series of tactical strikes.

In the underground prison, the captured mercenaries continued to endure intense interrogation. Their resistance was gradually crumbling under the relentless pressure of Edran’s most skilled interrogators. Bit by bit, fragments of information surfaced, hinting at a greater conspiracy that went well beyond the neighboring City-State. Whispers circulated of a shadowy force, manipulating events from behind the scenes like a master strategist guiding pieces on a chessboard.

Rifi at Aemeliana Clan:

Rifi watched from the shadows, his heart heavy as he observed the relentless struggle unfolding before him. The warriors of the Aemiliana Clan were clearly at the edge of their limits, exhaustion etched into every movement. Hours of battle had taken their toll; many lay wounded, and too many had already fallen. Desperation was evident in the set of their jaws and the determined glint in their eyes. The lone red-core mage leading them—a spellbound commander—fought valiantly, but even his strength was being slowly ground down by the overwhelming numbers. He was all that stood between the clan and the advancing darkness, and he was painfully aware that one red core alone was no match for the relentless tide.

Yet they did not retreat. They couldn’t afford to. Behind them lay their homes, their children, and their families—hidden in underground sanctuaries, trusting their protectors to keep the danger at bay. The warriors of Aemiliana knew that to give ground was to doom those they loved.

The situation turned even more dire as the enemy’s tactics shifted. They now sent forward their most powerful corrupted beasts, tier 5 and tier 6 monstrosities, their forms twisted and enhanced by the tainted mana that seeped from them. The air crackled with tension as the warriors braced themselves. They were willing to pay the price, no matter how steep, because to do otherwise was unthinkable.

Rifi’s eyes narrowed. He could see the determination in their stances, the desperation that mirrored his own frustration. His fists clenched around the hilts of his swords, his jaw tightening. He knew what was at stake, and he had a strategy to consider—a plan to surprise the enemy when the moment was right. But each passing second weighed heavily on him. He couldn’t just watch as his fellow Legionaries—his brothers and sisters in arms—were cut down before him. Strategy be damned.

Taking a slow, controlled breath, Rifi let the tiniest pulse of lightning mana ripple out from his core, feeling for any hidden threats. His senses attuned to the battlefield, picking up the controlled mana signatures of the Aemiliana warriors and the faint, corrupted aura that tainted the charging beasts. Satisfied that there were no hidden dangers lying in wait, he made his choice.

With a sudden surge of power, Rifi exploded into motion. His blades crackled to life, glowing with a blue-white energy that flashed like miniature lightning storms. He descended upon the advancing beasts with terrifying speed, each strike aimed with deadly accuracy. The battlefield lit up as his lightning-infused swords cut down two of the tier 6 creatures in the span of a heartbeat, their corrupted bodies convulsing as arcs of energy raced through them. The remaining beasts retailated, forcing Rifi to dodge their onslaught of attacks.

From atop the clan’s battered wall, a voice rang out in disbelief. "It’s a battlemage! He’s Hepestus! He’s Hepestus!" The words echoed across the fortifications, igniting a spark of hope.

A wave of cheers erupted from the defenders. "Reinforcements! Reinforcements!" they cried, their voices carrying the first notes of renewed determination.

“Order! Keep your focus, Legionaries! The battle isn’t over!” The commander’s voice cut through the cheers like a whip. He leapt down from the wall, landing beside Rifi in a swirl of red mana, unleashing a torrent of fiery projectiles that cleared the immediate area. Rifi, his face resolute, used the opening to retreat back behind the fortifications with the commander.

Breathing heavily, the commander gave Rifi a sharp look, his gaze a mixture of relief and disbelief. “What’s going on? Why is a battlemage here on the western front?” he demanded, his voice edged with both hope and confusion. “Not that I’m complaining, but I didn’t think the City Lord could send reinforcements this quickly.”

“You’re right,” Rifi said, a slight grimace on his face. “He didn’t. It’s a long story, but what matters now is that we hold. Reinforcements from the western encampment are on their way. We just need to buy a little more time.” He glanced back at the horde of beasts regrouping beyond the walls.

The commander’s face tightened. “How long until they get here?” he asked, desperation slipping into his tone. “We can’t last much longer. Our mana reserves are nearly depleted—we’ve been fighting for hours.”

“An hour,” Rifi said, his eyes scanning the distance. “Two at most. We just have to hold out a little longer.” But even as he spoke, he sensed a shift—movement at the edge of his perception, a new threat looming.

His gaze sharpened, his senses flaring. From his elevated position atop the wall, he saw the telltale signs of enemy reinforcements massing in the distance. Among them, unmistakable even from this distance, was the scarred mercenary—the battlemage he had faced not long ago. Flanking him were more figures, their mana signatures potent and dangerous.

Rifi’s hands tightened around the hilts of his swords, lightning crackling faintly across his armor. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him—the calm before the storm, the moment before all hell broke loose.

“Get ready,” he said, his voice steady and cold. “The real battle is about to begin.”

The commander followed Rifi’s gaze, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the dark figures drawing closer. “Gods help us,” he muttered, his voice a strained whisper.

'You better get your fiery ass over here soon, Kaelin,' Rifi thought, his eyes never leaving the encroaching enemy. This was it—the moment they had to hold the line, no matter the cost.

And he would not let them fail.