Book 2: Chapter 52: Traps

  The horns of Terraxum blared through the mist, sharp and triumphant. Drums pounded in rhythm with the soldiers’ march, their boots slamming the earth as the offensive surged forward. From the ridge, the Earthbreakers descended with the precision of predators, cutting through straggling defenders as they made their way toward the sprawling Aeralith warcamp below.

  The camp itself was chaos, soldiers scrambling to form ranks, commanders shouting orders, warbeasts chained and roaring against their handlers, yearning for bloodshed. Smoke curled into the air as spells arced like falling stars across the field.

  Alex led the push, his team falling into formation around him. They carved their path toward the camp’s outer wall, weaving through Aeralith’s defensive forces like a knife through cloth. Everything was going to plan.

  Until it wasn’t.

  They moved swiftly the squad in formation together, then the ground beneath Kate’s feet flared with sigils.

  “DOWN!” Alex shouted.

  She launched backward just as a jagged pillar of light erupted where she’d stood, searing the air with a deafening crack! The sigil didn’t fade, it pulsed brightly, Alex watched as fire aether was pulled in by the light, feeding on the lingering heat of Kate’s flames, before exploding again in a cascade of fire.

  Around them, more glyphs ignited, all of them were intricate, pre-laid patterns hidden under the mud and mist. Each one keyed not to random targets, but to their personal aether.

  Peter cursed, already forming light construct barriers. “These aren’t normal mines! They’re attuned to our signatures!”

  A wall of water surged toward them, conjured by a chain of triggered glyphs. Holly twisted it aside with wind, only for shadow-laced spikes to burst from the ground behind her. Eric deflected a blast aimed for Allie, his shield glowing hot from the impact, before the around him suddenly vibrated and crackled with lightning, forcing him to drop his shield and jump backwards with the help of his ring.

  The air filled with a storm of elemental traps, magic layered on magic, designed to hem them in and crush them. Alex’s mind raced. Whoever had set this had studied them, really studied them. Each glyph or enchantment that went off wasn’t random. The effects were too precise, counters to their moves, their affinities, their habits.

  “Pull back!” he barked, shoving Devon clear of another detonating rune and tossing up a [Shield] with his offhand. “This field is a trap, a damn death cage.”

  They fell back, step by step, fighting off the barrage with sheer reaction speed and luck. Aether burned in their veins, blades clashed against conjured steel, and the world roared with fire, wind, water, and shadow.

  When they finally broke free of the spell-laden ground, gasping and slick with sweat, the traps behind them shimmered one last time before sinking back into the earth like dying embers.

  Garret leaned against his barely recovered shield, his voice tight. “That wasn’t accidental. That was… for us.”

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  Alex scanned the battlefield with careful consideration. Beyond the smoke and chaos, he could feel it, an intelligence at work, calculating and cold.

  “Lots more traps out there. Now that I know what to look for, I can show you.” Obby begin lighting up his vision, a red aura flashing over mine and other traps. There were dozens of them still.

  “They knew we were coming,” he said, his voice low. “And they want us to keep walking right into their plan. Dance to their tune.” The realization hung heavy, they’d been baited.

  He had no doubt who had done this. The only person he’d found on the opposing side that had out-shined him, in power, and now in strategy.

  The Soaring Heir, well played… He didn’t have to wait long for his suspicions to be confirmed.

  The ridge fell silent for only a heartbeat. The wind shifted, carrying with it the tang of iron and the scent of rain. Then six silhouettes emerged through the fog, descending the opposite slope with measured steps. They moved with purpose, with unity, the ground itself seeming to bend under their combined aether.

  Each figure radiated power, Alex senses swept out. Liquid Stage Adept mages, every one of them. And what was worse, he could tell they were not just any adepts. Their aura gave distinct impressions, there were specialists, weapons shaped by war.

  The first landed in front of Henry like a boulder, an enormous man clad in stone-plated armor. The ground cracked under his boots as earth rose in jagged spikes around him. Henry barely raised his halberd in time to block the crushing strike that followed.

  A second figure flowed into the fray where Devon stood already etching new glyphs with his stylus in a mad frenzy of hand movements. This figure was cloaked in a swirling mist of shadow and enchanted metal shards, runes crawling like insects along his gauntlets. Each time Devon tossed a glyph crystal, the man’s guanlet’s flashed and a metal shard intercepted Devon’s glyphcrafted crystal, unraveled the spell mid-air, turning it to ash.

  Kate darted forward, rapier glowing with her martial style’s, [Emberglass Tempest] fire, only to meet a duelist opposite her, with a blade shimmering like polished glass. Every slash Kate made was caught, refracted, and turned back at her in mirrored flames. The heat cut both ways and Kate gritted her teeth, forced into retreat.

  Holly flickered across the battlefield with [Wind Stride] after [Wind Stride], but a vine mage was already waiting. Thorned labyrinths exploded from the ground around him, weaving into nets of living wire that ripped at her arms and legs when she tried to break through. Her speed became her enemy, every move punished with cuts and blood.

  Peter threw up barrier after barrier, assisting Zach’s shadows weaving to flank their opponents, but a dark mage moved like a phantom. He shattered Peter’s light with surgical precision while appearing at Zach’s back, blades of void almost severing the rogue in two, before Zach managed to sense the danger and dodge away.

  On the far side, a winged archer took the sky, firing arrows faster than the eye could track. Each shaft screamed with wind magic, pinning Eric, Garret, and Lance in place. They huddled behind shields as the ground around them shattered under the barrage. Allie and Cole scrambled between cover, picking up soldier who were caught in the cross fire, dragging the injured back, pouring potions and light spells into bodies just to keep them alive.

  And then the fog parted.

  He came last, not because he was slow, but because he wanted every step to be seen. The Soaring Heir descended with an elegance that mocked the chaos around him, like the battles of Alex’s friends didn’t matter. Silver glyphs spiraled around him, shadows and wind bending to his will with casual grace. His masked face turned toward Alex, the single visible eye calm, cold, and… curious.

  The world narrowed. The screams, the clash of blades, the thunder of spells, all of it dulled as the two of them locked gazes.

  Alex rolled his shoulders, every muscle screaming from the last battle, but he stood tall. The violet-blue aura of the Demon Asura style flickered faintly around him, as if it could sense his intent. This time, he wasn’t harboring even an ounce of fear as he looked at the Aeralith prince.

  The prince tilted his head ever so slightly, like a predator assessing prey that had grown sharper teeth. The wind between them stilled, a moment stretched and pulled taut enough to snap.

  Alex smirked. “Round two?”

  The Prince’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the lull of the battlefield regardless. “Round two.”

  And then they came.