Chapter 15
Tun'run of Clan Skyre's many under-clans, based under the man-thing city of Miragliano, clicked his claws on the table, his fur bristling. He hated being under the sun, that blazing ball of heat was unbearable even if right now clouds had obscured it. Nausea hemmed at his senses continually, forcing him to avoid looking up whenever possible. Alas, he had to be out here; his superior told him he could either walk on the surface or walk into the feeding pits.
"We have found no traces of the beast-things since they attacked the man-thing city-city. They were wiped out." His chittering underling reported, sparing peeks at the rest of his force making camp nearby; as Tun'run watched an argument broke out, the offender getting his throat cut open and was tossed to the slaves, devoured in seconds. He made a mental note to discipline those slaves later, one in ten executed sounded appropriate.
"Foolish-dumb rathing!" Tun'run screeched, striking at the smaller rat, his Skyre-bought warpstone whip ripping his skin open like a blade. "They wiped-killed our surface posts! If they manage to kill Skavens, then the pathetic Man-things won't be able to resist them. Surely-certain they are still gorging themselves on the pathetic non-furred ones. We will ambush-backstab them when they return, fat-full!"
Tun'run's anger was entirely justified; his superior was furious, and if he didn't solve the beast-thing problem soon his head would go pop-pop. He wanted this matter to be over so he could get back to what mattered, plotting his superior's death so he could take his place.
"But I saw them!" His underling screeched in pain, pathetically clutching his wound. Sniveling coward, he tried wiggling away.
"You lie!" Tun'run raised the whip again, holding it when the smaller rat wailed in terror. He studied him for a second; this rat he never learned the name of (why would he? The fool was an obstacle, nothing more) was definitely lying about something, but which part?
"I don't! Man-things killed all-all the beast-things! One mage burned the whole forest down!" He screeched.
Tun'run snarled, whipping him again for good measure. The blow split open his back in a spray of blood, he saw a bit of bone before the screeching rat covered his injury. His cries were so damn annoying, he raised the whip to quiet him down for good.
"Battle-leader." Another rat rushed up, quickly bowing. Drawing his lips back, Tun'run's whiskers bristled a moment before lowering the whip.
"Speak." He snapped.
"My scouts spotted a man-thing caravan leaving the city earlier. They are heading towards Miragliano." The rat squeaked in terror.
"How many-many?" Tun'run snarled, making him flinch. He wasn't cowering enough, meaning he didn't respect and fear Tun'run enough. He had to fix that.
"My s-scouts guess ten to fifteen wagon-wagons, hundred man-things and dwarf-things!" He covered his head with an appropriate amount of terror. "Traders, traders they are!"
Tun'run hummed in thought. Hitting trade caravans was a decent method of earning prestige, unbefitting of a skaven of his rising stature of course. However…
"Are the man-things getting help-help?" He demanded.
"N-no, there was no-no fighting,' the scouts said." The rat whimpered. There was a light whiff of fear musk, good.
Tun'run bristled his whiskers. The report didn't add up; how could the man-things have beaten back a beast-thing herd of that size, and already go back to their dreadful above ground burrows? What was he missing? His instincts told him the caravan might have the answer, and if they didn't some extra dwarf-thing goods were always useful for bargaining.
Deciding on his course of action, Tun'run drew a dagger. "You, you are incompetent for missing the man-thing's activities!"
His underling squeaked out an excuse, getting his stomach shivved repeatedly. Ten, fifteen times, finishing with cutting open the rat's eyes to silence his screaming. When the whimpering body fell Tun'run kicked it to the slaves, watching them eat the fool alive. Rolling his shoulders, he wiped his dagger down; he needed to blow off some frustration, he felt better now.
"Rally the troops, we march to the man-things caravan." He barked, watching his detachment scramble with satisfaction. Beneath his status, certainly. When his gamble paid off, he looked forward to gutting his superior for daring to mock him.
XXXXXX
Two days turned into three before Emanuello's caravan set off, fifteen wagons departing from Corno's newly repaired gates. Erza saw the men work tirelessly, enthusiastically even, but packing up everything they needed was difficult work. The dwarfs were displeased at not being allowed to load all their supplies, and they made sure everyone knew it, but even Emanuello's own men were worried.
The caravan had goods to sell, but not as much as a properly organized operation. Food and water supplies were packed, with only a day's surplus in case they were held up somehow. There were a couple healers in the expedition who badgered Erza for extra balm and wraps, claiming the attack took up most of their usual stock. She spotted some guards leering at the small amount of ammunition they had, one asking if any imperial traders had stopped by with more.
They were prepared for the journey, but not enough. Erza was worried, though now that she had a night's rest overall she felt safe enough.
Riding on the lead wagon, Erza sat by the driver holding the reins, the four horses neighing as they clopped over the road. The animals kept throwing their heads around, smelling the lingering ashes and leftover carcasses.
She shuffled out of the way as Emanuello climbed up from the interior, hunched over due to the low ceiling. "How is the weather looking, Beni?"
"Don't like those clouds milord." The driver gestured at the grey clouds on the horizon, right where they were going. "Don't think it'll rain today, maybe tonight."
"We'll have to make do. We'll have at least three weeks of travel ahead." He overlooked the caravan, discovering the same thing as Erza noted; Corno was rapidly shrinking, another crested hill and it would be out of sight.
"Keep this up, maybe we'll get to Miragliano in two weeks." Beni answered.
Emanuello cleared his throat. "Lady Erza." There he was with that respectful tone again. "I feel it would be better if you rested under the tarp for now. You worked so much in the past few days."
"Thank you, but I'll remain right here." Erza nodded and went back to scanning the terrain for danger. Rolling hills swam in every direction, one side of the land rising slightly while the other leveled out, making for a picturesque sight. The green of foliage was less vibrant than what she was used to, although she still felt a stab of homesickness; Erza quashed the thought, she was traveling so she could return to Fiore. In a couple months she will be back.
"Well… if you change your mind." Emanuello sank back under the shade, only jostling one box on the way. Erza appreciated his concern, but she was fine.
Overlooking the ground around the caravan, Erza spared a look back every half hour or so, seeing if the rest of the caravan was alright. Every time she looked, things were the same; the wagons were moving, the guards were alert, some escort horsemen kept pace, she spotted watchful dwarfs doing the same thing as her. A couple caught a glimpse of her and talked among themselves, she was too far away to make out anything they said.
Erza had listened to Emanuello's warnings; she felt confident she could handle whatever threats came their way. That didn't mean she could relax, not with a myriad of threats waiting out there. Beastman, orcs (whatever those were), and lots of other things were hanging around, watching the roads for travelers like themselves. The least she could do was stand guard.
Time flew by, with nothing but idle chatter from the men and the songs of birds, occasionally broken up by other wildlife noises. Eventually Emanuello came out to signal to make camp for the night, causing the wagons to form a large circle perimeter as a impromptu fort. On top of a stubby hill, the men quickly got to work.
Erza helped where she could, grabbing makeshift stakes so the guards could lay them outwards, helping erect poles for torches, and selecting a tree for firewood. Just like at Grimaldi's home she yanked it out of the soil, this smaller tree being even easier to remove.
"What in Valaya's name…" one dwarf sputtered nearby, she thought she recognized him as the young guard at the jail. His superior grunted something that had him rush off, not before witnessing Erza walk to drop the tree by a woodcutter team, who went to work making firewood.
On her way to grab another tree, Erza changed directions when she saw Emanuello pause in the middle of a conversation with Goric, stepping towards the edge of the perimeter. Approaching them, Erza frowned at an opaque mist that flowed over the nearby marsh, obscuring it from view.
"Don't like that." Goric muttered.
"Fog on marshes usually doesn't come out until late at night. Think it's something?" Emanuello asked.
"Mebbe." Goric shrugged. "Haven't heard of grobbi doing mist conjuring this far south. Orcs don't have the brains."
"What is the matter?" Erza walked up, Emanuello doing a double take as Goric leveled a dark stare.
"Looking at the marsh there. Orcs sometimes make homes there." Emanuello explained.
"Do you think there are any?" Erza put aside her questions of what was an orc, focusing on the possibility of an attack.
"Mebbe." Goric repeated. "Could be thagoraki too."
"I was planning on ordering a night watch just in case. If it was a little earlier we could've made camp out of sight of the blighted marshes, but now it looks like we don't have a choice. With such a mist, half of our horses would break their legs if we continued to travel. Or worse, we could end up in the marshes themselves. Even with your strength backing us, that would be a death sentence." He shuddered.
"Oh? What lives in these marshes then?" Now Erza's interest was raised for real. Something that dangerous so close to their caravan? She had to be informed. She had little concern for herself, but as she had found out these last days, her new comrades sadly didn't share her durability or strength. Erza was used to this, even in Fiore there had been few who could match her, but the situation here was incomparable with home.
Everyone was so fragile, it felt almost like she was suddenly walking through a world made of glass. Whenever she shook someone's hand she saw the later flinch even though she was holding herself back. When she had offered to spar with some of the guards and dwarfs, they had shied away, afraid that she would shred with nothing but singular strikes.
Erza….. wasn't certain if they were wrong to have that concern.
She could see the fear in their eyes. Some of the men and women in the caravan were so terrified of her that they began to act strangely. Asking her of her opinion on the strangest of things, of what they should eat, if it was correct to behave this way. They never even looked in her face when they spoke and instead always looked down, even after Grimaldi got them to no longer throw themselves on the ground before her.
Even now she was constantly hesitating before taking any action near a person, afraid that she would hurt them somehow. Erza still remembered how the people back in Corno had died and suffered because of her inaction.
She would not allow any monster or beast to lay a hand on them, she would slay them before they ever came even near the merchants.
"All kinds of nasty things live in those marshes." Emanuello explained, ending her quiet fears. "Orcs, mutants, ghouls and other creatures I have never even heard the name of. They like to prey on the merchants who take the land route from Tobaro or Bretonnia to Miragliano, and have to travel along the coastal area to avoid the marshes. But most of all, there are the rats."
"Thagorraki." The hate in Goric's voice stunned Erza for a moment. The sheer vitriol and intensity behind it was something she seldom had encountered, even in the war against Alvarez. "They are a numberless horde of Vermin, a tide that consumes and defiles everything they come across. A race that possesses no compassion, empathy or mercy in their black little hearts. Of all the dark races and curses that inhabits this world, there are none fouler than them." He obviously had had experiences with those beings, bad experiences.
"You have encountered them before?" She asked tentatively, careful to not pull at any hidden scars or wounds. To her surprise he just belched out a dark, joyless laugh.
"Encounter? HAH!" He shook his head, his eyes almost literally burning with hate. "Encounter the umgi says! I have not encountered the skaven, I lived with them! There's not a month where some Thagorakki force does not try to assail Kammerfammaz, doesn't ambush a caravan, convoy or traveling group around our Karak. Not a year without an assassination attempt, poisoned goods or some foul magic spell in their endless attempts to bring us to our knees! Not a moment where the countless atrocities and injustices they committed against the entire Karaz Ankor don't weigh on my mind like on any good Dawi!"
He spat in the vague direction of the marshes. "I've been fighting those things since I was a beardling. Have killed more than any you can imagine. Have faced their mad machinery, bested their foul mutants and withstood the pathetic ailments with which they sought to weaken us without ever having to face a single good Az! Here is what I tell you about the ratkin, umgi, be you dumi or some goddess of your kin. The Thagorakki are endless and even you would fall if you ventured into these marshes in some attempt to protect us from perceived harm! Even you will be brought down by sheer numbers, poison and sorcery!"
Erza felt a blush creep up her cheeks as the dwarf called her out, leveling a glare at her. Somehow, despite the difference in height between them she felt as if he towered over her; almost as if he was master Makarov was giving her his patented disappointment glance that he always used when he tried to get her and Mirajane back in line during their wild days. Still, was it really that easy to see what she had planned?
"Fine, I won't go into the Marshes, but I'll patrol the edges, just in case something comes. That way I'm close enough to act if something attacks the caravan even from somewhere else." Erza insisted. At least that much had to be acceptable.
"Well…." Emanuello coughed, trying to cut through the tension that had suddenly formed between them. "Why don't we allow Lady Erza to guard the attack vectors from the Marshes? It is the most likely direction where hostiles could attack us from. Meanwhile my own men and the Dawi can guard the caravan itself, against threats who may manage to sneak past her or come upon us from another direction. Also it should be far easier for Lady Erza to use her magic might without any of us nearby to be endangered by it."
Ah, that was right. The prince had approached her with his concerns about the destructive potential of her spells. Erza had quickly waved his concerns off. Sure she could be a little rough at times, but she was hardly that bad!
She didn't quite understand why Emanuello had made such a face when she told him that. He hadn't approached her again with the matter, so undoubtedly, she had managed to calm his fears. The dwarf for his part simply grunted and nodded, recognizing that she wouldn't be brought off this at least.
What then came next was… actually rather boring if Erza was to be honest.
Goric and Emanuello went back to the makeshift camp the caravan had begun to construct, overlooking some massive pots brewing over large fires, mostly fueled by the wood she had collected. They'd been wet so she had lent Grimaldi her sword of the Fire Empress. She had trusted the middle aged man with it; even if he was no mage, he should be able to use her items just fine, it was after all powered by her Ethernano particles.
He had his doubts at first, but she had quickly assured him that it was possible. After all, she well remembered her old comrade Mystogan, who had become an ace mage with no magic power to his name, merely a large collection of magic items and great skill at their usage.
She wondered what he was doing now? She remembered those looks the man had given her alternate self and – ah, her cheeks were burning again. Erza shouldn't distract herself with such lewd thoughts while on guard!
"Right, this should be…" Grimaldi lifted the sword gingerly, aided by her supportive nod.
Gouts of flame left the blade; Grimaldi had incinerated the trees and logs just fine, even though she didn't understand why all the dwarfs and humans had thought it necessary to create quite that big of a distance between them and the soon to be burned wood. Or why Raffaelo was looking at the blade like it was a snake about to bite him. Despite her assurances of safety, he had brought it back to her right afterwards, together with a non-insignificant amount of stew.
After that he had gone back, something about talking with those people that were especially scared of her. She could just hope that he could get them to at least finally look into her face.
For the Blighted Marshes themselves? Erza did not deny that it was…. Somewhat of an intimidating sight. Endless wastes of swamp as far as the mist allowed her to see, only interrupted in the distance by slight flashes of green. She did not know what the reason for it was, but something about this place unsettled her, no, more than that. She felt a feeling of sickness creep up on her, almost as if the stew she had eaten before had been moldy.
It took her a moment to figure out the reason: It was the magic. The magic in this place was wrong. Twisted, corrupted by what lived out there, in these endless swamps. If it was so bad here, on the edge of it already, Erza could not fathom how the magic at the center of whatever this was like.
Was it that city Goric had mentioned? No, this…. Whatever it was was bigger than any city she could imagine. Almost like a single thing, so wasteful that she could merely scratch the edges of it here.
The dwarf had warned her that she would die if she marched alone into the marshes. She hadn't entirely believed him, after all he had seen just a little bit of what she could do in the fight of the beastmen. But whatever this thing was…. Maybe he hadn't been wrong.
Deciding to take her meal on top of a wagon, Erza climbed up one with a couple close calls for her bowl, leering at it threatening to spill. Such fears subsided when she reached the top, plopping down with a good view of her surroundings. Seeing as several guards were keeping watch in different directions, she elected to take her vigil on the Marsh itself.
Which didn't amount to much admittedly, not with how thick the fog was getting. Further into the chittering darkness the gloom grew so thick the green flashes vanished, though she still heard distant strikes that almost sounded like lightning. It was hard to tell over the sounds of croaking frogs, buzzing flies, and the soft hush of conversation by the bonfires. The meager light from their torches hardly extended beyond the perimeter, showing nothing.
Sipping on her stew, Erza barely tasted the hearty slop, only paying enough attention to tell her stomach was being filled. A gulp from a waterskin helped wash down the thick stuff; Emanuello was quite explicit that she be granted no alcohol whatsoever. Erza didn't want any booze already, given her need to focus. So she had only water from Corno, not whatever was in the foggy swamp before…
Erza slowly put her bowl down. The tingling on her skin was growing stronger, something magical was approaching. However, the feeling it gave was… weird. Masking was her best way of describing it, like the mage casting the spell didn't want to be detected. Standing up, Erza requipped a sword to hold by her side.
Around her the hum of conversation died, the men closest catching sight of her transformation, subsequently spreading to the rest. Weapons were drawn, swords, pikes, guns, axes for the dwarfs. For the moment she ignored them, focusing on the mist that was unmistakably crawling towards their encampment. Even without her magic senses she saw it was unnatural, the fog swimming out from the marsh towards their location specifically instead of anywhere else.
Erza watched, searching the thick mist. After a moment, she heard footsteps on mushy soil; bringing up her sword, she listened intently, reacting to wherever the noises came from.
"Hold your fire until we know where they are." Emanuello commanded, speaking normally but with the current conditions his voice carried much further than normal.
As man and dwarf alike tensed, Erza waited. She watched. And when she saw a figure rushing through the fog, she lept, a war cry on her lips as her sword's pommel impacted the newcomer.
There was an inhuman screech, a thump following as the attacker hit the ground with a long handled ax clattering from its grip. The figure was a bizarre creature colored like ruddy mud, a long snout below a cyclopean eye, a clubbed tail swishing on the dirt. The lizard-like thing wore patchwork armor that mainly covered its torso, as well as a dented helmet. Altogether it was huge, easily more than a head taller than her even hunched over, and bulky to boot. It blinked, looking up at her with hate and surprise in equal measure. A glint of a talisman caught her eye, dangling from a chain around its neck.
"You-" it heaved in a reedy voice, flipping to scramble for its weapon. She didn't allow it, crushing its head under her boot as she spotted more figures rushing through the gloom.
"Here! I have two on me!"
"What the hell are these things!?"
"Ah!"
Erza rushed into the mist, hating that she couldn't go as fast as she could. She couldn't tell what she was attacking until she was practically on top of it, her next foe turning out to be Goric whipping around; he grimaced, then immediately whirled to block a sword strike from another cyclops, brushing the crude blade aside to pummel its armor into scrap, as well as the creature wearing it. Size difference or no, its chest crumpled under his hammer.
"More of 'em!" He shouted, leaping surprisingly high to bash another creature.
"For the gods!" Screamed a throaty monster nearby, raising a glowing staff. The light was extremely helpful, letting Erza rush over before it could cast whatever spell it had conjured. "The mage! Get the-"
Cleaving him in half, Erza immediately ducked out of the way of a pike, shoulder checking another cyclops then swung to cut him open, breaking another swinging ax in half before stabbing the surprised creature in its bare torso. More were coming, as she whipped around however a trio flinched in their charge, thanks to the sharp crack of a gunshot felling another roaring creature. Or they saw her advancing on them, both were possible.
Cutting open another creature, Erza growled in annoyance. She heard screams of injured guards, roars of monsters, but she simply couldn't see! Backhanding a fool who tried stabbing her in the back, Erza requipped her Flame Empress armor with some hesitation; she didn't want to accidentally burn down the caravan, but Wind Armor would blow over everyone and everything.
"Rally on me!" Emanuello shouted. Erza used that as her beacon, rushing over with her sword igniting, as one cyclops discovered the hard way.
Vaulting on top of a wagon, she stabbed the sword into the air, sending forth a massive gout of flame. All around her the mist lightened, the light powering through the gloom. A dwarf was startled at the sudden light, and so were a pair of cyclops who were almost upon him. Several gunshots rang out, taking them down quickly.
Erza spotted more creatures, but thanks to her light the rallying guards had a much easier time handling them; between the gunshots and several accurate bolts from dwarf crossbowmen, six or seven cyclops dropped in heaps, scaring several more into turning tail and running. Checking outside of the perimeter, she spotted a particularly large monster grab its comrade to shove them around, forcing them back into the fray. Five seconds of changing her gout's direction solved that problem, Erza whipping her sword up when she saw parts of the tarp singing, threatening to catch fire.
"They're running!" A guard shouted triumphantly.
"Ha! Run ya damn Fimir!" Goric shouted.
Erza let up on the flames to catch her breath, ignoring the need to ask a question; was that an insult or the name of these things? Still, her work wasn't done. She slashed the sword for another wave of short lived flame, to scare off any stragglers who had second thoughts about running. When it dissipated, she saw only outlines vanishing into the gloom, wondering for a moment why they weren't fleeing back into the swamp.
Well, who was she to complain about enemy foolishness? With a single wave of her hand, a dozen silver blades materialized in the air before her, before flashing through the mist into the running hulks of the cyclopean lizards, with sufficient force that she saw how the one most visible still had its whole midsection disintegrate into a fountain of blood, shattered bone and gore upon suffering a direct hit.
"Lady Scarlet!" Emanuello shouted, alerting her to check on the caravan; she grimaced at a small ambulatory zone that was already set up, with several men not moving. Though she took comfort in only counting a dozen seriously wounded men, the healers were already hard at work.
Jumping off the wagon, Erza requipped her usual armor to stride up, sword in hand in case the creatures had second thoughts. She was pleased to see him unharmed, and more at seeing Goric wiping down his hammer already.
"Are you alright?" Emanuello fretted, twitching towards her but stopping to inspect the damage.
"I'm unharmed, you?" She checked.
"I'm well." He answered.
Goric unexpectedly chuckled. "Hah, figures we'd meet something weird on this trip. Orcs or Thagorraki, nah, had to be Fimir."
"A what?" Erza and Emanuello asked at the same time, exchanging a quick glance.
"Old creatures, they've been around for a long time. I've only ever seen them once before, way up in the Empire lands." Goric nodded in presumably a northern direction, his cheer fading into puzzlement. "They live in swamps, tend not to attack just anyone. Its strange they fought like that, normally they're a lot more cunning."
"Who cares?!" One guard bellowed with laughter, slapping his companion as he shifted a pike to his other hand. "We fought rare monsters and won! Let's drink for-"
BOOM.
Erza saw it in slow motion: the guard lurched forward, still grinning in jubilation as his chest spurted blood from a large hole where his heart was. He kept smiling when he hit the ground, his weapon clattering beside him.
She turned, eyes widening; in the few seconds she had to catch her breath, the wagons were swarmed by huge rats, clad in rags and bearing rusty, cruel blades, and smelling like an open sewer. And in the time she used to blink, there were dozens, hundreds of them, swarming the caravan in a shrieking horde.
"Skaven!" Emanuello screamed, just as a rat jumped onto him with knives flashing.
Erza didn't bother speaking, she started swinging the millisecond she was clear of the others. One, two, five, the skaven died in droves to her sword. But for every one she slew, two or three took their places, and they didn't end.
Goric roared as he pummeled again, the remaining guards and dwarfs brawling immediately without a pretense of formation. Everyone was too busy fighting off the rats to do anything else. Erza was only different because of her speed, hacking up rats almost as fast as they piled up on her. She nearly tripped over a body, a dwarf.
"Man-things! Die-die!" A skaven grabbed her arm to shriek into her face, furiously stabbing its stubby sword off her armor. She punched it off her and onto a wagon, hesitating a heartbeat at seeing its comrades stomp on its corpse in their sheer frenzy.
"Erza! You-" Emanuello was dragged down by several, howling in rage as he cut down the skaven repeatedly. Erza tried going towards him, but they wouldn't stop coming…
BOOM, then she felt her shoulder being knocked back. Erza staggered, throwing off another rat to spot a few rifle armed skaven hurriedly reloading on top of a wagon, one physically attacking its peers to hurry them along. Digging in her heels, Erza launched herself in a jump to the roof, slashing two in half before her feet landed, the whole thing lurching under the impact.
"Die-" the apparent leader was silenced, kicked off to a shifting morass flowing just beyond their perimeter; Erza gaped at the horde of skaven rushing towards them, hundreds spotting her. As many shifted course, she made two split second discoveries: the skaven were primarily coming from one direction. And the number they had cut down already was scratching the surface.
Thinking of the collateral damage for a second, Erza made her decision. "No choice."
Mustering her power reserves, Erza requipped extra swords, keeping them aloft. As fast as she could she spawned more, no two exactly alike, creating a small cloud of blades hanging over the horde. More gunshots from the skaven rang out, a couple hitting her with force. She ignored them for they didn't even scratch her and kept at it, summoning as quickly as she could.
As a dozen skaven climbed onto her perch, Erza let her swords fly early; the blades flew into the horde at lightning speeds, the sheer impact causing blasts that scattered skaven by the dozens. Their own packed in formation worked against them, tearing gaping rents in their numbers even as the closest ranks tried retreating. Hundreds died in seconds, ripping open the ground itself from the power of her strikes.
The only skaven to react were the ones closest to her and the ones furthest, the former too maddened to look at the carnage she just unleashed. With half a mind she crushed one after another, the last scratching her cheek before she backhanded it into a blast.
Taking shuddering breaths, Erza beheld the remaining horde massing together, the new front ranks turning tail to run, the farther ones charging straight into them, some even attacking their own allies in their zeal. It was a chance she exploited; her armor shifted, forming metal coverings for her limps over steel mail, great orange pauldrons covering her shoulders and hips, with a large blood red jewel taking its place on her collarbone.
Morning Star Armor took up a lot of stamina, a price Erza was willing to pay. Lifting her new twin swords, she collected as much power as she had time for, coalescing into blinding energy balls on the swords, which grew and grew, forming almost what one would call miniature suns. With a shout she swung, pointing them at the skaven.
Booming thunder resonated from her perch, as the world went white, a pillar of light shooting towards the skaven. Whatever it touched ceased to exist, consumed by white light that cleaved through the mud and marshes, as if a god was tearing up the land itself. There were no screams to be heard from the skaven, thagorakki or whatever those things were. One moment a tide of rats was before her, screaming and spraying themselves in disgusting liquids…. The next they all ceased. Hundreds of skaven, no, maybe as many as thousands, were erased as Photon slicer first went through the army before her, before scouring the blighted and cursed lands from which said horde had appeared clean.
The mist itself was cleaved apart as once again, a clear sight could be held. In front of Erza... Where once grass, land and swamps had been there now was only incinerated bedrock and a large canyon, entirely man -or rather- Erza made, reaching all the way until where the mists began again, the waters of the swamps already filling it again, as if incensed by the intrusion of a foreign power.
Erza was still for a second, a part of her realizing she overdid it, again. Her legs began wobbling, Morning Star armor vanishing to her usual outfit. Then with a strained gasp, she dropped to her hands and knees. Even those threatened to give out; she was exhausted, barely able to stay awake. She definitely overdid it, in more ways than one.
AN
Here is a new chapter. Hope you all enjoy
