Spark of War (Progression Fantasy)

Nexin crashed into the monsters' front line inside the fort with enough force to pulp hangnails within fifteen feet of his impact zone. Before the armored Ashes – or the other Pilish soldiers – had a chance to figure out whose side he was on, battle-axes of fiery plasma ignited in his hands, and he spun into the horde.

Hangnails stumbled into the mushy space where he'd landed, only to immediately find themselves in two separate pieces as an axe passed nearby. The lucky ones that didn't get bisected instead had their skin burned like they'd been left in the sun too long as Nexin passed. He chopped his way along the front of the monster's line within heartbeats, axes cutting through his enemies like kindling, with every monster death buying a breath of relief for the defenders.

Cut, small step, cut, and he reached one wall, before spinning on his heels, then flaring his wings. He shot across the horde like a cannonball, axes still whirring and relieving hangnails of their appendages before they realized he was there. Slimy grey body after slimy grey body fell like rain, until he found himself faced with a titanic claw crashing down in his direction. Thick, sapphire scales lined the foot with sharp nails like curved swords cutting for him.

A feral growl rumbled out of the seawyrm's clenched mouth as its claw reached the seemingly defenseless Nexin. That growl changed to a whimper, his axe cleanly separating the claws from the attached foot at the knuckles. Monsters behind him shrieked in panic at the large – and very sharp – objects crashing into their midst, but Nexin kept his focus on the beast ahead. Its mouth was already starting to spread, long, terrible teeth glistening with saliva. As soon as those jaws opened, the beast would rear back and spit its hose of compressed water.

While Nexin would easily be able to avoid the strike, it could still hit the nearby Pilish soldiers, so he arched his back and reshaped the axe in his other hand. Following the head up as it moved, Nexin brought his arm around in a vicious uppercut, the warhammer in it slamming into the seawyrm's chin even as it tried to open its maw. Bones broke at the impact, teeth shattering and exploding out the side of its mouth, and its head snapped back.

Nexin was already after it, his single axe flaring with power as he brought it horizontally across in front of him. Flares when his weapons were in their plasma state barely lasted more than the blink of an eye, but it was enough. The seawyrm's whole body froze as a molten line appeared across its throat. Then, it gave one great twitch, and the head fell in one direction, while the body toppled in the other.

Already thirty feet up in the air, Nexin cocked his hammer back, then twisted and threw. End over end, the small weapon spun into the heart of the oncoming horde. BOOOM, a dome of hungry flames exploded where the hammer hit, consuming every monster within twenty feet. With the tight confines of keeping the battle to the street leading through the fort's broken gate – and the Pilish soldiers lining the nearby roofs – he had to manage the output of his attacks. Not enough, and he wouldn't turn the tide. Too much, and the collateral damage would be worse than anything the Depths would accomplish on their own.

It was a razor's edge of controlling himself and his magic, and it was perfect for pushing his limits.

While he hovered in the air for a split-second surveying the battle, three separate seawyrms decided to use that hesitation to blast him into pieces. A trio of cutting streams came at him from the left, and he ignited a shield of plasma to deflect. Small corrections to his position in the air put his shield directly in line to take all three breath-weapons, and a cloud of steam immediately burst to life when they reached him.

Evaporating as fast as they hit his shield, the streams created a wall of vapor between him and his enemies, obstructing their views of each other. Sure, the hangnails directly below could see him – until the boiling hot mist fell on their upturned eyes. They didn't really like that, and more fits of pained shrieking echoed between the walls.

Nexin wasn't idle during that time, either, his other hand extended out to his side and a razor-sharp disc of flame roaring to life. From his encounter with that strange black and white warrior, he had a much better sense of where his enemies were, even without seeing them. He could feel the dark water that acted to the Depths like a Firestorm's Spark did, and he homed in on that. Palm up, he whipped his hand around like he was throwing a frisbee, and the three-foot-wide disc sailed out to the side.

If the monsters thought his attack had gone off target, they got a nasty surprise when the spin and angle of the throw – along with a hefty dose of magic – whipped the disc back around straight for them. Unlike the last seawyrm he'd killed, these three didn't completely lose their heads, but they did get vicious wounds just below their jaws. Blue blood waterfalled down their trunks as their compressed streams ceased, and their whole bodies writhed in pain. Heedless of their allies around them, the serpentine bodies crushed dozens of hangnails with every thrashing movement.

They also slammed uncontrollably into the nearby buildings, ignoring the withering fire from the nearest Pilish soldiers in the process. Sapphire scales snapped and popped under the concentrated fire, more wounds opening up to spill the monsters' blood, but it hardly slowed them. Yes, the culminating wounds would likely be fatal eventually, but if Nexin didn't do something now there was a good chance one of the seawyrms would breach a wall in its death throes. And, as soon as that occurred, the horde would have an opening to get into the city.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He couldn't let that happen.

Looking at the long line of the continuing battle, he noticed it wasn't just those seawyrms threatening to get through. More and more of the hangnails were reaching the roofs – there were just too many to stop. There were also several more seawyrms charging their way through the open gate. It was only a matter of time, unless…

Unless he tried something new. That was why he was there, wasn't it? Saving lives and pushing his limits.

Without giving doubt a chance to make him second-guess himself, Nexin flared his wings to once again crash down in front of the battling Ashes. This time, he hit the ground hard enough to make the monsters and soldiers stumble, but he made up for it by spinning around even as a weapon ignited in his two hands. Growing so long the tip of the massive greatsword bit into the wall on Nexin's right, he hauled the weapon around in front of him in a devastating arc.

Plasma cut and melted any monsters unlucky enough to be within fifty feet in front of him to pieces, completely blunting the horde's advance. His swing only stopped when he brought it around to the opposite side of the street from where he'd started, bodies still toppling to the ground and steaming. Gasps of shock echoed behind him – along with a few choice curses of awe – but even the power of his latest attack wasn't nearly enough to end the fight. The street itself was far too long for him to have been able to catch all the monsters.

No, if he wanted to do something decisive enough – without wiping out his allies – he needed to do something different.

With that thought in mind, Nexin ripped his hands apart, taking half of his greatsword in each as he went. Then, lifting his arms above his head, he flipped the swords around so the blades pointed down before stabbing them straight into the ground in front of him.

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK, the sound was so loud and sharp – like the earth itself was splitting to swallow the city whole – that everybody paused. Seawyrms. Ashes. Pilish soldiers. Hangnails. They all froze, like prey caught in the gaze of an apex predator. Their heads stayed locked in place, but their eyes swiveled and spun, looking for the death they knew was coming.

When the ground beneath them began to glow with cracks of molten light, their heads finally moved. As one, every creature looked to their feet, lines of orange light spreading down the length of the entire street, from wall to wall, like they were standing on the hardened surface of boiling lava. But, it wasn't columns of spewing magma bursting from the center of the street that came – that would be too dangerous, too uncontrollable.

Instead, along the sides of the street, blades of glowing plasma struck upward. Growing until they stood taller than the roofs, there was no mistaking the shapes of the swords spaced evenly ten feet apart, all the way down the length of the road to the fortress wall. Several monsters had been pierced by the rapidly rising blades, but those bodies had already turned to ash from the intense heat, though that extreme temperature didn't extend more than a few inches from each of the hundreds of blades.

The whole paused battle took on an orange hue like a sunset as everybody present held their breaths in anticipation of what they knew was coming. The swords along the edges of the street were oddly – terribly – beautiful, and they'd killed dozens of monsters with their rising… but that couldn't be it, could it?

It wasn't.

Nexin's eyes flashed the same color as his blades as he flared his power into them. All down the two lines of swords, energy sparked like plasma lightning along the lengths of the weapons. Then, in a simultaneous roar like primal thunder, those bolts of lightning arced across the street, incinerating great swaths of monsters with each pass.

More and more, the arc-lightning bolts tore up and down the street, straight across and diagonally, to decimate the attacking horde. Where the bolts passed, nothing remained. Seawyrms burst as their blood boiled in their long bodies from one strike, only for the next bolt to disintegrate even that. Hangnails vanished in large crowds, and the bodies of the fallen weren't spared within the corridor of fiery death.

What seemed like minutes of pounding, scorching assaults, passed within the two seconds it took to annihilate the attacking force, and Nexin let his plasma swords fade from his hands. At the same time his weapons vanished, the lightning stopped so abruptly, it was like it'd never been there. As for the blades themselves, a warm gust of wind blew them apart into tiny embers, the glowing wisps dancing through the air before winking out of existence.

Ahead of him, the entire surface of the stone roadway had been charred a black so dark, it would've looked like a bottomless void if not for the cracks of glowing orange that remained. The soldiers on the roofs lining the street woodenly looked in his direction, and he could hear movement behind him, but Nexin's attention was on the lone figure standing within the shattered wreckage of the broken gate.

Another of the black and white humanoids looked at the empty space in front of it, more hangnails and seawyrms milling about behind it – but not looking too keen to enter. In its right hand, it held a trident of hardened, dark water, with a shield of the same substance on its other arm. Compared to the other creatures Nexin had fought, the power he felt stemming from this opponent was second only to the avatar he and Sol had battled together.

And not by much.

This enemy was a tsunami compared to the gently lapping waves he'd fought before.

After the power he'd expended to rout the Depths' assault, would he have enough left to deal with an opponent of this calibre?

The humanoid seemed to wonder the same thing, slapping its trident against its shield in challenge.

Nexin smiled, twin swords igniting in his hands and compressing straight to the plasma state. Whether he had enough left or not was never a question or a concern. He'd come out to find situations or opponents to challenge him. To force him to grow, so he could oppose the avatar of the Fathom itself. So he could protect his country. His world.

His friends, and his sister.

"Come," Nexin whispered, then flared his wings and rocketed straight for the opponent simultaneously lunging in his direction.