Spiritbound [Spirit Magic, Military, Progression] (Book 1 Complete)

The blinding light caused everyone to cover their eyes. Tucker prayed to Solas that he made it in time. That his arrow had torn apart the fabric of the detonation cords. But as he wallowed in the possibility of success, a sharp crack split the air. Followed by a roar as the ground trembled.

A shockwave burst forth from one of the pillars. The towering stone pillar cracked at the base. Teetering away from the platform as a series of cracks traveled along the grooves. The groaning rumble and chunks of stone split off before tumbling down in jagged pieces as dust billowed outward in thick dark clouds. It slammed into the ground with a bone-shaking thud that shook the ground. Shards of stone flew, and a rising wave of dust swept over the surroundings.

Tucker shielded his face from the stone fragments as the other Everheart soldiers pushed forward. They cut down the saboteurs one by one, but through the clouds of dust, he could see one of them rushing to the other pillars.

"Captain Morgan!" Tucker drew back his bowstring and fired another arrow filled with aura towards the platform.

Brian nodded and sprang into action, following the trailing emerald shimmer. He sprinted through the clouds of dust, his body enveloped in a dazzling orange aura that resembled a new dawn. In an instant, his body slammed into a wall of saboteurs desperate to buy time. The impact blew their bodies to the side. Screams of pain and fragments of broken armor filled the air.

Yet Brian didn't stop there. He powered through the enemies rushing to intercept him, cutting down foe after foe with his mighty knights by his side. The enemy's blood drenched the fabric of his cape. With each step he took, the men beside him roared with confidence.

A saboteur charged at Brian with his sword raised high. But Brian didn't flinch. In a single, merciless swing, he cleaved through the opponent's blade and body, severing the man in half as he pressed their advantage. Blood splattered against the left side of his helmet, causing the enemy to stumble back in fear.

They had nowhere to run.

In a desperate attempt to buy time, they charged, hoping to gain a few precious seconds. But their resistance was snuffed out in an instant, like a flame caught in a raging storm. Brian and his men decimated their forces, shattering their morale as the prime culprit panicked on the teleportation platform. Tucker's arrow pierced through his shoulder, causing the man to cry out in pain while falling to his knees. The leader rushed to ignite the other charges, but before he could get close, a burning sensation raced from his knees.

The man collapsed with a heavy thud, his body slamming against the platform as his face struck the runic engravings. Slowly, his eyes drifted downward, drawn to the source of the searing pain. His eyes flickered with panic, the pupils quivering as consciousness slipped in and out. Crimson liquid poured from the stumps of his legs, gushing like a dam that had been torn open.

"Where do you think you're going?" Brian asked.

The enemy leader gritted his teeth, staring at the captain with disdain. They had failed to complete their objective, and his men were all dead.

"You'll regret this," he said, cracking a capsule in his mouth.

Brian narrowed his eyes but soon clicked his tongue upon seeing the foam flow from the corner of the leader's lips. He scanned the surroundings, and the other enemies had also done the same. It was too late to stop them. The poison had already taken root in their nervous systems, and soon, the enemy soldiers fell with sharp gasps of breath.

Luka knelt over one of the fallen bodies and turned him over. He pressed two fingers against the side of their neck, just below the jaw. Seconds passed, and no rhythm or flicker of life existed. Bitterly cursing at the sudden turn of events. They had saved a portion of the platform from destruction but were still lacking critical information about what the Empire planned to do next.

"What should we do now?" Luka asked, turning to Tucker.

Tucker glanced at the technicians and slowly exhaled. "Have the men treat the wounded. Those who can still move will secure the area, and the technicians who are still alive will focus on maintaining the platform."

"Gotcha," Luka said, nodding his head.

Tucker watched as Luka immediately headed off to the other soldiers tending the wounded and clicked his tongue. They had narrowly avoided a massive disaster by the skin of their teeth. Even though they lost one of the pillars used to funnel mana into the platform, which reduced the overall speed and efficiency, it was better than losing the device itself.

"Captain Welford…"

A familiar voice entered Tucker's ears. He looked over his shoulder, spotting the orange leather apron and grime-streaked white shirt. It was Thomas, the master blacksmith assigned to their platoon. His breathing was ragged, and he clutched his side, where hastily wrapped bandages and a faint shimmer of a healing potion marked the site of a recent wound.

"How's your injury?" Tucker asked.

"I've had better days," Thomas replied with a faint grin. "But I suppose I owe you. If it weren't for you and your men showing up when you did, we would've been isolated from the rest of the Kingdom."

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Tucker nodded with a grim expression. "Is this the only platform that's been targeted?"

"It's… It's the only platform we have left," Thomas replied in a whisper.

Tucker stopped moving. Not a single word left his mouth. The bastion had once operated with four teleportation platforms to handle logistics. Now only one remained. It would be impossible to request a large amount of reinforcements, and their supplies were limited. A part of him wished that they had discovered this conspiracy sooner, but there was no point in regretting what had already happened.

"Could we repair the platforms?" Tucker asked.

Thomas glanced at the teleportation device in the chamber. "This one? Probably. But the other ones were blown to smithereens." He bitterly chuckled. "There's no repairing that."

"What would we need to rebuild it?"

"Frankly, I don't have a clue." Thomas released a deep sigh. "I may be a master blacksmith, but these devices require magic engineers to handle. Anyone can be a technician once they learn how the platforms operate, but to create one? That takes years of mastery and dedication."

"Then… what can we do?" Tucker asked.

"I wish I knew the answer to that." Thomas crossed his arms. In his eyes was a trace of sorrow and regret. "It pains me to say this… but…"

"Don't you dare utter those words." Brian's voice cut through the air. He glared at the master blacksmith with a hint of rage. "We still have a chance to turn things around."

"Captain Morgan, you need to be realistic here." Thomas gestured at the deceased technicians. "Look around you; the Empire has already made it this far. They've infiltrated the castle, and our forces are stretched thin."

"But that doesn't mean we've lost!" Brian countered.

"It does."

Everyone turned to the voice that entered the chamber. The sound of footsteps echoed against the broken stone tiles, and upon hearing the voice, Tucker couldn't help but scoff, while Thomas and Brian saluted the commander's son as he approached them. Reynold glanced at the watchmen, who both openly showed their disdain before focusing on the others.

"I have received orders from the capital," said Reynold in a grave tone, holding up a decree stamped with a royal seal. The red wax with the Everheart Kingdom's crest caught their attention. "We're to retreat from the bastion—effective immediately."

"What?" Brian squinted his eyes, striding over to snatch the decree from Reynold's hand. He then examined it line by line, gritting his teeth as he went on. "Bullshit!" He screamed. "They want us to retreat now? After everything we've been through?!"

Tucker watched in silence as Brian kicked a discarded helm to the far end of the room. The clanging sound bounced off the stone walls several times before he shoved the decree back at Reynold. The frustration from Captain Morgan was understandable, and if he didn't lash out, Tucker was sure he would.

"What was the reason?" Tucker asked.

"It stated that there needed to be a reorganization of forces," Brian muttered bitterly. "That all active combat forces in the Stafford Bastion needed to fall back to the capital for immediate reassignment." He scoffed while shaking his head. "They have the audacity to send such orders when they don't even know what's happening here and the sacrifices we've made."

"Wait… active combat forces?" Tucker frowned and turned to Reynold. "What about the supporting forces?"

Reynold kept silent, his lips tightening.

Tucker stepped forward. "Reynold, I asked you a question. What's going to happen to the support forces if we leave? If there's no plan, then they're as good as dead."

"That's just how it is," Reynold said quietly.

"You fucking imbecile—!" Luka stomped towards him but soon felt a firm hand grab onto his shoulder. He glanced back only to see Tucker silently shaking his head. "Don't stop me!" Luka snapped. "This guy's always causing problems one way or another—"

"It's an order from the King himself," Tucker cut Luka off. His voice was calm but firm. "This isn't on Reynold, and you know that. He's just the messenger."

"Captain Welford's right, you know?" Thomas muttered with a faint smile. He rubbed his sore shoulders before letting out a heavy sigh. "I suppose this is just a cruel turn of events."

"How can you say that with such acceptance?" Luka said, his voice shaking.

Even Tucker hated the look in Thomas's eyes. That quiet sorrow followed by a bitter acceptance of fate. He had lost countless comrades in a desperate attempt to protect the last teleportation device. If it weren't for them, then none of the bastion's forces would escape, and now they were going to be abandoned? Bullshit. That wasn't going to happen, not with him around.

Tucker locked eyes with Reynold once more and asked in a voice laced with frustration, "So, what's the plan?"

"There isn't one," Reynold replied, "The commander is still battling the Empire's general, so until he returns… we're not set on anything."

"You're his son," Tucker criticized. "Can't you think for once and come up with something on your own?"

Reynold clenched his fist, staring at the ground. The men around him waited for a response. Even Brian stepped forward, ready to intervene, but Tucker raised a hand to stop him. This was something Reynold needed to figure out, and if he couldn't, then it just showed his incompetence. But Tucker wanted to see for himself if Reynold had what it took to make a decisive decision. This was his moment to prove to the surrounding soldiers that he had inherited more than just a name from Carl.

After a moment of silence, Reynold finally spoke. "We'll evacuate the injured first. Anyone who'll need long-term recovery. Then for every five combat personnel, one support unit will be sent out as well. Does that work?"

He looked around at the others. One by one, they nodded in agreement.

"It's a start," said Tucker. "Do the other captains know of the royal decree?"

"Not yet," Reynold replied. "I rushed here to provide support to the platform."

"Then they'll need to know from you before anyone else," Tucker said.

"I know," Reynold replied, nodding in response. He turned away from them without uttering another word. The soldiers who came with him gave a crisp salute before following him out.

Once their figures were out of sight, Luka punched a nearby stone wall in frustration. He glared at Tucker and said, "You didn't need to help him. Not after everything he's done!"

"I know, but if there's one thing I learned, it's that we can't have internal conflict at a point like this," said Tucker. "We need all the help we can get, and if our nation wants a fighting chance. Then we have to work together… even if there's bad blood."

Tucker fell silent after finishing his sentence. He didn't know if he made the right decision, but right now they needed to stand united. It was the only way to win. His eyes scanned the room, catching beams of radiant light in different colors pouring down from the ceiling. He looked up at the stained glass window of a sun lingering above a fortress. Despite all the conflict, all the cannon fire and spells that rained down on the castle. The fragile colored windows remained intact just like his resolve.

They haven't lost yet, even if they were retreating. It just meant that they would get to fight another day. Tucker gestured at the men of the Thirty-First to gather around. He needed to tell them the royal decree himself—before they heard it from anyone else. After all, they deserved that much after everything they've been through.