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

William rested on top of the ruined outer walls, feeling the wind run through his white hair. The smell of ash and burnt flesh lingered in the air. Hundreds had died defending the walls against the golems. Their bodies remained, and the scent of decaying flesh filled his nostrils. Yet, he persisted, witnessing the conclusion of the siege.

"General… it would be best for you to move back to the command tent," Igneel said.

"Would it, Sir Igneel?" William questioned. "We have the Everheart forces pushed back to the castle, yet no matter how long I observe the battle… it seems like only a few hundred are fighting at a time."

"They could be preserving their strength."

William glanced at him and chuckled while brushing his braided beard. His crimson coat hung loosely on his shoulders as the sleeves fluttered in the wind. A bitter smile surfaced at the corner of his lips. Ever since the war machine arrived, an official from the Emerald Tower appeared with a decree from the Emperor himself. It was seamless, as if they had planned everything from the start, and the process they used to take over command was beyond efficient.

The retainers he had trusted for years had turned on him with alarming ease. Their camaraderie was gone, like ashes in a breeze. Only a handful remained loyal, but from the swiftness of their betrayal. It revealed a truth he had long ignored. They had been waiting for this moment all along.

"I doubt it," he said. "Their commander isn't the type to withhold their forces. This is something I learned firsthand."

"Then why are they only using several hundred soldiers?" Igneel asked.

"Only God would know, but from my years of experience… they're planning something dastardly."

"Should we alert the Elder from the Emerald Tower?"

"Even if we did… do you think they'll listen?" William glanced at where his arm used to be with a bitter chuckle. The very same stub that the mage mocked. "Those bastards have no respect, nor dignity."

"Then what about our men? Shouldn't we notify them at the very least?"

"Open your eyes, Igneel! Those cowards who chased after that blasted war machine are nothing more than lapdogs for the Emerald Tower." William slammed his fist into the jagged stone of the golems, pulverizing it into dust. "They never marched when commanded, never lifted a blade unless it suited them, and to make matters worse."

The young knight couldn't say a word as William scoffed in disgust.

"Those treacherous bastards don't even realize they're selling our very nation away."

Igneel could feel the disappointment in William's voice. He didn't understand the inner workings of the Empire, but to see his commander speak with such disdain puzzled him. The war machine had fallen, and they had the enemy cornered like rats. Vermin on the verge of extermination… yet the lingering sadness in the general's eyes resonated with his soul.

There was a darkness looming over their home, pulling the strings of their nation to a sinister tone. But they were nothing more than cogs within a mechanism. Functioning as the Emperor intended. The Emerald Tower had grown in influence and with their recent victory at the Aegis bastion. It only solidified their foundation.

"We won't know how far the corruption has spread until this war of tragedy is over." William gazed at the soldiers storming the castle. "And those who do know will long be dead by the time it matters."

Igneel's hands tightened. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you ever wondered why the opposition to the Emerald Tower has grown silent?" William asked. "There are several magic towers within the Empire, yet none dare to utter a word as their influence flickers like a dying flame. War doesn't just kill our foes. It purges those who stand against us."

A shadow of horror surfaced on Igneel's face. "You don't mean…"

"I do, and sadly, with each passing day our numbers dwindle." William drew in a slow breath before slowly exhaling as if a weight pressed against his chest. "There'll be a time when you will have to choose what you stand for, Sir Igneel. And that choice is closer than you think."

His mentor's words buried themselves deep in his conscience. The Emerald Tower was their ally. After all, their contributions to the war far exceeded the deeds of those who opposed them. And despite Elder Pyron's cruelty, one man wasn't enough to paint a portrait of an organization's image.

Even if the Elder stained the canvas in crimson.

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This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

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Clink. Clack. Clink. Clack.

Silence filled the castle's hall as a flash of lightning flared through the stained windows. Five hundred soldiers were all that remained to defend the teleportation device. The priests had fought tooth and nail to stay for a fraction longer, but God had other plans for them. This wasn't their end.

They had fulfilled their role. In the ruins of a hollow city, Solas didn't need to bear witness to what would unfold. Now it was time for the defenders to stand. To show the Empire how far they would go to claim their price in blood. The plan was simple. They would lure in their foes. Draw them in like wasps following the sweet aroma of pollen, and knowing the Empire's ignorance. They would take the bait.

Tucker listened to the faint drip of rain landing against the broken windows. Then came the sharp clink of his lighter snapping open once more. A rasp came as the iron wheel scraped against the surface. A flame bloomed that painted the shadows in a fading orange. In the darkness was a bond, one that refused to extinguish.

Each of them waited without uttering a word. In the depths of the castle, a distinct rumbling entered their ears. Tucker kept his eyes fixed on the steel gates as the ground quivered. What started as a low, rolling tremor had grown far beyond that. Like distant thunder crawling across the ruined city.

The rhythm was relentless, mimicking the pounding of war drums that grew louder and closer. As if the very ground beneath their steel boots was taking sharp, ragged breaths. It wasn't just noise, but a pressure that pressed against their chests, vibrating through bone and making the air itself shake with fear. Yet the Everheart soldiers remained steadfast, for it was only another day at the bastion. They had been through worse.

They had looked death in the eye and welcomed its embrace long ago. In this prison of a fortress stood the Everheart's finest batch of soldiers. Each one hardened through combat, embraced by blood. If they were to perish, it would be while sending several of the Empire's men straight to hell.

"Sir, they have passed the third section," one soldier declared.

Tucker glanced at Luka, who returned the gaze. His friend gave a curt nod to the lookout before patting Tucker on the shoulder.

"I'll check on the other teams," Luka said. "Try not to die while I'm gone."

Tucker let out a short scoff as Luka ran off to the side and disappeared into the halls.

"Commander Welford, your plan is performing far better than we hoped," Max said while glaring at the steel door.

"The Empire has always been an aggressive force. They wouldn't let us go that easily," Tucker replied. "Those bastards will come at us with everything they have. Is everyone in position?"

"They are."

"Good."

Tucker watched as the men lined the far walls of the chamber with weapons in hand. Dirt and grime smeared their armor. Yet their resolve was unbreakable. The red carpet before them was barren, without a single obstruction. Archers stood on the second floor of the marble hall with their bows drawn. Each one of them could hear the thunderous steps rattling towards the steel gates.

"They have crossed the final section!"

The declaration filled the hall as Tucker's eyes drifted to the steel gates. Beneath the light that seeped through the bottom of the doors were countless shadows drawing closer. Battle cries roared from the other side of the gate. A tactic commonly used to instill fear in the hearts of their opponents. But to the defenders, it was nothing more than noise.

"I never thought that on a rainy day like this, the Empire's dogs would come marching at our doorstep," Brian said with a grin.

The surrounding men erupted in laughter. Even Tucker cracked a smile as he stood at the top of the staircase with Captain Maystonea and Morgan by his side. He held the lighter in his hand before closing it once more. After pocketing the small trinket, Max and Brian both donned their helmets. A rectangular helm with a large gash down one side and another where one horn had been cut off.

They focused on the Empire's forces at the steel gates. Furious shouting continued from the other side, and the sound of footsteps deepened. The heavy thuds echoed throughout the hall as the men gripped their weapons. Shadows danced beneath the crevice of the door, and then—it struck.

BOOM.

The first strike landed against the metallic surface like thunder shattering the ground. Steel groaned beneath the impact as mana flared along the inscriptions of the door.

Another swing of the battering ram came crashing into steel. The vibrations rattled through the walls, with the steel frame screaming in agony. Each hinge fought back in desperation to keep the invaders at bay, but would soon give in.

Tucker held out his arm to the side with his fist sealed shut. He focused on the castle's door. The mana inscriptions dimmed with each aura-clad blow. With every strike, the sound sharpened as if the steel itself was crying out for its misery to end. Until finally—the ram crashed forward with one final bone-shaking eruption, cracking open the steel doors as the metal warped and split.

The rivets on the steel tore loose and clattered on the marble floors like broken teeth. Both doors buckled inward, folding under the weight of the blow before slamming against the stone walls. Rain poured in, and the sudden rush of cold air carried with it a cascade of steel boots hammering the ground.

Voices roared as the Empire's forces surged through the breach, but before they could take another step forward, a flash of thunder lit the hall, revealing the trap that awaited them. Their breaths broke as if someone had ripped the air from their lungs. Hundreds of soldiers lined the shadows. Archers grasped their bowstrings, their eyes fixed on the intruders. Yet what stopped them dead in their tracks wasn't the soldiers, but the iron maws of the cannons along the stairs of the halls. Each aimed directly at the entrance.

The vanguard at the front instantly paled before stopping in their tracks, but retreat was no longer an option. Their forces were funneling in like water rushing out of a dam. And as Tucker saw the fear in their eyes, he recalled the faces of the men he lost. Men like Nemo, who died far too young.

Tucker's arm cut downward as his voice roared across the hall. "Fire!"

The cannons thundered one after another as the explosions tore through the Empire's ranks. Those who barely managed to slip past the barrage were met with no mercy. Flashes of silver cut through the dust clouds, slicing their throats open before a scream could escape their lips. Arrows rained down from the second floor, striking the stragglers and pinning their bodies to the floor. Blood stained the once pure marble floors as crimson crawled along its surface.

In that moment, one thought united the defenders.

A single vow that roared within their hearts, igniting their spirits after all they had endured.

For those who had fallen, they would bring death to the invaders.