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

Ba-thump.

Tucker's heart pounded in his chest.

Ba-thump.

A coldness spread through his body as he gazed at the dying soldiers in front of him. If only he had made them take a defensive position sooner. Or if he stopped them from trying to fire the cannons. Anything would have been better than seeing them like this. The light in their eyes was fading, and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

Anger? Sadness?

Words couldn't describe what he was feeling right now, and the pain of loss hung heavily on his shoulders. He took a step forward and approached one of the fallen soldiers.

"Captain!" Jones called out, but felt Benjamin grab onto his arm and pull him back.

The men of the Thirty-First had formed a full-scale shield wall that protected them from the barrage of arrows, but Tucker had left the safety of their defensive position and walked out towards the front of the bastion. Projectiles whizzed by their captain's body, yet none met their mark. Something about their captain had changed, and as the men watched, they were at a loss for words.

Tucker knelt down before one of his men. The wind howled around him like a raging torrent that refused to settle. He stared at the young boy's distant eyes and clenched his jaw. It was Alfred, the soldier, who had served him his meal at the cafeteria.

Tears were streaming down the side of Alfred's face as he held out his hand. "I… I just wanted… to… prove myself…"

"You already have," Tucker replied, holding onto Alfred's outstretched hand. He felt the young man's grip weaken as the warmth faded from their body. With a deep breath, Tucker gently placed Alfred's hand on his chest. Slowly bringing his hand over Alfred's eyes and closing them for him.

I trust him with my life.

The words on the letter echoed in his mind over and over, leaving a deep pain in the depths of his heart. His spirit essence raged, trying to break free from its container. If only he were stronger, then could he have prevented this?

No, Tucker knew it wasn't sensible, but the emotions swirling in his mind wanted vengeance. His blood ran cold and the spirit essence he stored in his heart broke free. Arrows that rained down on them slowed as Tucker rose. He saw the intent between each one and knew their attack was weak. Far too weak to even scratch the Thirty-First, if he had reacted sooner, things would have been different.

The torrents raged around him as the arrow's trajectory changed one after another. His spirit essence surrounded his entire body and hummed a melody that instilled fear in his enemies. The sheer killing intent that radiated from the Captain of the Thirty-First made the Empire's forces take a step back as the first iron bridge fell. Each projectile that flew in his direction shifted as the rapid gusts of wind fought back. The Thirty-First could easily defend themselves. He didn't need to worry about them. Instead, he would cut down every single soldier from the Empire.

If they wouldn't come to him, he would go to them. Tucker kicked a javelin into the air and grabbed it in his hands. With all the strength he could muster, he hurled it towards the men who rushed out of the siege tower at the tip of the bastion.

The crunching of metal against bone entered his ears as the javelin pierced through the armor of the soldiers before him. They were three-star aura users at best, and yet he had lost several of his men. Tucker gritted his teeth as his blood boiled.

He was careless. If he had reacted sooner, he could have prevented their deaths. It was foolish to think that tornado could have held off the Empire's forces. Yet he couldn't let his guard down. Somewhere on these towers was a foe strong enough to destroy their joint attack. He had to find them before they got to his soldiers. His eyes scoured the highest point of the towers, focusing on the man who stood there with his sword drawn.

Out of everyone there, that knight was the one Tucker had to take down. But making it there was a challenge on its own. The Empire soldiers were charging at him, fighting against the current that pushed them back. However, Tucker didn't care. He would make his way to them.

A streak of silver and crimson followed each step he took. Tucker pressed forth, twisting his blade to the side while deflecting a slash. His sword slid up the stem of the Empire soldier's weapon and up their arm, cutting deep into their flesh before slicing his opponent's throat. Blood gushed out of the wound and dyed his face, but he didn't stop there, as three enemies thrusted their spears at him. Tucker grasped onto the spirit essence surrounding him and yanked it to the side, changing the direction of the wind as it howled fiercely on the bastion. The gale pulled their bodies, and before they could react, he used feather step, appearing behind them without making a single sound.

The three enemies were frozen, but they all knew. From the sound of blood running down their ears that they were already dead. One by one, their bodies fell. Metal and flesh collapsing onto the warm stone bricks that had yet to cool from the heat emitted from the cannons.

It didn't matter if he was outnumbered; he would shoulder the burden and take down as many as he could. That was Tucker's goal. His calling. Yet the number of foes didn't decrease. They were trembling from the pure killing intent that was directed at them, yet didn't retreat.

Tucker's gaze burned with hatred. Time and time again, the Empire would harass their nation, and for what? They had fertile land and enough food to feed their people. Why would they resort to human experimentation and suicidal attacks? Was taking the youth from children like Adira not enough?

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He grabbed the spear of another soldier and pulled them towards him, breaking their stance as a streak of silver followed the horizon. A crimson line formed on the soldier's neck, drawing blood as it splattered across his face. Tucker's eyes met with the knight as he twirled the spear in his hand.

"There's only one of them!" The knight furiously roared with his sword pointed at Tucker. "Bring me his head—"

A crackle of lightning entered the knight's ears. He felt the shadow of death loom over him and slowly turned his head to the side, helplessly watching as a metallic object blocked his view. Flesh and blood erupted from his skull. Bones tearing from the raw impact as Benjamin drove his great hammer through the torso of his prey. Yet his attack didn't stop there. He carried it through and swung in a wide arc. Killing every single archer on top of the siege tower in one decisive strike.

Blood rained down on the bastion, dyeing the ground in crimson. Benjamin gazed at the watchman, observing the sphere of essence that swirled around Tucker. It was a tactic most wind contractors used for defense, even though it was in a rudimentary state driven by emotion. His eyes fell on his deceased comrades, and a trace of sadness flickered across his face. They were soldiers he had trained, and to see them meet such a fate was a tragedy.

But that was the way of life, something Benjamin couldn't stop. He looked at their captain. "Control yourself. Your men still need you."

The Knight Slayer raised his hammer, which had yet to dry from the blood of his foes, and focused on the other walls. Without saying a word, the old man leaped across the ledge of the walls and took off. Rushing to reinforce the other curtains as his men desperately fought against their foes.

Tucker clenched his jaw and gazed at the Empire's forces that were panicking on the bastion. Their leader was dead, and he knew that the Knight Slayer was right. He couldn't act on his own. Tucker looked over his shoulders, examining his men. In their eyes was the same rage that burned within him, but because of his rampaging spirit essence, they couldn't rush at the Empire like he did.

He needed to numb his heart and focus. Their lives were still on his shoulders, and it was a waste to use all his spirit essence against foes like them.

The surrounding wind died down as Tucker sheathed his sword and held the spear. "Thirty-First." A coldness filled his voice. However, his men immediately came to his call and stood before him with their weapons fixed on the Empire's soldiers.

"Kill them."

The men moved as one. With each step they took, the Empire's soldiers retreated. Chaos erupted through their ranks, with those on the bastion fleeing while others rushed out from the siege tower. They were trapped with nowhere to run. On this godless battlefield, they would find no salvation. Blood spewed from the Empire's lines as the Thirty-First drove their spears in a single, merciless thrust. The blood-curdling cries rang in Tucker's ears like a twisted symphony, and he was their maestro.

The Empire's vice captain?

Reduced to a headless corpse as Tucker's spear soared through the sky and obliterated his skull.

Their once-steady lines of defense?

Shattered by a storm of thin, emerald needles raining down on their ranks.

Line after line, the Empire's men fell. Those who survived the initial attack were trampled on by the Thirty-First, then swiftly finished by the blades that followed. Not a single one of the Empire's forces would be given mercy, for that had been decreed by their captain.

Hell rained down upon the men as fireballs soared towards the bastion, but before they could reach the walls, a flash of light pierced through the center of each spell. Dissipating the attacks in an instant. Tucker glanced at the mages who were fending off the relentless bombardment of attacks and then at the other side of the fortress city, which was under siege by wyvern riders.

They were being overwhelmed on all sides, but somehow holding on. The question was, for how long could they keep this up? Tucker knew they needed a decisive moment to turn the tide of battle.

"Sir! We're out of munitions for the cannons!" Liam shouted.

"What do we have left?" Tucker asked.

Liam glanced back at the ballistas used to deal with aerial threats. "Just that and some rope."

Tucker raised a brow and rushed towards the ballista. There was an idea, one that was crazy enough to work. "Tie the ropes to the empty cannon on the other side of the bastion!"

"What are we doing?" Liam frantically asked.

"We're winning this battle," Tucker answered, aiming the ballista at the siege tower. The wooden handle on the weapon creaked as he steadied his breath. He had one shot, and once Liam had given him the signal that the rope was secure, he fired.

The harpoon resting on the slider of the war machine shot forth as the tension in the ropes gave way. Wood splintered as the spearhead dug itself into the side of the siege tower, attacking the Thirtieth platoon. It creaked as the ancient timber rumbled. The Empire's forces staggered for a moment, but Tucker didn't give them a second to react.

He glared at Liam and signalled for him to push the cannon tied to the rope over. Liam, with no clue what was happening, immediately jumped into action with the other soldiers who were beside him. They pushed the cannon over the ledge, causing it to fall and pull on the rope as it snapped into a straight line.

Tucker grabbed hold of the thick rope beside him and shouted at his men, who were free. "Pull!"

They obeyed without hesitation. The ones who were fighting the enemies on the siege tower shifted to a defensive position without losing an ounce of focus. All the men who were free pulled on the rope with every ounce of strength they had.

Tucker's muscles tensed as the soldiers beside him sprang into action, fastening another rope to the cannon and harpoon. They loaded the harpoon onto the ballista's slider, cranking the rope back before taking aim. The shot screamed toward the siege tower as they fired, breaking the wooden boards that were used to defend the side.

As the second cannon tumbled over the bastion wall, the siege tower lurched violently. The enemy soldiers staggered on their swaying wooden platforms as the entire structure groaned and creaked as if it were crying for help. But it was too late, the Empire's forces could do nothing. The tower lost its balance and tilted to the side, crashing down with a thunderous bang. It splintered apart as it crushed the soldiers below. Screams of agony broke out from beneath the wreckage, while cheers erupted on the curtain wall above. Morale surged unbelievably across their ranks.

One after another, the Empire's siege equipment fell, and for the first time, it felt like the tide was turning in their favour. Tucker watched his men fight back with renewed vigor, but soon stumbled upon the bodies of those who had fallen. His fists tightened, ignoring the stinging pain from his torn palms. The dead couldn't be brought back, and he knew that. However, was it selfish for him to wish otherwise? There was no time to grieve. All he could do was bury the aching pain deep within his heart. Countless fights were emerging across the fortress city, and he couldn't afford to lose focus.

After all, that was the only way he could prevent another tragedy from occurring.