NOVEL NEXT 99. The Empty Halls
Tucker stepped over the rubble, staring through the clouds of dust that had yet to settle. The metallic tang of blood filled the air. Several enemy soldiers were before him, but they were far less than expected. Their weapons were drawn, and their aura shrouded their figures.
He could see the fear in their eyes. The unease as their hands trembled. They had made the decision to launch a surprise attack, but for it not to go in their favour was beyond their expectations. The room was unlike the others, with tall ceilings and a wide open space that spanned three floors.
"What are you doing? It's just one person!" One of the enemy soldiers shouted.
"Fuck man! Then you go first!" Another retorted.
"If you're not going to come to me, then I'll come to you." Tucker grabbed a nearby chair and flung it at the closest soldier. It shattered against his body, causing him to cry out in pain.
Right before the soldier could stabilize himself, Tucker pulled out a dagger from his belt, hurling it across the room. The emerald energy twirled with the knife before burying itself dead center between the man's eyes. A scream barely escaped his lips as the other soldiers tried to rush out.
The soldiers took a step back. Unable to regain their composure and seeing this, Tucker grinned. He rushed forward with the wind pushing against his back. They stumbled backwards with each step he took, the dread and despair growing stronger by the second. Even with their weapons pointed right at him, Tucker didn't hesitate.
A spearman lunged for Tucker's heart—but before the tip could land, Tucker knocked the shaft aside and slid his blade along it in one smooth motion, severing the man's fingers. Blood poured down the weapon as he spun, flinging it into the eyes of an oncoming foe.
"I can't see!" The soldier cried out, flailing his sword blindly, but soon a cough of blood cut his scream short.
Tucker rushed by, slicing the enemy soldier's throat. A loud thud followed as the corpse hit the floor. With a flick of his hand, a spirit thread lashed out, coiling around the hilt. The weapon trembled, then slowly slid free from bone and flesh, spinning through the air as it returned back to Tucker.
The soldiers stood there flabbergasted, with no words.
"Telekinesis?" One of them muttered in shock.
But in such a case, it wasn't.
Tucker carefully controlled the current and retrieved the dagger, clenching it in his hand. A sword cut through the air, leaving a faint azure glow in its path. Tucker met the sword head-on and deflected it with his. Then plunged the dagger into the attacker's thigh, dragging it down and tearing through the muscle.
The soldier wailed in agony, but his comrades didn't care. They thrust their swords forward, towards Tucker's back, but the captain was one step ahead. He dropped to his knees and flung the screaming soldier over his shoulders, throwing the man back.
The soldier's body slammed into his comrades with a loud bang. Their armor rattled against each other, and as they were clumped together, Tucker channeled aura around his blade, mixing it with the lingering spirit essence. He couldn't risk a powerful slash—it would destroy the building and harm his allies. However, a weaker attack, aided by a strong gust of wind, was possible. It might be enough to defeat the soldiers in one swift blow.
He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. Eyes locked on the four soldiers who were pushed back. With all of his might, he swung his arm releasing the energy forward. The wind howled and raged, reinforcing the attack as the aura slash shot towards them like a tempest.
The Empire's soldiers barely had time to scream. The slash tore through them in a storm of razor-thin cuts, shredding flesh and armor alike. Limbs twisted unnaturally, blood sprayed across the room, dying Tucker's iron armor in crimson, and for a moment, it looked as if their bodies had been fed through a saw. A look of shock was hidden behind Tucker's eyes. He realized during his duel with Igneel that it was possible to closely merge the two energies, but the result was far more gruesome than expected.
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But nonetheless, he strengthened his resolve and looked upwards. The Everheart soldiers were desperately fighting on the narrow balconies on the second and third floors. Slowly gaining ground as they pushed the Empire's forces back.
Tucker glanced at the fallen weapons, summoning his spirit essence in the process. He had saved the majority of his strength, but now wasn't the time to be stingy. They needed to break through the rest of the walls before it was too late. If the inner gates fell, then they would have nowhere to go.
He channeled his spirit thread and thought of Gale. His bond with his companion had only increased since the war started. The wind hawk was a steady anchor that helped ground his abilities. Always flying freely in the sky and doing what was needed. Unlike the other elements, wind was meant to be free. To have no restraints and live without form.
Tucker severed the spirit threads into multiple thin, long strands and coiled them around the fallen weapons. Spears and swords alike rose into the air. Two spears and four swords. That was the limit as to how many he could handle at once and without even moving a single muscle. The weapons shot forth, leaving a silver gleam in their path before flying towards the enemy soldiers.
Out of the six weapons, five met their mark. Screams and blood dripped from the balconies, and the Everheart soldiers who had received support regained their morale and rushed forward with a renewed zeal. They cut down the soldiers one by one, but the sound of an intense clash rang out above him. Tucker narrowed his eyes as the shouting grew louder, and before he knew it. Jones and Nemo came crashing down from the second floor with their blades buried deep into a heavily armored enemy.
All three slammed into the wooden floor, splintering it and leaving a crater in their wake. Tucker rushed forward, sword in hand—only to see Jones and Nemo pulling themselves from the wreckage. Their armor was in tatters, their chests heaving, and exhaustion etched deep into their faces.
It was a relief to see them manage themselves, but right now he needed to gather the next party and move to the next building.
"Can you two still fight?" Tucker asked, extending an outstretched hand.
"Without a doubt, sir." Jones rose and grabbed hold of it before getting pulled up.
Nemo took a deep breath after stepping out of the crater. "There's too many of these bastards."
"That's true, but we're getting closer to our goal." Tucker stood beside the far wall and glanced at the other soldiers on the second and third floors. Brian gave a thumbs-up from the very top, and another soldier on the second floor did the same.
The cannons thundered once more, striking the building, and soon Tucker gave a firm nod to the soldiers wielding the pickaxes. In an instant, they struck the wall, causing the stone and debris to fly outwards, but as they stormed into the next building. Disbelief filled their minds.
It was empty.
Tucker carefully listened for the sounds of battle on the other floors, but not a single noise entered his ears. He glanced at the nearby soldiers. "Stay on guard, Jones, check the second floor."
"On it." Jones marched up the second floor but returned moments later. "It's clear… the soldiers on the third floor didn't see anyone either."
"What?" Tucker scanned the surroundings. There were clear signs that people were here last night. The half-eaten food and empty mugs on the table were signs of the building being occupied. So why was it that no one was here?
He clicked his tongue and gazed out the window. They were too far to tell what the current state of the battlefield was like. "Prepare for the next breach." Tucker's words were immediately taken into effect, and soon the cannons roared once more.
Yet as the clouds of dust settled, not a single soul was in sight. The fifth building—just like the others, had been completely deserted. A knot of suspicion tightened in Tucker's chest. Was this all a trap set by the Empire? The thought entered his mind, but soon Brian came down the stairs with a dark expression. His armor had numerous blade marks and had lost its luster but nothing compared to the grim light in his eyes.
"Captain Welford," he said, his voice was low and cold—unlike his usual demeanor. "You need to come to the third floor. You need to see this."
Tucker nodded and followed without a word. On the third floor, the atmosphere was heavy. Knights and soldiers stood frozen, silent. No one spoke. No one dared to. He knew something was wrong—deeply wrong for professional soldiers such as them to be turned into statues.
He stepped toward the shattered window and lifted the blood-stained curtains. The city was burning, countless bodies were left rotting in the streets, and through the swirling ash and collapsing rooftops. He saw it.
The inner gates had fallen.