NOVEL NEXT Chapter 67: The War Begins
[04: 15: 27: 43]
The wall screamed.
[DING! "The Wild One" screams: "AHHHHHHHHhh!"]
[DING! "Keeper of Archives" follows: "Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"]
[DING! "The Wild One" screams louder: "bAHHHHHHHHhh!"]
These guys. Cassian sighed.
He'd heard plenty of howls tonight. This was different—not the viewers, but stone grinding against itself, mortar weeping black tears, ancient masonry buckling under impossible pressure. Cold knots tightened under his skin, raising every hair on his arms.
Someone on his left, voice ragged. "What the hell is that?"
Someone else gripped his spear, knuckles bloodless. "Sounds like the world's ending."
The next soldier barked a short laugh. "Maybe it is. Been one hell of a night."
Cassian pressed his palm to the battlement. Stone. Solid. He sucked in air. He'd thought this would be easy after everything he'd faced—the horde before, the Mother of Kalrachs herself. The bloodthirsty werewolves weren't the problem. The fucking humans were. Bodies piled three deep at the gate, screams still echoing in his ears. His hands shook as he wiped blood from his fingers.
Fuuu... in, out, in, out.
A grip, tight and steady, found his shoulder. He turned to find Arin watching him, jaw set, gaze direct.
"People often forget how gruesome and horrible a war is. But I'm glad."
Cassian looked up. "Why's that?"
Arin nodded with a warm smile. "Glad that you, my friend, are still human. If we disregard death and not care about life, are we still human?"
Cassian's lips curled. "Wasn't expecting philosophy from you tonight, Arin."
"Breathe in, Cassian, and let the warrior in you awaken. We lament and grieve after we bury these mutts six feet under."
Arin spat toward the horde, desperately clawing at the wall below.
"Agreed."
[DING! "The Eternal Wanderer" advises: "I like this young man. But as he said, the death and casualties are the truths of a war that you must come to face, Cassian. These men are not helpless or forced. Look at them... they are soldiers standing between their enemy and their families."]
I know that, teacher, but do you expect me to just ignore the deaths and act as if they don't concern me?
[DING! "The Eternal Wanderer" advises: "Embrace their deaths and move forward carrying their wills. Doing anything else would be a disgrace to their sacrifice."]
Fuck.
He bared his teeth, forced his shoulders back, and took one more breath.
Fuck this shit! Wish Dorian were here. Haaaa...
System, show me my current preset.
[DING! AFFIRMATIVE]
Soulkeep Layout
« ARTIFACTS »
∅ Black Rose
∅ Sindivinity
∅ White Rose
« RUN CARDS »
∅ Expedite [Destruction Sorcery] {10/25 uses}
« DECK CARDS »
∅ THE ETERNAL SWORD OF FORLON [AKASHIC ECHO] passive
∅ Unholy Blessing [Sacrifice Sorcery]
∅ Lifesteal [Sacrifice Sorcery]
∅ Toxic Conductor [Destruction Sorcery]
∅ Nimble Fingers [Knowledge Spell]
I have Sindi as well... soon, my friend. For now... Black Rose restoring my HP and White Rose restoring Essence should work fine.
System, how does Nimble Fingers affect cooldown?
[DING! NIMBLE FINGERS [KNOWLEDGE SPELL] REDUCES THE COOLDOWN OF ALL SPELLS AND ARTIFACTS BY 25%]
So?
[DING! WITH BASIC MATH, BOTH [WHITE ROSE] AND [BLACK ROSE] ARTIFACTS COOLDOWN IS NOW 75 SECONDS.]
Did the system just mock me? Whatever.
Ten percent of my max HP and Essence capacity in seventy-five seconds. Yeah, I can work with that.
Another quake snapped him from his thoughts. Twenty yards down the wall, a crack appeared. Not a hairline fracture—a gaping wound that split the ancient stonework from battlement to base.
Ahhh... This will not be fun.
[DING! "The Wild One" nods: "This will be fun!"]
More cracks spider-webbed outward, and through the gaps, Cassian glimpsed something that made bile rise in his throat.
Shadows moved inside the wall. Living shadows with too many eyes.
[DING! "The Wild One": "Ooh, somebody's been busy with the forbidden arts!"]
[DING! "The Eternal Wanderer": "Shadowcaster magic. Dangerous."]
Sir Rancoor appeared at a dead run, armor clanking with each stride. Blood decorated his breastplate—not his own, judging by the way he moved. His eyes swept the crumbling wall with the practiced assessment of a man who'd seen too many lost causes.
"Sergeant Korren!"
"Sir!" The scarred veteran materialized from a knot of defenders trying to brace a collapsing merlon with wooden beams.
"The wall won't last like this. We're taking the fight to them before they bring the whole damn keep down on our heads."
Korren spat blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his gauntlet. "Sir? Understood."
"We fight! We protect!" Rancoor's gaze swept over the defenders and stopped on Cassian and Arin. "You two—with Korren. Time to see if you can fight when there's nowhere to run."
[DING! NEW OBJECTIVE: ELIMINATE SHADOWCASTER (0/1)]
[DING! "The Wild One": "Now this is what I'm talking about! Real hunting!
Arin stepped forward, posture straight, voice carrying authority. "Sir, what about the second wave?"
Rancoor's expression darkened. "Wait…. What the fuck are you doing here?" He spat. "Sigh… You know what, fuck it!"
"Sir?"
"Since you're here, make sure you and the men survive. It's a responsibility that comes with your birthright, so prove to me you are worthy of standing here."
Before Cassian could ask what Sir Rancoor meant by that, the world quaked.
Around them, the crack widened. A chunk of masonry the size of a wine barrel broke free and crashed into the courtyard below, sending defenders scrambling.
"Now move! I've got to reach the other squads as well!"
Rancoor snarled as he kicked off toward the others.
Korren barked orders. "Squad forms up in five minutes. Light gear, melee focus. Archers, grab what arrows you can carry, but don't count on range work."
The next few minutes passed in controlled chaos. Korren assembled his squad with the efficiency of a man who'd done this before: Brandon clutching his sword, two grizzled archers named Marcus and Willem who looked old enough to remember the last war, and three conscripts—Tam, Jorik, and Old Pete—who'd survived the first wave through pure stubborn meanness.
Cassian strapped on a leather pack loaded with dried meat and a waterskin. His borrowed sword felt heavier than it had on the wall, but his hands had stopped shaking. Either he was getting used to impending death, or shock was setting in.
Korren addressed the squad while they gathered near a breach in the outer wall. "Listen up. We're hunting a Shadowcaster. Corrupted mage, probably been human once, definitely isn't anymore. They like to hide behind meat shields and throw curses that'll turn your guts inside out."
"How do we kill it?" Tam asked. The kid couldn't be older than sixteen, but his eyes held the hollow look of someone who'd aged decades in a single night.
"Same way you kill anything else—sharp metal in vital areas. The trick is getting close enough." Korren hefted his notched sword. "Stay in formation. Watch each other's backs. Don't chase glory."
They moved through the breach single file with Korren leading and the archers bringing up the rear. The moorland beyond the wall stretched away into darkness, broken by scattered boulders and twisted trees. Corpses from the first wave dotted the ground—both human and Lycanae—their blood already freezing in the night air.
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The stench hit them immediately. Rotting meat, sulfur, and something else—burned copper and despair.
Willem whispered from behind them. "Contact."
Cassian followed the archer's pointing finger and saw them: a pack of Lycanae prowling through the ruins of what might once have been a farmhouse. Five of them, smaller than the monsters from the first wave but moving with predatory intelligence.
Korren raised his fist, and the squad froze. Hand signals passed down the line—basic military gestures that somehow Arin interpreted perfectly while Cassian struggled to follow.
Arrows sang. Wolves tumbled, black blood streaking the grass. Howls cut through—then claws and teeth snapped close. Suddenly, the world shrank to flashes of fangs and rotten stink.
Cassian drew his sword and felt something else awaken within him—an echo pulsing. Akashic echo?Ghostly memories of perfect sword forms flickered through his consciousness as he activated [Expedite].
"[Expedite]"
[DING! RUN CARD «EXPEDITE(DESTRUCTION SORCERY)» USED, CONSUMED 1 POINT OF ESSENCE]
[DING! +5 STRENGTH, +5 PERCEPTION, +40% MOVEMENT SPEED]
The world sharpened. He could see individual muscles coiled beneath matted fur, smell the corruption eating the creatures from within, and hear the whisper of claws cutting air. But more than that—he could sense their intentions, their attack patterns, as if some ancient warrior whispered guidance in his ear.
His first swing opened a Lycanae's throat, but instead of the wild hack he'd delivered on the wall, this strike flowed with something approaching technique. The echo of a master's form guided his blade.
Beside him, Arin's spear erupted with golden light. The weapon moved with liquid precision, each thrust finding gaps in the creatures' defenses. His footwork belonged in a noble's training yard, not a midnight battlefield.
Cassian dropped the wolf at his feet, blade dripping black. "Didn't know I could move like that."
Arin flicked blood from his spear. "You keep surprising me."
From a ghost, Cassian thought, but said, "Don't know. Instinct or luck."
[DING! KILL COUNT: 7/10]
Marcus called softly. "Movement, two hundred yards northeast. Big group."
Korren crept forward and peered through the darkness. "Twenty, maybe thirty. And they're not hunting—they're guarding something."
Cassian felt it before he saw it: wrongness pressing against his consciousness. His newly awakened aura sensitivity recoiled from whatever waited ahead.
Arin pointed toward a depression in the ground where several standing stones formed a rough circle. "There. Between the monuments."
The Shadowcaster stood eight feet tall, its form shifting between solid matter and living darkness. What might once have been robes hung in tatters from limbs that stretched and contracted. Its face—if the writhing mass of shadows and teeth could be called a face—turned toward them with hungry intelligence.
[DING! "The Eternal Wanderer" warns: "Extreme caution advised. Shadowcaster magic can corrupt essence itself."]
[DING! "Keeper of Archives": "Ooh, a nasty one! Ancient corruption technique!"]
Brandon's voice is barely steady. "How do we get through thirty Lycanae?"
"We don't," Korren replied. "We go around. Hit and run, draw them off in groups." He studied the terrain. "Willem, Marcus—find high ground. Pick off stragglers. The rest of us move in three teams."
The plan unfolded over the next hour. Korren led Tam and Jorik in frontal harassment while Old Pete and Brandon circled wide to attack from the flank. That left Cassian and Arin working together—a partnership that felt natural despite having met mere hours ago.
Their first coordinated attack came against a group of five Lycanae that had broken off to investigate Willem's arrows. Cassian activated [Expedite] and drew their attention while Arin flanked with supernatural speed.
Arin whispered. "Now."
Cassian dove right as golden light exploded from Arin's spear. The aura technique—"Power of Purity," he'd called it—dissolved three Lycanae instantly. Cassian's enhanced reflexes, guided by the [AKASHIC ECHO], carried him past clawing arms to bury his sword in the fourth creature's spine.
The fifth lunged at Arin's exposed back. Cassian's [Toxic Conductor] activated without conscious thought, poison flooding through his blade as he intercepted the attack. The creature convulsed and died, black foam streaming from its muzzle.
«[DECK CARD] Lifesteal triggered—38 HP and 1.5 Essence restored»
Arin flicked blood from his spear. "Thanks, Cassian. That interception—excellent timing."
"More killing, less talking."
They moved through the scattered battlefield, picking off isolated enemies while the archers provided covering fire. With each engagement, Cassian felt the [AKASHIC ECHO] teaching him. His essence management improved—spending carefully, recovering when possible, never fully emptying his reserves. More importantly, his sword work has evolved fundamentally.
But it was the wordless communication with Arin that surprised him most. A glance became a signal. A shift in stance indicated intent. They fought back-to-back when surrounded, separated to flank when opportunity presented, and rejoined without discussion.
Korren observed during a brief respite behind a collapsed wall. "You two fight like you've been partners for years."
"Just lucky, I guess," Cassian replied, but he caught Arin's knowing look.
Arin cleaned his spear. "Luck. Or perhaps recognition. Some partnerships are forged in minutes, others take years to build."
The real test came when they encountered the Shadowcaster's inner guard—a pack of twelve Lycanae led by something that might once have been human. The pack leader stood seven feet tall with elongated limbs and a skull that had split open to accommodate too many teeth.
Willem identified from his perch atop a broken pillar. "Sub-alpha. Smarter than the others."
The creature proved Willem right by splitting its pack into two groups and attempting to flank them. Standard tactics wouldn't work against thinking opponents.
Korren asked, sweat beading on his scarred forehead. "Ideas?"
Arin studied the enemy formation with eyes that belonged on a general, not a common soldier. "The leader's directing them through pheromone signals. Cut off its head, the pack falls apart."
"Easier said than done."
Arin's grin carried dangerous edges. "Not if we give it what it expects. Cassian, how long can you maintain extreme focus?"
"Five minutes, maybe ten if I push it in one go. Why?"
"Do it. Draw them into the stone circle where the Shadowcaster's waiting. I'll handle the rest."
"Umm, sure."
The plan required trust that Cassian wasn't sure he possessed. But looking into Arin's eyes—calm, confident, calculating—he found himself nodding. What's the worst that could happen?
[DING! RUN CARD «EXPEDITE(DESTRUCTION SORCERY)» USED, CONSUMED 1 POINT OF ESSENCE]
The power flooded his system. He broke cover at a dead run, sword flashing as he carved through the outer pack members. Not to kill—the [AKASHIC ECHO] whispered tactics in his mind—just to wound, to enrage, to draw them after him.
The pack leader roared and gave chase, its remaining followers streaming behind in a howling tide of fur and fang. Cassian reached the stone circle with seconds to spare, the Shadowcaster's presence pressing against his mind.
Behind him came the thunder of pursuit. Ahead waited corruption made manifest.
The Shadowcaster raised arms that weren't quite arms, and darkness began to gather.
That's when Arin's spear took the pack leader between the shoulder blades.
The weapon blazed with purifying light that turned the creature's corruption against itself. It screamed—a sound like breaking glass mixed with dying—and collapsed as golden fire consumed it from within.
The remaining pack members scattered in all directions, their coordination shattered.
Arin retrieved his spear with fluid grace. "Told you."
But their celebration died as the Shadowcaster's attention fixed on them with malevolent intelligence. Its form solidified into something almost human—a woman's face preserved in eternal anguish, her mouth open in a silent scream.
[DING! "The Wild One": "Ooh, she's angry now!"]
The creature raised its hands and spoke words in a language that predated human speech. Reality wavered around them, and Cassian felt his essence being drained through holes he couldn't see.
Arin shouted, his spear erupting with defensive light. "Counter-spell!"
Cassian activated [Toxic Conductor] and felt the poison interact strangely with the Shadowcaster's magic. Instead of being nullified, his toxins began eating away at the corruption.
"It's working," he called out.
"Keep it up!"
They advanced together through the maelstrom of conflicting energies. Arin's purity techniques carved channels through the darkness while Cassian's poisoned blade, guided by ancient instincts, found gaps in the creature's defenses. Each strike sent feedback through the magical matrix holding the Shadowcaster together.
The killing blow came when they struck simultaneously—Arin's spear through the creature's heart, Cassian's sword through its throat. Light and toxin combined in a reaction that unmade the corruption at a fundamental level.
The Shadowcaster dissolved with a sound like wind through dead leaves, taking its perverted magic with it.
[DING! SHADOWCASTER ELIMINATED]
[DING! SECONDARY OBJECTIVE COMPLETE]
[DING! BONUS TO RATINGS GAINED]
[DING! KILL COUNT: 15/10 - OBJECTIVE EXCEEDED]
[DING! NEW OBJECTIVE: KILL COUNT: 15/100]
In the sudden silence, Cassian could hear his heart hammering against his ribs. His essence reserves sat nearly empty, his muscles ached from sustained enhancement, and his sword arm trembled with exhaustion.
But they'd won.
Korren's voice came from the darkness as the squad regrouped. "Well done, lads. Shadowcaster's dead, wall should hold now."
Brandon asked, his voice hoarse from shouting. "What about the second wave?"
As if summoned by his words, a horn sounded in the distance. Not the crude instrument they'd heard before—this was deeper, more resonant, carrying notes that spoke of ancient authority.
Marcus observed grimly, nocking another arrow. "That's not a retreat signal."
Through the trees came new sounds: the deliberate tread of organized forces, the creak of siege equipment, and underneath it all, the low rumble of something much larger than anything they'd faced.
Willem called from his elevated position. "Movement on the ridge. Large force, advancing in formation. And something else—"
His words died as the treeline erupted in golden light. Not the warm glow of Arin's aura techniques, but something cold and calculating. A figure emerged from the forest—humanoid but wrong, wearing robes that shifted between shadow and starlight.
Arin breathed, his face pale. "Arch-Shadowcaster. The first one was just a lieutenant."
But that wasn't the worst part. Behind the Arch-Shadowcaster came the organized ranks of the second wave—not the wild charge they'd repelled earlier, but disciplined units moving with military precision.
And leading them were two massive forms that dwarfed even the pack leader they'd killed. Alpha demons, their hide scarred by centuries of warfare, their eyes holding intelligence that spoke of tactical thinking.
Korren ordered, already moving. "Back to the wall. Fast as you can manage."
They ran through the night-darkened moorland, the sounds of pursuit growing louder behind them. Cassian's depleted essence made each step feel like running through molasses, but fear provided excellent motivation.
They reached the wall as the first enemy scouts appeared on the horizon. Sir Rancoor met them at the breach, his face grim but unsurprised.
"Report," he barked.
Korren panted. "Shadowcaster eliminated. But there's an Arch-Shadowcaster with the second wave. And two Alpha demons."
Rancoor's jaw tightened. "How long?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe thirty."
Around the courtyard, defenders scrambled to reinforce positions that had been damaged by the wall's corruption. But Cassian could see the exhaustion in their movements, the hollow-eyed look of men pushed beyond their limits.
"Sir Thorne!" Rancoor called out.
The bronze-armored knight appeared from the tower, his bird-crest helm gleaming in the torchlight. "Orders, sir?"
"Take your best fighters. We intercept the Alphas before they reach the gate."
"Sir, with respect—"
"That's not a request, Knight-Commander. Those Alphas coordinate the horde. Kill them, the rest scatter."
Thorne nodded grimly and began selecting warriors from the remaining defenders. His choices came quickly—veterans all, men who'd earned their place through blood and competence.
He pointed at Cassian and Arin. "You two. You've been fighting all night. Still have some fight left?"
Cassian checked his essence reserves. Low, but not empty. The [White Rose] had been cycling, slowly replenishing what he'd spent. "Enough."
Arin confirmed, though Cassian noticed the slight tremor in his hands that spoke of aura exhaustion. "More than enough."
"Good. Stay close to me. This isn't wall fighting—this is warfare."
The night wore on with relentless brutality. The second wave hit them, but instead of breaking against the walls, the battle spilled out into the moorland beyond. Soldiers fell on both sides, their screams lost in the greater symphony of war.
Cassian found himself in the thick of it, fighting alongside Arin in a dance of death that grew more synchronized with each passing hour. The [AKASHIC ECHO] whispered constantly now, guiding his blade, teaching him to read the flow of battle. He learned to conserve his strength, to strike with precision rather than power, to move with economy of motion that would let him fight until dawn.
"Duck!"
Arin's warning came just as a Lycanae's claws swept through the space where Cassian's head had been. His counterstrike took the creature's arm off at the elbow, [Lifesteal] flooding him with stolen vitality.
"Thanks. Behind you!"
Arin spun, his spear trailing golden light as it carved through the throat of a wolf-thing that had been stalking him. They moved like parts of a single organism now, covering each other's blind spots, setting up attacks, finishing what the other started.
Around them, the battle raged. Cassian saw Tam go down, his scream cut short by massive jaws. Old Pete lasted long enough to take three enemies with him before something with too many teeth tore out his throat. Even Marcus fell, an arrow through his eye that dropped him mid-draw.
But they held. Somehow, impossibly, they held.
Arin said during a brief lull as they caught their breath behind an overturned supply wagon. "You've changed. The way you move, the way you fight. It's like watching someone remember who they used to be."
Cassian wiped blood from his sword—not all of it his enemies'. "Maybe I am remembering."
Arin studied him with those calculating eyes. "The stories speak of warriors who carry the echoes of their ancestors. Blood memory, they call it. The wisdom of those who came before. Is that what guides your blade?"
"Something like that."
A roar split the night air—deeper than anything they'd heard before. Through the smoke and carnage, Cassian saw Sir Thorne locked in single combat with one of the Alpha demons. The knight fought with skill and courage, his blade wreathed in a golden aura, but the creature was enormous and cunning.
That's when the second Alpha appeared.
It emerged from a pile of corpses where it had been lying in wait, its hide decorated with ritual scarification that glowed with inner fire. This one was larger than Thorne's opponent, its intelligence shining in eyes like molten brass.
"Fuck," Cassian breathed.
Thorne couldn't handle both. Nobody could.
The second Alpha stalked toward the embattled knight with predatory patience, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Thorne, focused on his current opponent, didn't see the trap closing around him.
Cassian met Arin's eyes across the small space between them. Despite the blood, the exhaustion, and the certain death surrounding them, they both grinned.
Arin asked, hefting his spear. "Together?"
"Together," Cassian confirmed, feeling the [AKASHIC ECHO] surge with approval.
They broke cover simultaneously, racing across the corpse-strewn battlefield toward the stalking Alpha. Cassian felt his essence reserves scrape bottom as he activated [Expedite] one more time, but the [AKASHIC ECHO] filled the gap with something else—pure skill, distilled experience, the ghost of a master's touch.
The Alpha sensed them coming and turned with supernatural speed, but it was already too late. They'd learned to fight as one, and one fighter it could handle—two who moved in perfect synchronization was another matter entirely.
Arin struck first, his spear blazing with purifying light as it carved a line across the creature's flank. Not a mortal wound, but enough to shift its balance and force it to divide its attention.
Cassian came in low, his poisoned blade seeking the gap between armor plates that the AKASHIC ECHO whispered existed. The ancient warrior's knowledge flooded his mind—there, between the third and fourth rib, where the corruption runs thickest—and he drove his sword forward with deadly precision.
But the Alpha was faster than either of them had anticipated.
Massive claws swept down in a crushing arc, aimed directly at Cassian's exposed back. Time slowed to a crawl as he realized his mistake—he was committed to the attack, no way to dodge, no way to block.
The AKASHIC ECHO screamed a warning, but it was already too late.
The claws descended, and Cassian could only watch as—
~~~~