A/n: This is going to be the most intense battle both sides might even face.

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Kingdom Of High Tarxa, In An Ocean, High Tarxan Sea, Island of Arlithrien, Tarxan Island Outpost.

1st Year of God, Monday, 1st Week, Month Of David.

Dozens of billowing smoke along with the obvious orange glow of flames were rising from every direction of the forest. Countless thundering shots echoed incessantly throughout the forest as the sound of footsteps radiated against the earth. Deafening explosions shattered the air, and the sky darkened to a choking grey from all the smoke and ashes that were proliferating through the entire battlefield.

Bodies of fallen heroes from both sides of the battlefield littered the ground as the countless crimson fluid coming out from their bodies formed rivers that sank into the bottom of the soil and stained the battlefield with the price of war.

At the far edge of the battlefield lies the battered commander's quarters. The new commander had temporarily taken charge, as Lord Caelith and the Archmages were still recovering from the ritual that had left them weakened. The quarters, like the defenders themselves, bore the scars of the heavy fighting that was transpiring everywhere. They didn't expect that they would have lasted this long, considering the fact that they believed the invaders possessed extremely advanced magic technology.

Despite expectations of a quick defeat, given the invaders’ seemingly superior magical technology, the defenders of the Kingdom of High Tarxa had endured far longer than anyone thought possible. Their resilience spoke to their deep experience in warfare, even against such overwhelming odds.

The defenders, though limited in resources, fought with unyielding determination. While their magic-enhanced weapons lacked the sophistication of the invaders' arsenal, they compensated with grit and strategy. Rows of elves rotated between battle and rest to recover their mana, allowing them to continue the fight. Bows, arrows, and muskets, though rudimentary by comparison, became deadly instruments in their hands when paired with physical and mental enhancements that heightened their strength and precision.

Through these desperate measures, the defenders proved more formidable than anticipated. But the invaders' firepower was no joke. Their magic-infused weapons tore through even the most experienced sword fighters before they could close the distance. Those of the superiors who knew of sword fighting using magic were forced to resort to range weapons even if it weren't their forte.

As before, if they could even reach the position of the invaders, they were already dead. Some of them even used some magical protection which includes magic shields or barriers to defend themselves, but the sheer volume of fire landed towards them are enough to break it, leaving mages vulnerable and often dead within moments. It was immensely tough for them.

Moreover, the defenders always had to find cover at every turn with each moment that came to pass, only to find their makeshift shelters disintegrating under bombardment.

The high-intensity warfare that is currently happening before them, the thunder of guns, the crack of magic, the roar of explosions, mentally destroyed some defenders, driving some to madness. Those who weren't able to fully register the things that were transpiring found themselves caught in a spiral of denial, unable to process the horrors unfolding around them.

The Tarxan Coalition Army was on the brink of collapse, many soldiers reduced to holding their ears in a vain attempt to block out the noise. But this futile reprieve came at a cost. As their cover eroded under continuous assault, they were exposed to a hailstorm of enemy fire, and their ranks were thinning further with each passing moment.

Back in the commander's quarters, the newly appointed Lord Kean wrestled with the weight of his position. Since Lord Caelith had succumbed to exhaustion in the early stages of the invasion, Kean had been tasked with holding the line. But even as the battle raged on, his efforts to contact reinforcements from the outside world had been fruitless.

He had shattered several crystals that are used to teleport allies here, to no avail as their magic was unable to bridge the vast distance to the nearest allied position. Desperation had driven him to attempt activating an ancient artifact from a bygone era, but its dormant power refused to awaken.

They were sitting ducks as they believed so, and frustration simmered within him as the grim reality set in, they were utterly alone.

His thoughts were interrupted when a defender burst into the quarters, while apologizing for the sudden intrusion but wasting no time in delivering dire news.

"Lord Kean, we are in an urgent situation! The invaders have launched a charge against us, and they’ve brought their steel beasts, the ones that landed on the beaches. They’re advancing toward the center of the outpost. We need your orders immediately, Commander!" the soldier exclaimed.

Upon hearing the statement of his fellow defender, Kean froze momentarily and was appalled. The one that was keeping them from being overwhelmed to extinction had finally broken through with their unstoppable machines now closing in on the heart of their defenses.

The thought of facing their advanced technology in close quarters sent a cold wave of dread through him. The defenders, already on the brink, would absolutely be irredeemably crushed entirely if the enemy reached their positions unchallenged.

He clenched his fists and thought fast for a solution as doing wrong actions could lead them to perdition, so he scrambled throughout his mind to find a solution to no avail. There wasn't any.

He had considered every possible option. But every avenue of escape or reinforcements seemed closed. The enemy had encircled them completely, and their last hope of aid, the navy, was likely at the bottom of the Tarxan Sea, sunk by the invaders' ironclads. There was no retreat, no rescue. Only one choice remained, where they could retain their dignity and pride is to fight a desperate defence or in a sense…

A last stand.

It might not be all too bad at all, Lord Kean suddenly thought. If the invaders’ strength lay in their advanced weaponry and ranged tactics, then the defenders had to exploit their weakness, which is close combat.

The enemy’s reliance on long-distance engagement suggested they lacked the training or experience for melee fighting. This was where the defenders had an edge.

After a few more moments of thinking, Lord Kean along with the officer moved out of the commander's quarters, which he immediately headed off into the nearby battlefield.

Firstly, he summoned messengers and issued a concise command to be spread across the frontlines.

“Hide. Ambush. Engage at close range. Enhance your weapons and yourselves with magic.” It was a desperate gamble, but it was their best chance at turning the tide.

As the invaders approached with their steel beasts getting ever closer, the defenders prepared for the assault. The few who remained at the front were tasked with acting as decoys and drawing the invaders deeper into the outpost.

Kean watched as the enemy advanced methodically, unaware of the trap being set. The battlefield was quiet but charged with tension with every defender waiting for the signal to strike.

Victory was far from certain, but in that moment, Kean felt a glimmer of hope. The defenders might fall, but they would do so with honor, fighting for their homeland, striking where their enemy least expected.

The final battle was about to begin.

As the invaders entered the outpost, they were met with an unexpected surprise by the defenders with their far greater number and forced the battle into close quarters. It was exactly what the defenders had planned for. The commanders had gambled on the invaders being ill-prepared for melee combat, and now their belief was being tested.

The decoys, some of whom had died on the battlefield, had already retreated deeper into the outpost to regroup with the ambushers.

With vigilance at their side but unaware of the trap, the invaders cautiously moved deeper into the outpost. But as they pushed further in, dozens, no, hundreds, of leftover defenders suddenly came out of the fortifications and charged onto the battlefield.

Caught off guard, the invaders instinctively opened fire. But the defenders were too close now and forced the invaders into a brutal frenzied fight.

At the forefront was Lord Kean with his blade glowing with magical enhancements. With his speed and endurance amplified, he dashed into the fray and immediately sliced down the first unsuspecting invader in a single strike.

It was then that Kean noticed something peculiar. Not only did he catch a glimpse of the characteristics of the invaders, he couldn’t sense any mana from his opponents.

That's when it hit him. The fact that they couldn't feel any mana against the invaders, meant one thing and that is they were fighting against inferiors.

His suspicions were further confirmed by the invaders’ ineptitude in close combat and their lack of magical enhancements even at range.

Rage filled him and emotion overtook him as the truth crystallized.

These "invaders" were nothing more than manaless humans, weak and unworthy adversaries who had dared to challenge the Kingdom of High Tarxa.

Enraged, Kean shouted which thundered over the battlefield.

“The Invaders are inferiors! The invaders are mere manaless monkeighs all along!!”

The other defenders were stunned by the revelation. But their hesitation quickly gave way to a fiery rage. The humiliation of realizing that the Kingdom’s greatest warriors had been brought low by such unworthy foes fueled their anger.

The invaders, seizing on this brief lapse, redirected their fire and went full blasting in every direction, with their shots calculated to avoid hitting their own.

Lord Kean’s fury only grew. Now understanding the real identity of his enemy, he went serious and focused all his mana to conjure a massive shield to protect those around him. The barrier held strong and deflected bullets with bursts of sparks.

“KNIGHTS! MAGES! WARRIORS OF HIGH TARXA!” he roared. “USE EVERYTHING YOU HAVE! SHOW THESE INFERIOR BASTARDS WHO WE ARE AND WHERE THEIR PLACE IN SOCIETY!!”

Hundreds of defenders roared in unison and their battle cries echoed across the field as they pushed forward towards the army or human soldiers and a couple of those metal beasts stood.

Arcs of lightning flares out from the leading Mages’ fingertips, blasting the first line of the invaders away. Yet the humans retaliated with thunderous firepower with their steel beasts spewing flames and projectiles, sending dozens of elves tumbling lifelessly to the ground.

Kean gritted his teeth and raised his hand, muttered a chant, and projected his shield toward the advancing steel monstrosities. The first blast from the beasts was deflected with sparks cascading across the barrier. But each impact drained his mana, pushing him back with alarming force.

The steel beasts were more powerful than expected. Though his barrier could withstand Level 10 spells without any issue, the barrage threatened to break it.

Around him, his remaining soldiers split into action, tossing spells at the invaders and their machines. Explosions of fire and ice sent the humans scattering for cover, giving Kean a momentary reprieve from the onslaught.

He tightened his grip on his blade as his eyes blazed with fury. The invaders might have their weapons, their machines, and their numbers, but the defenders had their pride, their magic, and their home!

"Kill them all! Make it quick!"

Rushing forward without any regard for their lives, his men charged and overwhelmed the remaining human forces, who fought bravely, their bravery undeniable, but they were no match for the full might of the Tarxan Coalition.

Many among Kean's men were above Level 3 in combat prowess, and though some fell in battle, the survivors, skilled warriors of Level 5 to Level 7, proved their superiority. Proficient in both magic and martial combat, they carved through the human lines with ruthless efficiency.

Kean watched as one of his mages fired a searing blast of magic, sending black-and-grey-clad human soldiers flying into the air like ragdolls. In the middle of the chaos, he walked over to the body of one of his fallen men, and his expression hardened as he inspected the grievous wounds inflicted by human weapons. Blood seeped from multiple gunshot holes, pooling beneath the elf's broken body. Kean flipped him over, revealing gaping wounds on his back that spoke of the humans' desperation.

"Collect their magic muskets!" he barked with a sharp and commanding tone. "Send them to the Ministry of Magic for study!"

Standing amidst the carnage, Kean stood at the battlefield and his lips curled into a dark smile as he heard the anguished cries of pain and screams from the dying enemy. The sight filled him with grim satisfaction.

For too long, they had held back, complacent in their sense of superiority. But now, faced with the humans' dangerous weapons, there was no room for restraint.

And yet, as dangerous as those weapons were, the battle was proving easier than expected. After all, these were mere humans, inferiors. Even the simplest offensive spell could easily incapacitate or kill them. What Kean and his forces had lacked before wasn’t strength or skill, it was motivation.

"Kill them all! Today is a good day for mayhem!" Kean laughed with glee in the smoky air as he toasted a cluster of human soldiers with a bolt of lightning, enjoying their screams and smelling the burnt smell rising from their smoked bodies, reminding him of roasted meat, and he licked his lips in dark amusement.

A human soldier lunged at him with a bayonet, but Kean sidestepped effortlessly and retaliated with a quick thrust. His enchanted blade pierced through the man’s chest plate and heart, sliding as cleanly as a hot knife through butter. The soldier's face froze in shock as life drained from his eyes.

Kean chuckled in amusement and pulled his blade free. "So fragile," he murmured, marveling at the sword's spellwork that made it capable of slicing through even the toughest steel.

With a burst of agility, he leaped into another group of human soldiers. They raised their rifles and attempted to gun him down, but he was faster as his enhanced strength and speed made short work of them. Blood splattered across his armor as he cut them down, one by one, until he stood alone in the center of a semicircle of terrified humans. None dared to approach him.

"Come on, you lowly insects! Bow before the master race!" Kean taunted.

From the ranks of the remaining soldiers, a grizzled man pushed forward. His movements were steady, his eyes hard and unyielding. Unlike the others, he showed no fear.

"Master race?" the human scoffed gravelly. "You? Don't make me laugh."

Kean narrowed his eyes and studied the human. The soldier’s strange armor faintly pulsed with traces of mana, a startling and unexpected discovery.

But Kean’s lips twisted into a smirk. ‘It doesn't matter.’

"Then die, human!" Kean bent his lean body forward and sprinted ahead with a speed that would shame the finest athletes.

The human, however, remained unnervingly calm. With a shake of his head, he raised his hand and moved so fast that even Kean, enhanced by spells of Speed and Quick Reflex, was caught off guard. In a blink, the black musket magically appeared in the man’s hand.

‘Spatial magic?’ Kean’s eyes narrowed in surprise. A human possessing a Spatial Ring was an anomaly. Such artifacts were rare, and their creation required mastery of mana far beyond what humans were capable of. But his astonishment was fleeting as Kean’s focus shifted back to his charge, pouring every ounce of his power into his assault.

Time seemed to slow as the human fired. Kean twisted his body, narrowly dodging the projectile, but his triumph turned to shock as he caught sight of it. The bullet, leaving a red energy trail like a blazing comet, was crafted from Mithril, a metal of immense magical conductivity and strength.

‘Impossible!’ Kean’s mind reeled. Humans using Mithril weapons? It defied logic. Yet his arrogance held firm. ‘It doesn’t matter. As long as I dodge the first shot, this insect is finished.’

His confidence faltered when a flash of silver caught his peripheral vision. Kean’s gaze snapped downward, feeling his heart skipping as he spotted a silvery blade arcing toward him from his blind side.

The same human had drawn a strange silvery knife from his Spatial Ring and thrust it forward with startling speed for a human.

“No!” Kean twisted his upper body violently, narrowly avoiding a slash that could have taken his head clean off. A thin line of blood appeared on his neck and felt the sting as he smirked.

Wiping it with his fingers, he sneered, "You missed!"

“Did I?” The human soldier raised an eyebrow with infuriating calm and leveled the barrel of his musket directly at Kean’s face. "Dodge this."

Kean’s smirk vanished. “Shit!”

Bang!

Before the human could fire, the sharp crack of gunfire split the air, but not from the human's musket. The human soldier jerked, and a bloom of blood suddenly erupted from his neck as his weapon fell from his hands.

Staggering, he turned toward the source of the shot, which revealed to be an elf standing a dozen paces away, gripping a standard-issue magical musket.

“You… you’ve got to be—” The human’s words trailed off as he collapsed, lifeless, into a growing pool of his own blood.

Kean’s gaze shifted to the elf, narrowing as he activated a detection spell to measure the soldier’s mana.

‘3536 magicules. A mere Level 4.’

The realization amused him. Kean’s lips curled into a grin as he clapped the nervous elf on the shoulder. “Well done, soldier. You let these inferiors know they got killed by a low-level elf like yourself. You’ve done us proud.”

The elf stammered and spoke in a shaken voice. “Th-thank you, my Lord.”

BOOOOMM!!

A deafening explosion shattered the moment, sending shockwaves across the battlefield. Kean spun around just in time to see a group of his men thrown through the air like ragdolls, followed by a plume of smoke and fire rising in the distance. Something massive flew toward them, shaking the ground with its sheer force.

Kean’s jaw tightened. Whatever was coming, it was unlike anything he had faced before.

————————————————————————

Eight helicopters streaked across the brightening sky with their engines roaring like thunder. At the forefront were three AH-12 Thunderhawks as their menacing forms cut through the dawn, followed closely by five UH-28 Golden Eagles.

[Thunderhawk 1-2, we’ve reached the objective!] crackled the radio.

"Frontline forces report that the enemy has gone all out. Immediate support is required!"

Inside the cabin of one UH-28, the soldiers exchanged glances with a mix of resolve and tension in their faces as they started to whisper while loading the magazines for their rifles.

One soldier, tightening the straps of his gear, nodded toward the lieutenant colonel. “We’ll handle it, sir.”

“Two minutes!”

As the commander called out, he reached for the amplifier, turning the volume knob to its maximum, and then pressed the "play" button.

The moment the button was pressed, the chopper was filled with the triumphant blare of horns, as the main theme commenced with the blaring of the trumpets.

This was a song written in honor of the Eight Valkyries.

The soldiers smiled grimly as the music swelled. Trumpets roared, woodwinds danced like winds over a battlefield like a Pegasus, and the hymn carried their spirits higher than the helicopters themselves.

One trooper finished loading his rifle and, with a smirk, wedged his helmet between his legs. A younger comrade arched an eyebrow and asked him.

“Why does everyone sit on their helmets?”

“To keep our balls from getting blown off!” the veterans shouted back in unison, laughter mingling with the tension.

The anthem continued, and the soldiers sang along as the helicopters neared their target.

"Führet die Mähren fern voneinander,

Bis unser Helden sich gelegt hat!

Der Helden Grimm büßte schon die Graue!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

The music crescendoed as one soldier raised his rifle, placing its blade-like front sight between the rear aperture, and centered one of the enemy, who is sprinting across the battlefield below, directly in the head in his sight picture.

"Proper aim, proper posture, proper cheek weld… don’t snatch the trigger," he muttered under his breath. His muscles adjusted to the rifle's 2.7kg weight in his arms. He factored in the helicopter's speed and the elf’s erratic movements as he took aim.

He fired three times, and the AP (armor-piercing) rounds sliced through the air. The first was absorbed by the elf's magical barrier, the second fractured it, and the third killed him, dropping the enemy at last.

The soldier felt the familiar kick of recoil in his shoulder, the brass casings clattering onto the helicopter floor before spilling out onto the battlefield below. Unlike other missions, there was no time to account for spent rounds, only to fire and move.

The warriors' bodies became sacrifices for the flames of war, which blazed brightly.

And then, the AH-12 Thunderhawks burst through the rising columns of black smoke that obscured the sky like predators breaking from cover.

Their sheer majesty awed the enemies watching. They raised their heads to gaze upon the Iron Pegasus that had descended from the heavens.

Their tri-barreled 20mm chainguns swiveled to lock its aim onto clusters of enemies.

The next instant, the sky erupted as the cannons roared to life, unleashing a torrent of 20mm shells at a blistering fire rate of 680 to 750 rounds per minute. Elves below scattered, and their magical barriers crumbled against the barrage before the deadly rounds chewed the enemy into mincemeat.

Those too slow to flee were shredded into unrecognizable forms, and the once-proud warriors were consumed by the flames of war.

Descending into the chaos, the Thunderhawks rained destruction with their sheer power forcing the enemy into disarray. The deafening cacophony of gunfire and explosions reverberated through the battlefield, destroying everything.

Before long, the gatling guns fell silent. The sound of the trumpets had faded away, and in everyone's ears was the sound of the helicopters' propellor blades. All that remained were wisps of gunsmoke.

As the smoke cleared, the UH-28 Golden Eagles hovered in place with their side gunners picking off survivors with precision fire. Among the dwindling enemy was a lone figure standing defiant, Lord Kean.

In the rear, the Thunderhawks shifted into position and trained their arsenal on the enemy leader.

“This is it,” the commander muttered into the comms coldly.

[Enemy leader in sight. Fire all weapons!]







The battlefield erupted once more as the AH-12 Thunderhawks unleashed their full arsenal to crush the remnants of resistance.

Hundreds of 20mm rounds and dozens of missiles rained down upon the remaining enemy forces below. The resulting explosions rocked the earth for miles around, sending shockwaves rippling through the air along with smoke and fire that rose in towering plumes, painting the horizon into a hellscape.

As the smoke from the bombardment began to dissipate, the pilots aboard the helicopters were stunned and gasped in disbelief. Through the dissipating haze, a translucent dome of magic stood intact, shielding the enemy forces from annihilation of the bombardment.

At the heart of the dome stood Lord Caelith, his figure emanating an aura of calm authority. Surrounding him were ten of his remaining Archmages, with their crimson robes fluttered in the residual heat of the blasts, and a handful of elite warriors with their weapons gleaming.

"Are you unharmed, my friend?" Caelith asked in a calm yet commanding tone as he turned to Kean, who had thought he was near death moments earlier.

"I-I’m… alright, my lord," Kean stammered.

Caelith offered a reassuring smile. "Good. Your job is done for now. Rest now, I will handle the rest."

With those words, Lord Caelith stepped forward with his presence that spoke command. Turning his gaze skyward, he spotted the approaching helicopters. A moment later, his piercing gaze flicked to his Archmages.

"Intercept them."

In an instant, a few armored elves leaped into the air with impossibly fast movements as mana surged around them like a tempest. They rocketed toward the helicopters, leaving trails of energy in their wake from their enchanted armor that glinted under the sun.

[Watch out! Enemy Transcendents incoming!!]

The warning echoed through the comms as the panicked pilots tried evasive maneuvers. But no amount of training could match the overwhelming speed of the elven warriors, who exuded mana levels ranging from 20,000 to 30,000, and moved with unmatched speed and precision as they closed the gap effortlessly.

Aboard one helicopter, a gunner aimed the Gatling gun and unleashed a storm of bullets at the incoming elves, hoping to even slow them down. But one elf swerved mid-air, effortlessly tore the weapon clean off its mount, and grabbed the terrified gunner. With a flick of his wrist, the soldier barely had time to react before he was thrown screaming into the sky.

Inside the cabin, panic spread like wildfire as soldiers fired desperately at the intruders, only to watch their normal bullets simply bounced harmlessly off the elves’ impenetrable magical armor. Bayonets simply shattered on contact against their defenses as their edges reduced to fragments.

One soldier, in fear, reached for a frag grenade. But the elf nearest him sensing the danger moved in a blur and snatched the grenade from his grip. With a casual flick, the grenade was thrown out of the open door of the helicopter and exploded, causing an air turbulence that nearly sent the craft spiraling and threatened to destabilize them.

One by one, the elite warriors of High Tarxa grabbed the panicked soldiers and threw them from the helicopter, and their screams faded as they fell to their deaths. Even the pilot was not spared as his body was tossed aside, leaving the helicopter pilotless.

The elves leapt from the doomed machines just before they spiraled downwards and crashed into fiery explosions on the ground below.

The Valkyries whose song their heroic song has been silenced along with the battlefield for a fleeting moment, broken only by the heavy thrum of the remaining six helicopters in the distance.

Lord Caelith surveyed the carnage with a calculated gaze before towards the six remaining helicopters. His eyes narrowed. After seeing their capabilities, Caelith knows they can be a dangerous threat.

Raising his hand, yellow lightning crackled to life and danced across his palm. The air grew dense with magic power as he incanted, and his voice echoed with commanding authority.

“[Chain Lightning Dragon.]”

The spell leaped forth, forming a massive serpentine dragon of pure lightning. The crackling beast rushed toward the nearest helicopter with a deafening roar and engulfed it in a flash of blinding light, dealing significant elemental damage as it tore through its hull before leaping to the next.

In mere seconds, the six helicopters were obliterated and the blinding light of the spell faded to reveal nothing but flaming wreckage falling like meteors to the earth below.

Caelith lowered his hand and sighed. The destruction had been quick and absolute.

But before he could savor the moment and his men to celebrate their easy victory, a platoon of human soldiers suddenly emerged from the distance, flanked by a hulking steel war machine bristling with mana-imbued weapons. The metal beast opened fire with a barrage of mana-infused projectiles, accompanied by gunfire from the troops.

But Caelith and his Archmages stood unshaken and formed their magic barriers that deflected the bullets with ease. However, the human soldiers seemed to not care as they pushed forward, but their advance was short-lived.

Raising his hand once more, Caelith began weaving another spell. Fiery light swirled in his palm, growing brighter with every passing moment.

"[Firestorm]."

Within an instant, a vortex of flames erupted from his outstretched hand, whirling into a fiery maelstrom and descended upon the steel beast and the platoon. The winds howled like a wolf pack on the hunt as the flames consumed everything in its path, leaving only scorched earth in their wake.

This was a powerful AOE attack spell, [Firestorm].

BOOOOM!!

A massive explosion erupted like a thunderous artillery strike, obliterating the amphibious vehicle in a fiery inferno. The blast expanded in a devastating 100-meter radius, incinerating thirty soldiers in an instant and transforming the once-vibrant terrain into a desolate charred No Man's Land.

Lord Caelith stood amidst the chaos with his crimson cloak billowed in the heatwaves. He turned to his battered army and spoke commandingly.

"My friends, the time has come to counterattack against these invaders," he declared. His gaze shifted to his second-in-command. "Lord Kean, order your men to awaken the Beast of the Mountain."

Kean’s eyes widened in shock and horror. "But, my lord, you swore the Beast would remain in slumber as long as the Kingdom of High Tarxa stood!"

"I know," Caelith replied grimly. "But we have no choice."

Without waiting for further protest, he turned to his Archmages and warriors and gave them a single nod. They nodded back in silent acknowledgment before casting Levitation Magic. Their bodies lifted effortlessly into the air, and with a surge of Wind Magic, they propelled themselves forward at blinding speed.

Seconds later, flying high above the battlefield, they spotted another front in the distance. Enemy forces had established a fortified camp, pushing back Caelith’s troops who were desperately trying to mount an assault.

The group descended quickly and landed in the middle of their beleaguered forces. The scene was grim where elven soldiers sheltered behind multiple magical barriers with exhaustion and fear in their faces.

"What is happening here?" Caelith demanded as his sharp eyes scanned the scene.

A soldier turned to him and spoke with desperation in his voice. "Lord Caelith! Their weapons are too strong! We cannot advance!"

As if to emphasize his words, the barrier suddenly burst into sparks under a shower of bullets. Another knight rushed forward and raised his magic shield just in time to block the incoming fire.

"We’ve suffered massive casualties," the soldier continued. "Our mana reserves are nearly depleted!"

“I see…” Caelith’s gaze swept over the battlefield. The thunder of gunfire filled the air, accompanied by the sharp metallic impacts of bullets against magical shields.

Sweat could be seen glittering from the spellcasters as they struggled to maintain their spells while their faces went pale from exertion. Around them, the ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of fallen warriors with their armor riddled with bloody holes.

Suddenly, the roar of engines could be heard, and Caelith turned to see dozens of steel beasts emerging from the enemy base. The ground trembled beneath their weight as they advanced with their cannons trained on his forces.

But amidst the turmoil, Caelith remained calm. He stepped forward, ignoring the frantic cries of his men urging him to stay back.

Bullets ricocheted off the barrier surrounding his body as he walked, each impact sapping its strength. But his focus never wavered. Chanting rapidly, he wove a complex spell, firelight sparking to life in his palms.

“[Triple Magic: Firestorm].”

Tossing out his hands, three glowing magic circles materialized in the air, spinning and merging into one colossal glyph. With a surge of power, Caelith unleashed the spell. Three blazing whirlwinds of fire roared to life, spinning wildly as they tore through the air toward the enemy camp.

Once he has done that, he lowers his body as low to the ground as humanly possible and dashes after the powerful fire spell.

BOOM!!

The ground shook as the firestorms exploded, and their explosive force obliterated everything in their path. The steel beasts were consumed in an instant as their reinforced armor crumbled under the inferno.

The fiery glow of the exploding spell illuminated the battlefield, casting jagged shadows over the surroundings. Using the light of the exploding fire spell, Caelith spotted many figures hiding behind stacks of sandbags.

Without hesitation, he charged forward in a zigzag pattern and dodged the storm of bullets raining down on him. With a powerful leap, he vaulted over the barricades, locking his piercing gaze onto the wide disbelieving eyes of the human soldiers beneath him.

Like scythes, a quick sweep of his hands caused two heads to fly off from their bodies, blood squirting out of their severed necks like water fountains before splattering onto the dirt.

The rest of the soldiers froze, their weapons trembling in their hands as they stared in fear, watching Caelith bring a bloodied finger to his lips, licking it with deliberate slowness as if savoring their fear. Their hesitation broke as they raised their rifles and fired hundreds of bullets.

But Caelith was gone.

Confusion and panic erupted among the soldiers, their shouting cut short by a strangled scream in terror when one soldier’s body jerked unnaturally, with his chest plate distorting grotesquely as blood gushed from his mouth. His legs kicked uselessly in the air, suspended like a puppet on invisible strings.

Caelith stood behind the soldier with his right hand buried deep into his back and fingers wrapped around the man’s still-beating heart. He tilted his head slightly, inspecting the strange black armor the soldier wore. Though his strength could pierce steel and iron with ease, this material resisted him more than expected.

“Interesting,” he murmured coldly.

“Fall back!” the squad commander screamed with raw desperation in his voice. The soldiers scrambled to retreat, unloading their magazines in a frantic attempt to keep the elf at bay.

The commander glanced at his mana-monitoring device, and his face drained of color.

[Magicule Level: 63,631]

“This guy’s a monster!”

Immediately, he ripped a flashbang from his front pouch and threw it at the advancing elf.

Out of reflex, Caelith dropped the body and caught the object mid-air. He inspected the device that was thrown at him from one of the retreating soldiers with mild curiosity, admiring its craftsmanship that exquisite with perfectly cut circular holes that lined the tube walls

Then it blew up in his face.

BANG!!

Blinding light and deafening sound erupted, disorienting Caelith momentarily.

“Fucking kill him! Shoot him! Shoot him now!” screeched the commander and fired mithril-tipped rounds from his AF-2 “Magespitter.” Around him, soldiers gripped their conventional weapons tightly with a volatile combination of uncompromising fury and existential fear in their faces.

However, Caelith blinked once and casted a recovery spell that erased the flashbang’s effects instantly. The world snapped back into focus, and he moved, faster than their eyes could track.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The soldiers’ weapons roared, but they were already too late as Caelith's speed increased even more, leaving them only a second or two left before all of the soldiers’ weapons actually started firing.

Caelith narrowed his eyes as he saw the shots coming, fast and blockable, yet too many. He answered them by running to the left, narrowly avoiding the streams of fire as he sped towards them like a blur.

The soldiers, numbering 30 in total, were nothing if not persistent, gritting their teeth as they moved their weapons to chase, lines of fire dragging after Caelith, forcing him further and further left, sandwiching him between and the closing deadly hail of bullets of death that was pursuing which corralled him toward the trees.

With a smirk, the elf launched himself upward and sprinted along the trunks and branches like a phantom.

Frustrated shouts echoed below as the soldiers struggled to follow his movement. Their guns swept upward, but their aim lagged behind his unnatural speed.

In the next heartbeat, heads began to roll when Caelith descended from the canopy like a shadow and his blade sliced cleanly through necks as he moved with unbroken precision. Blood sprayed into the air and the soldiers’ cries ended in choking gasps.

The survivors, driven by desperation, grinned manically as they unloaded their machine guns into the air, prepared to sacrifice themselves if it meant killing the elf. But Caelith had no intention of playing into their hands. With a graceful leap, he vaulted over the firing line and avoided the shredding sheet of fire entirely.

The squad commander spun on his heel with rage contorting his face as he raised his weapon to fire at Caelith’s back. His finger tightened on the trigger, but he never managed to shoot.

He was cut short, quite literally, as the other Archmages following Caelith arrived. They swept through the battlefield like a storm, as their spells and blades sliced and diced the commander and reduced him to nothing more than blood and fragmented armor.

The human soldiers’ resistance crumbled entirely as Caelith and his Archmages pressed their advance, leaving only silence and smoldering corpses in their wake.

————————————————————————

Minutes into their offensive, the Transcendents encountered resistance from organized enemy forces scattered across the island. The humans were disciplined, well-trained, and fiercely determined, but none of that mattered to slow them down. Against the Elite Warriors of High Tarxa, even their best efforts crumbled.

Caelith’s group moved across the island as other Archmages and warriors wreaked similar havoc, doing damage wherever they could, seeking to disable or destroy any invaders they could find. The speed and power of their assault was utterly overwhelming, and the invaders could not stop them.

In his mind, Caelith could hear them, the other Archmages, all communicating to each other telepathically, reporting, updating, informing, battle calls, and... calling for help?

"Someone's in trouble," Caelith murmured, and his mental voice carried through the shared link.

[Who?]

“I sense it too,” another Archmage replied, his robed form keeping pace with Caelith through the dense forest.

“It’s Archmage Unduli,” Caelith said after a moment of focus.

[Why can’t we hear her?] another asked with concern heavy in his voice.

[She’s dying,] another voice replied gravely. [Her call grows faint, but her distress is unmistakable.]

“Then we go,” Caelith commanded and veered sharply to the left where the pull of her mana was strongest.

The group moved quickly, but the enemy was prepared. Emerging from the treeline, they found themselves facing a fortified ambush with forty soldiers in formation, led by an officer and three others clad in strange magic-enhanced armor. The four wielded massive glowing weapons that pulsed with energy.

“NOW!” the human officer shouted and a rain of bullets and magic-infused projectiles erupted from the line and filled every space, tearing through trees, rocks, and earth with devastating force.

Caelith and his Transcendents reacted instantly and moved blindingly fast. Before the first shot had fully left its barrel, they halted mid-air with magic flaring around them like an invisible shield. Hands extended, weapons raised, they concentrated their mana into a collective barrier.

The storm of lead and mithril smashed into the wall of mana, splintering into harmless fragments that reversed course and rolled back toward the shooters. Soldiers screamed as the backlash overwhelmed them, some dropping their weapons to flee while others fired in desperation.

The officer screamed in fury, unloading his AF-1 "Magelock" into the advancing wave. It was futile as the mana shield surged forward, obliterating him and his squad in an instant.

None of them survived the counterattack, and soon the Transcendents were jumping from the edges of their charred bones, booted and saddled feet only touching the smoking remains for less than milliseconds as they rushed through.

Every ambush and choke point being quickly overcome by the precognitive assault of the squad of Transcendents. Bullets were dodged, deflected, and danced around, missiles intercepted by impenetrable barriers of magic, and Archmages retaliated with devastating spells, forcing their enemies into cover until the very instant the knights closed the distance and were upon them.

As they drew closer to Master Unduli's location, her telepathic distress grew sharper, a muffled scream that grew louder with each step.

Finally, they reached the top of a cliff, their path marked by a long trail of carnage and destruction stretched out behind them. Not a single Transcendent in their group had fallen, not one, on their way here. They had all been warned that holding back against this foe would mean certain failure, and surprisingly all of them had taken this to heart.

Below them lay a hastily constructed enemy camp, teeming with hundreds of soldiers, soldiers the Transcendents had already sensed long before arriving.

At the center of the camp was the lifeless body of Master Unduli, surrounded by hundreds of human troops.

The sight ignited a cold fury among the Transcendents.

Without hesitation, the knights and archmages descended like wraiths. Magic channeled, swords flashed, and the screams of the dying echoed briefly before silence reclaimed the battlefield. Limbs and heads fell away with each precise strike, and the chaos subsided as quickly as it had begun.

Once the last soldier fell, Caelith turned to his warriors with a grim expression. “There’s another enemy camp nearby. Let’s not waste this chance. We’ll avenge her.” he muttered at the end as he glanced at their fallen comrade on the floor.

Silent nods, grimaces, and determined grins met his words. Without delay, they rose into the sky, propelled by Levitation and Wind Magic.

————————————————————————

The Captain General of the Sovereign-class battleship scowled as he reviewed the reports flooding in. Multiple military outposts, painstakingly established across the island, had been wiped out by just ten Transcendents. Most of the attackers registered Magicule Levels between 20,000 and 30,000, but one, Lord Caelith, stood far above the rest, boasting an alarming 60,000.

“This is a problem,” he muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ten Transcendents at once? And in minutes, they’ve wiped out over 300 of our soldiers and destroyed all of our outposts we recently set up. Fucking cheaters.”

“There’s no such thing as cheating in war, sir,” a Lieutenant interjected dryly.

The Captain glanced at him with a teasing smirk breaking through his frustration. “Thought you hated magic? Doesn’t it give you a headache every time they use magic that breaks the laws of nature?”

“We humans adapt and improvise, sir,” the Lieutenant replied evenly. “And we get better and better at killing things.”

Before the Captain could retort, a technician called out from his station. “Sir, radar’s picking up multiple bogies in the air. Distance is 4,090 meters and closing fast on the shoreline.”

“Do we have visuals?” the Captain asked as his mood darkened.

The tech worked his controls, and a UAV feed appeared on the main screen. At first, the black dots in the sky seemed like birds, but as the image zoomed in, they revealed nine Transcendents flying in formation.

“Damn it,” the Lieutenant hissed. “Nine Transcendents? I thought they were supposed to be rare.”

“They probably are,” the Captain replied grimly. “But this is an important military site of theirs, obviously there will be strong powerhouses here. Looks like they’re planning to hit our shoreline hard and carve through our rear defenses.”

“Then we shoot them down now while they are still some distance away,” the Lieutenant suggested. “Their trajectory has them passing north of us. If we act quickly, we can intercept before they reach the ground.”

The Captain rubbed his chin, as he debated between their options. “Navy bombardment or nuclear strike? They’ll have some kind of strong magic shielding, no doubt. They’ve learned from the last time.”

“Agreed,” the Lieutenant nodded. “One thing is for sure, these aren’t amateurs. They’re too coordinated for low-tech pukes.”

“Anti-Transcendent guns, then,” the Captain decided as a wicked grin spread across his face. “We’ve got the special ammunition for them to spare, and this is the perfect test.”

The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow and shook his head at the captain's gleeful expression. “You just want to play with the new toys.”

“Damn right,” the Captain quipped. “The tech team spent months designing those beauties. It’s about time we see what they can really do. Direct Guns One and Two to engage. Let’s see how these overpowered bastards like it.”

————————————————————————

At the shoreline where the island’s first battle erupted, the Mitsubishi XLM-1 Megawatt Point Defense Laser Turrets, which were two rail gun emplacements, finally had the chance to prove their worth. Months of painstaking research, construction, and testing culminated in this moment, it's finally time for the weapons’ baptism by fire.

Inside Gun-1, the loader hefted a 155mm adamantite-tipped discarding sabot shell and slammed it into the railgun’s chamber with a practiced efficiency before sealing the hatch.

“Ready!” the loader yelled.

The gunner leaned into his gun sights, and the gun's targeting system calculating azimuth, elevation, and range with precision. The fire-control radar displayed the target’s trajectory that enabled him to predict the paths of the incoming Transcendents.

With the reticle locked, he squeezed the butterfly trigger, and a dull *thump* echoed within the turret, followed by the whine of the electromagnets discharging the build up of static electricity.

Gun-2 followed a second later, and then the rhythm began, Gun-1, Gun-2, one after another in relentless cadence.

The first round exited the railgun’s barrel at a blistering 4,786 m/s, the kinetic energy of the projectile generating shockwaves that cracked through the air like thunder, causing a sonic boom.

The penetrator rod fired from Gun-1 flew directly at the center of mass of the leading elf, who appeared otherworldly handsome with golden eyes and hair glinting in the sunlight, barely had time to react before the projectile flew toward him.

Suddenly, a magic circle flared to life in front of him, absorbing the first impact with a blinding shockwave. But the second sabot struck an instant later, and the third shattered the weakened shield entirely.

Panic flashed across the elf’s face as he dove to evade, but the fourth armor-piercing fin stabilized discarding sabot clipped the hindquarters of the elf mid-flight.

Despite the glancing hit, the kinetic energy tore through his body, severing his legs in a gruesome spray of blood. His agonized screams echoed as he fell to the ground.

Another archmage exploded into chunks of meat as his magic shield failed, leaving the remaining confused seven scattered in chaotic evasive maneuvers.

Inside the turret, the gunner tracked their erratic movements, the servos whining as the turret traversed at 100 degrees per second. Each lock-on tone signaled another shot, each round carving through the air with surgical precision.

In less than a minute, all the ready supply of anti-transcendent rounds was depleted, and the loader scrambled out of the turret, shouting at the support crew for more ammunition.

“Bring up the canister shots first!” one of the gunners yelled. “These bastards are almost on top of us!”

The loader grunted in frustration as he dragged a massive canister from the ammo racks. “We need a bigger turret or another set of hands!” he snapped as he shoved the canister into the breach and slammed it shut.

“LOADED!”

A high-pitched whine gave way to a thunderous *thud* as the canister containing 1,150 enchanted adamantite balls dispersed out upon exiting the muzzle at 2,820 m/s, like a giant shotgun.

The deadly swarm shredded several archmages mid-air, scattering the survivors. Some dove for the ridgeline, while others skimmed treetops in desperate attempts to evade the "deadly bee magic."

“LOADED!” the loader yelled again as he feeded another canister into the gun. A second volley ripped through the sky, sending more elves spiraling down in mangled heaps.

Despite the turrets best efforts to shoot them down, a few archmages closed the distance and unleashed destructive spells that set the beach defenses ablaze. Thick black smoke billowed across the shoreline, shrouding the remaining mages as they descended.

One archmage, attempting to glide into a landing directly in a perfect spot to recover, miscalculated his approach and was obliterated by a canister blast from Gun-2. His body parts and blood splattered across the courtyard, painting the walls dark red with stinky blood and guts.

The remaining three archmages spread out, two landing on rooftops while another crash-landed in the middle of the burning chaos.

The Marines took the opportunity while the elves were recovering from the landings, only to find themselves surrounded by Marines as they all rapidly fired their “Magelocks” and “Magespitters”, creating a killing zone and deadly crossfire.

One archmage spread his arms wide and channeled his remaining mana into a desperate shield to protect his dying comrades. Bullets hammered the barrier, each impact driving tears of pain down his face as he endured the onslaught.

————————————————————————

The commanding officer scowled as he barked orders. “Send an urgent request to High Command, close air support immediately! Have them rain hell on these bastards. We cannot give them a chance to regroup!” His voice cut through the chaos as he gestured sharply toward the communications operator.

The operator nodded, already speaking rapidly into his boom mic and relayed the urgent call for reinforcements.

“They’ve breached the compound,” a soldier reported breathlessly. “We’re pinning them down for now, but it’s only a matter of time before they throw up one of their shitty spells and break out.”

The commanding officer’s jaw tightened. “Deploy both the armored corps and the air force. I want them on-site now to give our ground troops everything they need to hold the line.”

The officers in the room exchanged grim nods, one of them heading for the exit. “I’m stepping outside for some air,” he said, pulling his cap tighter. “It’s getting stuffy as hell in here.”

The commanding officer allowed himself a rare grin. “Grab some for me while you’re at it. And don’t you dare buy the farm, I’ve got a mountain of paperwork with your name on it.”

The departing officer snorted as he threw a glance over his shoulder. “With all due respect, sir, screw the paperwork. I’d rather die!”

Laughter followed him out the door, a fleeting moment of levity before the storm resumed.