Step. Step. Step.
Footsteps echoed in Asher’s ears, pulling him from sleep. Though only a few hours had passed since he was asleep, he rose like a zombie, his golden eyes piercing through the darkness.
The campfire had burned out.
He instinctively grabbed Euodias lying by his side and rose to his knees when he saw a creature riding a six legged horse emerging from the trees, taking soft steps forward.
Asher’s eyes widened.
Shing!
Euodias left the sheath, its azure blade gleaming softly in the dim light.
Contrary to the fierce battle he had expected, the golden rider plunged his halberd into the ground, dismounted, and fell to one knee.
His horse also bowed the knee.
“Gyaa.” The rider spoke, but all Asher could hear were guttural, discomforting sounds.
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[Ding! Guardian mythical beast, Golden Rider, has bowed the knee, showcasing his allegiance to you.]
[The language barrier has been lifted.]
“Speak.” Asher rose to his feet.
“I… did not come… to fight.”
“You’re the protector of the river?”
The golden rider responded with a single nod. “The… path to it.”
‘Path to it?’ Asher glanced at the forest, and understanding dawned on him.
“Why do you protect it?”
The golden rider lowered its head and remained silent for a while before it lifted its head once again and finally spoke.
“It is my cause from the day of my creation. I was… meant to preserve the… mythical beasts of the elements. To do so… all must die.”
Lightning crackled in its right eye, making Asher frown.
Noticing his apprehension, the golden rider continued. “Fear not, young one. We… are of the same cause, for you bear the gift of the First Men. The living ice.”
Asher lowered his guard. Those who knew about Kyros either sided with him or loathed him based on what the past bearers of the talent had done.
He looked straight at the creature’s eyes and what he seeked appeared.
[Name: Golden Rider]
[Age: 2,700!]
[Rank: Imperial]
[Talent: Foresight (Third Order Zenith), Storm (Third Order Zenith), Water Walker (S).
[Job: Keeper of Cedar forest]
[Loyalty: 84]
Foresight: [Foresight peers through time, granting the bearer the ability to glimpse the near or distant future.]
Storm: [Storm harnesses the power of thunder, lightning and wind to unleash ravaging disasters or channel into the clouds to bring a rain of lightning and thunder bolts.]
Water Walker: [An imperial-ranked horse capable of moving on any water body.]
Asher’s brows knit together. “How have you existed for thousands of years yet remain at this rank?”
“Mythical creatures created for purposes like mine do not grow in strength. We were all born as Awoken Ones, but the endless wars of the races have fractured the order of energy until we are left with a much weaker version of what we existed as in the First Age.”
“You cannot use force?” Asher frowned.
The golden rider shook his head. “No. I wasn’t created like the races that can adapt. We… I am stuck the way I was created. As of now, I still use the mana within my veins.”
Asher couldn’t even imagine how massive the Golden Rider’s mana pool had to be for him to be able to retain mana despite having been using it for thousands of years.
But unlike the golden rider’s body, Asher’s own body functioned as a unifier— absorbing the broken energy and fusing it back into the ancient energy… mana!
“I shall send men to build, but they won’t destroy the forest. Do not be bothered.”
The golden rider could only nod in silent acceptance.
_____
The next day, Asher and Sapphira rode Bezerk toward Nimrim. As they rode into the small city, Asher’s gaze swept over the Frontline knights and the increased number of paladins.
Most of them were on horseback, their presence discomfiting the civilians.
“What happened?” Sapphira asked.
“We’ll find out.” Asher’s voice was solemn.
When they reached the city hall, Asher saw dozens of paladins, Nero and… Adam!
“Commander.”
Asher dismounted.
Adam rose up. “My Lord, we searched everywhere for you. There’s a word from Winter Stronghold.”
Asher frowned. “What happened?”
“They’ve been under attack for a week now. They fear the stronghold will fall before we arrive.”
Asher’s eyes widened. He turned to Sapphira.
“I’ll send some temple servants with you.”
“I need you to ride with me.”
“As you command, my lord.” She bowed her head.
Asher faced Adam. “The main army—where are they?”
“Far north, three days away from Winter Stronghold.”
“Then we will meet up with them. Send letters to the mage commander—inform her of our need for her mages. And Sapphira…”
Asher lifted her onto Bezerk once again and climbed up behind her.
“We’re going to Nineveh.”
Rumble!
The soldiers mounted their warhorses and followed him. By the time Asher rode out of the small city, thirty riders trailed him, their cloaks billowing in the wind as they charged toward the horizon.
_____
Three days later.
Step. Step.
Two men clad in full plate armour stood atop a wall marred with cracks, sword marks and bloodstains.
Their cloaks billowed softly in the cold air. Unlike the stationed guards, neither of them wore a helmet.
“Four thousand men.” Isaac sighed. Before them, the battlefield was strewn with corpses spanning as long as their eyes could clearly see.
Behind him, the stronghold reeked with the stench of the dead.
Just before he came here, they had burnt a heap of bodies—soldiers who had fought under their banner.
“We won’t survive the night.” Anderson gazed at the enemy encampment that spread beyond the battlefield, a sea of tents that stretched into the distance.
There, their foes ate and laughed.
There, Edomites and Dothanites danced and drank from the same barrel.
Their uniting force?
Kryos!
“I’ve used every strategy at my disposal to keep the stronghold standing, but this is the end. Lord Winter will have to step up, and once he does…”
“He’ll die,” Isaac said. It felt like a weight beyond his capability was placed upon him.
“Once the city lord dies, the Winter Stronghold will cease to exist. If this is our fate, we can’t change it. Go, prepare the rest of our men—we fight the Dothan princess tonight.”
Anderson chuckled softly.
Isaac walked away.
“What about those angels?” Anderson asked suddenly.
Isaac paused. “The angels of death answer only to one man, and he’s not here.”
“So you… their instructor can’t control them?”
“No.” Isaac exhaled. “We wait for white hair… or we meet in the afterlife.”
With those words, he walked away.