And then their defensive arts activated, and the soft targets toughened up immediately. From that point on, only Prana Blade and Blade Launch were effective, as the Kothis’ various arts protected them from Vir’s weaker attacks.
Dance of the Shadow Demon was, of course, not an option. Not when the enemy had been alerted, and all eyes were on him.
That didn’t mean he was out of options.
Grabbing a nearby Kothi, Vir broke his arm and whirled him around, using him like a shield. From there, he fired Prana Darts in rapid succession, targeting eyes, mouths, and other vulnerable areas.
On their own, the darts contained little prana and did only minor damage. When efficiently targeted, they could be devastating, and their prana consumption worked both ways. Vir had plenty in reserve.
After taking out a few more demons in this manner, Vir abandoned his position—right as a Chakra-laden attack pierced through his captured Kothi, breaking his soul.
They have multiple Warrior Chakra wielders…
It made sense, given the size and composition of this military unit. That meant Vir had to Blink even faster than normal, leveraging Haste more and more, using mobility to keep himself safe.
Vir flitted around the battlefield, surging prana directly into enemies’ bodies and slicing necks and other targets of opportunities whenever he could.
To the prisoners, he looked like a god of death—blurring among the enemy, reaping lives with impunity. His actions on that battlefield would be discussed with both reverence and terror for years to come from those who survived.
Vir, however, knew the truth. His time had nearly run out, and on more than one occasion, he’d dodged death by just a hair’s breadth.
These Chitran warriors were both tough and smart. His Blade Launches that could kill a dozen ordinary demons merely injured a single one, thanks to their magical defenses. His Kalari arts that allowed him to defeat enemies in physical combat were met with an equally fluid Chitran combat art, stunting his efforts.
And through it all, Vir had nearly run dry of prana.
Cursing, he Blinked to safety, then Leaped back to his prisoners, wondering if his actions had accomplished anything at all.
Had he bothered to count, he’d have realized that of the five hundred Kothis who had set out from Garrison Atnu, nearly fifty perished in the fight against the demons. Vir, in just a few moments, had reduced that number by another hundred.
And there was no army in the world that wouldn’t hesitate in the face of such losses.
59
LEAPS OF FAITH (PART THREE)
“Unstrap the weapons and armor,” Gunin shouted at Lagen. “Hurry!”
“Huh? Which ones?”
“All of them!”
Lagen whipped his head around to the chaotic cloud of ash dust that was rapidly approaching. It was followed by another, larger cloud. One that was far more orderly.
It didn’t take the demon much to put two and two together. “On it,” Lagen said, rushing to the nearest Ash’va.
Gunin hardly heard the demon, he was too busy pulling out knots and dropping clasps. Though he knew not how, the Chitran army was in hot pursuit, with only a buffer of a hundred paces between them and the prisoners.
While Gunin found that somewhat odd—there ought to have been no gap at all between the more mobile Kothi troops and the prisoners—he was far too busy to care. Lacking even the time to set the pieces of armament down, he hurled them away from the Ash’va as fast as he could.
The army wouldn’t have time to choose their weapons or don their armor. They’d simply have to grab what they could and keep running. Even that may take too long.
As he worked, a question rose at the back of the Kothi’s mind.
Where are they running to?
There was nothing this way, save Praya Parul, and that was simply much too far to run. Especially when they were being pursued by the Chitran Garrison. There were only open fields, covered in ash… and precious little of anything else.
Running would be suicide. They didn’t have a hope of outrunning the superior troops. Nor did they hold an advantage fighting a Chitran army in open space, where they could utilize their Bloodline Arts to the fullest.
A faint voice at the back of Gunin’s mind proposed a possible explanation, but it was swiftly squashed before Gunin could properly register it. Some thoughts were just simply too dangerous to acknowledge, after all.
Gunin was still working to unclasp the last armor when Neel suddenly landed in a cloud of soot, ranging ahead of the approaching group.
“You’ve begun unstrapping the gear,” he said quickly. “Good. The troops will stop only to pick up what they can. Then we run.”
“What of the Ash’va?” Gunin asked.
“Leave them behind!” Neel shouted, already preparing to jump back to the group, who were now about a hundred paces away. Gunin had never understood how the demon could soar so far with a single bound.
“Are you certain?” Gunin asked. “Should we not take one or two with us?”
Vir turned. “We head for the Ash. They will not survive there.”
And then he was gone, his signature plume of ash expanding behind him.
Gunin stood for a moment, his body frozen.
“The Ash,” Gunin deadpanned. “He did say the Ash, didn’t he? It wasn’t my imagination?”
“Bold plan,” Lagen said. “Daring.”
He was smiling. The demon was actually smiling at this insane prospect.
“Do you have a death wish?” Gunin cried, finally spurring his body to move again. The prisoners would be upon them in less than a minute, and yet, he found it impossible to muster the same energy he’d had only moments prior.
“With that mysterious monster of a demon guiding us? I imagine we’ll do just fine,” Lagen replied, clearly unfazed. Of course he would be—he was a Warrior. The Ash would strengthen him, allowing him to test his mettle.
For Gunin, it’d be nothing but a nightmare. A terrible, painful nightmare—assuming he even survived the prana poisoning. There was a reason his parents had banished him as a failure. His ability to use his tattoos was simply incomparable to other demons. His body just didn’t respond as well to prana as it should.
No, Gunin knew that if he stepped through that Boundary, he would die, and no amount of Panav healing arts would save him.
Which was why his legs took him, step by step, away from the Ash’va. Away from the prisoners who mobbed talwars and armor like their life depended on it. Theirs certainly did. The gear Neel had returned with could spell the difference between survival and doom on the other side of the Boundary.
Suddenly feeling unsteady, Gunin lowered himself and sat upon the ash, hugging his knees.
What now? What fate lies in store for me?
If he didn’t follow, Gunin would be left behind. On his own, with neither supplies nor direction, he’d perish. Even if he had both, he’d still likely die. He’d never been good with surviving in the wild. Maybe, if he made it to a Panav town, he might be able to start anew—he’d always been good with people. Getting there, however, was another matter entirely.
It was hopeless. To go was to die. To stay was to die. Was there truly no other way?
His thoughts ran amok in an endless circle. They were broken by a crash as a black form fell from the sky paces away, kicking up a cloud of ash.
Gunin shielded his eyes from the dust, though he didn’t need to see to know the newcomer’s identity—there was only one among them capable of such movement.
“You should be with them, leading them,” Gunin said.