Arc of the Souls Chapter 97: Arc 3, Chapter 20 - Macabre and Destroyable

Read chapter 97 of Arc of the Souls by Noyr on NovelPedia.

"CAPTAIN! ALL IS FALLING TO WORSE! THE GROUND TROOPS ARE BEING PUSHED BACK HEAVILY!" One of the officers reported. "We're losing too much manpower. It is a sublime display of power, halving our personnel while being outmanned 10 to 1. But they are persistent." The captain said, eyeing the lord. "There are also reports that Erika Flügelhart has joined the battle." The Lord paused, looking at the hologram of the battlefield. He saw Erika, a femme fatale destroying anything she touches. He saw her cut down his soldiers with ease with a blackened Zweihander. He saw her inspire her troops. He wasn't worried though, more like intrigued. "My lord. I believe it would seal our advantage if we were to bring in the UoK." "No." The captain flinched a bit. "The Uprising of Kytron is not soldiers made for battles. They are battle-hardened infiltrators, suited for missions beyond any ordinary soldier's capabilities. They are to be kept in wraps for now." A camera in the command center went black as one of the largest tank platoons deployed on the battle went silent. "I do believe it ends here. We have completely lost our upper hand. Do we retreat, my lord?" The bridge went quiet. Everybody was gently staring at Lord Veyron. The silence was heavy, pressing down on them with an unnatural weight. "...This is war. There will always be casualties." He finally spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. "I believe the horde my father has left behind for me does not give up that easily. In fact, they've been waiting for this for a very long time." He turned to a different screen, one that showed a map of the city. He pointed to a specific location, a large, open field on the outskirts of the city. "Command the fleet while I am gone, Captain." He walked out of the bridge with his hands in his pockets. He was going to the battlefield himself. - The Dark Intrinium army came to a halt. It was just 10,000 versus 50,000 now. Macabre Flugel had the greater number this time. But the Dark Intrinium army wasn't retreating. They were waiting for something. Or someone. "Looks like the lord coward's finally showing up." Erika said, her Zweihander resting on her shoulder. She was panting, her body covered in blood and sweat. She had fought for hours, and she was exhausted. There was a silhouetted leg casting a shadow at all the dead soldiers laying in the toxic ground. Cascading downwards as if a god were descending. The fresh blood turned black in the absence of light. The silhouette formed a shape, a shape of a man. Destroyed artillery and burning tanks surrounded the man as he walked through the battlefield. His boots crunching on the broken glass and twisted metal. Walking through the battlefield as if he owned it. The abode of a predator. Erika's eyes widened as she recognized the figure. It was him. It was Kytan Veyron. "Kytan Veyron..." She whispered, her grip tightening on her Zweihander. The Dark Intrinium soldiers parted, creating a path for him. He walked through them, his eyes fixed on Erika. "Erika Flügelhart. Flawless defense tactics from the Macabre Flugel. Colour me impressed." He stopped before her. A good 50 meters from each other. The wind blew, carrying the smell of blood and burnt metal. It was a stalemate. "It would be wise to exit Zyrania while you still can, Lord Veyron." She said with a thick German accent. Her forefathers were from a country called Germany on Earth, a long-forgotten country. "You have lost this battle. Your soldiers are tired. Most are dead... I am sure you do not want to lay next to them. It would be a shame to see a king fall in a battle he cannot win." Kytan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through the ground. "I have not lost anything, Flügelhart. I am simply testing your capabilities. And I must say, I am impressed." He said, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You have a strong army. Strong soldiers. Heh. It isn't looking so good for me now, is it?" He looked around, smirking at the fallen. He not on