A Distant Reverie

Chapter 27

The eastern gate descended into pandemonium. Veteran warriors who were used to the atrocities of war fled in panic, screaming in terror under the pursuit of the Quetzals. Shrieking with incessant joy, the winged monsters swooped down periodically to prey on the soldiers, hunting them like game. Without a leader to rally behind, the officers and soldiers alike ran, as the fear of the terrible abominations overloaded their capacity to fight back.

The Quetzals feasted. Some gorged themselves on the corpses of the human soldiers. Other purposefully chased them down, herding them like animals, and gleefully indulging in their terrified screams. It was a pathetic display from the Knights of Prosperia during the final moments of their city's demise.

And the main horde hadn't even arrived yet.

"Help! Someone, help!"

One of the soldiers pleaded desperately as he was cornered by a Quetzal. The colossal monster stared at him curiously with its deep ebon eyes. The abomination's head bobbled up and down as a high-pitched whistle escaped its beak—almost as if it was chuckling at the man's fear. Without his weapon, the soldier could only watch as the monster slowly opened its beak. A foul stench escaped its mouth, a mixture of spittle and rotting flesh from the unfortunate lifeforms that had been devoured by this monstrosity. Anticipating its next meal, the Quetzal squealed in delight, revealing a hideous array of jagged fangs, eager to tear into the cowering soldier.

Shrouded by the shadows of the drooling monster, the soldier prayed for a quick and painless death.

"Sgaraidh."

The Quetzal was suddenly pushed back, shrieking as if it was in deep pain. The soldier blinked, not believing his eyes. A sharp azure energy suddenly punctured the Quetzal's neck. Red sprayed out of the crescent shaped hole. The Quetzal retreated, thrashing about it choked on its own blood. One of its talons descended upon the soldier in the midst of its mania.

Cling!

Something heavy parried the Quetzal's attack. The soldier flinched, realizing that a figure wielding a sword had stepped in front of him. Their movements were a blur as they advanced, cutting into the Quetzal's space with a ferocious intensity. With every swing, a mist of blood scattered into the heavy rain. Within seconds, the Quetzal collapsed, lying in a pile of its own severed flesh before drawing its last dying breath.

Seeing the Quetzal's ebon eyes grow dull, the soldier gasped for air. He had been inadvertently holding his breath while awaiting his death.

"T-thank you..." he managed to say before glancing at his savior.

They were cladded in a familiar set of silver armor, now tarnished with scratches and dents. The tips of her argent hair were scorched, and soot coated the thin blacked strands. Her face, normally radiant and resolute, was smeared in dirt and blood. Nonetheless, despite her ragged appearance, the soldier couldn't help but feel relief. The terror that had shackled his mind with an ironclad grip was wiped away in an instant.

One by one, the Quetzals terrorizing the Knights of Prosperia suddenly fell. Astonished by the seemingly improbable feat, the soldiers turned to find their savior. Hope returned to their despairing eyes as they recognized the argent knight.

"Commander...!"

"Commander Shirogane!"

The gallant figure of their Knight Commander advancing into battle vanquished the fear in their hearts.

"Knights of Prosperia! Rally to me!"

Noel's voice, amplified by mana, resonated throughout the eastern gates. The men who were fleeing like helpless chicks just seconds ago, instantly returned to gather around her.