A roar shattered the night.
The Manticore soared through the sky at breakneck speed, its wings beating the air with terrifying power.
On its back, the first prince of Haverloch, Stryd, was fully armored. His helmet reflected the glow of explosions below, and his cape whipped violently in the wind.
The Manticore flew through a hail of projectiles.
Mostly fireballs that lit up the night like inverted shooting stars.
But arrows and other war projectiles were launched as well.
SZZZZZ. BOOM. WHOOSH.
The sky was constantly filled with projectiles—not all aimed at the Manticore, but it created a chaotic aerial battlefield.
The soldiers below did their best to hit it.
"AIM FOR THE BEAST! DON'T LET IT THROUGH!"
"LOAD THE BALLISTAE! FASTER!"
"WE'RE ALL DEAD IF IT REACHES US!"
They were desperate.
This creature had to die.
As a swarm of magical projectiles rose toward it—lightning arrows, fireballs, and ice spears—the Manticore beat its wings violently and dove in a tight spiral, tracing an inverted corkscrew.
The air whistled. Flames disintegrated under the wind pressure it generated.
Its wings snapped open mid-fall, unleashing a brutal gust that deflected an entire volley of arrows.
WHOOOOSH.
It shot upward immediately, like a coil of smoke, before the explosions engulfed the area it had just left.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Stryd held on tightly, feeling the violent wind nearly tear off his helmet.
This creature is a monster.
But he trusted it.
Several ballistae fired simultaneously.
Orbs of fire and chains of lightning streaked the sky.
The Manticore dove in a steep plunge, skimming the ground before lashing the air with its tail.
SMASH.
A shockwave propelled it obliquely upward.
The shots crossed beneath it and exploded against each other.
BOOM. BOOM.
In the blast's glow, the creature used the explosion's breath to gain altitude, literally leaping onto the wave of fire.
From there, it folded its wings and propelled itself through the smoke like a comet of shadow, leaving the gunners unable to track its path.
A Nazhir soldier shouted:
"WHERE IS IT?! I CAN'T SEE IT ANYMORE!"
"THERE! NO, OVER THERE!"
"SHOOT! SHOOT EVERYWHERE!"
Suddenly, the Manticore opened its maw and began condensing mana into a red energy orb.
The red orb started small, then abruptly grew to twelve times the Manticore's size.
The soldiers on the ships saw this and scrambled even harder to bring down the Manticore quickly.
"TAKE IT DOWN NOW! BEFORE IT FIRES!"
"LOAD ALL WEAPONS! EVERYTHING WE'VE GOT!"
Once the orb stopped growing, everyone assumed the Manticore would fire it downward.
But no.
It fired the orb upward.
WHOOOOOOSH.
Right after, it ascended and passed through the energy orb.
Stryd was shocked by the Manticore's actions.
What is it doing?!
But this creature wasn't suicidal.
When the Manticore passed through the energy orb, it exploded into thousands of smaller orbs.
BOOM.
The Manticore and the prince emerged unscathed on the other side and began diving amid the thousands of orbs.
They exploded everywhere.
In the water. On the enemy ships.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The waters grew turbulent, and several ships were heavily damaged, others completely destroyed.
The red and orange reflections of the explosions danced on the water's surface.
The winding river feeding Nazhir's capital was now a floating hell.
Lanterns on the boats went out one by one, replaced by the flames of burning ships.
The Manticore flew low over the water's surface, then surged upward to snatch an enemy soldier in its claws and tear him apart.
CRUNCH.
The body fell in pieces into the water.
Stryd leaped from the Manticore and wreaked havoc on a ship's deck.
He lunged forward as soldiers closed in on him.
He slid almost between two foes, weapon low.
Then, pivoting on his front foot, he spun his body in a clean spiral—the blade traced a horizontal circle at torso level.
SLASH. SLASH. SLASH.
The soldiers around him, already in motion, advanced into his path: three were cut clean before they realized.
He used the rotation's momentum for a reverse half-circle strike without stopping, slicing the legs of those still standing.
The movement was brief, precise, without shouts or wasted gestures.
When he stopped, the circle around him was empty.
With each step, his blade whistled: one step, one strike.
The first enemy saw his weapon deflected and his throat opened.
SLASH.
Without pause, Stryd sidestepped, struck the second's flank, twisted his wrist, and slashed diagonally upward, felling a third.
SLASH. SLASH.
His breathing stayed calm. Soldiers fell in rhythm, as if he were dancing.
When the last raised his weapon, he saw only the blade's gleam.
The final movement ended in silence.
Stryd leaped back onto the Manticore as it took flight.
Two seconds later, the ship took one too many energy orbs and sank.
BOOM.
The Manticore flew through the ships and explosions, eliminating as many as it could.
Stryd, on the Manticore's back, struck down the unlucky in his path.
SLASH. SLASH. SLASH.
The Manticore charged a Nazhir soldier.
The poor man only saw the Manticore due to a nearby explosion illuminating the beast's monstrous face before it seized him in its jaws, shaking violently.
CRUNCH.
From afar
A Haverloch soldier, high in the sky, watched the carnage.
He was a man in his thirties, with short brown hair. He wore light armor suited for flight and rode a winged creature resembling a large owl with scales.
Stryd and the Manticore had penetrated deep behind enemy lines, sowing confusion everywhere.
The plan is unfolding surprisingly smoothly.
He used an object—a small metal sphere—and fired it into the sky.
WHOOOOSH.
It created a massive flash of light.
FLASH.
Stryd saw it.
He halted the Manticore and retreated, leaving the Nazhir soldiers bewildered.
"THEY'RE RETREATING! WHY ARE THEY RETREATING?!"
They understood the flash was a signal, but for what? They didn't know.
Tension rose.
The Haverloch soldier high in the sky had finished charging the magical weapon.
A scepter.
It was a one-and-a-half-meter staff of silver metal etched with complex runes glowing blue. At its tip was a fist-sized red crystal, pulsing slowly like a heart.
It was one of many magical weapons Cassian had pulled from The Shoreless Sea and that the army now used.
This was the first time this one would be used and tested.
One could say the entire mission hinged on this weapon's effectiveness.
It had absorbed massive amounts of natural mana for three hours.
Basically, since the battle began.
It was fully charged now.
He aimed the scepter's head right in the middle of the enemy ships and fired.
WHOOOOOOOOSH.
Instantly, an orb shot out, barely visible, and exploded with a thunderous roar.
A blinding flash pierced the night, as if a second moon had ignited.
A deep, enormous rumble—a thunderclap that ruptured eardrums—followed by a brief, unreal silence.
A column of water and fire rose, tower-high, hurling molten droplets and metal shards in all directions.
Several armored hulls ruptured instantly: sides exploded, planks and plates torn away, decks collapsed.
Engine rooms and artillery holds detonated simultaneously on multiple ships.
Sailors were hurled into the air; some fell unconscious into the water, others clung to burning debris.
Those on undestroyed ships stared in horror. Some vomited, others scrambled to cast off lines.
Dozens of warships were disabled in seconds—either sunk or severely unable to maneuver.
The river access route was partially blocked by carcasses and burning debris, making pursuit or regrouping impossible for now.
Haverloch's ships had withdrawn in anticipation.
The prince, turning back, was stunned by the explosion behind him.
"Impressive…"
Haverloch's soldiers were all astonished.
Then orders were shouted.
"ATTACK NOW! THEY'RE VULNERABLE!"
"FORWARD! FINISH THEM!"
They closed in on the vulnerable enemy fleet to deliver the coup de grâce.
The prince and the Manticore landed on a friendly ship in reserve.
The operation was a success.
An officer approached.
"Your Highness, with such a victory, we could push deeper into Nazhir's kingdom to weaken them further."
Stryd shook his head.
"No. It's better to stop here."
The officer frowned.
"But Your Highness—"
"Nazhir ensures Haverloch has no direct border with the Ysvarra Empire."
Stryd gazed at the horizon.
"Everyone knows how formidable the Empire is. We don't want a direct border with them for now."