Page 49

The battlefield was littered with smoldering remains from both sides of the war.

The sky was red from the buildings burning in the distance, causing the horizon to glow in shades of red, orange, gold, and black. Large plumes of black smoke rose from the remains still smoldering, and the screams from those within had subsided some time ago, but the pungency of their burning flesh flooded the nostrils and coated the tongue.

The hum of thaumaturgy from the battle still hung in the air, and as skilled as the Imperial Guard and Sentinels were, they weren't enough.

Never in their training did they warn that they would be face to face with the Harbinger of War.

They were never trained in this type of situational warfare.

And never had they seen anything so terrifying before their souls were extinguished one by one with a single swipe of their blade.

Over fifty-thousand warriors of Light were reduced to smoldering remains in seemingly the blink of an eye...

That was nothing compared to the battalions of Devilry that met their demise in the same fashion.

And now all that remained was merely a handful of battle-torn warriors of Light, and they knew they would not be leaving the field of battle alive.

On one end of the field stood what remained of the Imperial Guard and Sentinels; they were bruised, broken, and battered. Their battle uniforms were torn in many places and bloodied, weapons in hand but with very little strength remaining to keep them up and at the ready.

At the other end of the battlefield, the Harbinger of War stood alone, dressed in black tactical pants and boots, reinforced black leather and metal under-bust corset, and hair pulled back. They wore a black long-sleeve top with a high collar that didn't denote Race, Class, or House. Secured by three round black cloak fasteners on either side of their neck was a darkened mass of inverted energy that flowed away from them like a billowing cape on the wind, consuming all energy around it. Turquoise and purple pulsing currents reached out from within the inverted mass, and it hungered for the souls of those that remained.

It was one young female against an army, and yet the young female was unscathed.

The Harbinger of War was the picture of perfection.

No bruising, no scratches or scrapes, not even a hair out of place.

She was young, cultured, educated, and was considered the most compassionate creature to ever draw breath.

But now, her eyes were like looking into an empty void that caused a creature's will to leave them, and an overwhelming sense of torpor consumed their mind, dropping them where they stood to be consumed by listlessness.

"Tis a pity that this is what it has come to," the Harbinger of War said, her voice level and void of anything remotely resembling emotion. "A dozen of the best Guardians the Imperial Guard had to offer, the best Guardians of Light in the World of Thaumaturgy, and the remains of the Kingdom you so feebly tried to protect burning in the distance." She shook her head. "I wish I could say that it is a shame, but it is not," she said. "Once I am done killing the remainder of your forces, I will hunt down and kill every last being of Thaumaturgy."

Commander Azrael wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "That is your master plan?" he asked. "To rule a world of corpses?"

"I have no intention of ruling anything at all," the Harbinger of War retorted; he missed the point entirely.

They all did.

"Your father would be very disappointed in you, Child," he said.

The Harbinger of War growled a deep menacing sound that caused the ground to shake under their feet.

Matching her irritation, the billowing black cape of teeming negated energy went from flowing behind her to whipping out in front of her, wrapping along her sides protectively as it stretched out towards what remained of the Army of Light.

"Yes, I know," the Harbinger of War agreed, composing herself. "Father is the one that did not fight for what was right. Father is the one who allowed for it and an archaic way that should have never been in practice to dictate a future that was never his to have a say in. Mother and Father are to blame for this as much as all of you are, and I made sure they were aware of that before I reaped their souls. Regrettably, my brother just happened to have gotten in the way. But in all fairness, he was partially responsible, in a roundabout way, since he drew breath first and was weak and lost his Soul Anchor."

The Imperial Guards and Sentinels visibly cringed, knowing that their impending demise rapidly approached.

"What does your husband have to say about this?" Commander Azrael asked, trying to drag out the inevitable.

But it was the wrong thing to bring up, and they both knew it.

The Harbinger of War looked at him, unimpressed with his stall tactic. "Probably the same thing he said before I ripped his heart out after the umbra had been lifted from my eyes and I remembered what he truly was responsible for... He was to blame for all of this. Well," she paused, tapping her finger against her chin, "it was not so much that he said anything when I brought allegations against him, but the look on his pale face conveyed it well enough when I took his head off. He was surprised, to say the least," she cheerfully said.

Commander Azrael sighed, shaking his head. "What happened to the girl who was good and full of life, compassion, love, and hope? You were a bright-eyed girl with more love in her than a thousand people put together, a girl that would give her life if it meant saving another, regardless of society class, a compassionate girl-"

"That girl was weak if she allowed them to take from her that in which they did," the Harbinger of War said with a snarl, her hands suddenly consumed in black negated waves of energy outlined in amethyst and turquoise. "That weak girl died the moment she laid him in the ground," she reminded them.

"This isn't what he would have wanted," Commander Azreal said, noticing the onyx hair braided in with her own that had fallen over her shoulder when the negated energy wrapped around her. "He never wanted this."

The Harbinger of War nodded, ignoring the tear that rolled down her cheek. "Yes, I know. That is why I killed and destroyed all those blessed with the darkened caress of diablerie against their adumbrated souls, for they had an unwitting part in all of this, before turning to those bearing Light that ultimately failed to protect him. The war started with his death, and it will end with mine, but only after I reap each and every soul regardless of hue."

Shadows swarmed to her hands as she brought them up in front of her, and her long, slender fingers wrapped around the solidifying shadows that started to take shape, forming the shaft of the Soul Reaper Scythe.

The scythe had only a single purpose...

It was the Harbinger of Death.

Once the long shaft was in her hands, the Harbinger of War smashed the end of it into the ground, causing the large black curved blade to spring free with a skin-crawling shrill.

The Harbinger of War's irises enlarged, nearly covering all of the whites of the sclera, turning them metallic amethyst outlined in black before she pulled the large, deadly weapon through the air between them.

The large, curved black blade sliced through the air sending a thunderous wave of force away from her and right towards the Imperial Guard and Sentinels, sending dirt, grass, bodies, blood, and chunks of earth to fly up into the air as it went before it slammed into the Army of Light, and the Harbinger of War quickly followed...