NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 209: Resonating Wills
*BOOM!*
A massive, violent explosion of wind that sent rocky fragments, mangled bits of flesh, and viscous purple blood scattering everywhere erupted, followed by the emergence of hundreds of Wind Cutters flying in all directions, killing even more Fell Beasts.
These lethally sharp projectiles then mystically converged in ten separate locations, swirling into massive tornadoes that wreaked further havoc among the flanking beastly ranks.
Zephyron's Raging Tempest spell killed more than a tenth of the fell creations, leaving his despairing regiment cheering, a flare of will to live igniting in their hearts.
Maybe there was a chance?
That's right…why would there not be a chance when Zephyron Haldavar, the Wind Magna, was with them?!
Inspired by the small victory, the wizards of the Thirteenth Regiment roared their warcries.
They then began casting spells with renewed vigor, shooting at the already thinning lines of the beasts in front of them.
Their entire left side was surrounded, all the way to their rear, but straight ahead…
Straight ahead was a different matter…
The Wind Magna was going all out, sending glowing Wind Cutters, Wind Slashers, and devastating Air Cannons at the flanking Fell Beasts, slowly but surely paving the way for his subordinates.
Hal and the others responded with enthusiastic elemental spells, furiously raining hell upon the enemies.
The bastards wanted to take their lives? They were welcome to try!
Steadily, the Thirteenth Regiment advanced, while the Zephyr Battalion fiercely fought the more numerous Fell Beasts from their left.
They hadn't suffered losses yet.
However, they were one mistake away from huge casualties, especially since there were only around five hundred of them.
This was the hardest the Zephyr Battalion had fought in their lives, and quite possibly their last.
Their fierce resistance was one of the biggest reasons, next to Zephyron's rampage, why the Thirteenth Regiment was holding up and was showing some promising chances of survival.
Alas!
From the rear, Khatu's fell men had been watching ever carefully, stalking from the shadows and the void as they waited for the opportune time to strike.
And they'd found it.
The Fell Beasts of Parralen were joining the battle; the flankers had engaged the enemy; the Wind Magna was busy, and their opponents, the Zephyr Battalion, were fighting for their lives.
Would there ever be a better chance to attack than now?
Likely not, and Khatu's subordinates also knew this.
The Fellkin Warriors quickly emerged from their hiding spots and made a mad dash for the retreating humans, their very souls trembling in excitement at the thought of glory.
Who the hell cares about Khatu when they could be the next in line to lead?
All they had to do was slaughter as many humans as they could and claim a few renowned heads.
And, if luck smiles upon them, perhaps they could even slay Zephyron themselves?
To dream was free, but to achieve them, one must work, so work the fell race's warriors did.
Closing in on the rear, where a few members of the Zephyr Battalion and the stronger wizards of the Thirteenth Regiment had just begun clashing with the Fell Beasts of Parralen, the Fellkin Warriors cruelly smiled, sending their Thunder Spears, Spatial Rends, and Void blasts shooting forth.
The vicious projectiles tore through the air.
A few moments later, chilling, human death cries sounded, each a harrowing variant of the last.
Gargling blood, dying shrieks, and the dull thuds of corpses…
Resurged morale didn't mean invincibility, and each death chipped away at the Thirteenth Regiment's second wind.
Soon enough, Zephyron's hard work all went up in smoke.
The hearts of his subordinates were once more gripped by despair and the thought of their impending doom.
Only those with the most resilient of mental fortitudes fought on stoically, desperately brushing off the grim thoughts in exchange for a small bit of focus in combat.
Even Hal and Ennya found themselves weary, realization that this was reality began sinking in, shaving away their naivety.
Everything went well until now?
That was because luck was on their side, wasn't it? What would happen if it weren't?
Death…
The two Magna Prospects, once playful and dreaming brats from Poporo, felt their blood run cold.
If they perished, then their decaying bodies would stay here forever, with only the passing day and the cold night as witnesses of how courageously they fought in their final moments.
What was the point of even struggling?
It was then that thoughts of two different people, who held the same degree of importance in their hearts, resonated in their minds:
'Mom…'
Someone was waiting for them; they can't give up this easily!
And so, despite their exhaustion, the two fought on, their breathing as heavy as their hearts.
They wanted to live!
So did every other human, but as for who would be so fortunate, only the gods knew.
Ennya waved her flame elemental wand back and forth, shooting roaring balls of flame, lashing incinerating whips, and calling upon flaming tornadoes to lay ruin upon her enemies, reflecting her blazing will to live.
A few dozen meters away from her was her childhood friend, making it rain with lethal shards of ice with a snap of his fingers, shooting piercing rays of light with a point, and leaving massive beasts bleeding and trembling with a mere immoral gesture—a chaotic testament of his yearning for a longer life.
The real world was this brutal, cold, and unkind.
Yet, they wanted to live for those who made it as warm as possible for them.
Love was mystical and illusory, and perhaps only a scarce few, who experienced it or didn't at all, could appreciate and understand it on a deeper level.
This was the unrecognized feeling that bound everyone from the Thirteenth Regiment, the Zephyr Battalion, and the Prospect Platoons in a collective, desperate will to live.
And so, the humans fought…
And fought…
And fought even more, paying a chilling toll in blood for every meter they advanced closer to what could possibly be a mere mirage of safety.
One human stayed eternally for every other that was lucky enough to move forth.