Rising god
Chapter 83: Darkan vs Silvers I

Chapter 83: Darkan vs Silvers I

The Silver spy’s life ended abruptly after his forced confession, his body crumpling to the ground as the Dragon Tongue’s compulsion drained the last of his vitality.

"We don’t have time anymore..." the Darkan head declared, his voice a mix of urgency and resolve.

He issued orders in rapid succession, splitting the forces into two distinct groups as per the revised strategy. The first group, comprising the Darkan head, two pillars, Aires Perseus, Tasha, the elite Red Fang special forces, and the strongest divisions, set out for the Forest of Beasts, their mission being to flank the enemy.

The second group, led by Baines, included two other pillars, Branch Head Roderick, several family executives, and the remaining army, tasked with holding the frontline against the Silvers in the Trench Valley.

***

The sun blazed at its zenith, casting harsh light over the highest peak of the Trench Valley, a jagged scar between the Solaris Empire and the Vodal Kingdom.

Two armies faced each other across the windswept expanse, their banners snapping in the gusts, a clash that marked the largest conflict in Darkan since the civil war sparked by the Blood Deplorable.

This battle was not just a regional skirmish; it drew the attention of the entire empire and beyond. Factions, organizations, and kingdoms — both hidden and overt — watched with bated breath, knowing the stakes.

The victor would claim glory, fame, and dominion over the contested lands. To many, the outcome seemed predetermined: the Silvers, with their divine wind magic and wyverns, were favored to triumph. The Solaris empire had already begun calculating their losses when they lost and began thinking of ways to get back at them, while the Vodal had begun thinking of ways to use the land.

’Who could’ve thought?’ Baines mused, his gaze sweeping over the battlefield, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The world’s expectations were about to be upended.

The Darkan soldiers stood in disciplined ranks, shields raised and weapons gleaming, their red hair a fiery contrast to the muted grays of the valley.

Across from them, the Silvers commanded the skies, their silver-haired warriors astride wyverns, wings beating with rhythmic thuds, while others positioned themselves on the ground, ready to unleash their wind magic.

Grey Silver, the young master leading the assault, stood at the rear, his elaborate silver robes billowing as he surveyed the enemy.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Where’re their dragons?" he muttered to his commander, a grizzled veteran at his side. The Darkan were renowned for their aerial prowess, yet not a single dragon soared above their ranks, and it unsettled him.

Before he could ponder further, a sharp command rang out from the Darkan side.

"Nook!" Branch Head Roderick’s voice echoed, authoritative and unwavering. The soldiers responded in unison, drawing bows, crossbows, and any long-range weapon at their disposal, nocking arrows coated with a faint, shimmering powder.

"Draw!" Roderick bellowed, and the soldiers stretched their bows skyward, the tension in the air palpable. The Silvers, caught off guard, reacted instinctively, layering their defenses with swirling barriers of wind, expecting a straightforward assault.

"Shoot!" At Roderick’s command, a rain of arrows erupted, blanketing the sky like a dark canopy.

The Silvers braced for impact, some even almost sneering at the point of attack they could easily block, but as the arrows struck their wind barriers, an unexpected phenomenon occurred.

The mana sustaining the defenses slipped from their control, unraveling like threads in a storm, and the results,

Pstchch...

The arrows pierced through, not just one barrier but dozens, striking wyverns and riders alike. Hundreds fell, their screams of agony filling the air as they plummeted to the valley floor, their fates uncertain.

"Don’t block the arrows—dodge them!" the Silver commander roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. The soldiers adjusted swiftly, weaving through the air to evade the deadly rain, their training kicking in.

’As expected, they adapted quickly,’ Baines thought from his vantage point atop a rocky outcrop, his arms crossed as he observed the battlefield.

This was the first attack. Ashen Nightshade. It was the main ingredient in making the Abysall lotus, and its effect was disrupting and neutralizing mana. He coated their tips with the grounded plant and used it as arrows. Though the truth of it was, not all of it was coated, but after disrupting their ranks like that, they wouldn’t know and realize because of the chaos, until, of course, their commander finds the other solution.

Roderick sneered, his voice booming again. "Second release!" The Darkan soldiers readied another volley, their movements precise and synchronized.

"Prepare to dodge!" the Silver commander shouted, anticipating a repeat of the previous attack.

"Loose!" Roderick ordered, and the arrows soared once more, blanketing the sky.

"Dodge!" the commander barked, but this time, the assault was different.

Boom!

The arrows exploded mid-air, a fiery cascade of destruction raining down on the Silvers.

"Shit, defend!" the commander roared, his army scrambling to erect wind barriers against the explosions already consuming them.

The second wave utilized Firethorn Berries, a discovery Baines had named for their red, berry-like appearance, plucked from thorny trees in the Darkan wilds. With Wick’s experimental adjustments, the berries reacted to a certain amount of wind pressure, enhancing fire-based attacks or triggering explosions.

As the Silvers raised their defenses, Roderick seized the moment. "Shoot!" Another volley of Ashen Nightshade-coated arrows followed, piercing through the chaotic ranks.

The Silver army descended into pandemonium, soldiers dodging and screaming as at least a thousand fell, their bodies littering the valley floor.

Grey Silver’s eyes narrowed to pinholes, his hands trembling with disbelief. ’What is this?’ he thought, his confidence shaken. This war was meant to be a triumphant march for them, yet it had turned against them before they could even engage directly.

The Darkan hadn’t even deployed their full strength, yet the Silvers had already lost over a thousand soldiers, and the toll was still rising.

"Retreat!" the commander bellowed, his voice hoarse as he ordered the army to fall back toward the volatile winds of the valley, hoping to regroup in a more defensible position.

The Darkan halted their assault, conserving their resources for the next phase.

Among the Darkan ranks, Roderick took command, issuing orders with a seasoned general’s precision, organizing the troops for their next move.

Behind Baines, an aged voice echoed, "Impressive." He turned to see the two pillars assigned to this army approaching, their gazes fixed on the battlefield, their draconic auras now a subtle hum after their transformation.

"We owe you something we can’t fully repay, but we will try after this war is over," one of them said, his voice heavy with gratitude.

They moved past him, joining Roderick to assist in directing the ranks.

"I know what you did," another voice cut through, this one laced with accusation. Baines turned to face a group of red-haired Darkan members, their expressions a slight mix of awe and full resentment.

Among them, he recognized Smalltooth, her face half-hidden as if trying to avoid his gaze. ’The dragons in the pit,’ Baines muttered to himself, realizing who they were, the dragons he had seen in the Dragon’s Pit, now in human form thanks to the curse’s reversal.

"We know you took the lair," the lead dragon said, his tone serious. "I don’t even know how you did it, but you should return it. We’re still compassionate because you’re our benefactor, but after the war, return it to us, and we’ll offer an appropriate reward." With that, he turned and rejoined the ranks, the other dragons casting mixed glances at Baines, gratitude warring with betrayal.

How could their benefactor also be the thief who stole their sacred lair? It was hard to believe.

’I should’ve chained them,’ Baines thought, a flicker of regret surfacing. But he dismissed it with a cold pragmatism. ’It isn’t so bad, and it’s not too late either, the fire dragon clan wouldn’t last either way.’ He turned his attention back to the war, his mind refocusing on the task at hand.

The Silver army had reorganized and returned, their approach marked by a dramatic shift in the atmosphere.

The wind whipped wildly around them, conjuring tornadoes and storms of varying sizes that churned the air with divine fury. They had unleashed their divine power.