Rising god
Chapter 84: Darkan vs. Silver II

Chapter 84: Darkan vs. Silver II

In the hierarchy of divine favor, an apostle stood as the pinnacle, the highest rank bestowed by a god. These rare beings were more than mere followers because they embodied the will of their god. Some called them contractors, but the distinction was semantic—apostles embodied the divine in ways others could only dream of.

Apostles came with special privileges that no others did. Among them was wielding the authority of their god without any drawbacks, with the only limit being their level of strength. For instance, the authority of wind wielded by the wind god could be used by its apostle.

Another was what was currently being displayed.

An apostle could bless other believers with their god’s authority, and this exactly tallied with what Baines had asked earlier. The spy had said they didn’t have an apostle then, meaning they were basically crippled during the war to claim the kingdom.

Without one, they couldn’t channel divine blessings or tap into the full might of their god. And that wasn’t the only edge an apostle provided.

In the Solaris Empire, the apostle was the pope of the church.

But Baines’s mind snagged on a critical detail: the Silver’s apostle was here, on this battlefield. "Is it their next leader, the one the spy mentioned?" he wondered, his pulse quickening. He turned to signal Branch Head Roderick, but the order wasn’t needed.

"Darkan, show these idiots what happens when they mess with the Red Dragon Clan!" Roderick’s voice boomed across the war-torn plain, a gravelly roar of defiance.

Before the words fully settled, his body began to shift. Bones cracked and stretched, scales erupted in a cascade of crimson, and wings unfurled with a leathery snap. In moments, he towered as an 80-meter-long dragon, his eyes blazing like molten rubies.

The Silvers stared, dumbstruck, as every red-haired member of the Darkan forces followed suit. One by one, they morphed, their forms swelling into draconic majesty, the smallest spanning 30 meters, the largest a colossal 100 meters. They took to the skies, their wings beating a thunderous rhythm against the ash-choked air.

ROARRRR...

Their furious cries shook the heavens, a chorus of primal rage that echoed across the battlefield. From their lofty vantage, they glared down at the Silvers, whose wyverns trembled beneath them, wings faltering in fear. Then, with a collective hiss, the dragons unleashed their breath.

SHAAAAAAAAAA...

Streams of searing flame poured from their maws, a torrent of fire unlike anything the Silvers had seen. The heat scorched the air, turning the battlefield into a blazing inferno.

"SHIT!" The 7th Star Commander of the Silvers leapt forward, his silver armor glinting as he unleashed his domain. Astral energy flared around him, a shimmering barrier of light blue, straining to deflect the dragon’s breath. His muscles tensed, sweat beading on his brow as the flames battered his defenses.

[Yes, put up resistance like that]

The dragons’ voices rumbled in unison, a telepathic taunt dripping with arrogance. They focused their breath, the fire intensifying into a concentrated blaze that engulfed the commander.

His screams pierced the sky, raw and desperate, as the whipping wind spiraled, fanning the flames into a maelstrom. The fire dragons, reveling in their element, dove into the inferno, their scales glowing red-hot as they clawed and snapped at the Silvers’ aerial forces.

"What is this?" Grey Silver, the stoic leader of the Silver forces, felt his calm shatter. His silver hair whipped in the chaotic winds, his gray eyes wide with disbelief. Reports had never mentioned the Darkans’ ability to transform into dragons.

Even his elite guards, clad in polished armor, exchanged stunned glances, their hands tightening on their spears. "WHERE ARE THE REINFORCEMENTS?" Grey roared, his voice thick with fury.

"T-The patriarch isn’t done with preparations yet," a guard stammered, his voice crackling through a communication crystal clutched in his trembling hand.

"Damn it all," Grey thought, grinding his teeth. His jaw clenched, the taste of ash bitter on his tongue. How had a straightforward war spiraled into this chaos? The Silvers had planned to crush the Darkan with minimal losses, but now they faced a nightmare of fire and scales.

...

While the aerial battle raged, the ground war erupted with equal ferocity.

Not all Darkans were blood members of the Red Dragon Clan, just as not all Silvers bore the signature silver hair of their lineage.

Baines, as the last Darkan commander still on the ground, took charge. His dark eyes scanned the battlefield, a scarred landscape of churned earth and smoking craters. "You know what to do!" he barked, his voice cutting through the din. "Shadow units, vanish! Shield unit, cover! Attack unit, charge!" The Darkan army responded with a guttural battle cry, surging forward like a tide of steel and fury.

The Silver ground forces, momentarily stunned, snapped to attention as their three 6th Star Commanders rallied them. "We have to believe in our god!" one shouted, raising his blade. "May wind wipe out our enemies! CHARGE!" Explosions rocked the earth, the clink and clang of weapons clashing in a chaotic symphony as the two armies collided.

Baines led the charge, his black cloak billowing behind him, his nameless blade gleaming in his hand. The armies parted, creating a clearing for him to face the three Silver commanders.

"Only one?" the youngest of them, a wiry man with sharp features, exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief. After the Darkan’s display of power, a single 6th Star commander seemed insultingly inadequate.

"Don’t falter," the peak 6th Star, a grizzled veteran with a scar across his cheek, warned. "They might have more tricks." The trio formed a tight triangle, blades drawn, their movements synchronized.

"Whirl-blade," they muttered in unison. A whipping breeze surged around their swords, the air growing still and heavy as compressed wind gathered, ready to unleash chaos.

’That’s unexpected,’ Baines thought as he steadied himself and gripped his blade.

The difference between 5th and 6th Star techniques lies in the use of will— a focused intent that amplified power. By Baines’s rankings, this "Whirl-blade" was a 6th Star technique.

"Reverse sequence," Baines whispered, his stance shifting.

The three commanders were upon him, their blades piercing the air with furious precision. He dodged by a hair’s breadth, the wind from their attacks howling like miniature tornadoes. One strike grazed his shoulder, tearing his cloak, as he swung diagonally from right to left. The middle commander then dodged left, however, it was a fatal mistake.

Slash!

Baines’s blade cleaved through the man’s left arm, severing it cleanly.

"Argh!" the commander screamed, aura flaring as he channeled energy to close the wound, a faint green glow stitching the wound. His comrades moved swiftly, covering his retreat, their swords stabbing relentlessly. Baines’s 6th sense kicked in, his body dodging instinctively as his mind calculated their next moves. Maybe that was the best thing about his sixth sense, his body just moved on its own.

The two became conscious after the first time.

When Baines swung again, instead of protecting their opposite sides, they came together with their backs together, blocking both sides. He didn’t stop there, as he defended, to counterattack, the swords came from another direction.

They engaged in a dangerous close-quarters swordplay as the two found themselves unable to push Baines any further. His swordsmanship was better than theirs; he was able to skillfully weave through their swords that damaged the surroundings, and to the peak 6th star commander’s shock, Baines had more accumulated energy than him.

Clang...

Baines was pushed two steps and dodged again, his movements fluid.

This time it didn’t come from the back. The injured commander returned, his hair disheveled, a crude lump where his arm was, his eyes blazing with fury. "I will kill him," the man’s gaze promised.

Baines’s sword trembled as he switched techniques.

WIIIII

His sword aura spun wildly, a vortex of energy growing atop the blade until it coalesced into a pulsating ball. Without hesitation, he slammed it into the ground. The earth caved in with a deafening explosion, fragments of rock and soil flying like shrapnel. Like a mace, he raised the glowing orb and swung again. The three retreated, but Baines pursued the injured one, his focus unrelenting.

"FUCK YOU! YOU THINK I’M EASY?" the armless commander roared, his voice raw with rage as Baines closed the distance. "WIND TORRENT!" Wind whipped around him, a violent storm pushing everything away. Baines was blasted skyward, the two other commanders seizing the chance, their swords aimed to pierce his airborne form.

But Baines gathered aura to his feet.

BOOM!

He shot upward, evading their strikes, and with a click, he sheathed his sword, his mind racing. ’Compress aura, spinning in a ball,’ he thought, unsheathing his blade. "Torrential bomb!"

BOOOOOM!

A massive aura ball erupted from the blade, crashing into the ground and carving a deep crater.

Baines was momentarily stunned, ’What if I add decay?’ His eyes flashed dangerously as a dark, corrosive energy surged from his core. He landed, his body tearing through space to reach the injured commander with a fiendish gaze.

Clink.

The man’s face twisted in horror, realization dawning as he witnessed Baines’s demonic face.

"Torrential bomb!"

BOOOOM!

The blast consumed the area, the decay-laced aura disintegrating everything in its path.

’One down,’ His gaze followed the last two.

...

Grey Silver’s face was a mask of fury, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. "W-What did you just say?" he demanded, glaring at the trembling messenger before him.

"R-Reinforcements can’t come," the messenger stammered. "The enemy is attacking them."

"How?" Grey snapped, his voice a low growl.

"Reports say they came through the Forest of Beasts."

"There?" Grey’s mind reeled, shock replacing anger. The Forest of Beasts was a death trap, teeming with monstrous creatures. "How did they manage that?" He couldn’t fathom it.

He sighed, his gaze lifting to the sky, where dragons still clashed with wyverns in a storm of fire and wind. The war had dragged on too long, spiraling beyond control.

"Get ready," he ordered, his voice resolute. "We’re attacking now. It’s time to end this."

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