Descending Into A Novel-Chapter 83:Rayleigh Von Mez (13)

It had taken him longer then usual to get ready that morning.

He wasn’t really a morning person, but he had been unable to sleep at all that night. His eyes glued to the roof of his tent, watching as the darkness of the night slowly shifted into the morning lights.

...Rayleigh wasn’t prepared at all.

He wished he was stronger right now. Then he would be the one in charge, calling all the shots.

His father was at the fifteenth tempering. Whereas he was only at his fourteenth circle. It was a difference of only one level, yet it might as well have been day and night.

Unlike his father however, Rayleigh could still grow stronger with the help of his own talent and the system. His father had already exhausted his potential, despite undergoing his fifteenth tempering three and a half centuries ago. He showed no signs of attempting to undergo his next one.

If he did successfully reach that level, then he would be nearing the theoretical limit of Erde. The same limit which caused individuals to stagnate at the thirteenth level.

But talent or potential didn’t matter right now. So what if he could defeat his father after another two centuries or so? Everything would be over by then. His father would have accomplished his goals.

That two centuries was only a rough estimate anyways, the actual time could be way off.

He doubted he could even form his next circle within a century anyways, not unless he was granted some sort of amazing elixir or whatnot. Ever since he had become a Magic Marshal, he had stalled in his magic research due to a lack of time. Causing his level to stagnate even further.

In other words. There was nothing he could do right now.

Rayleigh held his head in his hands, he could already hear the excited shouts. The stomping of armoured boots on the ground. The clang of metal on metal as soldiers got ready.

He hated it all. Why were they so excited to go to war? So excited to kill so many?

Didnt they have families at home waiting for them? Didnt they ever stop to think whether their enemies had the same?

He felt a burning pain in his head, a disgusting taste lingering in his mouth.

His brain spun, thousands and thousands of thoughts in his brain racing. He felt sick right now. Head spinning and a feeling as if he wanted to vomit.

Standing up shakily, he donned his cloak. Holding his wand in his hand, gripping it so tightly his palms turned white.

Exiting his tent, he saw troop after troop of men and women donning their armour and weapons. Mounts being fed their meals, logistics bustling back and forth as the war machine which was the Virex Empire got ready.

His father, simply stood facing the battlefield. His cape billowing behind him, crown glimmering in the dawn light.

Rayleigh could see the elven army up and ready as well. Magical shields flaring up, countless bows being drawn. Row after row facing each other.

There wasn’t even any point in Rayleigh taking part in this battle. With his father here, he had essentially taken over the position of high level power.

He stood at a distance away from his father, similarly waiting for the army to get ready.

It didn’t take that long. Maybe they were prepared faster then he realized, or maybe time just seemed to move faster in such a situation.

As the army organized itself into neat formations. His father mounted his warhorse. Unsheathing his longsword, wielding a spear in his other hand.

Without any hesitation, with both weapons raised. Several flashes of light shot out from his weapons as he swung them. Triangular blades cutting through the battlefield, reaching the elven army in an instant.

Rayleigh could see several magical barriers activate, before immediately being destroyed by his father’s casual attack. Blood, flesh and bone flying in the air. Mixing with the dirt that was kicked up.

Covenant of Blade and Lance Style.

The weapon style created by his father. If Rayleigh continued on the path of a warrior, he would have learnt this style after fully mastering the Von Mez Sword Style and the Von Mez Spear Style.

But now, he had forsaken the chance to learn it. Forever burning that bridge.

A large green dome enveloped the parts of the elven army struck by his father. Enhancing his eyesight, he recognized Sophia’s magic as it worked to restore any injuries.

The Elven Queen refused to appear here, leaving Sophia and a few others as the only high level power.

Raising his weapons in the air, his father bashed them against each other. A loud ringing sound travelling throughout the battlefield. The signal to begin marching.

All at once, hundreds and thousands of armoured men and women began their march. Cavalry, archers, squires and knights on mounts. The combined stomping sounding more like thunder then human.

Thousands of arrows were loosed at the army, only for his father to block it all with a single slash. Spells, ballista, nothing worked as his father reduced each attempt to nothing.

Within an hour, the two lines had already met. Neither side willing to back down as they fought the war that shouldn’t have occurred ever.

He turned his gaze away, looking up at the still morning sky. The sun had barely started rising, the skies still grey.

Looking back, he could see that despite the clearly superior elven army. They were still being pushed back. The mere presence of the Emperor was enough to motivate their soldiers and demoralize their enemies.

He casted a spell to let himself fly, floating above the bloody battle as his eyes flicked back and forth. Looking for one person only.

It wasn’t hard to find her, her magic was reappsible for single-handedly killing thousands of soldiers and blocking the advance of thousands more.

But when it was so easy to spot her, that only meant it was easy for his father to spot her too.

He felt powerless, but Sophia had already told him not to do anything. Lest he himself get killed. She herself had already accepted her fate, she wouldn’t want it for Rayleigh to follow her so soon.

He clawed at his own skin, his restraint barely holding himself back. Holding him back from just running up to her. Holding him back from teleporting her away from this battlefield against her will.

He was trapped between a rock and a hard place now. Save her against her will or do nothing and watch as she died. Both leading to an outcome he would despise for the rest of his life. One where she died, the other where he died with her loathing him.

In the end, he left the battlefield. He might get punished for not participating but he couldn’t handle it anymore. He didn’t want to witness the bloodshed.

Rayleigh didn’t even know where he himself was going. He had cast his teleport spell without any specific coordinate in mind.

Looking around, he found himself in a thick forest. To the point he could barely even see more then a few metres in front with his dulled senses.

Flying upwards, he spotted a familiar sight. A sight that made him laugh despairingly to himself.

His magic tower, not the one he lived in now as a Magic Marshal but the one he discovered and spent most of his life in with Anna.

It seemed he had instinctively returned here.

Entering his room, he found everything to be exactly as he remembered. Minus the layer of dust on everything.

His bed still creaked slightly as he sat on it, his table still cluttered with his notes, the view from his window still the same.

He quietly entered Anna’s room next. It was slightly smaller then his. But he had tried his best to make it as nice as possible for her.

She hadn’t lived in it for quite a while now. Officially, she was being held under house arrest along with several other beastkins. Staying in their hidden settlement he helped to build.

It was dusty here as well, her bed which had cost him nearly his entire savings at the time still stood. The table where he would teach her magic and the chair he used to recite bed time stories for her.

Her wardrobe contained countless clothes, ranging from when they first met until the day she left. All arranged nearly, something she would constantly nag at him about.

Sitting down into the chair he used to recite bedtime stories. He stared into the floor for a few moments. He felt numb, without realizing it. Tears once again streamed down his face. Landing onto the cold wooden floor.

"Mom..."

For the first time in a long time, Rayleigh called out for his mother again. He longed for her touch. To hug him, Pat him with her soft hands as she calmly told him everything would be alright again.

He quietly muttered to himself.

"What...am I supposed to do now?"