‘The Church of Cymorth, and the Pontiff, would like to make a donation for the efforts of the Intelligence Service in dealing with the treasonous heretic, the late Horyd Coeden. We understand that the majority of the case was compiled by you, Gywth Thien, and that it was by your efforts alone that the intelligence agency was able to capture him during the Saint Hans Cathedral massacre.’

‘For your effort, the Church is willing to extend a payment of three hundred Cymorthian pounds, and fifty shillings. This is to be received by you alone. A separate, proper, donation will be sent to Lucien Blodyn at a later date to show our gratitude of the Service. We hope this finds you well.’ - Excerpt from a letter received by Gwyth Thien, the Chief of Staff of the Intelligence Service, January 1263.

———

Rupert watched in horror as the monastery collapsed in on itself. A landslide of carved stone blocks tumbled down from above. A blast of earthy dust was catapulted into the air from the force of its destruction, obscuring his view of the ruins.

He stumbled backwards, outside of the monastery, eventually balancing himself. He realised how fortunate he was that he had managed to escape in time to avoid the Berserker’s spells. The damage solidified his estimations of the force they were up against. It was a brigade of Berserker’s, and their power was already devastating, wiping out a monastery.

Rupert crouched, attempting to conceal his figure within the distraction of the monastery’s destruction. He crawled into the dust cloud, groping wildly in front of him until he felt stone. He navigated his way around by feeling for its protrusions, finally hiding behind the shattered column that covered him.

He needed to take precautions now or else he could lose his life. He was unarmed and unable to use Malevolency to protect himself, though the Berserker’s could. To secure his survival, he needed to scavenge a Channeler’s weapon from a Berserker, else it was likely that he would die.

Rupert took a glance behind him; an expression of worry clouded his face.

‘I can’t think about them now, its unlikely many survived. That old crow lives, though. That’s for sure.’ Rupert worried.

He knew it would be optimistic to think that more than Cythraul and the girl had survived, but he couldn’t help but hope. The deaths of the worshipers weighed heavily on him. However, that was the nature of war on Orbis. Civilian deaths were all too common when Malevolency was involved. There were scant ways to save someone if they couldn’t protect themselves.

The dust cloud settled down and the fallen ruins were on full display to the attackers. Just as the Berserker’s could see in, Rupert could see out. Swarthy men and women dressed in lamellar armour rode on horseback.

It wasn’t evident, but Rupert knew wounds covered their bodies. He could watch the wisps of Malevolent energy travel to them. They disappeared through the surface of their armour, which covered the cuts.

The Praeteritum brigade covered all sides of the monastery, and totalled in number around forty.

‘This is just great,’ Rupert lampooned. ‘Well, at least it is a standard issue brigade they sent out. Could be worse.’

He started crawling once more, trying to position himself for a better opportunity to strike. Hopefully he could find a lone or separated Berserker. That would make things easier. He noticed part way between cover that there was a blurred figure headed towards the monastery ruins.

With a war hammer strapped to his back, a giant of a man charged forth. He rallied the horse faster with a battle cry, towards the once entrance of the monastery. Only he, the lone barbarian rode out, the rest of the Berserkers stayed still in their strategic formation.

The beating hooves reverberated throughout the grasslands, it sounded as if a whole army had joined them. The horse upon which he rode was a behemoth of a beast, towering above any other horse in stature, but also muscle mass.

The Berserker unsheathed his hammer, preparing to cast a spell. He would only channel once he reached inside the monastery, however. He finally passed Rupert’s sight, disappearing into the depths of the ruined building to begin his assault.

‘I’ll let Cythraul deal with this one, I’ll find someone easier.’ Rupert thought. He finally navigated his way around the ruins into a better vantage point. He slowly raised his head above a fallen arc way and watched the brigade.

Each Berserker was stationed proportionally from one another, forming a wide web that ensnared the monastery. As time passed, their symmetry broke. A man on horseback pulled his reins and trotted over to the woman on his left, and they entered conversation. Their muffled voices reached Rupert’s ears, though they spoke an alien tongue.

‘Not too long now, someone else will break free.’ Rupert thought to himself. He shifted his weight from foot to foot in anticipation, eventually settling down to an equilibrium.

The encirclement broke, as predicted. Some Berserkers followed suit and formed groups, while others started to ride alone for the monastery. They were unable to contain their bloodlust and wanted part of the action, now that the colossal barbarian wasn’t there to instil discipline into them.

A coalition of three Berserkers were one such group that charged towards Rupert’s direction. It was made up of a man and two women, and they rode gigantic horses dressed in horse armour. Flickers of flames licked out of the horses’ noses. They were beasts of war.

Rupert slipped behind a different wall, this one largely undamaged. The group of three rode into the ruins, searching behind the debris and rubble for any survivors. Their gazes passed over Rupert’s cover, but they soon moved off into another direction. They left their backs turned away from him.

Rupert released a slow, cool breath, and whispered out a chant. “Enhance”. He was a like hunter stalking his prey, preparing his weapon to kill. Malevolent energy rippled through his body, though its effects were dramatically weaker than if he were to use a weapon. He inwardly cursed at wasting energy with such little effects, but he knew it to be necessary.

The group continued their search, and one called out to another in a foreign language. They all nodded in response. One after another the lifted their leg, preparing to descend from horseback.

‘Now!’ Rupert thought. Agile as a cat, he sprinted towards the Berserkers, muffling his feet to the best of his ability. His eyes were locked onto a curved sabre that hung on the waist of a female Berserker. She was still stuck in motion, while the others had nearly descended. It would be difficult for her to defend herself, or any of the others to stop him.

He drew near, deftly weaving between lumps of rock and debris that interfered with his path. At the end, he leaped off a fallen pillar, reaching out for the sabre with his upward momentum. He needed the boost to scale the behemoth of a horse and to reach its rider.

The woman on horseback sensed a force moving towards her, and she turned her head around in time to see a man grab her sabre. Surprise flickered across her face, and she opened her mouth wanting to cry out in shock, but also to alert her companions.

“Ack! Foe!” As she shouted out in Tereum, she felt a force pull her forwards, leading her by the waist. She was dragged off her horse by Rupert. The curved sabre was still sheaved to her waist, and it proved difficult for him to remove while moving from behind.

They hit the ground heavily. The woman reacted fast, trying to push Rupert away. She felt an enforced punch hit her in the face, her head rocketing back and hitting the ground once more. It stunned her, and she felt a buckle relieve itself from her waist.

Rupert took the sword and ran. He wanted to create distance between the group of barbarians and himself before they could fully react to what had happened. He turned to face them, rotating his body around. An axe passed over his left shoulder, cutting his cheek, though he luckily dodged the attack.

He stumbled backwards, ripping the sabre free from its scabbard. He reacted fast and parried the next blow, which severed diagonally from left to right. His sabre was knocked away by the weapon’s brute force, but he recovered with great footwork.

“Enhance.” He slid backwards once more, and channelled Malevolency through the curved sabre, re-enhancing his body with a spell powered by a Channeler’s weapon.

“Reinforce.” The energy movement felt rugged, not as smooth as his own longsword, but it was enough. His body surged with power, enough to deal with those in front of him.

He pounced forwards, sabre cutting straight out from right to left at the neck of the barbarian in front of him. The man deflected it in time, sparks flashing from the scraping metal. Rupert mistimed the attack giving his opponent the opportunity to defend.

A spear appeared above his opponent’s right shoulder, thrusting at Rupert’s head. Rupert slid his feet diagonally towards the left, letting it pass by, using the barbarian’s ally as a blockade for a follow up attack.

Rupert quickly punched the ribs of the man acting as his meat shield, attempting to weaken him. As the man recoiled, Rupert snaked his arm around his foe’s. He used the Berserker’s armour against him to lock the joint in an uncomfortable position. It would be impossible to free it again unless he killed Rupert with the axe in his free arm.

He applied force to his sword arm, fighting with the axeman’s weapon, before knocking it aside with a small circular movement. They too close for the axe to be useful now.

It gave him enough space to slash upwards without any resistance, cleanly severing the Berserker’s head off. It dropped to the floor with a thud. Blood gushed out of the open neck wound, splattering Rupert’s face red. He pushed off the corpse, jumping backwards as the spear returned once more.

It passed over the empty space where the head should be, grazing Rupert’s neck, and a cadmium wisp was involuntarily drawn from his neck. It didn’t cut deep due to the protection of the reinforcement spell Rupert had applied. But it was still more damage than he should have taken. His movements felt slightly sluggish compared to his usual fighting condition, and it was shown.

Following the spear’s arc were fireballs that blazed a path, trailed by embers, towards Rupert. Rupert slid his feet once more to the left, circling the corpse, to avoid the fiery devastation.

“That’s not how you use fire Malevolency, this is!” Rupert guffawed at his opponent. He mocked them in jest.

“Blaze.” He channelled Malevolent energy through the curved sabre once more, this time burning through part of his Wick quickly. A wheel of fire appeared in the air; its target was the female Berserker. It spun wild revolutions, surging towards her at an inescapable speed.

The wheel branded itself on her chest. At first, her skin bubbled up, turning into a molten liquid. Her blood soon turned to vapour. It continued through, cooking her flesh and vital organs, before burning into charcoal that crumbled away. It seared straight through her chest, exiting her back and burning the floor, before extinguishing.

It was a swift death, almost instantaneous. However, her face was morphed into a brutal agony from the pain she experienced before death. Her body crumpled to the ground, black ash scattering on the grass from where her chest used to be.

Not witnessing the brutality that Rupert inflicted onto her partner, the spear wielder twirled her weapon, before cleaving it upwards at him. Though she missed, she continued with a combination of cuts and thrusts that weaved through the air at all angles.

It was a beautiful display of spear work, her movements almost like tidal waves. But, Rupert was the greater sorcerer. “Fire.” Rupert channelled his final spell, coating the blade with a layer of formless fire.

Controlling his body to the pinnacle of the enhancement spell, Rupert stepped past the spear tip, letting it sail over his left shoulder. He cut down on the shaft of the spear, severing it in half, before turning his wrist upwards to pierce the Berserker’s neck.

An awful sound emanated from the searing of flesh, and a malodorous steam mist poured out of the wound. Rupert pulled the sabre free from the neck wound, blood oozing out. The woman spluttered once, then collapsed on the floor. Her consciousness was scattered to the wind.

Rupert put his hand above the Berserker, trying to recover as much Malevolent energy as he could within the short time he had available. Ripples of cadmium energy formed on the surface of the Berserker’s body and flowed towards Rupert.

It took a while to drain the woman, but it wasn’t enough to restore Rupert’s reserves. His Wick was still diminished by ‘Blaze’, it had drained quite a bit of energy. He ran over to the man’s body next, repeating the same action, but still it wasn’t enough.

In the distance, a shout rung out in surprise. Rupert looked up to see the shadowy figures of a secondary horde of Berserker’s coalescing, looking and pointing in his direction. Soon he heard the drumming of horseshoes against the earth as the horsemen charged in his direction, weapons waving fiercely.

Rupert looked around quickly, scouting for a better position for the group battle ahead. The ruins were weak in his current position. There weren’t enough debris scattered around to disrupt movement if a battle were to take place here.

As he thought that, a colossal explosion ripped through monastery once more. Cracks that had appeared on the building’s structure from the previous attack grew, snaking up its walls. The explosion’s aftermath shook the earth. Heavy reverberations quaked the building.

It shattered. Again. Refined stone blocks fell from above. Chunks of arc ways and columns that held it together pummelled the earth, shooting dust clouds into the air. Rupert dodged the debris agilely, mapping out the structure of his next battlefield in the cover of the dust.