The Astroire Army separated into over fifty groups in the Bagua formation and they cut into the flank of the Frosthral army like poisoned knives.

Each team was made up of sixty-four members and operating their Ki Barrier to the maximum, they cut where their enemies were the densest.

They trudged forward as far as they could, and when it is no longer safe to carry on, their formation changed into the Starfire Array and they activated it.

What happened next was both terrible and magnificent.

Desperation tends to limit the field of view. The barbarians were so focused on the Saint Empire army in their struggle to retaliate, they did not notice the bright spheres of Fire Ki that are sweeping over.

Those brushed with this deadly runic energy felt it invade their Meridian Systems. Unless they overpower the foreign power with their own Ki, it will spread like actual fire and kill them. Unlike actual flames, it’s fuelled by one’s energy.

Inner Energy, Ki, the very thing that can stop the Starfire Array is also what feeds it.

Once again, terrible screams envelop the battlefield as soldiers were cooked in their own skin. Nothing to cover up this noise, even the ruckus from the clash of weapons could not dull how frightening it sounded. It was the stuff of nightmares.

The full power of the Starfire Array had never been tested until now and it left everyone’s throat dry and parched with horror.

To keep it a secret, the Saint Empire troops had been trained in this array but they were never allowed to use it against other soldiers. Their only data were derived from small hunting parties against beasts and when the Snowdrifts used it against the Orcs.

They know that a half-powered Starfire Array will slowly burn the enemy while the effects from a complete version is instant, however, they did not know the extent of its power.

Fifty arrays formed by three thousand three hundred people had wiped out over ten times the amount, three hundred fifty thousand dead in one go.

For those that survived, the turbulence their hearts experienced was enough to shake them to their core and the fighting stopped.

Their last stand crumbled when they saw that death might be preferable.

“Surrender!” declared a booming voice that no less valiant than their Warlord Daichin but without the vicious cold-heartedness over lives.

“Surrender. I’ll give you one chance. Follow after me, and I will guarantee your lives,” the voice spoke again.

A reply came instantly, “Haha, and let us live as slaves? I’d rather die!”

Although the barbarians’ fighting spirits were crushed, they still held pride in their hearts.

There were murmurs of concurrence and the remaining Frosthral soldiers reformed their ranks once again.

A figure robed and hooded stood on air with invisible winds wrapping around his shoes.

He descended above the remaining Frosthral army and said, “Will you follow me if I invoke the promotion trial and succeed?”

“Saint Empire cur! Go back to your fancy doghouse instead of barking here will you?”

“Our tradition is not for the likes of you! You mangy mongrels!”

“We’d rather die with our heads held high than serve one of you!”

“Come my brothers, today we shall wade in their blood.”

“Kill one and we’ve done our duty, kill a pair and it’s a bonus.”

“Fight to the death!”

“Fight to the death!”

“Fight to the death!”

A few of them shot arrows at the one who called for them to surrender. The arrows tore through the air with frightening speed. As external practitioners, they lack Ki projection techniques, but it made the traditional archery skills powerfully potent.

However, as the projectiles struck the mysterious figure, they bounced off like they had struck a boulder.

The strangeness in this was that even actual rocks would be pulverised, yet the person continued hovering without a care.

They could tell that this Saint Empire cultivator is not yet at Triple S rank seeing that he had to be aided with a Ki Technique, but he would at least be at S rank to be able to maintain his altitude.

The attacks grew in number, not fearing their own arrows will land on themselves with every shot that missed flying far away from view.

A S ranker’s Ki Barrier cannot last long.

Seemingly unimpressed, the person in mid-air pulled down his hood and spoke, “I am Tommy Styrkur, descendent of Shakyamuni. I invoke the promotion trial and challenge all who dare step forward. I’ll say again, If I win, surrender and follow after me and as tradition of the Superior Pact, I will guarantee your lives!”

“Shakyamuni? The Shakya tribe?! Why is someone of the Shakya living in Saint Empire?”

“Traitor!”

“We do not speak to betrayers!”

“Go back to where you came from, you cur!”

The arrows continued to pummel into him but Tommy laughed, “I was born in a place called Avalon.”

“Then shut the hell up and go back there! No one cares for where you were born in, you runt!”

“Don’t talk that much! Kill him!”

*Shuuuuu shuuuu shuuuuuu*

Arrows pointlessly break against Tommy’s chest. His resistance had long since risen to a level where most physical attacks are rendered ineffectual.

It carried on for a few breaths until a new issue brought up started gaining attention.

“Did he say Avalon?”

“Wait, hold on, I’ve heard about Avalon before.”

“It’s that place…?”

The attacks trickled down until the crowd was seized by discussion.

“The valley of kings?”

“I’m told it’s ‘The Otherworld’.”

“I’ve heard. It’s the land of demigods, aye?”

“You guys remember news about a boy went missing from Avalon some years back?”

“About ten years ago?”

“Yeah, I remember. His family was pursued by a demon god of sorts, aye?”

If what was said was true, then Tommy is indeed a member of the five tribes and could invoke their promotion trial. Moreover, judging from the barbarians’ reaction, Avalon appears to be a special place to them.

The valley of kings, the land of demigods, the otherworld. Avalon is a place steeped with myths and legends.

It is said that the royal blood from each of five tribes resides in that place, along with their guards.

To the northerners, Tommy Styrkur would either be a general’s son, or a prince.

“Can anyone verify that Styrkur is the family name of the lost child?”

They quickly verified the authenticity amongst themselves. With the battle already lost, they are in no hurry and the Saint Empire soldiers took the chance to rest, glad that they don’t have to deal with fanatics for a while.

Tommy waited for them a while, then added, “I am sixteen this year.”

The announcement roused a new wave of consonance in the crowd.

“It adds up!”

“Now, if you lot can agree, let’s get on to my promotion trial,” Tommy sighed.

“Hah, boy. Even if you came from Avalon, you think you could take all of us at once?”

“Yes.”

“Damnit, this boy is ambitious.”

“I’ll say again, follow after me and I guarantee your lives.”

The barbarians discussed among themselves seriously for the first time.

It was a little while later that a person came forward to talk to Tommy about their decision.

“We need prove you can hold your word, and we want to know what will happen if you lost.”

The promotion trial is how one becomes a Chief or a higher rank. If Tommy succeeds, they will form what is called the Superior Pact and he had to follow a set of rules that accompanies his new title. One of the ironclad rule is the responsibilities of their lives and that’s why they only asked what will be the result if Tommy failed.

“My sworn brothers are my proof that what I said would be done. And, if I lost, you do not need to follow after me, but letting you live will be impossible. You gentleman may continue your last stand afterwards.”

There wasn’t much resistance to Tommy’s suggestion, after all this is a war.

“Your sworn brothers? Who are they?”

…..

In the middle of the Astroire Army, the Snowdrifts stood in their full number, hearing every part of the conversation between one of theirs and the remnants of the Frosthral frontline forces.

“Come to think of it,” Edward said, “Are we ‘sworn brothers’? I don’t recall us ever officiating it.”

When he spoke, those around him felt a cool morning breeze suffuse their bodies, permeating their armour. It wasn’t just his wind affinity that had improved, Edward’s eyes faintly reflect the image of a dragon.

As master of the Royal Wind Wyvern, the archer had taken on some of the beast’s traits after years of bonding. It is a part of the Soul Contract that the personalities and powers between tamers and their creatures will affect each other.

Coming near Edward is like approaching a dragon.

There is the natural oppressiveness presence of being next to an apex predator and at the same time an urge to bow down before one’s king. The dragon race that is famously known as the ruler of beasts isn’t a mere rumour. His manner appears more aloof than in the past but instead of lax, he is like a well-honed edge. It is how dragons are. When they are still, they are calm and quiet. When they move, the entire world seems to move with them.

His appearance had also changed. His blonde hair dyed by the wind element had turned silverish. It wasn’t a greying that comes from age, but with a remarkable gleam like sunlight reflected from a keen blade.

His figure is sleek and slender, but filled with raw animalistic strength.

His long eyelashes, sharp features, soft jaw-line, makes girls swoon when he looks at them. But the most attractive thing about Edward is his clean and radiant look. It makes other men think twice about messing with him, and treat him with respect even as strangers.

“I think it sorta just happened?” Jim agreed.

“Come to think of it,” Alan laughed.

“Oh, we haven’t? Let’s do that afterwards,” Kairos said.