Magma Dragon's Heir Chapter 165 - Consequences

37th of Season of Earth, 58th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt fought with a dead man’s spear. At so point, soone had ordered the students below the third realm to retreat. Their efforts and sacrifices served nothing save to empower their enemies with their blood.

The battlefield grew less cluttered, but the damage was already done. The madn moved in whirlwinds of blood, striking down even the majority of third-realrs with their demonic power. Pockets of resistance remained. Elites in groups of three to five annihilated whatever ca at them, grinding the enemy to dust, but they were forced to defend, with the Blood Cult outnumbering them ten to one.

“Found him!” A cultist roared, pointing his blazing scarlet saber in Newt’s general direction. “He’s here!”

The battlefield quivered as the information spread. Newt fought together with Eraldstreak and Blaze, forming a triangle, slaughtering their attackers as they ca. Two fourth realm combatants and a peak third realm one endured when pitted against the waves of empowered third-realrs, equivalent to early fourth-realrs. But as the tide turned, the enemies changed.

The ones surging towards Newt were at the fourth realm. Newt’s breath caught. Where did they co from? Were they hiding behind their allies, draining the blood of the dead and the dying to empower themselves to decide the battle in one catastrophic attack?

“It’s him!” a fourth-realr shouted. “His head is mine!”

“It’s mine!”

“Mine!”

A frenzy of demons surged towards Newt’s trio. A red haze surrounded the first one to reach him. The man swept his disgusting saber, which throbbed with blood and power, and Newt knew he couldn’t block. The weapon would shatter his spear like a twig.

A blast of fire exploded in the sky blinding Newt and his enemy. The man faltered, but relying on his mindcore, Newt saw him, despite the montary damage to his eyes. His spear bit into the demon’s neck, and a surge of fla ended his life.

Newt used the blindness spell to annihilate three more fourth-realrs and retreated into the formation as his eyesight recovered into a blurry image. Others also took the chance. So demons continued their slaughter, finding their enemies without error, while Explorer’s Gate disciples struck with clever tricks of their own.

“Take his head or the cult leader will have our blood!” soone shouted, leading a fresh charge towards Newt’s trio.

Fellow elites noticed them and made their way towards Newt’s position, cutting their way through the enemies, but there was no stopping the tide. With no opportunity to stop them, each death, each drop of blood shed fed the demons’ champions.

Newt batted away an enemy’s attack, but the saber cleaved through his borrowed spear. The effort bought him a split second, and a spike of earth ford, piercing the cultist’s leg. The man stumbled, and a sharp, burning stick found his eye. To Newt’s left, Blaze groaned and fell, Erald moving, shifting her back against Newt’s.

Newt frantically scanned the ground for a weapon. Save for demonic blades, he found none. A fourth-realr cultist raced towards him, swinging his saber when a burning chain whipped itself around his neck. Twochains pulled, but a realm weaker than the opponent, his effort amounted to a re distraction.

Distraction was all Newt needed. As the demon glanced to the side, Newt pounced into his reach. He immolated himself, and the cultist’s blood armor hissed and sizzled. Newt’s back ached with sudden phantom pain. He rolled over, and a serrated, hooked saber sank into the cultist’s chest.

Newt grasped the upper portion of his sundered spear and stabbed it into the surprised woman’s neck. Another lifted their demonic weapon at him, but Eraldstreak smashed her fist into her head. The demon stumbled, and Newt finished her off with his improvised weapon.

Suddenly, soone grabbed Newt’s shoulder. He spun and almost stabbed a woman wearing their order’s colors. It was the airship captain; her burned face impossible to forget.

“Retreat to the airships,” the fourth realm overseer said, rushing the incoming demon with a rapier and a short-sword.

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Newt looked around and saw overseers surging to join the battle, forcing the surviving disciples back. He saw his instructor, Twinflower, whose spear weaved and danced, bringing death to the demons.

An overseer, whose na Newt did not know, died to the left of the spearmaster. Twinflower turned, parrying the followup attack from the left, keeping his other enemy at bay with the butt end of his spear.

“Watch out!” Newt scread, but the screams and sounds of battle drowned his shout.

A saber struck his instructor’s back. The old man shifted, reducing the damage, but another saber landed on him, and three madn hacked at him.

“Run!” the captain scread, and Eraldstreak dragged him away.

He turned around to call her, but a wicked saber struck her chest just as her rapier found the cultist’s throat. They fell, killing each other, and Newt ran, holding Eraldstreak’s hand.

The cultists hollered and raced after them, with overseers forming a living wall to stop the wave and save their students. Newt looked back once more, watching familiar faces fall, their blood trailing through the air to feed demons and their weapons.

A score of elites ran after Newt.

“The disciplinary chaplain,” Sharprock muttered, running beside Greenbow. “That was the giant explosion of fire.”

Newt’s vision swam. He could see the ancient granny’s tired face and droopy eyes.

He’s wrong. His heart skipped a beat; his throat clenched. She was a monster. There’s no way they got her.

Newt glanced back again and saw the cultists break through. Fifty demonic awakened abandoned the battle and pursued. The airship was docked close to the champions’ residential district. Newt looked up and saw a massive trihorn charge through the air, a familiar figure riding atop it.

The group passed the inner students’ dormitory, and Newt thought to run to his ho to arm himself, but the demons were gaining on them. There was no ti.

Could they even make it to the airship?

Newt glanced back, a hundred yards’ advantage and shrinking. If he stopped, all fifty of them would be upon him in a second. Most of his fellow students were just as unard as he was, while others wielded inferior weapons.

They were equipped well enough to deal with the third realm cultists, but not with the madn chasing them. Worse, five of the twenty were bodily carrying third realm elites too slow to make it.

Twelve against fifty, and they were unard. But they would have to stop once they reached the ship.

Even if I had my glaive, I could stop two or three at most. Wait!

Newt slowed a fraction, falling behind his brothers in arms in three strides. Eraldstreak looked back to check on him, and Newt muttered a silent curse, sending a surge of mana into his palm.

An explosion of sound and light blinded and deafened the cultists. They tripped and fell, only five of them continuing their run, following so unnatural sense to keep their balance, but even their speed had dropped significantly.

Eraldstreak also fell, but Newt ran for her and scooped her off the ground before continuing his run.

“I bought us about five seconds,” he shouted, but nobody acknowledged him.

The group dashed through the jungle and turned, following a path towards the airship dock. Explorer’s Gate had four airships.

Will we split or stay together? Newt had no idea what they should do. Run together or split in four directions, ensuring that at least so of them would survive and spread the news of what had happened. The Blood Cult attacked in broad daylight, an unprecedented event as far as Newt was aware.

They reached the adow with only three airships docked. One was missing.

Maybe soone already got away?

The doors to the airships were open, magical seals keeping the insects and elents out.

“First eight left, second seven right, the slowest ones take the central airship,” Rexheart, the number one elite student ordered, leading his group left.

Newt ran into the central one, still carrying Eraldstreak like a princess. He knew nothing about airships, but there should be so spare weapons aboard. Even if they failed to fly away, they could at least arm themselves with decent weapons.

His worry was unfounded, Sharprock rushed towards the commands and slamd the largest rune with a wide-open palm. The ship shuddered and stord straight ahead without rising into the air. It smashed into the jungle, sending the students tumbling. Sharprock hung to the captain’s chair, muttering curses and looking at the complex network of runic patterns.

Newt rose to his feet and rushed to help his senior brother. The sudden jolt threw them off balance, but everyone present had reached at least the third realm, bumps and bruising from furniture were the least of their problems.

Newt reached the command tablet and examined it. Dozens of glowing golden runes, all of which were familiar, were inscribed onto the black rock. Up, down, left, right, forward, backward, sun, rain, shield…

Newt first hit the shield rune to turn on the shield, but the ship shuddered more violently, and Newt pressed the rune again. The shields were already on.

Why doesn’t it say that anywhere?

Newt pressed the ‘up’ rune, and the airship rose, escaping the jungle.