605 Purpose of War
On the elental’s planet the roar of cheering was deafening.
Millions of elentals looked at their defeated foe with eyes filled with pride and satisfaction. Human emotions they were only feeling for the first ti, and which had erupted at the sight of their God’s might, and his proud and noble figure.
In deep space, however, the atmosphere was quite different.
While the elental civilization had vastly underestimated the military prowess of the Immortal Armada, at the sa ti, the army of cultivators had underestimated the power of the Lord of the elentals. But that was only because they had never t him personally. In fact, they had never learned much about him.
Various past interrogations reported that the Lord of the Elentals was a being of mana. A creature capable of wielding the elents with unmatched power and control. A description that had left them with no more than three guesses. The assumption that he was either an extrely ancient elental that, thanks to the help of his closest circle, had been able to paint himself as a god to take power, an ancient cultivator that had taken upon himself to care for this society of elentals, or a champion of Destiny.
The third guess had always been the most plausible one, for they had seen for themselves what level of mistrust the elental kind reserved for cultivators. And the elentals lacked the level of deceitfulness to trick their own kind into worshiping one of their own as a god.
On the other hand, the mbers of the Immortal Armada had learned of a champion of Destiny capable of wielding the elents. Cunning like any mber of its kind, and just as famous. A being who had traveled the multiverse making enemies and cultivating its powers, but who had quietly disappeared a few centuries ago.
Had they not encountered the elental civilization, they would have thought he had died, prey of its kind’s persecution at the hand of the aspects of existence. Yet, the more they interacted with the elental army, the more they believed they had found out where he had been. After all, while that was not the Lord’s intention, the elentals did treat him like their lord and savior, a behavior many champions of Destiny before had imprinted into their willing or unwilling followers.
Now that they had co close enough to witness the Lord’s power, they had been convinced that no cultivator would have been able to perform such an attack. And that was not because it was too powerful to contend with, but because it lacked any marking of immortal essence.. Which indicated that the power was not constructed, but gathered, and controlled to perfection.
Who else but a champion of Destiny with their unnatural gifts would be able to do such a thing? They asked themselves.
Yet, while the attack had caught them by surprise, and decimated their fleet, the cultivators did not relent. That blast had been incredibly powerful, but not sothing that went beyond the scope of intergalactic warfare. Especially not within the realm of cultivation.
So, after regrouping, the Immortal Armada once again approached To’han.
Slowly and quietly, hundreds of thousands of warships neared the lively planet.. A show of power and bravery that, however, lacked the previous maniacal aggression. They approached like legendary human armies of yore, in formation, and stopping just outside the blast area of the Lord’s attack.
Their appearance did not go unnoticed to the Elentals, who looked at their opponent’s renewed carefulness as sothing to be proud of. So even hoped the Armada would advance further, so that their Lord could show once again the infinite power of nature that for far too long had been underestimated all throughout the multiverse.
But that never happened.
To enter the field of the blast was one ship, and one ship alone. A small vessel devoid of all crew but one individual, who was using his power to propel the ship across space in his loneso.
As the ship reached the patch of space that was at the core of the explosion, it suddenly stopped. Then, the bulkhead opened, revealing a middle-aged man with short hair and short grayish beard. His muscular body was clad in magnificent heavy armor that appeared to be able to withstand any blow.. Yet, his most impressive feature was the domineering feeling his body emanated.
An unnatural feeling that weighed on the shoulders of those who looked at him, and brought them to their knees. Not even the elentals, who had never seen the man before, could stop themselves from trembling in fear at the sight of him.
With a sword half his height by his side, and a helt firmly held underneath his left arm, he stared at the world of elentals with a piercing gaze. His body was still like a statue as he allowed for his eyes alone to graze past the planet’s surface, causing the elentals to wonder what his intentions were.
Then, he suddenly spoke.
“War.. is unavoidable.” he proclaid with a heavy tone.
Threatening words for the elentals, but to his people, a reminder that battles had to be fought regardless of their weight, for avoidance only led to a bigger loss. “But a war with no purpose is synonymous of waste of life.”
These two simple sentences seed to reignite the spirits of the cultivators, and fill their hearts with pride and conviction. Their previous anger had been lost, as they acknowledged that war was only to be fought for survival, and not for vengeance. A ntality one could only possess as long as they respected their opponent’s right to do the sa.
An old tradition of the Immortal Armada.. Words spoken before any war fought for survival, and with respect.
As the last of these words left the Warlord’s mouth, his right hand rose up to his chest, and reached for the helt, which he then held with both hands before slowly yet firmly sliding it over his head. He then gripped the hilt of his sword, and with a solemn tone, continued, “I am the Warlord of the Immortal Armada. And today I lead my people in a battle for survival. STATE YOUR PURPOSE!”
“FOR SURVIVAL!! FOR SURVIVAL!! FOR SURVIVAL!!!!” Chanted the mbers of the Armada in a deafening war cry that chipped at the bravery of their opponent. Then, quiet.
This tradition, while a magnificent show of cohesion and indomitable will, was not only aid at inflicting damage to an opponent’s morale. Its real purpose was, in fact, more evident in the words that were spoken. An invitation for the enemy leader to make the purpose they fought for known, as well as incite the spirit of their army, and steel their resolve..
The Warlord’s words seed to ignite the spirits of the elentals as well, who found themselves thinking of the reason why they were fighting. ‘Survival.. We too fight for survival.’ they thought, ‘OUR LIVES ARE AS IMPORTANT AS YOURS!’ so of them shouted to the top of their lungs, unbothered by the unlikeliness that such words could reach far enough to be heard.
Yet, those words did reach. The Warlord and the cultivators took these words in.. they understood them, and used them to polish their resolve. No matter how noble their enemy’s purpose was, war would decide, and they would carry the outco on their conscience as a reminder of what their survival had cost them.
The shouts of the elentals beca louder, and more frequent, until the noises rged into a war cry. ‘Our lives are as important as yours’ they chanted over and over again with a power that did not match that of the Armada’s, but that was equally as important. The cultivators, of course, did not dare to dismiss it. Like them, they wanted to survive, and maybe they had had less chances to, but at this mont, in this sealed universe, it was them or us.
This chant, however, did not co alone.
As more and more elentals yelled the will of their people to the sky, the Lord understood. He understood the intentions of his opponent.. He understood how those few words had given his people a chance to unite, to be the strongest force they could be, and to do so under the sa goal.. Even if that would make the following battle harder for his army.
Needless to say, for the man that stood there like a statue, powerful and majestic, he felt an imnse amount of respect.
Willing to indulge in this foreign tradition, he slowly stepped forward, reaching the edge of the cluster of roots he was standing barefoot on. Then, like a single feather taken from the ground by the most modest of winds, he was lifted in the air.
His appearance did not halt the war cry of the elentals. Instead, it seed to fuel it further. Their Lord did not cower in fear.. Their lord was willing to represent them in stating their purpose. An action that for them, creatures who had been used as resources for as long as history could rember, ant more than their words could tell. So as he rose in the sky, piercing the clouds like an angel covered in pure light essence, they kept shouting.
The Lord had never thought he could have felt grateful towards his enemy, and yet there he was. Listening with pride as the will of his people accompanied him to et the enemy general.
His figure was completely shrouded in light, which made his appearance indistinguishable.. And so he chose to be. He wanted to appear as a force of nature, for it was for the forces of nature that he fought. So he slowly ascended, until finally, he reached the small patch of space the Warlord had been floating on in respectful silence.
Then, just like the Warlord had done, he straightened his posture. The elents he controlled slowly erged from underneath his skin, and began to roam around his body in a chaotic order, creating a spectacle of mana that was not made to entertain, but to represent.
As the mixture of colored lights flashed around his body, his chest rose, and he roared, “I am the Lord of the Elentals, and I too fight for my people’s survival.. For they deserve to live too.”
Suddenly, the elentals went quiet. Not because they did not agree with the words their Lord had spoken, but because they wanted them to resound in the ears of their enemies, whom they believed needed to hear them the most.
The warlord, stoic and quiet, slowly nodded.
Only now that he had co face to face with the Lord of the Elentals, had he realized what type of person he was. He was not an ancient elental, nor was he a champion of Destiny, for he lacked their domineering and aggressive attitude. He was a unique individual, a man after his own heart. That, both n could tell about each other even without being able to see the other’s face.
As the tradition had been fulfilled, the Warlord went back to his ship, and slowly guided it back.. But not before turning to get one last look of the man he had just t, but whom he had co to respect, before the two could et in battle.
The Lord observed in silence, as the man in pristine armor gave him one last nod before guiding his ship away. Satisfied by what had just happened, the mind of both commanders went back to their people, and in picturing the best way they could achieve victory in the battle that was to co.
As the Lord started to head back, however, sothing odd happened.
The Warlord, who had been composed and noble until now, had suddenly jumped out of his moving ship, and with the speed of light dashed towards the glowing figure. Then, before the Lord could even consider the possibility of a sneak attack, the Warlord grabbed him by the shoulders, and began to inspect his features.
While dimr than before, the Lord was still glowing of a pure white light. One that danced around the surface of his body, giving him a holy appearance that was never ant to mask his appearance. And so it didn’t.. But only for a mont.
In the mont the Lord’s appearance had beco visible, sothing had changed in the Warlord. Sothing that had possessed him into risking to be hard just to grab the forr’s shoulder and inspect his appearance.
Aware of the Warlord’s intention, the Lord of the Elentals allowed for the light to dim further, revealing a scholarly looking young man with an eye of darkness and an eye of light.
“Roley..” The Warlord muttered with a softened tone right before taking his helt off.
With eyes filled with shock, the young man recognized the man’s face, and asked, “Der?”
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