Chapter 594: Storming the Fields (Patreon)

Argrave was the only one who could stop Sataistador.

That wasn’t a grandiosity complex, merely the facts of the situation. Argrave should’ve put some of the pieces together when he saw Governor Ji Meng tear his own rib out to make the array that warded away divinity. The governor was dead now, unfortunately, but at least he got to see his granddaughter’s wedding.

Regardless, the Stormfield was shamanic magic, true enough. But it was more than that. It was blood magic.

“Rook, Raccomen, I need you to defend me from Sataistador. He’s quiet enough now, but in a few moments, everything inside and outside the Palace of Heaven is going to become a warzone as his little soldiers show their face. Almazora, I need you to amplify the power of the blood in my body. And Anneliese… I need you to keep me alive.”

“What are you talking about?” Anneliese questioned as Argrave looked upon Sataistador, who still kneeled bleeding.

“Why should we take orders from the man with a crooked face?” Raccomen questioned.

Argrave ran his hand over his face. Was it crooked? He thought he’d put it back on right. He dropped his hand down and pointed. “You’re talking to me about being crooked, after that stunt you pulled? Listen, tomorrow I can be straight, but you’ll be dead forever if you don’t shut up and suit up. I promise I can explain everything after this is over.” Argrave conjured a dagger of blood magic, then walked out onto the glass cover of the Stormfield and kneeled. “I learned some things. Just do as I say, or this whole continent is going to fall into chaos.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sataistador gurgled, looking at Argrave as smoke billowed all around him. He seemed like an erupting volcano, wreathed in smoke while his neck erupted with blood. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

But in the smoke, figures danced—figures eerily similar to the god of war. The army, it would seem, was on the march. The first wave of soldiers was soon to arrive.

Argrave rolled up his right sleeve. “Almazora—do your part. Empower my blood. I know you can do that—I read all about it.”

“You want me to amplify the magic in your blood?” The goddess of magic walked up behind him, kneeling. “I trust your intentions, but what you’re asking… it could kill you, even with Anneliese’s intervention. And even if it doesn’t, it could be a similar experience as what you experienced to gain this black blood in the first place, after.”

“I’m twisted up enough already. I’m certain I’ll live—I saw it, clear as day, in the wiki. Still, I can’t beat him unless you lend me some of your power. So, do it,” he commanded her, as he rolled up his other sleeve.

“Clench your teeth.” Almazora put her hand on the back of his head… and in a few moments, Argrave’s body caught aflame.

Pushing hard against the pain, Argrave raised the dagger of blood he held up, then slit both of his wrists. These weren’t attention-getting cuts from a teenager, either—he committed, starting the incision at the bottom of the forearm and ending just below the hand on both arms.

Sataistador laughed, and Argrave lifted his head as his black blood poured across the glass plate on the floor. He met the god of war’s green eyes. Fire burned within each of his two orbs.

“Should’ve killed you before I came in. Erlebnis… maybe the bastard was right in losing his cool, desperately trying to kill you. It looks like he broke his word, blabbed about my intentions to you. But even still… we’ll meet on the field of battle.” Sataistador grinned eerily. “All of us.”

Argrave whispered back through the pain, “I’m counting on it.”

As Argrave’s blood poured into atop the glass covering, he felt his mind going away from him. Maybe it was blood loss. Maybe it was his Erlebnisitis. But when the darkness rose to take him, he heard the distant call of thunder, and knew where he was going.

Argrave was going to the Stormfield. There, the god of war awaited him of the field of battle.

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Argrave might’ve been able to arrive in time to stop Sataistador before his tragic suicide attempt if he hadn’t taken so long researching other things. He might’ve been able to talk the man back from the ledge, so to speak. But then, perhaps he wouldn’t have. There was no point in worrying about hypotheticals, especially not when what he learned was coming into play.

The Stormfield, just as the arrays that warded the divine, was blood magic. It was made of the blood of its creator, the first emperor of the Great Chu. His blood alongside his ingenuity lent the arrays incredible power, incredible dominance, over the entire continent. But another feature of theirs had been behind Sataistador’s defeat.

Sacrifice.

Argrave had read in great detail how Sataistador had failed against the Palace of Heaven. Frankly… he hadn’t. In another time, during another cycle, Sataistador had overcome the same odds that Argrave had. He breached the walls of the fortress, and was going to enter triumphantly. Before he could, the Emperor of the Great Chu at the time disemboweled himself just above the Stormfield. The death of one mortal man was sufficient to empower the Stormfield such that Sataistador suffered a defeat so humiliating he refused to even speak of it. 

Since then, Sataistador had an obsession over the Great Chu, and doubly over the weapon that had caused his defeat. Every cycle, he had tried in one way or another to dismantle the empire—to tear it apart, piece by piece. Sometimes it fragmented, sometimes it fell into civil war… but it never truly ceased to exist, and the Palace of Heaven never truly fell. Until now, that is. Now, Sataistador had used a trick to commandeer the weapon that had defeated him so many years ago.

But Argrave followed after him.

Though Argrave had been consumed by darkness, the harsh bark of thunder jolted his eyes open, and he turned his head around frantically. He spotted an axe soaring through the air, headed right for him. Argrave instinctively sent out a blood echo and teleported, and it worked flawlessly. Argrave looked around to see an endless plateau of stone, with a purple sky above that danced with the power of a thousand electric storms.

“The gall on you,” Sataistador shouted from across the plain of stone from where he’d thrown that axe. Lightning bore down everywhere, followed a few seconds after by the sound of thunder. “Following me here. I’m going to give you some praise, Argrave. You’re a soldier I’d have loved to have on my side, back in the day. Stone cold, brilliant, and with balls big enough to shrug off Erlebnis’ assault to come pick a fight with me right after. Makes my damn heart pound.” Sataistador—or this one fragment of him, at least—prepared to rush at Argrave.

Argrave looked around, searching for any coming ambush. This place was flat and endless, with few places to hide. Just from the context of the situation, Argrave suspected that it was the Stormfield. The few crevices Argrave saw weren’t large enough to hide one of the many soldiers in Sataistador’s army. It was this one alone, now—an advance scout, maybe. Argrave suspected that soon enough the whole of his army would come to Argrave.

As Argrave readied to fight, he spotted some movement in a crevice just behind Sataistador. His face warped with shock when Governor Ji Meng crept out from the darkness, then cast some magic right into the back of Sataistador’s head. The lone soldier’s head blew clean off in a burst of flame, and the one fragment of the god of war turned into a spirit.

“Argrave!” the governor shouted. “These damned things are everywhere. What in heaven is going on? Where are we?!”

“Governor,” Argrave greeted the man, approaching cautiously. He couldn’t be sure if this was a trick just yet. But then… if Zen had spilled his blood atop the glass covering over the Stormfield, it made sense that he was here. “I think you and I are in the Stormfield.”

“What?!” the governor looked all around as lightning continued to brighten the gloomy stone plateau. “What do you mean, ‘we’re in the Stormfield?’ It’s not a location, it’s a—”

“Just shut your mouth,” Argrave interrupted him, looking around. “Sataistador used you. He’s been using from the beginning; you were just too blind to see it. You took him right to this place—you and that stupid weapon he gave to you.” Argrave grabbed his shoulder. “Whatever. We can reminiscence about how stupid you were later. Right now you, Ji Meng, are going to help me take dominance over this place. I don’t know precisely what’s happening, but we’re inside the Stormfield. We have to win control over it from the god of war.”

The governor looked extremely confused, about more subject than one. He babbled, “But why is he…? I mean, what’s his aim? What’s here for us?”

“Sataistador spilled his blood onto the array. That’s taken him here, to what I assume is the Stormfield. You… uh, you spilt some blood, too, so you’re also here. I did as well. Right now, I think all three of us are in this together. What ‘here’ is, or what the future holds… I’m not entirely sure.”

Ji Meng closed his eyes. “Then… this must be the sacrifice to the Stormfield. I’d heard about it from legends, but I thought—”

“You thought wrong. It’s real. I did this with the suspicion Sataistador intends to imbue the array with a power of his—the fire of chaos. I’m certain he’s going to send it to the sky tower, where it’ll be cast across the whole of the Great Chu.” Argrave waved his hand. “The Stormfield, Sataistador’s fire of chaos… it’ll have power enough to wipe the whole slate clean. No more Great Chu. That’s what both of them want.”

“How in heaven can we best a god, alone?”

“This is a battle of blood, Ji Meng.” Argrave tapped his face. “Sataistador smuggled a small army inside his blood. But me, I brought magic. Loads of magic. So, let’s work from there.”

“Why do you keep calling me…? Never mind. Where do we start?” Ji Meng looked around everywhere. “I mean… I studied the damn thing, but all of this is new territory to me.”

“Good question,” Argrave conceded. “Erlebnis didn’t know, either—he just had theories, some small few tests, but it’s not enough to explain this. This place feels as real as the one I left.” Argrave looked around for a few long moments, lost in thought. He focused intensely. “At the very least, Sataistador’s surely got the same questions. So, let’s figure it out.”