The spires of the small city were aflame, chunks of masonry and glass falling as it was bombarded through patchwork holes in the shield. Unfortunately, the defensive shields of the sub cities were weaker than the shield surrounding the main one, which meant that E Rankers, or sufficiently motivated F Rankers could eventually break through.
Pyotr let out a bellow that would have made his old tournament title’s namesake proud, and threw himself into the fray. The ground beneath him cracked, a vast hand forming that shoved him into the sky. He laughed as he flew, his ax glistening with the energy of his element as he went. His ax expanded, stone forming out of thin air as he brought it down, imbuing with enough force to crater the ground where it landed.
A dozen weaker fighters were pulped, the mid F Rankers blasted apart as shards of rock tore through their bodies. When the dust settled, Pyotr was left facing three elites, all around level 140. There were two warriors and a single mage, both warriors holding greatswords. They were Teruvarians, and their bulging green muscles flexed in the air as they bellowed their challenges. Their weapons looked like slabs of raw iron, and the two men charged together, their blades bursting into flame. Behind them, the mage wove another spell together, and Pyotr realized that the leonid woman was behind the infernos surrounding the swords.
“Three on one, eh?” He called out, swinging his ax in a comfortable crescent as he watched his foes approach. “Why don’t you add a few more? Perhaps then this will be a fair fight.”
“A fair fight?” One of the Teruvarians rumbled. “You do not deserve a fair fight. Human scum.” The sneer on his face was almost an attack all by itself.
Pyotr scoffed. “Ah. So that’s how it’s going to be. You know, your mother has a different opinion of me. What was it she called me again?” He scratched his chin with his free hand, as if thinking. Then his ax deflecting an incoming strike, the titanic sword of the Teruvarian glancing off. Then he smiled. “Right. ‘A man who can give me a proper child’.”
The two Teruvarians roared, and Pyotr inferred that they were related in some way. He grinned. Two for one.
He flicked his ax up through the air and the earth beneath responded. Two blades of diamond, honed to a razor’s edge, erupted from the ground, covered in shards of crackling yellow light. They crushed the defences of the two aliens, who foolishly tried to block. Pyotr ripped his ax horizontally, and the diamond blades exploded, sending tiny fragments hissing through the joints in the invaders’ armor. The two brutes howled in pain, and then fell silent as Pyotr snapped his fingers, detonating them. The shards of diamond exploded outwards, flensing the flesh from the aliens' bodies. As the corpses fell to the ground, leaking blood profusely, Pyotr turned his gaze on the mage, clenching his fist around his ax.
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Before she could move, he leaped forwards, transforming his strength into the speed that he lacked. Like a meteor, his massive form hurtled through the air, his ax leading the way. The last thing the mage saw as the weapon sliced through her paltry shield was her own reflection on both sides of the weapon as it carved through her head like butter, her eyes briefly facing one another. Then Pyotr surged through her corpse like a bullet, blasting it apart.
Blood sprayed everywhere, but he ignored it. It was a part of life at this point. His lips curled up as he surveyed the battlefield, watching as his allies decimated the foes. Then he frowned, something appearing in the distance. Two streaks of light, one an aquamarine blue, and another a strange miasma of colors, from every part of the spectrum. Two auras swept out before them, heralding the arrival of two E Rankers. Pyotr’s face fell, and he realized that he was the only true faction elite present at this subcity. He raised his ax, and screamed at the top of his lungs. “Retreat!”
The E Rankers crossed the gap faster than any mere F Ranker could run, though, and they blasted through the already weakened barrier with ease. Skidding to a halt on the main road, they left trails of broken stone and bodies in their wake. Two humans, clearly twins by the exactitude of their resemblance, stood there. Their faces bore the perfection of E Rank cultivators, but the cruel smiles they were twisted in acted against that effect somewhat. The one on the right wore plate mail crafted from crystal, while the one on the left was clad in a rippling robe of chaotic flame. Order and Chaos, in human form.
Pyotr snarled, but it was too late. Both of the invaders raised their hands in unison, and above the city, the visage of some eldritch abomination appeared, one half of its face that of crystalline perfection, and the other of a nightmarish amalgamation of flesh and bone. It was at least a kilometer wide, and took up a good portion of the sky above the city, hovering a dozen miles up. Twin bolts of light shot from its eyes, matching the aspects of the face. From the left came a searing spear of chaos, and from the right, a lance of crystal the length of a small train. They merged in a blinding nexus of light, and then shot towards the ground, faster than Pyotr could see. This was the end.
