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A red man wore a set of red metal armor. In his hands, there was a red shield and red short spear. Beside him, to his right, there was another red man dressed in a similar attire. In fact, there were thousands of red men who were dressed exactly like him behind him and to the left of him as well. But this red man was special because his name was Ralph. Ralph turned his head to the side while continuing to march straight ahead on the plains. “Hey, James.”
The man beside him didn’t seem to react, but a voice asked back in return, “What is it?”
“We’re just subduing a person’s soul, right?”
“That’s right, Ralph. If we weren’t, then you and I would be the kind of dead that didn’t move and talk. Do you have any other stupid questions you’d like to ask me?”
Though there was a helmet on James’ head, Ralph was sure his fellow soldier was rolling his eyes. “I don’t know if it’s a stupid question or not, but isn’t ten million men a bit too many men for the suppression of one person? Wouldn’t, say, three people be enough?”
“Why are you asking me? Am I the one who summoned us? Maybe Zyocuh wants to be extra, extra sure that we can subdue this target, alright?”
“But from three people to ten million?” Ralph lifted his helmet’s visor and scratched his head with the hand that was holding his shield. “You know people are a lot weaker in their own souls. If Zyocuh sent ten million of us, then doesn’t that make you think the person we’re attacking is a lot stronger than usual? Maybe he’s an expert in soul magic.”
“There’s no such thing as a soul magician.”
“We were sent into a man’s soul through magic, right?” Ralph nodded. “What kind of magic was used to send us here if not soul magic?”
James grunted. “Blood magic.”
“Alright, maybe this man we’re attacking is an expert in blood magic,” Ralph said.
“Brilliant deduction, Mr. Detective,” James said. “And what gave that away? Was it just the numbers that Zyocuh sent, or was it the meteor-sized fireballs trying to kill us from the sky?”
“Well, the fireballs were a bit suspicious,” Ralph said and rubbed his chin. “But it was my deductive skills that really highlighted the issue, don’t you think?”
James was silent for a moment. He sighed. “I think you should’ve stayed in school.”
Ralph’s eyes widened. “You think so too? It was my dream to become a scholar, but my parents were ill, so I had to drop out and work as a mercenary to pay for their treatment.”
“…Sorry.”
Ralph raised an eyebrow. “What are you apologizing for?”
“It’s—”
A shout thundered across the plains, cutting James off. “Fireball, incoming! Magicians raise your barriers!”
“It looks smaller than before,” Ralph said while looking up at the sky, lowering his visor again. A tiny fireball in the sky grew in size as it approached. By the time it crashed into the barriers that the army’s magicians had erected, it was easily big enough to take out a squadron of ten thousand men. Fortunately for them, the barriers held, and the fireball dispersed after letting out an ominous laughter. “Did those flames just laugh?”
“You’re imagining things,” James said. “Keep your eyes on the ground and keep marching. The mages will take care of any aerial threats. Seems like the soul inside is weakening; the intervals between the fireballs are getting longer and longer. We should be done before lunch.”
Ralph frowned and lowered his head. “Is that a good idea? To be done so soon, I mean.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“I mean, once we’re done, we go back to being dead. Shouldn’t we drag this out, so we can stay alive for a little bit longer?” Ralph furrowed his brow. The ground ahead of him seemed to be moving. He spoke again before James could respond, “The ground seems to be … running at us?”
“How can the—”
Squelch.
An earthen spear jutted from the ground and impaled James’ head. Squelching sounds filled the air as thousands of soldiers were impaled before they could make a sound. Ralph shouted and raised his shield to his face. A moment later, an impact struck the metal that nearly blew his arm off. He fell over onto his back, and a chill ran down his spine when a sharp point dug into his shoulder blade. With a whoosh, he was launched into the air, the earthen spear sending him flying instead of impaling him thanks to a barrier that had been summoned underneath him. He screamed on the way down, and landed face first with a splat.
“Ugh, that was horrible,” Ralph muttered and propped himself up with his elbows. The ground was suppressed by a layer of barriers that was jumping up and down every time they blocked an attack coming from below. “How can one person be this strong? Who’s Zyocuh trying to supplant? A god?”
There was no response, and Ralph turned his head to the side. His friend’s headless body greeted him. “Oh, right. James died.” A sigh escaped from Ralph’s lips as he stood up. The ground had stopped trembling, and the army was reforming its ranks. “I guess I’ll see him during the next raid.”
“Incoming!”
Ralph groaned. What was it this time? He turned around just in time to see a faint, blurry fist rush towards his face. It struck his nose and blew him back by several meters. Like dominoes, the army fell over as a raging gust composed of windy arms and legs washed over them. A high-pitched voice shouted out, “Now, Sheryl!”
Ralph lay on his back, staring up at the sky after being knocked down. Hundreds of little star-like lights winked into existence. “Are those…?” He swallowed instead of finishing his question. The tiny lights grew larger in size, illuminating the sky with what seemed to be hundreds of suns. “Oh, crap.”
“I found it!” someone shouted from behind. Ralph squinted and craned his neck. Standing over him was Lord Briffault, the leader of the archers. A bow that was taller than him was in his hands, a person-sized arrow nocked into place. With one knee against the ground and one leg bent, Lord Briffault aimed his bow up at the sky and grunted as he pulled the bowstring back until his arms were spread as if he were measuring his wingspan. Then he fired.
The red arrow roared through the air, piercing through the windy arms and legs that tried to stop it. It continued past the falling fireballs towards the one unmoving sun. As if it were sentient, the sun tried to run away, but the arrow curved and chased after it, piercing it from behind. There was a prolonged shriek followed by a sudden silence, and the fireballs winked out of existence.
Ralph blinked and raised his visor, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. The fireballs were really gone. His eyes widened, and he hopped to his feet. “Excellent work as always, Lord Briffault,” he said and gave the commander of the archers a thumbs-up.
Lord Briffault smiled, but before he could respond, a black droplet of ink landed on his forehead. He reached up and rubbed his head, lowering his hand to inspect what fell on him. There was nothing on his fingers, and the black substance had disappeared from his forehead. “Hmm, odd.” He nodded at Ralph. “Good work, soldier. You didn’t do anything yet, but good work nonetheless.”