Geirolul, 10,022 years ago…
The sound of explosions reverberated through the grandiose halls of Dagon’s royal palace. Cracks formed through the pillars and supporting walls ever so slowly as the devastation from outside continued to progress and dust rained down from above.
The Valkyrie was already plentifully drenched in blood and mud during the length of this battle which stained her clothes and ruined her armor, but now the dust and rubble clinging to her skin caused her to feel more itchy than ever.
King Dagon’s palace, that which was decorated and designed with many hundreds of murals in such a way that was not meant hide, or glorify, or even justify the brutality of his actions and the actions of his fellow kin and soldiers, but rather omit what they had done as fact.
There was no denying from any one of the Amaskian soldiers that their tactics were cruel, merciless, and ruthless. However, they felt no real guilt towards their actions nor did they feel any pride either. They did kill their enemies out of enjoyment of the suffering that they were causing. They killed and fought only because it was their duty to their king to do so.
As much as many other kingdoms would like to deny it, King Dagon was a truly transparent man who did not hide his intent from his people or from the world. Not only that, but he also gave his people a choice. To look upon the actions that his kingdom has taken against the world and choose to side with him or side with those against them.
Those that chose to leave his kingdom and one day return to oppose him, he only asked of them that they one day show the fruits of their labors to him. For it would be the Amaskian blood that flows from this land, and to this land the Amaskian blood will return in one form or another.
As comrades, or as enemies, there was always a degree of pride and honor in their king.
That pride in their homeland, that pride in their king, and that pride within themselves was painted ever so beautifully in the murals of the walls of his palace. With care, talent, and grace.
As much as she loathed the king and his actions, it hurt a part of her soul to see such amazing works being ravaged by this war.
As she continued to march through the halls and up into the throne room, a wall crumbled away from the force behind two great warriors clashing against one another.
A warrior with armor that was strangely similar to Athena’s own but also woven together with wolf pelts. There was also a strange, yet powerful aura tinged with green circulating around his body as he fought.
The man was extraordinarily well built and muscular, standing tall at six feet, four inches. However, what was unusual about his physique was that along with the sword he held in his hands, he had sharp claws and thick tufts of fur growing on the backs of his arms, neck, legs, and chest.
The man’s eyes were not unlike that of a wolf, and sharp fangs bared from the man’s jaws at the enemy he faced. Atop the man’s head was a crown, not of gold, or silver, or any jewels but rather of steel.
This man, holding the Wolfsbane Blade in his hands and baring his fangs, was known other than King Lycaon, the Wolf King.
The man who faced him however, Athena had told Geirolul about him.
He was the son of the Archdragon of the Abyss, and his name was Raime, The God of Madness.
A strange spiraling flame was branded on his chest and yellow energy burned within his eyes. The man’s arms were also very similar to that of Malthael’s except for the sharp spines that grew from the father’s elbows where the blades were stored in the arms.
Raime’s blades were much smaller and could even grow back on command if he so wanted. He could mold the blades within his arms into any shape of weapon he wanted.
The man was nearly completely naked save for the orange flames that wreathed around his entire body, pouring out of the swirling brand on his chest.
As the two of them clashed, with King Lycaon snarling in Raime’s face, the latter towered over the king considerably.
As the two of them continued to fight, they disappeared far away into the depths of the palace.
Huffing in fear from nearly ending up in the aftermath of their battle, Geirolul swallowed and kept moving forward to regroup with her queen.
She continued to march forward until she heard the familiar wine of steam and the crash of red hot iron slamming into the ground.
Ichor Doru, the spear of Fire and Ichorous Earth.
Then came the familiar sound of metal connecting with a firm shield, The Queen’s Aegis! Goddess Athena was not far!
With hope in her heart, Geirolul picked up the pace and even allowed herself a smile.
That rush of hope was fleeting as it soon turned to dread when the heavy clang of Athena’s shield falling upon the floor reached her ears.
Athena’s Aegis was always firmly strapped to her left arm, so it was not easy to disarm her of her shield unless…
As soon as Athena came into view, Geirolul's breath caught in her throat as she noticed her severed arm lying on the floor with her Aegis still attached.
Athena herself was barely able to keep herself from falling to the ground as she was using her spear to keep herself standing.
“Are you truly at the extent of your strength Athena…?,” the chilling voice of a woman spoke from behind her featureless bone mask, “I must say that I am very disappointed by your performance...or maybe that is to be expected from you. You use that weapon as a crutch and fail to attain a strength greater than what you are capable without it. A pity. You were the only combatant that could entertain me.”
“Lady Athena!” Geirolul shouted as she rushed towards them just as Athena was stabbed through the heart. The tip of Nashandra’s bone sword poked out through her back and black roots began to form across her skin.
Athena stiffened up for a moment before her legs gave out from underneath her and she fell back into Geirolul's arms.
“Athena, no!” she shouted as she looked at the wound and could see it darkening quickly. Blood spurted from Athena’s mouth as she coughed from being stabbed and the veins of deathroot continued to infest her body.
“No matter what you try, your God is dead,” Nashandra said as she raised her sword high above her head to strike her down.
Now…
“So Geirolul...how do you want this fight to begin?” She asked. Not in a provoking way but seemingly out of genuine curiosity. It did not, however, dissuade Geirolul from finding her to be absolutely terrifying.
Without responding, Geirolul flicked her hand through the air and an iron halberd appeared out of the light.
“Oh…? So you will not be using Ichor Doru against me? How will you stave off the Arcanence and the deathroot that follows it?”
She didn’t have a good answer for that but decided to reply with, “I’ll just have to grin and bear it I suppose.”
Nashandra shook her head dismissively and said, “No no. That will not do. I’m afraid that if you die to my magic, there is no coming back from that. No matter how powerful this arena’s magic is at reversing time and bringing back people who have died, it will not work for you if I kill you.”
Geirolul’s heart sank in her chest when she heard this and she recalled how the death root almost instantly overtook Athena’s body after being stabbed. She died in seconds after being stabbed through the heart.
Breathing heavily in fear, she gritted her teeth and said, “I may not have Ichor Doru as its in the hands of Princess Hilda, but I did study sorcery and of various ways to stave off death with flames.”
Nashandra’s head perked up, almost in excitement, and she said, “You did? How wonderful. So you will not die painfully during this fight. I applaud you.”
“Cin Con Influ Ignis, Ani-magi: Immolation!” Geirolul chanted and powerful flames started to swirl around her entire body. She did not stop with just that and rolled her shoulder as light poured from her back and two powerful wings unfurled themselves.
Depending on the purity of magic and how powerful a Valkyrie is determined the color of their wings, and all Valkyrie wings are made of metal.
There were four metallic colors that determined purity of magic and of wings.
Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum
The wings of newly recruited Valkyries are usually either bronze or silver depending on their rank and experience.
Some Valkyries though, who were once chosen directly by the now dead Queen Diana and her bloodline all but erased from history, would be offered a goblet of her own blood to drink so as to share some of her power.
Geirolul herself was chosen by Athena and her wings had not lost their golden luster in all this time.
The wings of Platinum were reserved only for those of royal blood, but they would never again appear.
As the flames spread to her wings, the golden feathers began to glow but did not melt and held the powerful flames.
She then gripped the shaft of her halberd firmly and charged at Nashandra.
She would not simply cower and yield to this fearsome woman. She would certainly lose but she will show her worth nonetheless.
She poured all her strength into moving as fast as she possibly could and landing a solid hit. She could feel her body reach very close to the speed of light at the very moment her halberd slammed into Nashandra’s blade.
At the moment of impact, Nashandra raised her sword to block and released a compressed and refined stream of Arcanence along the edge of her sword.
The ground behind her shattered and exploded into dust as the energy passed through Nashandra’s body and reverberated through the earth.
Despite all of that, her body did not move from that spot. She effortlessly held her ground against the opening strike.
Grunting in effort to make her lose her footing, Geirolul tried to push even further but was making no progress.
Nashandra’s head dipped in such a manner as if to ask is that all?
With that, Geirolul pulled back and began to swing her halberd rapidly and attack her from all directions but Nashandra deflected them all.
This infuriatingly powerful woman! Dammit!
With all the speed and power behind her attacks, she couldn’t find a single chink in her defenses.
In that moment, a sudden feeling of lightheadedness overcame her as she realized that even being that close to her was affecting her.
Geirolul jumped back and used her wings to make some distance between the two of them as she landed a hundred feet away from her in less than a second.
Her feet barely grazed the ground when Nashandra’s mask appeared mere inches away from her face.
What?! How-
Her own thoughts were cut off as Nashandra grabbed Geirolul’s face and slammed her into the ground.
Peaking through the gaps of the fingers wrapped around her face, Geirolul watched as Nashandra raised her her sword above her head, ready to run Geirolul through.
A single strike from that sword could be instantly fatal.
With her hand still firmly wrapped around her halberd, she used her magic to shorten it into a hand ax and swung it at Nashandra’s midriff only to...hit empty air.
Did she disappear?
No!
In the moment right before Geirolul’s ax was about to land, Nashandra seemed to switch her position in space in a mere instant. Too fast for the human mind to process.
Rather than holding her down by hand, Nashandra was now standing over her head, with each foot planted firmly on her wings to pin her down while raising her sword with both hands over Geirolul’s head.
Knowing that she could dematerialize her own wings and bring them back at will, she rolled out of the way just as Nashandra’s sword hit the ground.
As soon as she was able to get away, she scrambled to her feet, summoned her wings in an instant, and leapt into the air.
She soared, and soared hundreds of feet in the air, hoping to make some distance between the two of them. She kept flying higher and higher and was about to stop to turn around and make sure Nashandra was still down there waiting for her when all of a sudden the sky shifted from how she saw it.
Nashandra’s hand firmly gripped the back of her neck and in the next moment, they were suddenly flying face down into the ground.
In an act of defiance, Geirolul tried to spin her body around and land on Nashandra’s body instead but she had already disappeared.
What…?
The Valkyrie fell onto the hard earth with a crash and the wind was knocked out of her.
She scrambled to her knees but could only managed to prop herself up with her elbows when suddenly, a hard foot slammed into her ribs and kicked her across the ground, causing her to roll for over fifty feet.
When she finally stopped and was simply lying on the ground in a coughing fit, Nashandra appeared over her but Geirolul was too hurt and too exhausted to move.
Rather than attack, she crushed her sword to bits and the bone armor and deathroot surrounding Nashandra’s body peeled away. The beautiful face of the fearsome woman once again revealed itself to her.
Nashandra knelt on both knees beside Geirolul’s tired body and took one of her hands in her own.
She had a kind expression about her as she asked, “Do you yield?”
Taking in a sharp breath, Geirolul replied, “I...I yield to you. You fought...beautifully.”