264 The Power of a Mythic-Tier Spell (1/2)

Dirk was also on guard, but not to his surroundings. He was already warned of what came next and he had no interest in getting swept up in the massacre that was about to ensue.

The assistant was against unnecessary slaughter, but Dirk also understood that Jack and his team had to take certain measures if they were to face an army on their own. They had no choice but to fight to kill. There was no other way for their plan to succeed. And it would be better for a chuck of the small army to die, then to have the entire army sacrificed.

Not much later, Dirk heard a single phrase go off in his head from his contact crystal.

”Get out now.”

Looking to the incredibly aware Toms, Dirk nodded and darted to the side of the valley without any more hesitation. He understood that if he wavered now, it was likely that he would die.

Toms saw the retreat of his assistant and was left baffled. However, just as he planned to speak up, he caught glimpse of something not too far ahead of him.

Near the edge of the ridge, a vortex of air was forming and growing at an alarming rate. Within a single breath, a whirlpool of wind had taken shape before the army.

Following Dirk's example, Toms dashed to the other side of the valley in an attempt to avoid whatever attack that was. He hadn't the slightest clue what was going on, but Toms felt like he was looking death in the eye whenever he focused on the strange wind formation.

Just as the general started to run, the wind vortex quickly neared the verge of exploding. It unleashed a few pulses of wind as it grew more ferocious.

Though they were small compared to the massive wind storm itself, those pulses slashed through the valley walls like butter, scaring the army witless.

The initial waves of wind sliced unimpeded through the walls of the valley, also destroying a portion of the camp on that ridge. As for the army trapped inside, they were far too close to the windstorm to hope for escape as it instantly killed the soldiers at the front of the march.

There was no order for retreat yet all soldiers had turned to run away at top speed. There was no organization to the retreat, only bodies being trampled over and men forcing their ways past one another. Those at the back struggled to not be overtaken by those trying to pass them.

Only the captains were fast enough to escape the rampaging retreat, apart from a single aging soldier who suddenly outran the captains.

That aging soldier had cast Feather Walk and disregarded his need to remain in disguise. Though he kept the appearance, it was obvious to the captains that the man before them was no regular soldier.

The already terrified soldiers froze in place as the familiar orb of darkness appeared around the exit of the valley. They wanted to cry in self-pity as the horrid situation only got worse.

Behind them was a massive whirlpool of wind threatening to claim all of their lives and before them was an unknown darkness that earlier was filled with the most terrifying flames they had ever witnessed. It was an impasse at both sides, leaving death as their only option.

Some brave souls ran straight into the darkness, only to join in the captains' screams of terror.

With no other choice, the soldiers attempted to climb the valley walls. It wouldn't be too difficult for the able-bodied soldiers, but the chaos of their retreat led to most soldiers frantically pulling each other down in an attempt to escape all the more quickly. That cycle only led to a few soldiers escaping and most of the army remaining trapped.

Finally, the vortex exploded.

Waves upon waves of razor-sharp wind lashed out across the valley and the ridges. The nearby camp was devastated, killing plenty of the Sandros army lying in wait there. On the other side, the Limneer camp was also ravaged by the winds, albeit not as badly.

The army trapped in the valley cried in fear as the unguided and unpredictable pulses of wind whipped the valley floor and carved through any soldiers in their path.