Divinity’s greatest weakness is our decadence. In this case however I am not talking of the degenerates such as Galrond of Gluttony. These types transcend their decadence into sheer hedonism, their total lack of discipline is despicable beyond redemption, yet that is exactly why they are forever destined to remain as lesser beings. Galrond, apart from the immediate degenerates who clamour around him, will never possess a kingdom or strength or respect.

Yet those like Galrond are the minority. It is the classical decadence that the majority of us fall into. The comfort of routine, the poison of habit and the utter devastation wrought on by success. A target is reached, a goal is achieved, and we stop. It is enough. We have completed what needed to be done and return to our own lives, no matter what those lives are. Some of us have a large appetite for success, some of us achieve our goals quickly, yet that is the commonality between all of us. We get to a point were enough is done, where we can bask in the victory.

That is the single greatest way that Arascus and Kassandora differ from the rest of us, it is in their relentless march forwards. Their strive is incomprehensible to me. I see both achieve great things that would satisfy even the greatest of us, and they do not allow themselves to take a moment’s pause. I greatly respect this relentless goosestep towards progress, yet I cannot rationalize the boundless creativity they possess. It is their discrimination towards problems I simply cannot fathom.

It is one thing to be an excellent problem solver, it is another entirely to find problems worth solving.

That is what most Divines lack. That is what they possess.

The command tent was dimly lit by flickering lanterns that cast uneven shadows across its patched and weathered canvas walls. Olonia stood at its centre, her towering frame slightly stooped as she leaned over the war-torn map spread across the wooden table. The air inside was heavy with the mingling scents of damp earth, sweat, and tobacco, whilst the faint hum of urgent voices barely masked the distant rumble of artillery. Her white hair caught the light like frost against the grimy backdrop, and the dents in her once pristine plate armour. Outside, the rains had finally stopped and the muffled sounds of weary soldiers moving through mud pierced the cloth of the tent.

Kaczaw was under threat, where Iliyal had relocated his headquarters to. The east of the country had fallen entirely, it wasn’t that the White Pantheon was undefeatable, Iliyal managed to win battles here and there. It was simply that the war had stretched on more than long enough for Lubska, and Epa as a whole, to start feeling the squeeze of continental blockade. At least they weren’t Allia, where the entire nation was teetering on the brink of collapse. “Iliyal is moving third armoured north?” Olonia asked.

Menith and Beryon had been assigned to managing the boots on the ground as Iliyal managed the war from the top. The two elves wore Iliyal’s standard black, HAUPT from Doschia had been contracted to design uniforms for the entire leadership, although that was largely to keep the company afloat and twenty thousand souls employed. The human leadership, the captains and majors in charge of the various smaller units around Kaczaw all stood around the table too. “Twenty-third engineers have finished the replacement rail-line.” Menith spoke, tall, as all elves, handsome, as all elves, with light eyes, as all elves had, although his were green where Beryon’s were blue. The main difference between them was that Menith was simply more confident, the centuries of age he had over the younger elf did little to age the fellow.

“So where do you want us to move?” Olonia asked as Menith looked down at the map again.

“Here in Vielczka would be the best.” Menith said and looked to Beryon. The younger elf nodded along as Menith looked to Olonia, shuffled under the Goddess’ gaze and explained himself. Olonia merely stared him down as she wondered why the elf felt he had to explain. Just as him, she had trained under Iliyal, she understood how hierarchy worked. “The Labrys and Bess teams can handle the Zaklicz dam.” The weapon Divines, Labrys and Bess, the Axe and Musket. Powerful, although Divines could not wield Divines. “I’m assigning seventh artillery west of the dam too, and eighteenth infantry east of it. Iliyal told me to.”

“The dam has to hold for another few days whilst we’re still digging the spillway.” Beryon said as he traced a line with his finger. “It’s Twenty-second engineers doing it, they’re at Vielczka now, here.” He pointed just west of the village, between Kaczaw and the small collection of buildings. At the current rate, if we can hold them off Zaklicz for another four days, the spillway will run far enough to divert waters into fields.”

“Other units will defend the spillway, we’ll-“ Menith said and trailed off.

“Don’t worry about it.” Olonia said. “Has Saksma returned?”

“She’s leading the Doschian Armoured in the north. Iliyal’s mousetrap worked and we’ve encircled some two thousand Paladins.” Menith said and Olonia nodded.

“Good enough for me. Give her my regards if she returns before I do.” Olonia said. “And tell her I have eight now.” The two elves nodded even though their gazes said they obviously had no clue as to what Olonia was talking about. It was simply a good competition between the Goddesses on how many Divines they could fell. Saksma was at seven, Olonia at eight and the last time she had reported, Paida had claimed three. The Goddess of Lubska left the command tent, gave one look at Lubska’s glorious old capital in the distance. She turned and trotted through the mud towards the camp’s airfield.

Two minutes later, Olonia was in a huge helicopter that could transport trucks, much less Goddesses.

Thirty minutes, later, Olonia was looking down at the village of Vielczka. A collection of a hundred farm-houses, if that, spread across a dozen streets. The place had been evacuated, six Doschian tanks were positioned near the centre, twice that in trucks were delivering troops that were fortifying houses, twice that again in guns that weren’t self-propelled. Doschia’s industry could produce barrels and armour by the hundreds, and instead of letting the machinery go to waste, it had been decided that it was better to simply make towed cannons instead of waiting for engine parts. At the end of the day, they still worked, and they could be cannibalized for emergency repairs on the vehicles.

To the west of the village, the twenty-second engineers were working. Diggers and bulldozers were madly scraping a giant trench into the ground, constructing a floodwall out of the ground they were excavating in the direction of Kaczaw. More soldiers were fortifying that floodwall, and a battery of four anti-aircraft guns were positioned beyond it.

The helicopter lowered to the height of a tall tree. Olonia stepped off the edge and landed with a heavy thud. She groaned and stretched her legs as she felt the weight of the impact. Each time, she tried to push the helicopter a little higher, and today, it had gone too high. Several Lubskan soldiers quickly swarmed out of a house and proceeded to give her cover as Olonia tried to hide the fact she had definitely fractured something.

The first night in Vielczka was nothing to write home about, although after the trip in Erdely had accustomed her to minimalism. The fact she had a roof over her head to cover herself from the midnight drizzle was good enough. The Sun rising in the east burned the wind away.

And as the drops of water stopped falling, the drops of steel came down in a torrent. Men raced out of homes and crowded into the APCs which sped away from the centre of the town as Olonia tried to track where the shells were hitting. By now, she had learned how the Paladins used their artillery. It would come in a slow barrage, Olonia’s eyes looked fell to the horizon as she started to back away.

Indeed, a line of vehicles were speeding along to Vielczka. Olonia pulled backwards further as the artillery vaporized the eastern half of the village. And Olonia stopped, these tactics were predictable by now. She turned her head, she listened carefully. Engines, wind, artillery in the distance, but not aimed here. Gunfire in the north. Something exploded. A helicopter somewhere. Missiles. A plane flying by. But just as she expected, no artillery aimed here.

Just because it was predictable did not mean it was bad. That was something else Iliyal had taught her: it was one thing to see a blow coming at you, it was another entirely to parry it. The Paladins would push Epan troops away with artillery, rush in, have a quick melee that was supported by Divinity, take the town, and force the Epans back. It was terribly predictable, and it worked four times out of five. She stopped; she listened to her own troops. The APCs had stopped, the tanks were coming back. It was up to her to buy enough time for her men to re-garrison the remaining houses.

Olonia turned and pulled out her own pistol. It was effectively an anti-material rifle, but in the hand of a Divine her size, it was a pistol. She slid around an old farmhouse that looked as if it was entirely concrete. She saw the approaching trucks, the front one had a man in silver armour crewing the machine. And Olonia adopted the stance she had seen her men use, she turned to the side, she lifted one arm, she closed one eye, she lined up the sights, she pulled the trigger.

The man crewing the turret dropped, a hole the size of a large orange tearing through his chest. Olonia lowered her pistol, she aimed at the cabin. She pulled the trigger. Glass shattered, a man collapsed, a steering wheel turned out of control, the truck cascaded to a side, off the road, and landed in a ditch left behind the White Pantheon artillery. Olonia fired again, two quick taps, same as before. The man in the turret before he could respond, and then the driver.

The third vehicle had stopped already. The men were bursting from the back but Olonia did not care. Her own troops could take care of the mortals, the main threat had reared its head. A Divine, tall, almost as tall as Olonia herself. A woman judging from the way she moved and the build, she carried a heavy tower shield in front of her, she trotted onwards step by step.

Olonia had seen those shields before, they were thicker than the armour on tanks. She put two bullets into it to test and couldn’t even make out whether she made dents or not. The Goddess of Lubska sighed, flicked her pistol back into its holster, and drew her sword.

Her troops would return in a few minutes, the Paladin forces must have been aware of that. They advanced quickly, the infantry pushed onwards, the Divine led the charge. Olonia let them close almost the entire distance before she drew her gun again and started picking the men in heavy armour she could see. Almost all had a blade, although the greatswords had recently started to fall out of fashion. And everyone had a rifle.

Olonia dropped her visor to close off the final part of her body in steel. This armour, from the front at least, was impenetrable. Dented, true, and she feel every impact against it, but rifle fire simple not be able to get through the solid plate of steel. The visor had a tiny gap, that was sealed up with opaque plastic. It hadn’t been hit yet, and Olonia didn’t even know if the plastic would survive a direct hit from a bullet, but she wasn’t willing to find out.

Five men fell before that White Pantheon suddenly reared her armoured self around the corner. Olonia heard her own troops approach and shouting in Lubskan from behind her. Gunfire was close, although she didn’t stop to watch, she hefted her sword, aimed her sword at the Divine, and kept pulling until there was no more recoil. Four more rounds, four impacts into that Pantheon Divine, although it may as well have been four pokes of Olonia’s finger.

The Divine turned, stopped, Olonia stepped forwards, her arm swing outwards as she bounced the blade of the Divine back and away from her. Her own sword crashed into the side of the Divine’s chest plate and apart from a pained grunt, simply bounced off.

The Divine recovered, she carried her own blade away, in a curve and around. Olonia had been in enough brawls now to know not to back away from Divines. She hefted a leg up and slammed her heavy boot into the Goddess.

That Goddess stumbled backwards as Olonia kept up her attack. She would call upon her great Eagle, Bielik, if she could, but she didn’t want the beast getting injured from gunfire again. So she had to take long slow route. Her fist impact into the Divine’s stomach, that plate finally gave a reaction. It made a small inwards dent the White Pantheon Divine cried out in pain. Olonia swung her sword again as the Goddess before dropped her tower shield and tried to deflect the blow.

And just as Kavaa had done on Olonia, Olonia did to the Goddess. She dropped to a knee, she brought her sword up, she found the weakness in the armour and sliced into it. And the Goddess before her screamed in pain as she fell. But Olonia had seen Divines stand up from far worse.

The Goddess of Lubska smashed her heavy, armoured boot down on the Divine’s chest once, twice, thrice. And she saw the armour finally give way. She twisted her blade around, she held the tip downwards, she put both hands on the hilt, and she stabbed down. Not just with her strength, but with all her weight behind it to penetrate that thick plate.

And she stabbed down. She felt the tip of her blade blunt itself, she heard metal tear and scream, and she her steel cut flush flesh. Without a second thought, she moved the blade from left to right, forwards and backwards, and she stopped when the Goddess in armour stopped moving.

Olonia, breathing heavily, pulled her blade out of that Divine’s chest. She watched a puddle of blood immediately spill out of her and then turned to see the Paladins retreat. The Goddess of Lubska swung the blood off her blade and cracked her next. In the distance, another figure was approaching, easily twice the height of an average human, maybe taller than even Olonia herself. In white armour and a cape.

Olonia didn’t bother to hide her smile. Iliyal had told her everything she needed to know about capes. There was a reason that not a single major Divine donned one.

—

Fer stepped behind a tree, sniffed the air, and felt troops approaching her direction. She sniffed again, Doschian cloth, it had a distinct scent to it, a note more bitter than the material Paladins and Guardians used for their undershirts. As silently and as delicately as a gentle breeze caressing a field of barley, Fer moved through the forests that overlooked Zaklicz reservoir.

It was in a fine position, although naturally it would be situation on high ground, it was a reservoir after all. The Goddess stalked silently along the edge of the wood as she watched another volley of artillery fire launch from her west and impact the ground just before Vielczka village. Fer sniffed the air again as her ears twitched and she, from one side she heard the thunderous booming of artillery that had just impacted onto ground. From the other, she heard the footsteps of that reconnaissance team in the forest. They had passed her by, from the casual whispering, it was obvious they had missed her.

Fer knelt down to lower her profile. She had been wrapped in thick cloth. It could be torn off in a moment’s notice, but it didn’t glint in the light unlike her golden mane. She felt her lips curl in a smile as her eyes sharpened. She liked playing with Kassandora, she couldn’t deny it. Kassandora was an excellent leader and a fierce wolf of a warrior. But Malam? Her other sister was just as sharp, but she didn’t fight. No, Malam was a snake, and sometimes, Fer simply liked to watch a snake fell a beast a hundred times its size.

Fer’s eyes caught the target. Iliyal had kept track of it, a Divine that Fer actually had heard of. Naro, God of Discipline. A White Pantheon Ace so to say, on the level of a weapon Divine. In marvellous white armour, Naro was one of the few Divines that fought with a cape, although it was more like a weapon in combat. The man would never give chase, never over-extend, he would always be assured of victory if he actually appeared on the battlefield. With Leona there to warn him of any potential danger, he had managed to survive the Great War without a scratch from start to finish.

No scratch on his skin, but with plenty of blood at his feet.

Maybe if Olonia had a century of training, she would defeat him. Maybe if she could train with Fer for longer than just a month, then there would be some foundation to work with. The woman had come quite a distance of course, but the first steps always seemed like the biggest when training. And now? Fer had watched how the woman had just dispatched that minor Divine.

She had absolutely no chance.

But no chance was exactly what Malam had wanted.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep