It was roughly on the first year when war started that we all got Arascus’ letter. It was a smart move, all of us got one at the exact same time so none could ignore it. It was a simple set of restrictions on warfare and on what we should do with prisoners and handle their exchanges. There was nothing major in it, back then, I was sure Kassandora would have not consent to restricting herself, later on, I realised it was most likely her idea in the first place. Between all of us, only Maisara and Fortia were against the restrictions. They were terrible as always, and they did a poor job arguing for themselves, but they were for Total War from the onset. For no restrictions and for letting the men we can heal be healed and for those we can’t, we let them die.

The rest of the Pantheon disagreed. I was in this camp. The restrictions were agreed to: End-of-battle mass executions would not happen. Hunters would not roam the battlefield to pick men off. Surrenders were to be allowed and respected. Officers could be killed, but common soldiers should be let go. There were plenty of others naturally, but little meaning is lost when we just amalgamate them into one: the killing ended when the fighting did.

After every battle, a team of battlefield Clerics would be allowed to heal both sides. Both sides were to exercise restraint, although the danger would naturally only come from the Imperial Forces. And they would heal our men and theirs after which the men, unarmed of course, would be allowed to wander home or back to their respective armies or wherever. I partook in this healings thousands of times after the greatest battles. The number of men I saved back then must have been measured in the millions. My Clerics? Hundreds of millions. The whole world had been mobilized.

These healings were sometimes done under the watch from an Imperial Army, sometimes under the watch of our forces. There have been times when the Daughters of Arascus even came out to watch me heal men who I had just almost killed. How many times did Fer track the battlefield and use her nose to pick out those buried? How many times did Olephia sit on a rock and watch. How many times did Anassa stay in the air above me as she made sure I would go to resurrect her sorcerers? I did, of course. Arascus had sent his agreement, we agreed to it, so naturally all of us would respect it.

Before continuing, I will stress that the number of lives saved is unknown but it is definitely in the millions, if not the tens of. I would not be surprised if it was in the hundreds of millions. We simply had no method of counting such figures back then. This is not vainglory, nor is it gloating. It is simple fact. I state this not to boast of my power. I state this only to pose the next question.

Was it mercy?

– Excerpt from the autobiography “A Doctor’s Account of the Great War.” Written by Goddess Kavaa, of Health.

“Your police forces are doing well. I’ve not needed to intervene once yet.” Kassandora listened to Bess, of the Musket, talk. A man was carrying her. The man who was lucky enough to be made the temporary duty of Godwielder. The Goddess of War began her march down the line of war prisoners. In the Great War, they would have prison camps for capturing the souls that would survive, they would be patched up and kept alive and eventually one of Kavaa’s Orders would send out a small team of Clerics to a pre-chosen locations were prisoners could be healed. Back then, it was the Empire which had a numerical inferiority. Back then, a one-to-one trade was a net loss of manpower. Back then, it was something Kassandora considered a fail-state.

Now though?

When Anarchia could have how many troops at the most? Even the most gracious estimate, the one Kassandora had made herself, guessed no more than nine-thousand troops. That was the worst case scenario, a thousand was a realistic perspective, five thousand was getting absurd. On this grassy field, there were eighty-three men blessed by Anarchia. All in dirty clothes. Some had come in wounded, only about a dozen had given up without a fight and the vast, vast majority had a bloody bandage from a bullet or shrapnel wound somewhere on their body. Several could not even stand.

The frontlines, over the span of four days, had managed to start swallowing Rancais. Anarchia’s lines had been run over. Now, Imperial Forces were advancing as fast as the wheels and tracks of their vehicles would turn. Faster in some locations, with several towns and city’s openly flying the Imperial Flag in open rebellion to Anarchia’s state. Or her lack of a state. Or whatever it was. Kassandora did not particularly care about matters of state.

So she walked in front of the line of prisoners. They stared up at her with eyes of all shades and none of them positive: fury, vengeance, shame, fear, disdain, hatred. A few even managed to invoke sorrow and apology. Kassandora stood on another molehill. Her black coat trailed after her, her cap on her head, her red hair falling down her like a cape. The Godwielder by Kassandora’s side who held Bess was just a high ranking soldier in green. He held a musket in his arm, Bess was an opaque ghost behind him. In her arm, she held another musket, then a dozen of the weapons hovered around her head, turning with her eyes. “Hello? Kassandora?” Bess said in that horrific voice of hers. It was as loud and every other syllable was sudden and sped up as if it was the click of a matchlock.

“I hear you.” Kassandora said. “Good job.” She didn’t mean it. This woman was a weapon Divine. Even if there were a hundred amateurs here then what could they do? In the Great War, Bess was the strongest of her kind. If a Legion needed help, then they could get ten-thousand Legionnaires or Bess and usually the latter would prove more useful.

“Thank you.” Bess sounded far too happy for the praise. Kassandora ignored the fact that this woman needed to get the last word in every single engagement she was in. That sort of argument simply was not worth the effort.

Behind the line of Anarchia’s men on the tall green grass, all them separated but no further than arm’s length from each other was Kassandora’s police division. It was just a series of troops she had pulled from the reserves and enshrined as a basic guards unit, complete with a few transport vehicles although nothing heavy. Everything important was off on the front reclaiming Rancais. A few of the men had their rifles drawn and pointed at the prisoners. Others were standing at the ready. Kassandora knew that her presence is what inspired the best behaviour and not the fact they were actually trained fighters. Still though, she had heard of escape attempts from here too. If the men were at such ease after witnessing escape attempts, it meant those attempts couldn’t have been all too successful.

“When are we starting?” Bess asked in her horrific tone again. Her ghost that floated behind her Godwielder looked down the row of men. A gust of wind blew cloak and coat and Kassandora’s scarf of crimson hair, but it did not touch Bess’ brown.

“Fer will arrive soon.” Kassandora said. “We’ll start then.”

“So we don’t have a time?” Bess asked.

This was like dealing with a child. When soldiers would talk of their children being a headache, this is what they were talking about. “We don’t have a time.” Kassandora replied.

“Mmh.” Bess said. “Let’s wait then.” Was it because Muskets were considered to be mass armament rather something like the noble sword? Was that why this woman was so infuriating? Because she acted like a farmer’s wife rather than the divine being she was?

Fer took some half-hour to arrive still. She came by armoured convoy. Flying by helicopter was too dangerous here. The convoy was heavily armed fighting vehicles flanking an armoured carrier. There were two ways to transport high-value targets, one was to try and fade in but in Rancais, lone vehicles got picked off immediately. The other was simply to be so imposing that no one would even dare and try to intervene. The sheer number revealed that something important was being transported, but why bother risking one’s life for what?

“Wow.” Bess said when she saw the two dozen vehicles park and start to unload troops. Kassandora ignored the woman. The Goddess of the Musket must have felt ignored, because she needed to make herself known by counting the vehicles out loud: she got up to twenty-five. Five had been damaged or lost then. “I heard Fer is cute now.”

“Fer is cute now.” Kassandora agreed.

“I can imagine it.” Kassandora wished this woman wasn’t such a child that she needed to have the last word in every conversation. What a trivial and nonsense comment. There was a reason that of the Weapon Divines, she only appreciated… Maybe Pridwen, of the Shield. That man didn’t have a character, he just knew to shut up and let himself be wielded.

One of the armoured personnel carriers opened its rear doors. Two men walked out with rifles, then followed by what, if Kassandora did not know better, could only be described as a human girl. It was Fer though, in a white shirt and brown skirt, with shoes and with her mane of hair. Kassandora tilted her head as she saw Fer step around. The tiny Goddess of Beasthood got of the ramp of her vehicle and immediately snapped her head to Kassandora. Fer smiled, those golden vulpine eyes almost began to shine, and she waved in a joyous manner, her movement wide and almost exaggerated. Kassandora scanned her sister again.

Definitely Fer had started to reclaim power since Anarchia’s death. Definitely. Before, she reached up to a standard human’s belt. Now, she almost reached his chest. “Wow.” Bess said. “She is cute.” Fer ran up, her smile wide and her pace fast. Kassandora ignored the comment. She didn’t care.

Fer turned her walk into a sprint, she raced past the vehicles, appearing from behind one only to disappear behind another, until she got to Kassandora. She leapt through the air with a scream, her arms extended out into a hug. Kassandora reflexively grabbed her sister. Her hands wrapped through Fer’s golden mane of hair. Of Beasthood may have lost the majority of her strength, but she certainly did not even lose a hint of the incredible softness of that golden mane. “KASSIE!” She screamed.

Kassandora hugged back. She let Fer have five heartbeats of contact, then lowered her sister to the ground. “There you go.” Kassandora said, she knew she made a mistake

“Wow aren’t you nice?” The ‘wow’ was said out loud, in the most unimpressed way possible. “You meet me in how long and this is the greetings I get?”

Well, good to know that this hadn’t changed either. “I’m working.” Kassandora said flatly

“Uh-huh.” Fer replied as she started to size herself up by Kassandora. “I don’t think you realise how impatient I am.”

“Well at least you admit it.” Kassandora said.

“First thing I’m going to do is give you a hug.”

“Don’t break my bones.” Kassandora replied.

“No promises.” Fer said smugly and extended an arm out to the prisoners. “Do they know?”

“I’ve not had the pleasure of introducing them to you yet.” Kassandora said. “But I am sure they know who are.”

“Not many people know who I am now.” Fer said. “I went to a shop yesterday and got asked to show identification.” Kassandora smiled as she forced a quick pace to the start of the line of men.

“Did you?” Kassandora asked and Fer made some exhale that summed up the dismal way the situation must have gone.

“Do I even have identification?” Fer asked. For a long moment, Kassandora didn’t know what to say.

“We’ll get it back.” Kassandora said as Fer slammed the top of her own head and move her hand from her golden hair onto Kassandora’s shirt. She hit just below the second button on Kassandora’s coat.

“I’m just checking.” Fer said lightly. “I’ve grown.” Her tone was full of pride.

“I’m happy you have.” Kassandora replied. For once, she thought she meant it. Fer’s smile was so wide it revealed her teeth. The two Goddesses turned to the line of prisoners, Kassandora got to shouting. She couldn’t go too hard because she didn’t want to scare these people into doing something stupid. In the same way she deal with Bess, her father had taught her that being polite usually got one further than not. “Ladies and Gentlemen! You possess stolen strength.” Kassandora extended two arms her sister. “This is Fer, my sister. She will drink your blood and she will recover what Anarchia stole from her.” Kassandora took a short pause and let the words sit for a moments. “You have been defeated, Anarchia is dead. If you wish to keep living, then your powers shall be drained and you will be sent back into Rancais.” That was only so that they could see a way out. Men without a way one would struggle twice as hard and twice as long. Kassandora inspected the line of prisoners.

The reaction, she had been expecting frankly. No one laughed, no one smiled, the most challenge the Goddess of War received back to what had just been said was silent fury and judgements. One man caught her eye. Dressed in blue, he had been one of the ones who had been sitting on the ground. Now, he was stood up and he practically challenged Kassandora with his hard gaze for her to do something about it.

Kassandora put herself between Fer and the fellow although… A moment later, the man leapt into the air and took off. And in another instant, men pulled their triggers. Bess moved like the wind. Her Godwielder turned as she guided him, the rifle in his arms turned itself. Bess build the trigger on her own gun, the dozen other muskets that floated in the air also fired, all by themselves, all aimed perfectly at the man trying to fly away.

Whether it was Divine shell or the bullets from mortal’s rifles, the man fell to the ground. Kassandora sighed, she expected some men to try and run, but she didn’t expect the very first one. The Goddess of War was about to order a search job for the body when her sister interrupted her. “Wait.” Fer declared as she trod up to Kassandora with those big steps of hers. Kassandora raised an eyebrow. A sliver of Fer’s stomach was showing and the arms were tighter. Fer stopped, her golden mane trailing down to her chest. The tiny Goddess slapped the top of her own head, then slammed her hand into Kassandora’s black coat of leather.

Second button.

She took a step away. Those golden vulpine eyes staring at her hand, then moving up to Kassandora. One of them had to say it. Fer did: “I don’t have to drink.” Kassandora knew the sort of face she was pulling. Iniri had complained about it to her already. Her sister did not. Of course she wouldn’t though. Fer was reflecting the exact same content glare back, eyes shining with pure, malicious hunger. She said it again. “I don’t have to drink their blood to get it back Kass.”

Kassandora knew what that meant. The soldiers that stood in a line must have worked it out too and were aiming their rifles straight into the backs of Anarchia’s men. Or maybe they were just over eager. Or maybe they were scared. It could be a whole number of things. And none of it matter. That death and immediate transfer of power back to Fer had changed the game entirely.

She gave the order. “Kill them.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep