Leonard ascended higher, allowing his searing aura to brighten the darkening skies. The revolution's airship struggled valiantly against its opponents, with the crew expertly maneuvering to dodge bursts of cannon fire and retaliating with its own barrages, but it was obvious that the odds were against them. The two enemy airships pressed their assault, forcing it to constantly shift and reduce its attack ability.

  From his vantage point, Leonard could easily see that the situation wasn't tenable. The enemy forces were relentless, having managed to recover their formation, and their cannons were powerful enough that his airship couldn't tank them.

  Another dizzying maneuver allowed the rebels to avoid being smashed by a powerful laser, but it was evident that without Amelia to balance the scales, they would lose soon enough.

  Yeah, that's not going to happen.

  Leonard raised Dyeus, infusing it with his mana. The sword hummed, eager to unleash its full might. His eyes locked onto the nearest enemy vessel, and he found it crewed by men dressed in blue, indicating they were part of the Royal Air Force, not the Duchy's.

  I should have known they wouldn't have the local personnel to crew them, given how much they had to bleed the treasury to build them in the first place.

  Its cannons reloaded quickly, preparing another volley aimed directly at the revolution's airship. The shot was clear, and Leonard knew its shields wouldn't be able to weather it.

  He swung.

  The motion was deceptively simple, but its effects were cataclysmic. The sky split apart, dark clouds tearing asunder like a curtain drawn open by unseen hands—a blinding arc of golden light cut through the heavens. A blade of divine power left the world breathless in its wake.

  For a moment, all was silent.

  Then came the Light.

  It burst forth in a wave, consuming everything in its path. Soldiers on the ground on both sides shielded their eyes, some crying out in awe and others in terror. The battlefield froze as the attack's sheer brilliance blasted the war-torn region, baring all its scars.

  When the light faded, the devastation became clear. Once a proud symbol of the kingdom's might, the massive airship had been cleaved in two. Its halves drifted apart as though in slow motion, with sparks and debris trailing behind them. Fires ignited along its severed edges, and the screams of panicked crew members echoed faintly as the ground inevitably grew closer.

  Cheers erupted from the revolution's forces below, spreading through their ranks in a wave of elation. The sight of the second of the loyalists' most fearsome weapons falling from the sky was a victory they would not soon forget.

  Leonard, however, did not linger on his triumph. His gaze shifted to the remaining loyalist vessel, where he found its captain visibly shaken by the turn of events. The revolution's airship seized the opportunity, pressing its advantage with renewed vigor. Cannons roared as its artillery struck true, ripping through the loyalist vessel's defenses.

  The remaining ship attempted a desperate maneuver. It released a massive cloud of corrosive gas in a toxic shroud designed to obscure its retreat and deter pursuit. The green mist spread rapidly, ominously staining the broken skies.

  Leonard narrowed his eyes. No, you are not.

  He extended his left hand, and his golden aura coalesced there. The gas cloud trembled as if caught within a titan's grasp. Leonard clenched his fist, and the Light surged forward, enveloping the toxic haze from all sides at once. The gas dissolved instantly, purified by his divine will, leaving the skies clear once more.

  "You should allow our men to finish the last vessel," Amelia murmured tiredly from behind him.

  Leonard nodded, recognizing the importance of granting them that victory, and watched as his airship unleashed a devastating barrage. Three times, it smashed against the wards, and three times, they held until the fourth and greatest barrage. The loyalist vessel shuddered as its protections finally broke under the strain. Before long, its hull splintered, listed to one side, and began its slow, agonizing descent.

  The skies above Hassel were theirs.

  The battlefield erupted in cheers once more, reverberating across the plains. But Leonard's focus turned to the city below.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  With its main obstacle finally removed, the revolution's airship also shifted its attention to Hassel's wards. With its cannons already hot, it took only a minute before a blast caused the ward to ripple and crackle, forcing the defenders to commit more of their reserves to shore them up.

  Leonard hovered above it all, observing the scene with a calculating eye. The bombing run was draining the airship's mana reserves rapidly enough that he could sense the crystals depleting with every shot. He could step in and end it now, shatter the ward with a single strike—they were weak enough now that the backlash wouldn’t be excessive. Yet he hesitated.

  No. Let them do this. I can use the time to organize the breach, and it will be good for the army to see that it doesn't have to rely on its champions to win.

  If the airship breached Hassel's defenses, it would cement its place in the revolution's growing legend. The people would speak of its crew, of the daring assault that toppled the kingdom's fortress that even the Void hadn't been able to breach. Leonard's power had already overshadowed so much of their struggle. This victory would belong to them. It also helped that he wanted to obscure any possible leak about what he had done to the leyline.

  People trusted him enough that his reputation could take the hit, but that didn't mean he should allow damaging information to spread.

  I’ll need to get Damien on this.

  He descended slightly, the Light around him dimming as he allowed his aura to recede.

  Amelia joined him, her shadowy form solidifying as she approached. "You're not going to finish it, then?" she asked for confirmation.

  "They can handle it," Leonard replied. "The revolution needs more than me. It needs heroes they can rally behind, victories they can claim as their own."

  Amelia tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "You're not doing this just for their sake."

  "I'm doing this for all our sakes," he insisted firmly. "If this is to last, the people must believe they have the power to change their world. Not just me."

  Amelia nodded, evidently deciding that this discussion could wait. "I'm glad to see that. The kid who fought at my side against the Void wouldn't have hesitated to throw himself against any obstacle to prevent a single death."

  Leonard's gaze remained on the city below, though his eyes darkened. "The kid I was wouldn't have made it this far."

  They floated silently above the battlefield for a few minutes, watching the events unfold. The revolutionaries were rallying, buoyed by their victory, and the Hassel's wards weakened with every passing moment.

  "You're trembling," Leonard noted with some worry.

  "I'm fine," Amelia replied curtly, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness.

  He didn't press the point, but he could tell she was nearing complete exhaustion. She had burned through most of her mana reserves during the fight, and though she wouldn't admit it, the strain was evident in every slight tremor of her body. Amelia had incredible bodily control. She could have stopped them had she even a hundredth of her reserves left. That she was stubbornly still flying alongside him only made it clear that even as bright as she was, she was as human as everyone else.

  "Let's return to camp," he said, extending a hand toward her. "You need rest."

  Amelia hesitated for a moment before nodding. Shadows coiled around her, instinctively reaching for Leonard's Light like flowers seeking the sun.

  Leonard drew on his element, enveloping them both in its radiance. With a subtle flex of his will, the world around them rippled. Space folded in on itself, and the very fabric of reality bent to his command. For a fleeting moment, they were nowhere and everywhere, slipping out of phase with the physical world.

  When they reappeared, they were just outside the revolution's camp, standing at the perimeter of the arcane protections surrounding it. Layer upon layer of shields, designed to repel intruders or alert the camp to danger, blocked their path. Leonard's Light flared briefly, and the wards bent around them, parting like water before a ship.

  They touched down in the center of the camp, and Leonard allowed the Light to recede. They were noticed immediately, and cheers erupted from the soldiers. Men raised their weapons in salute, opening a path for them to walk.

  Leonard raised a hand, acknowledging them with a small nod. Amelia walked beside him, using what little strength she had left to maintain her air of dignity. The sight of her standing tall despite her exhaustion seemed to inspire the troops even more.

  The celebration didn't last long. A distant rumble reminded everyone that the battle was far from over. Artillery fire from Hassel began to rain down again, and though the frequency had diminished, each strike clearly said they couldn't celebrate yet. The revolutionaries quickly returned to their positions, and the camp moved back to its organized chaos.

  Amelia's gaze turned toward the horizon, where the glow of cannon fire illuminated the walls. "They're pulling back some of the siege engines," she observed with naught a waver. "Pollus must be consolidating his forces at the citadel."

  Leonard nodded. "It makes sense. He knows the city will fall soon. He must be preparing for a final stand."

  "He knows resistance is futile at this point, but he'll still sacrifice thousands of his own men to delay us in the hopes the Royal Army will get here in time," Amelia said, a faint edge of frustration creeping into her voice.

  "Which is why we need you rested and ready for what's to come," Leonard replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Come. Let's debrief with Neer and David."

  The command tent was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Maps and reports covered the central table, and the air purifying wards prevented outside smells from entering, leaving the area sterile. Neer stood over the table, scanning the latest intelligence, while David paced nearby.

  "Grand Marshal," Neer greeted Leonard and Amelia as they entered. Her tone was formal, but there was a hint of relief in her eyes. "You were successful, then?"

  "The leyline is not a problem anymore," Leonard said simply. "And our airship is dealing with the wards."

  David stopped pacing and turned to face them. "And the assassins you sent back with your squire?"

  "He's a knight now. And they are fully contained," Leonard replied. "They won't be a problem."

  Amelia moved toward the nearest chair and sank into it with a soft groan. Her shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she looked like she might fall apart entirely. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, her cheeks coloring faintly.

  "I—" she began.

  Leonard stepped forward and lightly bopped her on the forehead with his knuckles. "You've done more than enough," he said, a rare softness in his voice. "Rest. That's an order."

  Amelia blinked at him, surprise flickering across her face before she let out a small, tired laugh. "Yes, sir."

  Her eyes fluttered shut, and within moments, she was asleep. Her breathing evened out, and the tension melted from her body. Neer raised an eyebrow but said nothing, while David smirked faintly and shook his head.

  Leonard turned his attention back to the map, his gaze steely as he surveyed the battlefield. The wards of Hassel were weakening, and the revolution's forces were poised to strike. But he knew the real fight was still ahead. Pollus was no fool, and the citadel would not fall easily.

  "Let her rest," Leonard said, his voice low. "We'll need everyone at their best for what's to come."