Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (ink book reader .txt) 📕

torn out of Hell itself. They nervously clutched their weapons and fearfully put their shields to their torsos. Their leader raised his hand. Some began to pray; others cursed the day they pledged their loyalty to their King.

“Attack!” their commander roared and sent his men to meet their fate.

Flames caressed the horse’s sides, reaching all the way to its hooves. Ash’s power was so great that even the staff couldn’t contain it. The flames seemed to pour out of it, greedily consuming the grass and the edges of its cloak. The horse neighed in fright as if it knew that if its rider got off it, it’d be reduced to a pile of ash.

Zadastra’s defenders formed a wedge, at the point of which stood a giant man clutching an even bigger ax. Wrapped in flames, with a cracked staff made of molten lava, Ash left decay in his wake as he rushed to meet his opponent.

The giant learned what it felt like when your heart skipped a beat. Just before the collision, he swung his ax and brought it down on his enemy’s head with an enraged shout.

Ash ignored the blade that cut through his helmet and drew a long line from his temple to his neck. Drops of scarlet fell on the obsidian cloak, but the young man raced on, eyes focused at the gates — the weak point of this impenetrable fortress. They haven’t yet been fully closed so he still had a chance to break through.

The sounds of battle echoed behind him. The two armies collided like two sea currents in a bloody maelstrom. The screams of the dying summoned the scavengers, attracting more and more crows and vultures.

The cannons thundered, but there were no cannonballs. Debris and burned bodies of the enemy mages fell off the walls. Last night, the Foul Legion’s assassins had disabled the cannons, causing them to malfunction. Battering rams and fireballs hit the thick stone. Smoke lifted into the sky, putting out the stars and obscuring the moon.

Ash raced on. Faces flickered before him, forever frozen in grimaces of horror. Dying gasps escaped their lips. The very armor that was supposed to save them turned to be their doom. Steel melted shut, boiling them alive. The horse, sensing that its life was nearing its end, raced with the speed of a bird of prey. Ash could hear Racker yelling behind him, cutting and burning through his enemies.

A terrible whistle reached the young man’s ears. The sky glittered with steel and the crows flew in fright toward the forest. Thousands of arrows and lead balls cut through the smoke. Ash outstretched his hand and sent a wave of fire at the sky, melting the lead and steel. A few stray bullets broke through the wall of flame and took a dozen lives with them. They, unlike people, didn’t distinguish between friend or foe.

Chapter 31

T he gates were very close. Ash spurred his horse, now covered in flames, making it leap. Like a shooting star, it soared through the sky and landed at the gate. The battle continued to rage behind the young man. Screams and maniacal laughter mixed with the clashing steel and the war song of the horns and drums, announcing the arrival of the flaming demon.

Some dropped their weapons, others screamed for help. The demon, whose torn and scorched cloak resembled a pall, struck the ground with his staff, deafening the people with a terrifying roar. A wall of flame shot forth from the cracked earth, covering the wall, the gate, and all those who stood in its way. Flesh burned. Masonry cracked and crumbled.

The mages tried to hold the fire, but not even their golden shields could withstand the power of one of the most destructive elements. However, despite their losses, the people of Zadastra still hoped for a miracle. The gates were about to close, which would buy them some time. Bullets would join the shower of arrows. Mages would enchant every piece of steel and lead, with which they’d cut through the sea of demons to their victory.

But at the moment when it seemed that Zadastra’s three dozen mages would be able to tame this fiery beast, another maddened demon joined the fray. Drenched in blood from head to toe and clad in armor made of dragon scales, he stopped next to the devil and struck the ground with his spear. Flames roared like a dying animal, taking the shape of a giant bird for a moment. Shield’s cracked under its shrill cry and blood dripped from the noses of everyone present. Despite the best efforts of Zadastra’s mages, the golden barrier cracked and the flame began to seep in.

“Hold it!” someone shouted.

But how could mere mortals hold against the fury of two demons? In a heartbeat, the flames burst through the shield and began to devour the fortress, turning the screaming mages into living torches. The gates fell, crumbling like firewood. Like a river through a dam, the Foul Legion burst into the city of Zadastra, sweeping away barricades and outposts on their way to the second wall. A new fight awaited them there. New prey and new loot. With thundering roars, they marched through the streets wet with blood, killing anyone who dared stand in their way. Flames danced around their general, devouring all that his men would leave behind.

The second wall emerged in front of them. Ignoring the falling rocks and boiling oil, they began to traverse the ladders. Some went up the main avenue, carving a path through the gates with their blades.

People parted to make way for the general without even realizing it. They couldn’t ignore the power that he exuded. The lieutenant walked calmly beside him. No one could say which of the two was stronger, but what they knew was that the two were so powerful