UNLOCK: I CAN SEE MY STATS

chapter 57 : the field of Erinval

The sky was covered with black clouds, and thunder roared above the deep valley, while thousands of soldiers faced each other in a merciless battlefield. The ground shook under the pounding of feet, and the clashing of swords mingled with the roar of explosions. Across the horizon, the two front lines merged in a torrent of blood and smoke.

"Taron Kilva" charged from the front ranks, his hand seals forming at an astonishing speed, before he extended his arms forward:

"Lightning Style: Thunder Dragon!"

A giant blue dragon surged forth, roaring as it tore through the enemy lines, destroying everything in its path. The burning soldiers fell to the ground, and sparks flew around it like rain.

Beside him, "Larina Vest" retreated slightly, her eyes gleaming with a deadly coldness. She closed her fingers in a rapid sequence of seals:

"Ice Style: Grave Cage!"

Ice rose from beneath the earth, coiling around a group of fire knights, before closing in like the fangs of an icy beast, turning their bodies into fragile statues that shattered with the first strike.

"Boom!!"

On the other side of the field, "Erman Dask" leapt high, spinning in the air as his body blazed with a dark red glow.

"Lava Style: Hellfall!"

The sky collapsed into molten lava, swallowing the ground and with it dozens of screaming men. The rocks exploded from the heat, and volcanic ash covered the horizon.

But the enemy did not retreat. "Caster Vold," commander of the Earth Battalion, stood firmly amidst the flames, smiling mockingly. He placed his palms on the ground and let out a deep roar:

"Earth Style: Colossus Wall!"

A massive wall of rock rose up, blocking the lava strike, before suddenly cracking as dozens of spear-wielding soldiers surged through.

In the heart of the battlefield, "Roderick Savin" fought with lethal agility, combining fire and wind seals, his strikes turning into rotating blades of flame that tore apart anyone who approached. Beside him, "Marsha Loren" advanced with her icy spear, drawing sharp lines in the air, freezing her opponents’ limbs before their heads fell.

A deafening cry pierced through the noise, followed by a giant blue flash, as "Demon Craven" charged through the lines, unleashing an electrified cyclone from his palms. The wind, infused with lightning, swept through hundreds, lifting them off the ground and hurling them in every direction.

Beneath the shadows of smoke, "Valric Mor" ran carrying a sword coated in swirling water. With a quick seal, he unleashed a curved stream of water to block a massive incoming fire attack, before dashing into the enemy ranks, cutting and stabbing amidst the surging waves.

In the sky, two colossal techniques collided: a lightning dragon unleashed by "Taron" and a massive lava column from "Erman." The resulting explosion lit up the entire sky in white, obliterating dozens of fighters from both sides. The ground cracked, debris flew, and smoke covered everything.

Despite the losses, no one stopped. Every soldier shouted the name of his technique before unleashing it:

"Wind Style: Cyclone Blade!"

"Fire Style: Dragon Shot!"

"Ice Style: Frost Burst!"

Fire clashed with ice, lightning consumed the wind, lava swallowed the rocks, and water burst into scorching steam. The battlefield was like a living hell, stretching endlessly, where every step forward could be the last, and every breath stolen from the jaws of death.

Despite the losses, no one stopped. Fire clashed with ice, lightning consumed the wind, lava swallowed the rocks, and water burst into scorching steam. The battlefield was like a living hell, stretching endlessly.

Suddenly, the sounds began to fade, the colors dissolved, and the soldiers evaporated like mist. The blood that had covered the ground drifted upward as black smoke toward the sky, and the torn earth returned to how it was, green and calm.

Marcus found himself standing on rocky ground inside a vast hall, before a high stone throne upon which sat a massive man, his gray hair falling over his shoulders, and his eyes glowing like embers. He wore a calm smile as he leaned forward.

"This was the field of Erinval three hundred years ago," said King Anikin, ruler of the Kingdom of Reka, in a deep voice carrying the weight of centuries.

"I wanted you to see with your own eyes… how the war that tore this land apart was."

Marcus breathed slowly, his mind still trying to grasp what he had seen, his heart pounding as if he had truly been there. Beads of cold sweat slid down his forehead.

"It was… so real…" he whispered, looking at his hands as if to make sure he was still alive.

Anikin smiled, then rose from his throne with heavy steps.

"Illusion is a powerful tool, Marcus. But history… is stronger. For one who knows what happened, knows how to avoid repeating it… or how to create it anew."