Justinian slowly walked backward, his steps sure and confident. The gate of the ordinary citizens behind him was not so steady, though they far surpassed him in terms of determination. Every citizen, man, woman, and child, kept moving until they collapsed.

  Because it was their duty. The expectation. The compulsion… And because of it, Justinian felt a mixture of relief and despair that it had come down to this. That the free will of his people had all but been stripped away, forcing them to move beyond what could reasonably be expected, all for the sake of survival, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  It was a well-documented occurrence, although many argued whether it was due to exhaustion and the weakening of mental shields or the world exerting more influence on monumental events. However, the result was the same. As common citizens became worn down and exhausted, and the situations they found themselves in grew increasingly desperate, they began to act in accordance with social expectations.

  They accepted the harsh discipline of martial law. They became willing to sacrifice themselves and fight to the death. They would march along a road with relentless determination until they collapsed, passing out from a mixture of exhaustion and dehydration.

  The nobles of the south have been away from war for far too long. They had been playing their games and had become so immersed in their own isolated world that they had forgotten their duty to shepherd the ordinary people. Because they are the only ones genuinely capable of doing so.

  Among all the parties, galas, tea parties, and balls, the nobility had forgotten their purpose. The role they were born to play. True, many would not be able to shoulder the burden, but the tempering of war will separate those who can from those who cannot, and often, the unable will take care of themselves as they end up dying in battle.

  Sadly, despite his northern upbringing, Justinian could be counted among those who forgot, at least for a time. But now, never again could he be so cavalier. Glancing to the side, he walked past the prone form of an old woman, whose body was covered in sweat, as her face was ghostly pale.

  Her eyes were fluttering as she struggled to remain conscious, and her right arm still slid over the cast ground, finger scraping over the stone to secure a handhold and pull herself forward. Justinian felt his heart be clenched in a fist as he watched the distance between them steadily increase, but he did not look down, and no one else attempted to carry her forward. No, that would undermine her sacrifice. It would impinge upon her honor.

  It has always been the obligation of the old to make way for the young. And the old woman had done just that an hour ago, knowing the fate that would befall her. She could have retained her seat on the wagon. She could have ignored the pregnant woman's struggles to keep up… but she didn't.

  Justinian watched as she traded places, her head held high, and slowly fell back within the column as her body gave out. As she struggled forward, those around her gave way, but no one offered any support. Not because they didn't want to, but because they had none to give.

  Anyone not guarding the sides of the column was holding supplies. If they weren't carrying supplies, they were carrying children or supporting the wounded. And if they weren't doing either of those, they were in the shoes of the most recent victim, about to collapse, and only able to continue through willpower.

  That was what existed five feet behind Justinian. The old and weak who had been worn down until they could not keep up, and who, one by one, were falling behind. They did not plead. They did not scream or shout in rage. They accepted their fate with stoic determination because that was what was expected.

  Not that it would change anything even if they did beg. The column could not slow down; it could not stop. All around them, beastkins could be seen keeping pace, though there were fewer than expected, as a large contingent had broken off and moved farther south. The High Noble expected it was an effort to make fortifications to block their path at the top of the switchbacks.

  The recent change in their actions had to be in response to Justinian's appearance. A belief reinforced by how they were all but ignoring the front section of the column, with most of their strength gathered at the rear. Whether to kill or capture him, it didn't really matter. The result was that he could distract them, giving his people a chance to flee.

  Arm snapping out for the thirty-first time, Justinian formed a dome of psy around his body, and the golden fire broke upon the shield. Tongues of fire spread in all directions, lashing out against the ground, digging foot-deep furrows in the cast stone and flat earth beyond.

  In consistent intervals, you could spot two or three similar sections of the earth torn up and shattered further down the road. With near mechanical precision, the winged bastard, arrogantly shining in the sky, would charge up and then release an attack.

  It didn't take much to block it, a handful of orbs, but after hours, Justinian was already down to half strength. And the beastkin showed no signs of stopping or slowing his attacks. All it took was a simple calculation to understand that if the situation persisted, Justinian would come out on the losing end. Which meant that he would have to end this contest sooner rather than later.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Justinian locked eyes with Gilbert. The knight shook his head, still refusing to leave the rear, even though he would be all but useless. Moving on to Terrance, Justinian said, "Protect the people."

  The older knight paused for a moment, then slammed his fist to his chest and shouted, "Yes, Milord!" Turning away, he looked at the column and sent out a pulse, commanding everyone to increase the speed.

  A command that many found new strength to heed, after the temperature of an already hot day became a blistering one as flames hotter than any forge broke against Justinian's shield. The high noble frowned and adjusted his domain, moving it away from the beastkin's casting again.

  During the battle at the wall, his domain ate away at the weaker castings until they fell apart long before reaching him. However, this attack was so strong and fast that his domain could do little to counter the casting, and it was a waste of psy. Surprisingly, redirecting and breaking apart the attack was proving to be the most cost-effective approach. And, if he was being honest, it was enjoyable.

  Walking forward under the onslaught of the concentrated fire, Justinian covered the distance between himself and the old woman. With the world turned gold, he flipped the charred and smoking corpse over and folded her arms over her chest before resting his hand on her face.

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  Finally, the attack stopped, and the light turned dark as the dust in the air and smoke from the ground swirled around him. Closing the woman's eyes, Justinian stood and snorted in annoyance. Flexing his will, the air cleared as all of the debris was pushed to swirl at shin level.

  "Are you sure you aren't willing to leave me?" Justinian asked as his friend stepped up next to him.

  "I swore I would always be by your side in battle. Can't leave now and forsake my oath just because it's going to mean my death. What would that say about me? Besides, what if I need to carry you to safety again?"

  Turning, Justinian gave Gilbert a warm smile and reached out to clap him on his armored shoulder. "Thank you, my friend… But you will only be a hindrance in this fight, so just try to stay out of it."

  Straightening his back, Justinian stepped to the side, drawing his gladius and saluting the knights guarding the column's rear, who returned the salute before he turned and faced the beastkins. The birds hovering in the air, another golden ball coalescing before the golden bird.

  As if knowing what was about to happen, the wolves surrounding them on the flat, wind-swept plains spotted with hardy shrubs released a howl and rushed forward to attack. Justinian ignored the wolves advancing on the column's flank, as they were not his fight, for a moment, then realized he could lend a hand.

  Bursting into motion, the High noble quickly covered the distance to the wolf kin and started shooting ice spikes. The more water he could get his hands on, the better, and what better place to gather some from than the convenient sacks of liquid? True, it was blood, so it took slightly more psy for him to control than pure water, but it would suffice.

  Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Justinian stopped himself cold and looked up into the sky, where the bird was crowing its amusement. Every one of the locations Justinian had just launched an ice spike had turned into a burning wasteland by a blast of fire. "Humph. Guess, I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way." The young man muttered, rolling his left shoulder and his right wrist, while cracking his knuckles.

  Crouching, Justinian flung himself into the air and pulled himself higher and faster with a tendril for good measure. Wind whipped at every part of his body and armor, except his face, as he was conserving his psy.

  Pushing out a burst of energy, Justinian enveloped his body in a protective layer as a wall of fire came crashing down. The world turned gold for a moment, then Justinian burst out from the other side. Only for the grin on his face to turn into a gasp of pain a moment later, as a narrow lance of golden light punctured his shield and bore right through his body.

  Left arm reaching out to clutch at the wound, the noble let out a hiss of pain, only for it to turn into one of shock. Justinian's mind trembled as he looked down at the cherry-red patch of armor. Blasting off the nearly molten section, the young man looked at the wound no thicker than his finger, except he wasn't sure if it was a wound so much as poison.

  From the edges of the wound, it felt like some kind of invisible fire was speared as it ate up every fiber of his body. Snapping out of his shock as he saw a burst of blood pour out of the hole, Justinian moved his psy. Flooding the area in an effort to stop the blood loss, only to find that he was fighting against the corruption spreading within him. It was as if he were slowly forcing air out of a bladder, a task he didn't have time for.

  Having long since enhanced his perception of the world, Justinian still felt pressed for time as he formed a casting to go around the corrupted area of his body and staunch the bleeding. Head snapping up, Justinian released another blast of psy then jerked himself to the right with a tendril, barely missing another one of the narrow golden beams as he exploded a fireball to momentarily block the bird's vision.

  Fear spiked through Justinian as he realized the beam had been aimed at his head, and he had dodged it by inches, but then the thrill of battle overwhelmed the emotion. A smile spread over his lips, and he shot upward again, but this time pulling his body into a chaotic spiral. Hundreds of feet rushed by as he blocked and dodged one attack after another.

  And with every second, it became easier. Not because Justinian's domain had reached the beastkin, as that had already happened. For his efforts, the noble got a ten-foot sphere that he couldn't perceive anything within, along with a birdkin. Perhaps he could suppress it with enough psy, but it wasn't a risk he was willing to make. What was helping him was the fact that the birds' attacks were coming quicker and thus becoming sloppier in the process.

  Punching a ball of fire, Justinian felt an intense drain on the psy enveloping his body, then the ball exploded, washing over him like he had stepped into a shower. Smiling victoriously as he came out the other side, Justinian locked eyes with the birdkin no more than a dozen feet away, who wore an expression of annoyance.

  Not fear that Justinian had bashed his way through all his attacks and had nearly made it within arm's reach. No trepidation or indecision, only annoyance. The moment Justinian saw the bird lift his arm and lazily point his finger at him, his blood ran cold.

  Though he could not hear it, Justinian saw one of the numerous gems on the beastkins arm shatter. As the shards hung in the air for what seemed far too long, releasing enough multi-colored flashes of light that it could make a kaleidoscope jealous, the world abruptly went black.

  Justinian screamed, clutching his head as his domain, for the first time since he was a child, completely and utterly vanished. Not simply suppressed to only encase the area a couple of inches around his skin, it was entirely gone.

  His head felt like it was splitting open, as he attempted to process his psy being ripped away when the world shifted to a blinding white. Spinning at the tip of the now visible beastkin's finger was a ball of flame that warped the air for a hundred feet in all directions with its heat.

  "Take it as a compliment, Olimpian." The birdkin said, the orb, no larger than a fingernail, expanded to fill Justinian's vision. "This attack was meant for Derg."

  Throwing up his arms and pushing a quarter of his remaining psy into a shield, Justinian met the attack head-on. For a second, the beam broke all around him, and he had hope. Then the attack began to rapidly grow in strength and intensify, throwing the high noble backward.

  Faster than he had risen into the air, he plummeted back to the ground, but that was just an afterthought for him. Justinian reinforced his shield, making a direct line from his core to the shield, and attempted to move to the side and out of the ray's path. Either it was so large that he could no longer find its edge, or the casting was following him.

  Whatever the case, the worry was quickly driven from his mind as he smashed into the ground, forming a crater. Not that it would be noticeable for long, as the earth all around him soon began to glow from the heat as the beam's intensity increased again. All other thoughts driven from his mind, Justinian turned his entire perception to maintaining and reinforcing his casting.

  Justinian didn't know how long he stood in place, but as all but the last of his psy left his body, all the pressure vanished, and a probe tapped against his mind, which he instinctually accepted. Though he could not see the features of the silhouette in front of him, he didn't need to.

  Simply from feeling the energy of the mind, he knew it was his father. "Good job, son. I've heard what has happened, and I couldn't have done better in your place. Do not blame yourself for my failures."

  "Father, how did you get here?" Justinian asked, his mind reeling in shock from the sudden changes in his life expectancy.

  "What any good father should." Then Justinian felt the attention of his father shift as he spoke to the other person within the union before coming back. "Now, don't make your movements too jerky, or I can't guarantee to block the attack ." With that, Justinian felt his body lift and be thrown backward, landing in the armored arms of a knight.

  Struggling against Gilbert's arms, as he tried to stand on his own feet, Justinian soon gave up. The corruption from the wound through his chest felt like it was spreading again, and he was having to focus his remaining psy and willpower to contain it. Still, he did not take his eyes off the dark figure blocking the golden flames seeking him out.

  "I feel like this is getting a little too common an occurrence for you. Should I be concerned?" Asked an annoyingly chipper Gilbert.

  Snorting in annoyance, Justinian responded, "I'm not passing out this time, so they aren't the same."

  "Technicalities." Justinian's personal knight said, as he plodded back to join what had to be over a hundred knights massacring the beastkin horde.

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