KESM: Terra Quatuor Chronicles

One characteristic shared by all the Kingdoms was a universal ranking system; everything was separated into three levels of power — and then a fourth. Sure, there were slight differences in some, but the base principle remained the same throughout. Within the Knightdom, at the lowest level, you had the Pawns. Past this, you had the Templars, and then the Bishops or Emissaries. Finally, several steps… strides… leaps ahead, you had the Avalons.

If Bishops could be considered forces of nature, calamities even, then Avalons would be reality itself — Ineffable. Untouchable. Immeasurable — only an Avalon could kill an Avalon…. or the other Kingdom's equivalent of one. That is, supposing Avalons could actually be killed, the only reason such a saying existed was because Avalons have been known to die before, they'd also been known to return….

The members of Sabbath's team, quaintly called: Holiday, were all of the third tier. Scaling backward from the pinnacle, they were no Avalons, but their ranks still spoke of power forged in trial and skill.

In order of growing power; 

For Espers- Axioms 1, 2, 3 and Savant

For Mages- Magus, Magia est suprema, Diviner/Enchantress and Warlock 

For Samurai- Shosei, Ashigaru, Hatamoto and Shogun

For Knights- Pawns, Templars, Bishops/Emissaries and Avalons.

Digging into the earth as he leapt off a tall ledge — conveniently conjured there by Jon — just far enough to be out of the weary Drake's immediate range, but close enough for him to not lose momentum before impact, Hayz delivered a devastating blow with his hammer, overflowing with rich Aura, the life energy of Knights.

The sound of a stifled grunt could be made out from the chaos, the shattering of glistening scales, maiming of once pristine flesh, the crunching of adamantine bones…. all this as the head of the drake was caved in by the attack.

An ear splitting screech so inhumane it couldn't have come from any living creature overpowered even the thunder rumbling in the skies above.

The team had drawn first blood…. well "first blood" would be inaccurate, they were all battered and bruised from the encounter with the Fiend, and this was with measures prepared beforehand so they wouldn't die without a fighting chance. They had, however, failed to draw blood from the beast in turn, until now.

So just how did A Templar, An Est suprema, An Ashigaru and two Axiom 2 Espers pull that off?

There was nothing simple about it.

They had endured, unyielding. Their senses heightened to the breaking point, their battered bodies looking no different from poorly handled, broken dolls, yet pushing forth their insidious cunning.

After that devastating blow, there was only silence. At least they had gotten some much needed reprieve. However, the C.drake did not make them wait long. It erupted from its dazed state in a whirlwind of fury, its head snapping and snarling, its massive tail lashing out with deadly precision. The battle was joined, and the crew fought as one — a seamless symphony of steel, magic, and determination.

The battle had truly begun.

***

The hunt began in earnest under a stormy sky, the crew's shadows stretching long across the jagged terrain. The Drake's lair lay deep within a mountain peak, atop the forgotten island. As they advanced, the terrain slowly lost its desert-esque features, the once barren desert gave way to jagged outcroppings of obsidian rock, their surfaces glistening as if perpetually wet. The air grew heavy with static: each breath, each step, each motion charged with electricity…. The oppressive silence was broken only by the crunch of their boots against the barren earth.

The drake watched as the one these humans called "Emaila" took point, her light orbs shining the path ahead, and all around them. Behind her, the others moved in practiced formation, their years of camaraderie evident in every step. The mountain's entrance was still a long way ahead, a cavernous maw that seemed to breathe malice.

"Let's get this over with." another human known as Angelie said, her voice steady despite the tension in her jaw.

It observed. 

From the veiled shroud, the crackling haze of the storm. The Cumulodrake's world was one of sensation: the whine of the charged air, the vibration of footsteps, the faint metallic tang of weapons suffused with power. The humans thought themselves stealthy, but the ground betrayed them, the storm whispered of their every move. 

'Humans once again…. have they not done enough?' The Fiend thought.

Their leader, Sabbath, radiated resolve, but the scent of doubt clung to him like a second skin. The Drake's cerulean eyes narrowed as it tilted its head, the static coursing through its horns sparking faintly. These humans, for all their bravado and preparation, had made one critical error — they believed they could escape alive.

The truth was far more unforgiving.

Such confidence had made it learn fear, and they would too. Unlike it, they would not gain the misfortune of learning regret, the consequence of arrogance. The humans were a distraction, an irritant. The true nightmare still lurked in its memories — a shadow far deeper than any they could cast, its very essence etched into the Drake's psyche. That creature had left it broken, desperate, and all it could do was flee. 

But desperation made for cunning prey, it would learn, and learn it did. It learnt hatred, truly deserved hatred, not the hubris it felt before…. before. Memories of that encounter still plagued it. While it didn't fear these humans it simply couldn't let them be, knowing they came to capture — or worse yet — rob it of its revenge.

It shifted slightly, its massive body blending seamlessly into the jagged rocks. Its translucent wings flickered faintly, absorbing ambient energy from the storm overhead. Every crackling bolt of lightning fed its power, and with that, it flew forward not willing to let the humans besiege it. 

Yes, it left behind the tactical advantage of home ground and unfamiliar territory within its cave. However, the island itself was his, he would never lack the advantage. It would bring the fight to them.

'Not out of fear. This is courage.' the Drake thought.

Recognizing an emblem etched on the very souls of his prey. He realized they were a class of humans he'd seen — albeit few — before, simply known as "The Bound". He knew not what qualified them for this sigil, nor what it entailed. He did know one thing though, The Bound bred the most desperate and powerful weaker humans he'd come across.

These ones represented the very epitome of their lot, not necessarily in rank, but in the confidence only seasoned warriors possessed. Their grace betraying years of character forged in life and death battles.

'I should learn how they actually fight, this will help my growth a great deal.' The Fiend thought, calculating how long they would survive against it while revealing all their cards, before death by his hands…. claws.

The humans slowed their approach towards its cave — they'd reached the mountain's threshold, the cavern yawning above them like a beast's maw — when they sensed its presence. And then all hell broke loose.

Sabbath barked orders, his voice firm as all hell broke loose. "Positions!".

And the team followed suit, ready to lay siege against the oppressive darkness, and the Fiend. 

The Cumulodrake had made its entrance.