Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy) - Chapter 121: Chapter 121

Frances narrowly dodged as her opponent's sword slashed through the air towards her. She cursed under her breath, swinging her own blade up, blocking his second attack. As metal hit metal, her enemy's eyes suddenly narrowed, recognition flashing across his gaze.
"I remember you," he snarled, their blades crashing together once more. "You used to be an imperial knight." He smirked, striking again with enough force to send Frances stumbling backwards. "What kind of idiot sacrifices everything just to follow an inexperienced child?"
"An idiot with morals," Frances spat back.
"Morals?" her attacker scoffed, swerving out of the way as France's blade lunged at his shoulder. "You're willing to die over a few stupid rumors?"
"Bold of you to assume I plan on dying," Frances answered, her sword darting forward, nearly glazing her opponent's throat before his own blade flew up to block it.
"Surely you don't think you actually stand a chance?" the man jeered. "The rebel army is half our size. Attacking was a suicide mission."
"Oh really?" Frances mused, arching a brow as her gaze locked on something behind him. "I figured someone like you would know better than anyone that it's not about size..." she let out a low chuckle, "it's how you use it."
"What the hell are you--"
And then suddenly her opponent was falling, a burst of purple fire striking his legs. Cries of alarm rang out from their enemies across the battlefield, more and more collapsing to their knees. Horrified, her opponent turned, looking up to see what Frances had noticed only a moment before.
The palace rested on a small hill, overlooking the battleground, and slipping out from behind it now was Mulock, the rest of their army behind him. The demon sent a sea of fire flying, the tendrils of flame striking only the legs and hands of their enemies with perfect precision, causing countless soldiers to either fall or drop their weapons. As instructed, Mulock was prepared to advance to more violent magic if necessary. For now, however, as per Wheeler's orders, the goal was to simply disarm, causing as few casualties as possible. Behind him, the rest of the mages shot down a wave of spells, hitting their marks easily with their advantage of the high ground.
Mulock's strategy had been simple. If the emperor thought they had a small army, then that's what they'd give him, splitting off a fourth of their mages to follow Mulock for a surprise attack. By bringing the fight to the streets and palace grounds, they'd managed to hide their true numbers, drawing their enemies to them and away from the castle itself. The emperor had fallen for it, sending the entirety of his army to fight them on the grounds, giving Mulock and the remaining mages the perfect opportunity to easily claim the high ground the castle rested on.
They took full advantage of this vital position now, enemies and weapons alike falling around them just as the opponent before Frances had. Her grip on her sword tightened, unable to bite back the grin spreading across her face.
At last the tide of the battle had changed—and they were winning.
***
Fighting this battle made Wheeler want to vomit.
His vines and branches held countless enemies in the air, practically creating a small forest across the battlegrounds. By doing so, he'd been able to spare their lives...but that didn't change the fact that there were still bodies on the ground. They weren't just the corpses of his enemies. Countless rebels lay unceremoniously scattered around him. Could Wheeler have saved them if he'd just used his magic to slaughter the emperor's men? How many lives had been spared by his actions? But how many more had been lost?
Mulock's words echoed deep in the back of his mind, 'you can't save everyone.'
Wheeler bit back a sob, his mind so consumed by this nauseating sea of doubt and anxiety, that he almost didn't hear the calls that had begun to spread across the battlegrounds. His eyes went wide when he finally realized what they were saying, his heart nearly leaping from his chest. At first, he could hardly believe what he was hearing. But as the cries grew louder and louder, there could be no mistaking it.
His father's men were calling out that they'd surrendered.
Sounds of excitement rippled across the rebel army, smiles and laughter spreading through the battlegrounds.
"Your Majesty!" a voice called from Wheeler's side.
Wheeler turned to see Robin running towards him, a grin plastered to his face. Wheeler's stomach dropped at the sight of him. His former classmate was covered in dried blood, crusted around at least a dozen small, gaping wounds reaching from his temple all the way down to his chin. Behind him, Lilith and a few other knights followed, their gazes eager, coming to Wheeler for confirmation of what they all desperately hoped was true.
"Is it finally over?" Robin asked excitedly.
Wheeler swallowed hard, worry still turning in the pit of his stomach. "Until my father is captured, we've yet to claim victory."
"I'm sure he's about to surrender," Lilith eagerly pointed out. "We have the castle surrounded, his army has backed down, and the people are on our side. No matter what he does, we've already won."
"Exactly," Robin agreed, nodding ecstatically. "Mulock and his men are already at the castle walls. Just give the order and they'll drag him out." He grinned. "Can you believe the emperor really hid away the entire fight? I knew he was a monster, but I had no idea he was a coward as well--"
Those were the last words Robin Wires spoke before his face melted off.
It happened so fast, Wheeler hardly had time to process what he was seeing. Robin's skin dripped and oozed from his face like wax, exposing the skull beneath, eyes popping from their sockets before he fell to the ground —dead.
Screams echoed through the air, Wheeler's among them. He felt like he was going to faint, his head spinning, horror pulsing through his body. Wheeler desperately turned to Lilith, only to jerk back as he saw the last of her flesh dripping from her skull along with the knights behind her. They fell like dominos as more screams of terror rang out, the sound deafening. Wheeler buckled over, vomiting despite himself as he took in the horrific sight.
Everyone within a ten foot radius of him was dead, their broken corpses surrounding Wheeler to form a perfect circle. The faint sheen of magic could be seen, rippling around Wheeler like waves of heat on a hot summer's day.
A low laugh echoed over the screams. Wheeler, along with anyone still standing, immediately looked up, gazes snapping to the source.
The Grand Emperor stood on one of the palace's many balconies overlooking the grounds, a frightening smile on his face as he stared down at the sea of terrified rebels.
"If anyone so much as moves," the emperor said, "they'll receive the same treatment."
"MY SISTER," a voice screamed from across the grounds, "YOU KILLED MY SISTER!" Standing there was Lenox, the young count sobbing hysterically. "I'LL MAKE YOU PAY! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!"
He lunged forward, racing towards the palace with a handful of supporters clamoring to follow behind him. They only made it a few steps before the emperor whisked his wand and their skulls exploded, shattering into thousands of shards that descended down on them like hail. Wheeler had never seen power like this, so overwhelming and horrible he could hardly fathom it. And then, at last—their headless bodies hit the ground.
Wheeler vomited again. Judging from the cries and whimpers around him, he figured he wasn't the only one. The heavy weight of terror hung over them, pressing down harder and harder until Wheeler felt like he was suffocating. Despite the desperate heaving of his chest, he couldn't seem to breathe, as if his mouth and throat were filled with ash.
"Anyone else want to play at being a hero?" the emperor asked calmly. "Because if any of you still doubt I could wipe out this entire army in only a matter of seconds, be my guest."
The moment of bravery had died with Lenox.
No one dared move.
"No one? Really?" the emperor mused, feigning surprise. "Well then, I suppose I should move onto my next order of business." He chuckled, his gaze locking on Wheeler. "I was considering just slaughtering you all, but..." he paused, "I also love my son. What kind of father would I be if I destroy his beloved toy army? That's why I'm going to let him make the choice." His gaze seared into Wheeler, pinning him in place. "If you return to me and end this childish rebellion, I'll let them live. If not..." He offered him a cold smile. "I'm sure you know exactly what will happen."
"Don't do it," Priscilla choked out, cries of agreement ringing from the rebels around them. She was sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't give yourself up to him. We can't let it end like this. Wheeler, please..."
Wheeler turned to look at her, his blood running cold at the realization that if she'd stepped just one foot nearer, she too would be among the dead surrounding his feet.
His gaze fell to the bodies around him. His father had mercilessly killed them simply because they'd stood too close to Wheeler.
The point the emperor wished to make was painfully clear.
Wheeler forced back his tears, shoulders shaking violently as he let out a low breath.
They were going to hate him.
But what choice did he have?
Their lives were in his hands and he refused to let them become sacrifices for his own ideals.
No one else would die because of him. His heart couldn't take it.
Wheeler kept his gaze lowered, the guilt so overwhelming he couldn't bring himself to look at them as he finally gave his answer. "Yes, Father. I accept your offer."