Wester topped the last hill between him and the Drakos-El village. It had been a long an arduous journey from the battlefield to his forested home, but it was one that had finally ended. He could now stop these intruders. Wester only hoped that the Drakos-El had held up until they arrived. He would hate it if-

A burning village came into view. Wester didn't stop, but shock filled him. Among the burning buildings, men and women ran from silver-clad soldiers. Anger, something Wester usually had in control, raged inside of him. 

"Men, head out! Primary objective is saving and evacuating citizens, secondary objective is killing those bastards, third objectives is salvaging equipment," Wester yelled, "Move in teams of three! Mr. Garland and Mr. Hector, you're with me!" The men moved out, using their fire magic to shoot themselves directly into the village and into the fray of combat.

"Those damn Dynos..." Garland said as Wester, Hector and him rushed down the hill. Hecter was a scrawny man, but his ability with Water magic is what made him valuble to the team. 

"We head toward the High Council's chambers," Wester said, shooting a fire bullet at a soldier that rushed to meet them. Instead of bursting in to flames, he pulled a shield, expanded it, and blocked the bullet. Wester nearly tripped in his shock. Even a regular shield would push the wielder back when hit with Wester's bullets. Who were these men? 

"I don't think those are Dynios..." Hector said. He ran forward and twisted around the man's shield. The man was small and spindly, so he was easily able to get inside the man's defenses and break his neck. The man fell fast and Wester's group moved on. They needed to reach the High Council.

Wester passed a small child and scooped him up. "Your going to be fine. Mr. Hecter, take this child and hurry on to the High Council's hall." Hector hurried on, while Garland and Wester faced the dozen men now heading there way. They all carried shields and bulky swords and wore silver armor. Wester didn't recognize them. Were they an invading army?

"Mr. Wester!" A voice called from behind. Wester looked back to see Hector running toward them. "The High Council is dead and only a few dozen citizens survived. Our men are taking a pounding as well!" Wester cursed and faced the oncoming men. He needed to get those left out and stop this attack. 

"Primary objective is now the annihilation of these scoundrels!" Wester snapped. He charged the men, ducking as one of the men swung his bulky weapon. Wester started to retaliate with a bladed shield, but something hit his armor and knocked him to the side. He rolled and came up.

The man's weapon had changed shape. It was like when Hector used his Water magic. How did these men use metal,  though?

"Mr. Garland!" Wester called to his friend, "They can manipulate their weapons!" The other man nodded and went back to swinging his mace at the man. Wester ignored him and focused on the men at his head. He needed a plan.

"We leave!" a voice yelled from behind the strange soldiers. Wester started to chase the men as they retreated, but thought better of it. He needed to salvage what he could and protect the remaining members of the Drakos-El clan.


Hours later Wester stood on the outskirts of the burning Drakos-El village, the remnants of his clan staring at his lead. With the High Council dead, Wester was the highest ranking member alive. That left it to him to lead.

"Mr. Hector, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Munors, Mr. Cramt, and Mr. Kor," Wester called out to the group, summoning the men from his clansmen, "You are to head toward the Frugerd's clan village and inform them of our plight. With luck, we will have their help in our rise."

He felt as if he should cheer them up, but no words came to mind. His duty was the only thing he could focus on, so he wouldn't be good at cheering if he had the words. Wester simply lacked the ability to care like others.

"Let us go," Wester called to his clan, then walked toward where the selected soldiers had ran off. Whether he could care or not, he WOULD protect his clan.

Drakos-El meant 'survive' for a reason.

The End

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